“I then approached Roslie’s parents and offered to stay in their world, my powers at their service, if I could marry her. They, too, refused, not wanting to break their arrangements with the Travellers or the agreement with the ally she was to marry.”
Lejikh shook his head, and a memory of a young woman’s face flashed into his mind. “Roslie was furious. She said neither family deserved us, and we should leave both. I could not see any other way we could be together. By the time our cycle took us to that world again she would be gone, so we had to go immediately. I took her out of her world and off my family’s path, travelling between worlds again and again to avoid pursuit.” His expression became wistful. “It was easier than I’d expected, but then we were in an area of worlds rich with magic with little danger of becoming stranded.
“We continued that way for many days, and Roslie began to miss the luxuries of her home. She had thought we’d start our own little kingdom, and never quite believed me when I said it wasn’t as easy as turning up somewhere and expecting people to do what you want. I realised we’d have to try and fail before she’d be content with a simpler life, and I am ashamed to admit I was willing to do so to please her.”
Pausing, Lejikh took a deep breath, remembered fear darkening his mind. “We were searching for a suitable place when the Raen found us.” He looked up at Rielle. “Valhan.”
In his mind Rielle saw a face, but he did not expect her to recognise it. Too many years had passed for the memory to be clear. Yet a thrill of recognition went through her even so. The eyes, the shape of the face… all similar to those of the man in the portrait.
“He came upon us like a shadow in the place between worlds, took hold of us and drew us into the next world. I knew who he was instantly, but Roslie did not. He looked at me first, then at her, reading our minds.
“He said only two things. First, he ordered me to go back to my family. Then he stared at Roslie and…”–Lejikh shuddered at the memory–“… his face changed. I looked to her for a clue why, and saw in her mind that she wasn’t even aware of it. She was completely and utterly enthralled by him. To her he was perfect. I had never sensed such attraction in her to me, and I was not surprised that, when he held a hand out to her and told her to come with him, she did so without hesitation.” In Lejikh’s recollection there was triumph in the sorcerer’s expression.
The ache of betrayal had dulled over time, Rielle saw. But the fear hadn’t. It was as sharp as his guilt at not arguing or fighting for Roslie. He’d been too angry at her lack of resistance to the Raen’s charms. I was young, he reminded himself.
“My family accepted me back among them only because the Raen wished it, and they could not endanger the pact between him and all Travellers that allows us to trade between worlds.” He lifted his gaze to Rielle’s. “I recognised his name in your mind, the first day you were with us. We could not abandon you there, in the desert, but we cannot endanger our people either. I also did not want to frighten or anger you by telling you the truth about him. It would have been better if you returned to your world ignorant of the lies he has told you.
“It is possible that the sorcerer who took you from your world is not the same man, but it is unlikely. It is too great a coincidence that they look alike, have the same name and your Angel arrived and left your world at around the same time as the Raen disappeared and reappeared. And we must behave as if he is the Raen, because of the danger we are all in if he is and he finds you.”
Rielle’s jaw began to ache. She realised she was clenching her teeth, and tried to relax. Lejikh’s story had chilled her. Even if it does show that the Raen could have changed his hair and skin colour, it does not prove that he is the Angel. The Angel is warm and kind. Her heart skipped a beat. That is how I know the Raen is not the Angel!
“A story spread among the Travellers, more than twenty cycles ago,” Lejikh continued. “About a message left by a well-known rebel. It said he intended to lure the Raen into a dead, unpopulated world. He was never seen again. Nor was the Raen. People began to hope that he had succeeded, but without signs of a great battle, or better still, a corpse, it took a long time before any were brave enough to defy the Raen’s laws.
“Over time they have. Sorcerers have begun travelling between worlds again, and teaching others how to do so. Schools of sorcery have formed. All this in defiance of the Raen’s laws. Things will not go well for them if they do not learn of his return in time. They will have to hide, or offer him their loyalty–and even that may not save the stronger of them.”
He believed they would be slaughtered simply for being powerful enough to be a threat, Rielle saw. Her certainty grew that the Angel and Raen were not the same. The Angel was not a callous murderer. He had forgiven the tainted, and freed the prisoners at the Mountain Temple.
“Only his allies and the Travellers are free to travel the worlds,” Baluka added in a low voice. His eyes were bright again, and she saw that he’d always been fascinated by stories of the Raen. He’d not grown up dreading an encounter with the immortal sorcerer. He was, however, concerned for Rielle.
She shivered as she saw why. He believed that the Raen would kill her, if he discovered she was still alive.
“Why would he want to kill me?” she blurted out. “He wanted me to live in his world.”
She saw the answer in Baluka’s mind. He had noted that Inekera had stranded her after Rielle had shown how powerful she was by reaching for as much magic as she could.
“You’re strong,” Lejikh told her. “I don’t think the Raen realised how powerful you are, and when Inekera did she decided to get rid of you as a favour to him.” He grimaced. “He often leaves the more unpleasant tasks to his allies.”
Rielle went cold. “He wouldn’t do that!” She saw their grim expressions and shook her head. “Besides, why didn’t she just kill me? Why abandon me in a desert?”
“Probably because you’re stronger than she is,” Baluka answered. “Attacking you directly is a risk. She must have guessed or learned you couldn’t travel between worlds. Abandoning you between them to suffocate or stranding you in an unpopulated desert world was the least risky way to get rid of you.”
Rielle looked from one Traveller to the other. They were so convinced that the Angel was the Raen, and his intentions were malicious, that they would find an explanation that fitted their ideas no matter what she said.
And she couldn’t resent them for that. They only wanted to help her and keep their family safe.
“So what do I do now?”
Lejikh combed his beard with his fingers. “You cannot stay here. Lord Felomar won’t risk helping a sorcerer as powerful as you now that the Raen has returned.” He frowned. “The Raen’s law against teaching others how to travel between worlds applies to Travellers as well, so we cannot continue your training. You must either find a teacher willing to defy the Raen’s law so that you can return to your home world, or find a new home in another world and stay hidden there.
“You’d be safest in your own world,” Lejikh said. “It’s the one place you can be sure he’ll never return to, since he’d be trapped there again.”
“But it isn’t a safe place for a sorcerer,” Baluka pointed out. “Finding a teacher may not be as hard as it sounds. Some sorcerers will resent the return of the Raen’s laws. Some have always defied them.” Then he paused and chewed his bottom lip. “However, they will be hard to find once they learn the Raen is back.”
Ankari reached out and patted Rielle’s hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll help you find somewhere nice either way.”
Rielle gave the woman a grateful smile, then turned to Lejikh as something else occurred to her. “But if the Raen meets one of you won’t he read my location from your mind?”
Lejikh nodded. “We may know who you are learning from, but we don’t need to know where.”
“The Worweau Market is a good place to find a teacher,” Ankari said, looking at Lejikh. “Perhaps we will find one among the
Metri. They are similar in appearance and culture to Rielle–though they do not have laws against using magic. Her artisan skills would be valued, too.”
Lejikh frowned as he considered, then nodded with some reluctance. “Metri would be suitable, but Worweau Market is many worlds’ travel away. He looked at Rielle. “It will be a long way back to Rielle’s home world.”
“And from the last place we know the Raen has visited,” Ankari pointed out. “Better that she is safe but with a long journey home than in danger with a short one. And she may like Metri enough to make it her home.” She looked at Rielle. “You should write down what you saw in all the worlds you remember passing through to get to Inekera’s world, in case your memory fades.”
Rielle nodded. Lejikh looked at his wife, then his son, then Rielle. “It is the best option we have, for now. Rielle, you should not allow anyone else to know you accepted an invitation to serve the Raen, or that Inekera tried to kill you. From this moment we must all keep our minds closed unless the need to translate is urgent. You especially, Rielle.”
“But how will I understand you without Baluka translating?” Rielle asked.
He smiled. “The way everyone without magic does. Learning our language will be more useful than you expect. The Traveller tongue is spoken as a trading language in most worlds, so it will allow you to communicate with more than my family and people.”
“And it will gain you respect as well,” Baluka added. “Knowing the Traveller tongue suggests you are educated and important.”
“Not too important, if you are to stay hidden,” Lejikh warned. “Do you have any more questions before Baluka blocks his mind?”
Rielle considered. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as we’ve had a quick morning meal. If you have left any belongings in your room you had better fetch them now. Anything else?”
She shook her head.
Lejikh’s mind vanished from her senses, then Baluka’s. They all rose, the older couple leading the way out of the room. Baluka indicated she should follow him. They walked in silence. When they had reached the corridor leading to her room his mind opened to hers again.
“I know you still believe the Angel and the Raen are not the same person,” he murmured. “I don’t have to read your mind to see that. I’d not want to admit I had been deceived, if I was in your position. But I know it’s more than that to you.” He paused, deciding how he would say what he wanted to say. “You may not realise it, but you may unconsciously fear it means the Angels did not forgive you.”
A stab of horror went through her. He was right. Resentment flared, but the feeling vanished as quickly, replaced by gratitude. At least someone understood, even if that person did not believe Angels existed.
He was looking at her expectantly, so she searched the few Traveller words she’d learned for the right one.
“Thank you,” she said in his language.
His smile was bright and she found herself thinking, not for the first time but never with the freedom to dwell on it before, that he was a good-looking young man. And good natured, too, she added as she ducked into her bedroom to gather up her clothes. One day he’s going to make a Traveller girl very happy.
PART TWO
TYEN
CHAPTER 1
The bigger of the insectoids bore down on its rival, the snapping of its huge foreclaws echoing in the classroom. A low murmur of anticipation and dread escaped the ring of watching students. Known as The Kraw, the insectoid had snapped the last combatant in half with one of those claws–and nearly nipped a finger off the victim’s creator when he’d leapt into the ring to retrieve the pieces.
This time the target was a short, round-backed insectoid–a dimpled dome with a stubby, armoured head and many small legs tucked underneath. It had a body too large for The Kraw’s foreclaws to get around, Tyen noted with approval, and if some of the legs were removed it would still be able to move. But where were its offensive weapons? To win, it must disable its opponent.
As The Kraw attacked, leaping on top of the new insectoid’s back and trying to prise off the head, the dimples turned black. No, Tyen corrected, they’re holes. Spikes bristled from the metal dome. Most skittered off the thick shell of The Kraw, but one found a weak spot between the body segments and penetrated within.
Two more broke free of the domed back and shot upwards to implant in the ceiling. Tyen frowned. The watchers were protected by an invisible wall of magic, so he was not concerned anyone would be harmed, but the use of projectile weapons would instantly disqualify an insectoid. These battles were supposed to encourage invention and ingenuity, not be an exchange of missiles and explosives. Yet the other spikes had withdrawn into the dome so if, on inspection, it was clear they weren’t intended to fly free of the machine, the creator could remain the victor.
The rest of the students were cheering now as The Kraw, winner of the last three insectoid tournaments, rolled off the dome and twitched helplessly on the floor. Once the victor reached a circle drawn in the far corner they erupted in shouts and whoops, some crowding close to the blushing creator to slap her on the back. She looked at Tyen, trying to hold back a grin as she waited for confirmation of her victory.
Tyen waited until his silence caused them all to quieten, then he grinned. “We have a new winner! Dalle Brokeer is First Maker of the Twelfth Insectoid Tournament.” Cheering broke out again.
“I told you. If anyone was going to do it, it’d be her,” a voice said at his left. He turned to see Dalle’s brother, Zeke, approaching. The young man’s arms were crossed, but his eyes shone with pride.
“You did,” Tyen replied. “You couldn’t hold the top position for ever.”
“Not with The Kraw,” Zeke agreed. “I’m surprised it lasted this long. Dalle’s design won’t be hard to beat, though. It’s too single-purpose.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” Tyen disagreed. “I expect she will modify it to suit a greater range of opponents before sending it in to fight again. She has a few design issues to fix, too.” He looked up at the spikes embedded in the roof, and Zeke chuckled.
A distant clanging cut across the noise in the room, marking the end of classes. Breaking away from the other students, Dalle scooped up the insectoids and brought them over.
“Sorry,” she said as she handed The Kraw to her brother. She didn’t sound at all apologetic, Tyen noted.
“Congratulations,” Zeke replied, as convincingly.
Tyen chuckled. “On your way, you two. I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with in your next cycle.”
Contrary to what he expected, the pair exchanged a worried look.
“I don’t think he knows,” Zeke told his sister.
“Knows what?” Tyen asked. He looked from one to the other, noting their grim expressions. “Are you two leaving?”
“Well…” Dalle began. “What of this rumour that the Raen has returned?”
Tyen shook his head. “The who?”
Dalle’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve never even heard of the Raen?”
“No.”
“He is the ruler of all the worlds,” Zeke said. “Or he was until twenty or so cycles ago, when he disappeared.”
“It’s probably another false sighting,” Dalle told Zeke. She glanced over at the other students, who were standing in a group, waiting for the pair to join them. No doubt they had plans to celebrate her win. “Every few cycles another rumour spreads through the worlds that he’s come back, and people panic.” She stepped back and away. “Come on, Zeke. I’m hungry.”
Zeke shrugged and followed her to the group. Tyen watched them go, then tidied up the room quickly and set off for his room.
The corridors were busier than ever. Small groups of students blocked the way, so intent on their conversation he had to clear his throat loudly before they noticed him and stepped aside. Lone students hurried back and forth, which was normal, but all looked distressed rather than happy that lessons were over for th
e day.
When he ascended to the floor above he found teachers also blocking the way, talking in hushed tones. If they noticed him as he approached they fell silent as he passed by. When they didn’t he listened carefully, and heard the name Dalle had spoken.
Whoever this Raen is–or was, he thought, he must have held a great deal of power to still scare everyone this much.
Reaching his room, he settled into his usual post-class routine, changing out of uniform and into clothing more like what he had worn in his home world. He opened the large cabinet that held his books, various insectoids and other mechanical creations he’d made since joining Liftre. A large timepiece stood at the centre. The first set of hands showed the time and date in Leratia. He’d come to refer to his home world by the country of his birth, since it did not have a separate name as most worlds did. It was only because some of the components of Beetle were normally used in making watches that he’d been able to create a timepiece that showed Leratian time.
A second set of hands indicated Traveller Time. Since the measurement of days and years–or even hours–was never the same in any world, Traveller Time was used as a second common measurement in most of them.
It’s over six Leratian years since I left my world. Which equates to five and a quarter cycles. The time hadn’t passed quickly, but now it all seemed to have gone in a flash. He’d spent most of it at Liftre immersed in study, after half a cycle of wandering through the worlds.
Learning a new language had been the hardest part. At least there had been only one language to learn. Traveller tongue was spoken in most worlds as a second language, though often only by merchants, sorcerers and the nobility. It was a requirement of joining Liftre that all students speak it. Fortunately he’d picked up enough to get by from reading minds during that first half-cycle of wandering so he’d had a basic grasp of it by the time he’d joined the school.