This was why it was said that Makers were never strong sorcerers. The truth went in the other direction: strong sorcerers–ageless sorcerers–could not be Makers.
It’s just a myth, Dahli told himself. Like Millennium’s Rule.
Yet if it was true, he feared that she would never forgive him for not warning her. She would turn on him, and Valhan. And if it also proved true that she was the Successor then he would have brought about Valhan’s demise. That thought sent a familiar and overwhelming panic through him, and as she saw why, she let out a breath in surprise.
Dahli loved Valhan. Not just as a loyal servant, or friend. He desired him as passionately as she had once desired Izare, with a need as strong and undeniable as hunger. Which had never abated despite the fact–perhaps because of the fact–that it was not reciprocated.
It explained the flashes of jealousy and disapproval she had seen. It explained why he was prone to suspicion and fear. Yet though his loyalty would always be to Valhan first, he still liked her enough to feel remorse at what he had taken from her. For that, she could forgive him a great deal–though perhaps not all.
He was staring at her now. The silence had stretched on too long.
“You’re reading my mind!”
“Yes. Though I read your face, first. I read your guilt. I knew you were hiding something from me. Something important. Don’t you know you should never lie to a portraitist?” He hadn’t exactly lied, but she was not going to spoil a good saying by quibbling.
“Breaking your promise not to read my mind won’t encourage me to trust you,” he pointed out.
“Do you really think I’d have read your mind if you hadn’t given me good reason to distrust you?”
He sagged, as if all the fear and anger in him had been air, suddenly removed.
“You know that I don’t believe it’s true.”
“That I am the Successor, or no longer a Maker?”
“Both.”
“You really think I could be as strong as he?”
“He does, though he is not entirely sure. He can still read your mind.”
That he was not sure was still too incredible to contemplate. And it did not matter as much as…
“It was Valhan’s decision, to conceal from me what I might lose when I became ageless,” she reminded him.
Dahli nodded. “He does tend to decide what is best for others without consulting them.”
She shook her head. “Agelessness or the ability to generate magic? What would I prefer? I don’t know. Until recently, I had no use for generating magic. I still don’t. Whereas not ageing, perhaps not dying until some distant moment when I get tired of living or someone or something kills me… I can see how that would be the better choice.”
“I hoped you would—”
“But these last few days,” she continued, ignoring him. “Drawing and painting have not felt the same as they used to. Something is missing. I reasoned that my mind was too busy, or there were too many interruptions, or I was out of practice.” She looked at him. “If it was a choice between the way making art feels, that sense of fulfilment and joy, and living for hundreds or thousands of cycles never feeling that way again, I would not have chosen agelessness.”
He bowed his head. She let the silence lengthen. No doubt it was a short space of time compared to the hundreds of cycles he had lived, but she gained a small satisfaction at extending his discomfort.
But her heart ached, and it was a petty, unsatisfying victory. Rising, she walked around him to the door to the kitchen. She rested a hand on it, then looked back.
“I have no intention of joining the rebels,” she told him. “Nor do I ever want to be the ruler of worlds. That remains true, whether I am a Maker still, or not.”
He looked over his shoulder at her, then nodded.
She turned away and headed back to her suite of rooms.
PART EIGHT
TYEN
CHAPTER 19
A spark of light appeared then lengthened. It formed a curve, sweeping around to make a circle. From the centre, streaks of light shot outwards to meet the furthest edge.
The signal had changed as it moved through the worlds. No longer was it a broken wheel, but a whole one. It didn’t matter. Unless a world existed where giant symbols blazed across the sky on a regular basis, it was obvious everywhere this was a sign. Those who knew to expect one understood the significance.
Over near the horizon a blink of light caught his eye. He looked closer. Another wheel symbol had appeared. Tyen shook his head in wonder. He hadn’t created them. He hadn’t needed to. Baluka had expected Tyen to outrace the call to fight, but within a few hours it had overtaken him, spreading as sorcerers who saw the sign slipped into neighbouring worlds, at no small risk to themselves, to pass on the message.
Wherever the signal had been seen, it kept appearing, over and over, across each world, so that all within would know it was time to gather together and fight. Sorcerers from all the worlds were also seeking out the location of the rebel army. No meeting place had been chosen before today. Tyen, Volk, Hapre and Frell had set out in the wake of the signal, leaving instructions in places and with people the rebels might seek out for information. That information, too, had spread faster than Tyen could travel.
It was dangerous work for the generals, but then, every rebel was risking their life this day. The allies would have seen the signal, too. They would be hunting for and killing as many rebels as they could find.
But the allies were outnumbered, and if the chase lured them outwards they would be scattered far and wide, their ranks thinned to smaller and smaller groups. Those rebels who escaped their notice had a head start to reach the gathering place before the allies discovered the location and began to organise. Hopefully by the time they did so an army would have gathered large enough to repel them.
Hopefully that army would grow to a size that could face both the allies and the Raen.
Nobody could guess how many sorcerers would respond to the sign, and make it to the meeting place. The only way to know if Baluka’s plan would work was to try it.
Tyen pushed out of the world. How much time do I have left, Vella?
“More than enough to get back to the meeting place, if you do not have to deal with anyone following or trying to stop you.”
At this point, pursuit was very likely. He’d stayed out in the worlds for as long as he could, all too aware that he’d promised to open his mind to Baluka on the day of battle. The longer he left it, the less likely they’d get around to it.
He moved on, increasing speed with each world until they were flashing in and out of sight, then slowed to a stop to catch his breath before pushing on again. Not much further on he sensed another traveller in the place between. The shadow was still there after the next world, then the next. He quickened the pace, and soon lost all sense of it. As a precaution, he changed direction, looped around, backtracked a few worlds before pausing to search the place between for shadows. None remained. Satisfied that he had shaken off his pursuer, he continued towards the meeting place.
Several worlds away from his destination, it became obvious something unusual was happening. Paths were increasing in number, all of them fresh or recently used. He sensed more crossing over the one he followed. He noticed other travellers, all heading in the same direction, though they veered away when they detected him.
By the time he was a handful of worlds from the gathering, the place between was riddled with paths. Around the world of his destination it was all path, like a trampled field.
He sensed a few travellers in the whiteness, but they did not approach so he ignored them. A bleached, grassy plain appeared, but he did not bring himself through fully. He skimmed until he found one of the paths he and the other generals had created, radiating around this small world and all leading to the gathering place. The landscape flashed by, evolving and changing. He shot through mountains and over valleys. He soared over oceans and deserts.
r /> Then, not long after a familiar dry and featureless stony plain appeared, he saw a new feature. Flat and roughly circular, it was like a multi-coloured lake, its surface ruffled by the wind. His path led directly towards it. Details emerged and he made out the shapes and movement of many, many people.
Just before arriving, he skimmed upwards to view the scene from above.
Wonder filled him. A great crowd lay below him. He had never seen a crowd this big before. So many people! Many more than Baluka’s thousand, he guessed. He considered the size of the hall in the Raen’s palace. It was hard to estimate a room’s size from someone else’s memory, but one thing was clear: the rebels had a problem. How are we all going to fit in?
His heart lifted. Perhaps Baluka would have to call off the attack. He began searching for the rebel leader, and did not have to seek for long. Baluka stood on a half-buried rock at the centre of the crowd, Frell and Hapre at his side. The broken wheel symbol had been painted many times, all over the rock’s surface. He wondered who had thought to bring paint along.
They saw him as he reached the rock and their faces softened with relief. But as he arrived in the world they exchanged grim and reluctant glances.
“What has happened?” he asked, even as he read the source of their worry from their minds.
“Volk is missing,” Baluka said.
“Probably dead,” Hapre added.
“The latest groups to arrive encountered another sorcerer who said Volk told him the meeting place was at the Worweau Market,” Frell explained. “They couldn’t convince him otherwise.”
Tyen’s heart sank. “One of the allies is pretending to be him? That doesn’t mean he is dead. The allies might have caught another rebel who had received directions from Volk.”
Hapre frowned. “But how would this sorcerer know Volk’s name? We weren’t giving our names to anyone. They have to have encountered Volk himself.”
“They might only have spied on him and read his mind.”
“If one of them read his mind they were stronger. Why would they let him live and continue to spread the message?”
“No rebels have arrived since then who were sent by Volk,” Frell added. He looked at Baluka. “Waiting for him will only give them more time to coordinate an attack.”
Tyen looked at the crowd. “At least we do not have to wait. You’ve already got your thousand, Baluka, twice over or more!”
Baluka nodded. “Yes. Yes, we have.” He smiled. “How can we lose, Tyen? How can we lose?”
“I can think of a few ways,” Frell said. “Large armies have their weaknesses. Communication, for a start. How are we going to get our orders out to so many people, here and during the battle?”
“Volk taught me a method of adding volume to my voice,” Baluka replied.
“That may not help with more complex information–like the path to the Raen’s world.”
Baluka shrugged. “We will take them there ourselves.”
Hapre stared at him in disbelief. “Transport that many people at once?”
“It takes no more effort to move thousands than to move one,” Baluka reminded her. “The Raen has transported entire nations between worlds. It can be done–and you don’t even have to be that powerful—” His attention shifted away. “What is it?”
A man was hovering at the rock’s edge. As Baluka stepped to the side to speak to him, Hapre looked at the mass of people. “Moving that many people. It just… feels like you shouldn’t be able to.”
“Good and bad news,” Baluka said as he rejoined them. “The rebels who were misled to the Worweau Market are under attack by several allies. Those that have escaped said several hundred rebels had been waiting there. The good news is the Raen is not with them.” His eyes were bright with excitement. “We should try to take advantage of the allies being occupied. You are right, Hapre. Volk would have returned here by now, if he were able. We can delay no longer.”
Nothing was said for a moment, as they exchanged bleak and worried looks. Tyen cleared his throat.
“There’s another problem.” The three turned to look at him. “From what I saw in the minds of those who’d been there, the Raen’s palace is underground. The arrival place is a hall–a large hall, but not big enough for everyone here.”
As Hapre and Frell realised what this meant, their faces fell. But Baluka only smiled.
“Ah. That’s clever,” he said. “That’s very clever. There can never be enough sorcerers in one room to be a threat to him.”
“What can we do instead?” Frell asked. “Do we stay here and wait for the allies to attack? We may be strong enough to face the Raen and his allies.”
Baluka shook his head. “And lose the advantage. Assuming the Raen is still in his world. No, we must think of a way to overcome this.”
“Could we arrive, attack and then leave in turns?” Hapre suggested.
Frell shook his head. “It would take precise coordination, which would take a great deal of time to prepare and train for, and we don’t know how perilous the six uninhabited worlds before the Raen’s are.”
“If only a small number can face him then that number need to be the most powerful,” Hapre said. “Then the rest can take magic and deliver it to those fighters.”
“Or we could try to lure him out of the palace?” Frell suggested.
“That puts control back in his hands.” Baluka shook his head, his thoughts racing. He looked away, narrowing his eyes at the crowd. How many of them were strong sorcerers? “Strong” really only described a sorcerer’s reach. Even a weak sorcerer could hold a great deal of power if he or she happened to be in a world so magically rich that plenty of it was within reach.
There’s an incredible amount of magic here, it’s held within all these people. Wait… of course!
“All we need is a few hundred fighters,” Baluka said. “And for the rest to give them the magic they hold.”
“That would take some time to arrange,” Hapre warned.
“Unless we get everyone to release the magic they’re holding all at the same time, and the fighters immediately take it.”
Tyen looked away to hide his dismay. It was a brilliant solution. Fewer would die if they failed. Baluka had no idea if the fighters could take all the released magic quickly enough, as it would spread rapidly outwards when released, but they should collect most of it.
He is right: how can we lose? His heart lifted, then sank. What if we don’t? What if the rebels kill the Raen?
All the information gathering he had done since handing over the rebel leadership to Baluka had formed a picture of the Raen and his friends and allies that didn’t quite match what the rebels believed. A great many of the grievances against the Raen were the fault of the allies, or non-sorcerers who had made deals with the Raen. That didn’t make the Raen blameless, however. He was willing to make those deals. He had not stopped the allies abusing their power. He had personally led wars.
But when Tyen had begun tracing the true cause of a specific atrocity, he often discovered links back to something that had been done with good intentions, and for the benefit of others. Some were harsh measures that had good outcomes. And while plenty of terrible events had happened over the length of the Raen’s rule, many more had occurred in the last twenty cycles, when he was absent.
As Tyen had found more benign original arrangements, he began to see a greater pattern. He remembered what the Raen had said when he’d first asked Tyen to spy on the rebels:
“They do not see that my laws keep the strife of the worlds from growing into greater conflicts.”
Laws and deals. Sometimes the better of two bad choices. Sometimes the only choice. It was hard for Tyen to imagine that someone as powerful as the Raen could ever be left with one choice–even though Tyen was also a sorcerer of great strength. How much harder would it be for a weaker sorcerer to understand that having more magic would not solve all problems?
He didn’t think the Raen deserved to die, but
he knew he would never convince the rebels of this. Yet that wasn’t what worried him most as he looked at the thousands gathered around Baluka. It wasn’t even that if the Raen lost he’d lose the only person who might discover how to restore Vella.
It was the thought of what would happen to the worlds when they were no longer under the Raen’s control.
The Raen would have stopped this if there had been any danger of him losing, he reminded himself. He’d met with the ruler of worlds a few days earlier. The man knew what was coming. He has a plan. Or he knows he’s stronger. After a thousand cycles and many other rebellions, he isn’t going to underestimate Baluka’s army.
The rebel leader straightened. “Speak to the closest rebels. Tell them to spread the word that we want both strong and battle-trained sorcerers to join us here. Read the minds of those who respond, to select the best of them. We will get the crowd to split into as many groups as there are fighters while we explain the plan. The fighters will choose a group and give instructions–which will be for everyone else to release their magic at my signal, and for the fighters to take it.”
“That will strand everyone here, with no magic for defence,” Frell pointed out.
“Have one person in each group retain enough magic to transport the rest away,” Hapre suggested. “Once they’re in the next world there’ll be magic available for all of them to travel onward.”
“And return home–which will confuse any allies who see them, distracting them from the rest of us as we head to the Raen’s world.” Baluka looked at each of them, eyebrows slightly raised. “Any other problems to solve?” When none of them replied, he nodded. “Go, and quickly.”
The generals levitated down from the rock and set off in three directions. Soon men and women were emerging from the crowd in response. It wasn’t so much a matter of comparing and selecting their abilities as fighters as sending away those who did not have strong powers or battle experience. When no more volunteers came forward, they had a group of three hundred.