Baluka nodded. “Yes.” He looked at Rielle. “Many believe that strong sorcerers can’t be Makers.”
“It may be why the Raen did not test her strength before he took Rielle from her world,” Ankari said. “As a Maker she could be no threat.”
Rielle opened her mouth to remind them that the Angel had taken her out of her world, not the Raen, then remembered that she was never going to convince them. She closed it again, but Ankari frowned as she did so, then looked at Baluka in a pointed way. He returned the look with a small, helpless shrug.
They probably think I still believe the Raen is an Angel, she realised. How can I explain that I don’t?
“Lejikh might have a teacher for you,” Ankari told her, “if you want to leave us. Or you may stay with us. You do not need to choose now.”
Rielle nodded and her heart lifted. If she did not make up her mind before, she might see the Gathering. Then she realised what Ankari had also told her: that she and Lejikh would agree to her marrying Baluka. They would welcome her as a daughter. She found herself beaming at Ankari.
“Thank you,” she offered, wishing she had enough grasp of the language to express her gratitude more.
The woman smiled, picked up the trousers she was working on and resumed stitching. “You should not make while here,” she said, glancing at the drawings. “Or where many people are. But tomorrow we leave and you can draw.”
Looking at the unfinished sketch of the sculptor, Rielle sighed. Standing, she picked up the sketch and climbed into the wagon to stow it with the others. Baluka, to her surprise, followed. As he closed the door and a flame appeared to light the interior, she had to hide a smile at how obvious his intention was to catch a moment alone.
He gave her a measuring look and she waited, curious to see what he would do next. Reaching into his tunic, he drew out a length of braided thread. “Mother made this,” he said. He took both ends and held it out, then when she reached out to take it he shook his head. “Your hand,” he said.
She held her hand out, palm up, but instead of dropping the braid onto it he looped it around her wrist. His hands shook as he tied it, and she looked away and pretended not to notice. Maybe he does like me, she thought. A little flare of guilt burned inside her briefly. What if he loves me like I loved Izare, and I can’t return that passion? Before she could try to answer that question, he spoke.
“This is my second asking,” he told her quietly. “If you decide ‘no’ any time, take it off. The third time I ask, you must tie one of these on my wrist to say ‘yes’. On the day we marry, it will be replaced by a line on our wrists.”
He looked up at her. She smiled, not sure if she was supposed to say anything. But he only smiled in return and moved away. He slipped out of the door, leaving her alone in the dim light from the windows.
She fingered the braid, examining feelings of flattery and excitement and hope. The Travellers wanted her. She could have a family again, and a nicer one than her own had been. Though they still expected their children to marry someone they approved of, the difference was that they were willing to allow him some choice, and he could marry an outsider with no wealth or status if he wanted to so long as they joined the family.
Seeing a movement in the small mirror attached to the wall beside his parents’ bed, she looked over to see her face reflected back at her. If I accept, I will become a Traveller. I will see many, many worlds. I will make things for the family to sell in markets like this. I will bear children, if Baluka is right about the Traveller healer’s skills. Even if I don’t love Baluka as I loved Izare, I am sure I will come to.
Something plucked at the edges of her senses. At the same time a shadow moved in the depths of the mirror. She blinked and took a step closer. At once the shadows resolved into a pattern her mind recognised.
A face. Eyes narrowing as she caught her breath in recognition. She spun around.
Nothing. Nobody in the room but her. The wall behind was smooth, no pattern on it that might have looked like the face in the reflection.
Placing a hand on her chest, she willed her heart to stop racing. I imagined him. Yet she could not quite convince herself of that. What if it was him? Or the other? The Angel or the Raen?
The Raen did not know she existed. It had to have been the Angel.
Then why behind me? Why disappear again? And why now? Why at the moment I was contemplating a new life for myself?
He had offered to take her to his world but, for good or ill, Inekera had prevented that. Had he finally learned she was alive, and tracked her down? If he had, why had he left again?
Perhaps he had seen her thoughts and believed she had chosen a different future. Her skin tingled. If he came back now and repeated his offer to take me to his realm again, would I accept? It would be a cruel disappointment for Baluka if she did, and the family would think she had joined the Raen–if they ever saw who took her away.
She turned back to the mirror, looking at herself and the smooth and faceless wall, and found she couldn’t decide what she wanted more: the warmth of a real family life, or the glory of serving the Angel. Twin longings pulled her in different directions. My heart wants the first, my soul wants the second. And her mind?
Her mind reasoned that she had probably imagined the face in the mirror. And if he’d been real… well, he hadn’t made his offer again, so her only real choices were to find someone to teach her how to travel between worlds so she could go back to her home world, start a quiet new life in a new world, or marry Baluka and stay with the Travellers.
She had grown used to the thought she would never see her childhood home again. The prospect of starting over again was exhausting. The Travellers believed she would not be truly safe if she didn’t return to her own world. That made staying with the Travellers the best choice.
The Travellers wanted her to stay with them. She liked them, and their way of living. She liked Baluka…
The choice seemed obvious, but still she hesitated. A decision that would shape the rest of her life was not one to be making hastily. She needed time to consider all the advantages and disadvantages. But how much time do I have? Until we leave the market? Until the Travellers’ healer can try to make me fertile again? She looked down at the braid. I guess I have to make one of these to tie on Baluka’s wrist if I accept, so at the very least I have that long.
CHAPTER 13
The closer the Travellers came to the Gathering, the more excitement they expressed. The adults betrayed it in subtle ways, hurrying at preparations. The children swung from impatience to anticipation. Now, a world before the meeting place, nobody was hiding their excitement.
Jikari emerged from her family’s wagon to whistles of admiration. Her tunic was a deep orange-red that complemented her brown skin beautifully and was stitched with pale blue designs. The trousers she wore beneath reversed the colour combination. Her black hair had been braided into an intricate rope that hung over her shoulder down to her waist. The young woman’s mouth twitched as she kept her expression lofty and dignified. Then she stepped off the wagon and floated to the ground. Fine lines of Stain radiated out from where the girl had been standing when she’d drawn in magic, but they lingered only briefly before disappearing.
So it had been in all the worlds the Travellers had visited, Rielle reflected. In some, the darkness where magic had been taken disappeared so quickly that she barely had time to register it, even when she was watching for it. Yet the Travellers regarded this world as one of the weaker ones of their cycle and had encouraged her to draw as often as possible to replace the magic they used.
“Are you ready?” Ankari asked.
Rielle turned to see the woman examining her critically. “I… am I?”
The cloth of Rielle’s tunic and trousers was a deep red. Gold thread had been stitched all over the bodice, making it almost as stiff as leather. It was one of Ankari’s sets, saved from when she was younger, the trousers lengthened by the addition of gold cloth cuffs.<
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As more appreciative whistles penetrated the wagon’s walls, Rielle glanced through the window again. Hari stood where Jikari had been, dressed in a long green tunic cut on the bias that almost brushed the ground. It was more fitted at the top, the yoke stitched with multitudes of tiny black beads. Her hair fell like ribbons from a knot at the back. She, too, floated to the ground.
“You’re next oldest,” Ankari said, pushing Rielle to the door.
“But I can’t…” Rielle began.
“I will do it for you.”
The woman opened the door and guided Rielle into view with a firm hand in the middle of the back. As whistles rose from the crowd Rielle’s face began to heat. She glanced back at Ankari, who made a shooing gesture. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the air beside the wagon as if there were an invisible platform waiting for her.
There was. A solidness met her shoe. She wobbled a little as she brought her other foot forward to meet the first, then again as she began to descend. When the stony ground met her feet she let out a sigh of relief and quickly walked forward.
Baluka emerged from the crowd, smiling, to meet her.
“You are beautiful,” he said, his gaze travelling over her clothing.
“Thank you.” She looked down. “But I am going to be very hungry tonight.”
He frowned. “No? Are you unwell?”
She shook her head. “If I eat I will be sure to make it dirty.”
He laughed. “No, you won’t.” He extended a hand, so she took it and was guided into the crowd, which had turned to whistle at the next woman emerging from the wagons.
“When do the women get to…”–she whistled–“… at the men?”
Lejikh, standing nearby, glanced at her and chuckled. Glancing at the other men, Baluka smiled at their grins. “Any time you want,” he replied, to which they laughed.
“Now?” she suggested.
“There will be a good time later tonight,” he promised, then as the men laughed again he added, “When the dancing begins.”
As the oldest of the women, dressed in an elegant rich purple tunic against which her long silver hair contrasted beautifully, joined the family, Lejikh’s voice rose above the chatter.
“It is time to complete the cycle,” he said. “Take your places.”
As on all the previous shifts between worlds, Rielle stood between Ankari and Baluka. All took hold of their neighbour and a part of the circle of wagons. Lejikh checked that all were present, then the Travellers began their chant. Since Baluka had stopped opening his mind to her she hadn’t been able to understand much of the verses, though the more words she learned the more details she’d come to recognise.
This time, however, the phrases she identified were not about landscape or climate, but people. She recognised the words for marriage, birth, dance, feast and family, all linked with words of plenty like “many”, “large”, “hundreds” and “a thousand”. The latter related to cycles and number of Travellers, if she had translated correctly.
At last the stone ground below their feet and the purplish blue sky above began to fade. The sensation of travelling between worlds was familiar now. Baluka had not attempted to teach her how to do it again–not even the basic uses of magic–for which she was mostly relieved, yet a little disappointed as well.
She had to admit, she did not know how to regard magic now. While using it in her world was to steal from the Angels, her world had been very poor in magic. It had occurred to her that if Valhan had stripped her world of magic in order to leave it, no Angels could now enter it to right an injustice, as Valhan had done at the Mountain Temple, without becoming trapped. Maybe that was why they’d forbidden the use of magic. Maybe that was why they hadn’t, elsewhere.
So much of what the priests had believed about Angels was wrong. They didn’t even know Valhan’s name. Oddly, that made it easier to accept that nobody knew of Angels outside her world or believed using magic was forbidden. All were wrong about Angels, and who was to say which level or kind of “being wrong” was more unacceptable?
Maybe the Angels were content to remain unknown outside magically poor worlds so long as they had enough magic to work with. Maybe Angels were happy for humans to use magic when there was plenty to go around.
She remembered what Sa-Mica had told her the day she’d sailed for Schpeta. “Valhan once told me that this world will not be so depleted of magic for ever. One day, many generations from now, mortals will be free to use it again.”
One day her world would be more like the ones she had travelled through. Yet they would not be as free to use it as Valhan had said. The Raen forbade the teaching of magic, and travel between worlds. Was he, then, restricting the freedoms the Angels had allowed?
He killed powerful sorcerers. Except, obviously, the allies the Travellers had referred to. And Travellers.
If the Angels were working quietly to help humanity, why hadn’t they done something about the Raen? Did they approve of his laws? Were they unable to stop him murdering people? Did he learn to change his appearance to look like an Angel in order to deceive people? She would have caught her breath, if she had been conscious of breathing. That would explain so much!
Warm air surrounded her and her lungs flexed to draw in fresh air. Ankari moved away. Gently undulating grassy hills covered in grazing lom surrounded them. Wagons were clustered on the tops of hills. In the centre, a wide, flat-topped hill–a small plateau that looked as if it had been levelled for human purposes–was free of vehicles. On this, colourful shelters had been built to protect the people gathered there from the wind, which was whipping the streamers attached to the edges of the shelters into tangles.
“Let’s move,” Lejikh bellowed.
Baluka squeezed her hand, and she looked down, surprised but not displeased to find he was still holding it. “We have to get off the arrival area quickly to clear the space for other families to arrive,” he told her.
She nodded and followed him to Lejikh’s wagon. Ankari was already leading the lom to the beginning of a track that ran along the ridge towards the central hill. To Rielle’s surprise, most of the Travellers not occupied in driving the wagons were walking beside them rather than riding inside as they usually did. She and Baluka joined Ankari.
“Don’t get close to the lom,” Baluka advised. “They’ll have smelled the others.” He sniffed then pointed to the grazing animals, some of which had stopped to watch the newcomers. “They want to join them now.” He patted the closest lom’s neck. “Soon,” he said. The beast’s ears flicked.
“How will you know which are yours?” she asked.
He lifted the ear of the lom, pointing out a mark on the inside that was too perfectly round to be natural–a mark similar to the ones the Travellers had around their wrists. She nodded. Each family must have their own design.
Before they reached the plateau, Lejikh steered his wagon down a side track. They wound their way between a few occupied hills to an empty one, then curled into a circle at the summit. As soon as all wagons were still, the extended family busied themselves unharnessing the lom, coordinating the release of the last straps so all of the beasts were free to move at the same time. The normally slow-moving animals lumbered off at a surprising speed, headed for the nearest group of lom, which had turned to watch the newcomers.
Rielle started as arms hooked into hers. Jikari and Hari grinned at her as they guided her towards the path to the plateau.
“We want to show you to all,” Jikari explained.
“And show all to you,” Hari added with a giggle. “And the boy Jiki likes.”
“Not now!” Jikari objected, which only made Hari laugh.
Rielle considered the younger woman. “When did you see him… before?”
“At the last Gathering,” Hari answered.
Jikari sighed. “A long time. He might like another girl. He might be married.”
Hari shrugged. “Or he might have waited, like my Lukaja did.”
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“He might, and I might not like him now,” Jikari pointed out, and the other girl let out a small laugh of wry agreement.
They continued chatting as they walked. Jikari’s arm linked in Rielle’s was a little tense, but she walked with confidence. As they reached the plateau a view of similar hills stretched out on all sides. The sky was a pale blue, streaked with white, wind-stretched clouds passing a pair of small suns that appeared to be linked by glowing bands of light. The hills were pastel yellow-green and green-blue, covered in a range of thick-leaved plants. In contrast to both, the canopies and wagons of the Travellers were intensely coloured.
Her companions headed towards one of the canopies, where a family were lounging on thick mattresses covered with blankets–probably the bedding from their wagons as it was unlikely Travellers had room for extra padding for the purpose. Some of the women and a few of the men were stitching brightly coloured clothing. After introductions, a conversation started that was too fast for Rielle to keep up with. Hari leaned close to explain, gesturing to a slim young woman.
“Sadeer will be married tomorrow night. A match marriage.”
“What is that?”
“Their parents arranged it.” At Rielle’s frown, Hari patted her arm reassuringly. “The pair want to marry. They met at three Gatherings before they said yes.”
Thinking of Baluka’s three steps to the proposal, Rielle looked at Sadeer’s wrists. Sure enough, a braid was knotted around it. A worn, much-repaired braid.
“We say ‘good fortune’ to those who are to be married,” Hari said, then raised her voice and looked at the young woman. “Good fortune to you.”
Rielle repeated the phrase. Sadeer bowed her head shyly and smiled. She’s younger than I was when I met Izare, Rielle mused. How can she really know the man her parents have chosen if she has only spent a few handfuls of days with him each cycle, for three cycles? But the number of days Rielle had been with the Travellers might not add up to much more, and she was contemplating marrying Baluka. She touched the braid at her wrist and looked back towards the wagons.
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