Maker's Curse

by Trudi Canavan

  “And how did you become a book?”

  The sorcerer, Roporien the Clever, transformed me.

  The man’s eyebrows lowered. “Roporien. I see. So, if you absorb all the memories of those who touch you, you must contain all of his knowledge, too. Is that right?”

  Yes. But when he realised this made him vulnerable, he avoided touching me, instead having others hold me when he wanted to make use of me.

  The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I should not be surprised that he took such precautions. How do I know that what you are telling me is the truth?”

  Having not read your memories, I cannot tell you how you may be convinced of this.

  “I see. How could you be destroyed?”

  Take me to a world with no magic. I can store a little, but it would soon be depleted – all the faster if I had to use it to actively defend against attempts to destroy me. Eventually the materials I am made from would deteriorate beyond the point of revival.

  “Are you saying you can’t be destroyed in this world, because there is magic here?”

  That is correct.

  “So… am I right in guessing a sorcerer would have to surround you in Soot?” he asked, using the Leratian term for the darkness where there was no magic.

  Yes.

  “Are there other ways you might be destroyed?”

  Yes.

  The Emperor smiled. “But you’re going to make me ask specifically what they are, aren’t you?”

  I am hardly going to make it easy to reveal the means to my destruction.

  He laughed. “No, you would not, and it is not polite for me to ask.” He looked thoughtful. His gaze flickered up to Tyen and back again. “Well, then tell me something Tyen does not know, that I do.”

  When Director Ophen handled me fifteen cycles ago, I learned that he gained his position through bribes and threats, not in a fair election, and had since sold off some of the Academy’s treasures to help buy properties.

  Tyen hid his surprise. I thought Ophen ignorant and stubborn, but not dishonourable! He looked up to find the Emperor watching him.

  “How is it that he does not know this?” the ruler asked.

  He never asked me to tell him the Director’s secrets.

  “Well, that seems unbelievable. Is he really not that curious?”

  He has not had the time or need to wonder about the lives of people he did not think he would meet again.

  The Emperor glanced at Tyen. “Didn’t he?” He did not wait for an answer. “I suppose if you contain several lifetimes’ worth of memories it will take several more to access it, and he hasn’t owned – no, carried – you for more than a small part of one lifetime. Is it true that he is immortal?”

  No.

  “Was Director Ophen lying when he told me Tyen claimed to be?”

  He was in error.

  “In what way?”

  Tyen will not age unless he wills it. However, it is more likely that he will die than he will not. Ageless sorcerers rarely live for more than a thousand years. Many do not last more than a few hundred.

  “Can anyone be immortal?”

  I cannot say. I would have to live for ever in order to know that someone had lived for ever, and since for ever in your mind is a continuous, never-ending concept—

  “I see what you’re saying.” The Emperor waved a hand. “So how is it that Tyen does not age?”

  Very powerful sorcerers can, with enough magic, alter the pattern of their bodies so that they constantly heal and renew themselves.

  Omniten glanced up at Tyen. “Can he make others the same?”

  Only if they are sorcerers of adequate strength.

  The man’s shoulders slumped. “Sorcerers,” he muttered, as if the word was a curse. He sighed and lifted his chin. “Are there truly many worlds beyond this one?”

  Yes.

  “Is it true that creativity generates magic, and Tyen’s companion, Rielle Lazuli, can restore the magic of this world?”

  Yes and yes.

  He nodded. “Thank you, Vella. It was a pleasure talking to you.” He looked at Tyen. “Please close the book without reading it.”

  Tyen obeyed.

  “I am convinced,” the ruler said, “that you are not putting the words on the page. I have seen no proof that a woman was transformed into this book, rather than it simply being a book that appears to think and speak. However, I would prefer to give any such sentient being all the rights of a person anyway. So, open her to me again.”

  Tyen did as he was bid.

  “Are you a slave, Vella? Are you free to do what you want and go where you wish?” the Emperor asked.

  No and no.

  “Why are you not free to do and go where you wish?”

  I am, as you can see, in the form of a book. That somewhat restricts my ability to move. I rely on whoever carries me for transport and protection.

  “Are you happy to rely on Tyen Ironsmelter for this?”

  Yes. He is an honourable man who has never even asked how he might destroy me.

  The Emperor chuckled. “Then I will not seek to remove you from his protection.” He looked up, scanning the faces of those in the room. “Let it be known that Tyen Ironsmelter is not guilty of theft. The Academy does not have the right to possess Vella. Tyen is her guardian and protector.”

  Blinking in surprise, Tyen looked down at Vella in wonder. He’d not thought that introducing her to the Emperor would lead to this. It made him nervous. If he had not anticipated this, could he have also not anticipated something that would go wrong for him?

  Or was this a trick, to make him relax his guard and think the Emperor was on his side until some other ploy to apprehend him was found? The Emperor was not thinking of such an intention. He was watching Tyen closely, though, noting his hesitation to express gratitude.

  “Thank you, your Imperial Majesty,” Tyen said hastily.

  The man shrugged. “It is a small matter. According to Director Ophen, you have other, greater reasons for returning to Belton. Tell me what they are.”

  Tyen drew in a deep breath. “I am seeking a place to settle and teach a small group of young sorcerers. This world is familiar to me, without the problems associated with a local language to adopt and customs to understand. It is also my home, and I do still feel some sentimental attachment to it. It would benefit from my school’s presence here. In order for this world to be suitable as a school’s location, it needs to be rich in magic. Rielle is the greatest Maker ever known. She can generate in minutes more magic than this world has contained in hundreds of years. With what she produces, not only would my school have enough to use in training, but sorcerers of this world will be able to use it again without any machines coming to a halt.”

  The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. “And what price would she ask for such a restoration?”

  “None, from this world.” Tyen shook his head, then shrugged. “I, however, will owe her a favour.”

  “What would that favour be?”

  “That is… private. It is for her to reveal if she wishes to, not me.”

  “I see. And will she be a part of this school of yours?”

  “No. Her task is restoring worlds, not teaching. Though I would welcome her help if she ever wished to join my school.”

  The Emperor drummed his fingers on the table. “Then what is the price you ask of us for arranging to have our world restored?”

  Tyen paused, considering again whether his request – or demand – was too much to ask. Then he reminded himself that he did not actually need the Emperor’s permission to do anything. Nothing could stop him from seizing control.

  He did not, however, wish to. Not just because he had no desire to run an empire but because it was so much easier and more convenient to make use of what was established here in Beltonia. If the Emperor did not accept Tyen’s offer, there was the Sselt option. Or Tyen could set up in one of the distant lands where the empire’s control was weak, or help one of the colonis
ed territories rise up and drive out their conquerors.

  With so many options, he may as well ask for what he’d come for.

  He smiled crookedly. And what Vella had revealed would only improve his chances of getting it.

  “Why start a new school when there’s one here already? I want the Academy.”

  CHAPTER 8

  A few days later, as the walls of the Emperor’s audience chamber resolved around them, Tyen was amused to see that Ividian, the Emperor’s close friend, was still grinning broadly. The man’s euphoric expression only wavered as air surrounded him and the urge to gasp for breath returned. But he recovered his composure quickly, straightening and striding towards the monarch.

  “That was… amazing!” he panted. “The things… I saw! And this… method of… transportation is… most efficient!”

  Omniten rose from behind his desk to meet him, his relief obvious as he took his friend’s arm. “Are you well, my friend?”

  “Yes, yes! Just… out of breath… no air between worlds. Must hold your breath.”

  The Emperor glanced at Tyen. “And why are you not short of breath?”

  “An advantage of agelessness, your Majesty.”

  The man’s eyebrows rose. “Well then, you have provided the proof I requested.” He glanced at Ividian, who nodded enthusiastically. “The rest is up to you, Ironsmelter. While you were gone I ordered the Academy to immediately arrange a meeting between yourself and the Board of Governors. It shall commence as soon as you arrive. Two of my people will accompany you, to make it known that I am in favour of you replacing Ophen as Director, once the Academy has ousted him.” A pair of sorcerers stepped forward, bowing to the Emperor and favouring Tyen with a respectful nod. “As I said earlier, it would be unwise to overrule the agreement between the palace and the Academy that they may elect their administrators. You must persuade them.”

  Tyen nodded. “I will do my best.” He bowed. “Thank you, your Imperial Majesty.”

  The man smiled. “Good luck, Tyen Ironsmelter.”

  As Tyen left, the two sorcerers fell into step beside him. He turned to the one on the left. “What is your name?”

  “Berre Capster.”

  He turned to the other. “And you?”

  “Xarol Gilden.”

  Tyen nodded. Gilden was the name of an old and powerful family. Berre was a foreign first name but Capster was a local surname, and the man’s mannerisms and an edge to his speech hinted at a middle-class upbringing. Both men were young enough that they would have finished their education only a few years before Tyen had become a student.

  He had let loose magic as he had arrived, but it had thinned as it drifted outwards and he could now barely sense their minds. As he released more, Berre checked his stride.

  “You let magic out constantly,” he said. “Do you mean for us to take it?”

  Tyen hid his dismay at the idea. If they did, he would have very little chance to read their minds. Fortunately, they had asked because they were not sure if it would be bad-mannered – or a trick. “Why do you think I do it?”

  “To remind us of what we’ll have if we cooperate,” Xarol replied, his voice low but full of amusement.

  Tyen chuckled and turned to him. “Perhaps. Are you in favour of the return of magic?”

  The man nodded once.

  “Of course,” Berre replied. “What is the point of being a sorcerer in a world with no magic?”

  “Can you see no benefit in it other than to sorcerers?” Tyen asked.

  Berre frowned. “Of course I can. It benefits everyone.” A note of disapproval in his voice spurred Tyen to look closer. The suggestion had stirred a strong belief in fairness and strengthened his dislike of sorcerers who used their ability for selfish reasons.

  Interesting, Tyen thought. Perhaps the Emperor had chosen Berre as one of his representatives, knowing the man’s values would see any attempt to bribe him or the professors fail, but he had inadvertently chosen the perfect assistant for Tyen.

  They had reached the palace entrance now. Tyen did not slow, conscious that any hesitation might be seen as weakness. A carriage waited. Tyen was going to ignore it, but he caught the vehicle’s purpose from Berre’s mind just in time. Still, it would look arrogant if he assumed…

  “For us?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Xarol replied.

  The journey from there might have been faster on foot, as the streets were busy with traffic of all kinds. Tyen noted a lamplighter cleaning one of the street lamps. They had been converted to oil since magic had diminished. That explained why the city air was smokier than he recalled. Deid had said that the rich were having fireplaces installed for their hydraulic heating systems, and the city administrators were investigating alternatives to magically pumped sewerage. They passed a long carriage drawn by a team of four mergels – normally seen only in the countryside, bred for meat or milk – hauling passengers destined for the outer railsled stations, since there was not enough magic in the centre to run a reliable service.

  All this would change soon. Tyen had told the Emperor he would have Rielle restore the world whether he became the Director of the Academy or not. He was relying on the threat of another country hosting Tyen’s school and gaining the knowledge of other worlds, rather than on the lure of plentiful magic, to persuade the Emperor and Academy to give him what he wanted. Now he worried that he had given up a stronger lure.

  The carriage turned off the street into the one that soon passed the Academy gates. It gave Tyen little forewarning before they pulled to a halt and the door opened. The two sorcerers did not move to alight, politely giving Tyen precedence. He nodded to them in gratitude and climbed down to the ground.

  No guard stood watch at the Academy gates or main entry. No professors stood waiting either. Tyen waited until his companions had exited the carriage, then straightened, stepped through the gates and started up the stairs.

  Though flanked by the Emperor’s men, he suddenly felt very alone. His father had wanted to come, but Tyen had insisted Deid stay in the hotel with Rielle. Tyen wanted nothing distracting the professors from the proposal – and revelations – he was about to present to them.

  Once at the top of the stairs, a graduate so young he must have only recently finished his studies stepped forward.

  “The Board of Governors awaits you in the meeting hall.”

  Tyen nodded. “Lead the way.”

  The journey was considerably shorter than the one to Director Ophen’s office. After leading them down two wide corridors, the young graduate stopped before a pair of carved, wooden doors. A deep, low hum reached Tyen’s ears. As the guide pushed open the doors with magic, the sound magnified into the cacophony of many voices.

  But the chatter was already diminishing as the doors swung open, and heads had turned to face Tyen. He paused for a moment before entering; then, as he did, he let forth more magic than he had released so far since entering the world. It spilled out and filled the meeting hall, allowing him to seek who, of the twenty-seven men sitting in the V-shaped arrangement of chairs, was paying enough attention to magic to detect it.

  Five of them had. Not Professor Delly, the Head of Magical Studies, he noted. The old man was concentrating on examining Tyen, noting how the disgraced student did indeed appear well preserved for his age. Which would not work in Tyen’s favour, he believed, since youth reduced a man’s air of authority.

  Half of the twenty-seven Governors were sorcerers; half were not. Like the late Professor Kilraker, many of the sorcerers did not necessarily specialise in magical subjects – particularly if their ability was small. The Academy had remained strong despite the diminishing of magic because it was an institution of learning, not sorcery. This, Tyen reminded himself, was why he’d decided not to use the return of magic as the reward for their cooperation, but the lure of knowledge.

  The young graduate stopped at the opening of the V-shaped seating. “Tyen Ironsmelter,” he announced, then walked back
to the entrance. As Tyen stepped forward, followed by the Emperor’s sorcerers, the doors closed firmly behind him.

  Director Ophen rose. “Tyen Ironsmelter. You have persuaded the Emperor to ask us to meet with you. Please explain why.”

  “With pleasure. Good afternoon, all,” Tyen said, inclining his head towards either side of the seats. “I am here to persuade you to not just allow me to join your ranks, but to elect me as Director of the Academy, so that I may protect and guide you during the changes that are about to overtake this world.”

  Gasps, curses and quiet laughter followed, but all were subdued. Tyen met the gaze of several of the men and found them unsteady. Some had seen him, Rielle and Deid disappear from the Grand Hall, and had considered that everything Tyen had claimed was true. Some had heard rumours about Tyen’s conversation with the Emperor. All emanated worry and fear, and a little admiration for his boldness and honesty.

  “Will you listen?” Tyen asked. He had meant it as a rhetorical question, so he was surprised when a murmur of assent came. Not from all. Director Ophen’s growl cut across the sound.

  “Why should we listen to you, a thief and a liar?”

  Tyen smiled sadly. “Because I am neither. Because I intend to run a school of magic in this world that will be respected in all the worlds, whether that school is the Academy or I join another or begin a new one. Because that school will gain the knowledge I’ve gathered travelling many, many worlds, and that of the teachers I bring here. Because to run that school effectively I’ll need a world full of magic, and when I have arranged for this world’s restoration, the Academy will discover it is not prepared for such a change, and I can guide and protect it as it adapts.”

  “You can do all this?” one of the professors asked, but before Tyen could answer, Ophen spoke over him.

  “The Academy already has a Director.” The man stared at Tyen, his stony face hiding the doubts and fear that shivered beneath.

  Tyen shrugged. “Not for long.” He turned to the Emperor’s man, Berre. “Look at Ophen. Look at him with your mind. Reach out and listen.” The man frowned as he stared at the Director. “Can you hear anything?” Tyen asked.