Jikari said something about Baluka and as Rielle turned to look at her she realised that all eyes were looking her way now. She read curiosity and surprise, and caught a few quickly concealed frowns. Guessing why, she turned to her companions.
“You told them…?” The grin she got in reply confirmed it. “I haven’t said yes, yet,” she objected. A few Travellers chuckled.
“Do you have a braid to give him?” an old woman nearby asked.
Rielle frowned as she remembered she hadn’t. She’d intended to ask Hari or Jikari for the materials. It wasn’t a simple braid, but some kind of interwoven rope, so she’d need instruction.
“Sit.” The old woman patted the mattress next to her. “I will teach you.”
Hari nodded. “Go. Her name is Marta.”
Moving to the space beside the old woman, Rielle watched as Marta produced a notched disk from the bottom of her basket of stitching materials. Cutting several strands of the coloured thread the Travellers used to embellish their clothing, Marta tied them together, pushed the knot through a hole in the middle of the disk and attached a weight to it. She demonstrated how to move the threads from notch to notch to weave them around each other, then handed the disk to Rielle.
Though she followed the woman’s instructions correctly, Rielle’s braid was loose and uneven at first, but as she worked she soon learned how tight to twist the threads, and by the end of the braid Marta was nodding approvingly. The woman removed the braid from the disk, chopped off the wobbly braiding at the start and tied the ends. She wrapped it around her own wrist, showing that it was still long enough to tie.
She probably made the threads a little longer, expecting me to mess it up at the beginning, Rielle mused. Looking at the braid around Sadeer’s wrist and then her own, Rielle saw that the young woman’s was thicker and the weave more elaborate. I have made the beginner’s version. Well, I am a beginner. A beginner at being a Traveller.
Not an absolute beginner, however. She had begun to grasp the language and learn their ways. It had been difficult at first, and still was at times, but it was slowly growing easier. The thought of starting all over in a new place, whether in her home world or not, seemed too great a challenge to face again. Surely she could not be lucky enough to find people as nice to settle among. Looking around, she noticed that Ankari had joined the group while she had been braiding. The woman smiled back at Rielle. Her eyes dropped to the braid and, though Rielle might have imagined it, her smile gained a knowing smugness.
“Yaikha’s family is here!” Hari exclaimed, rising to her knees to look over everyone’s head. Ankari leapt to her feet and hurried away. Hari followed.
As Jikari stood up, Rielle followed suit. The young woman beckoned and led Rielle out from under the canopy, back towards the edge of the plateau. Ankari and Hari stood there, watching another line of wagons trundling along the path from the arrival place.
“Baluka’s sister, Injiki, married Yaikha’s son, Hakhel, three cycles ago,” Jikari explained. “She’s had two children already, both boys.”
“Women always leave the family to join the husbands?” Rielle asked.
Jikari nodded. “Unless a leader has only daughters and no strong nephews.” She slowed as they neared Ankari and Hari, and glanced at Rielle. “Uouma, Yaikha’s wife, was an outsider too. You should talk to her.”
The lead wagon had descended below sight, but as Rielle stepped up to the edge of the plateau she caught sight of it again, following a path that would take it past the plateau and up to the crest of an empty hill. Two women had left the wagons and were walking toward Haki and Rielle, one younger and with the stature and colouring of a Traveller, the other older but with the darkest skin Rielle had ever seen. Both were carrying small children, one just an infant.
The women were breathless by the time they had climbed the steep slope, panting out greetings then exchanging fond hugs. Looking closely at Baluka’s sister, Rielle recognised a familiar shape of eye and nose. She hadn’t realised it until now, but Ankari had the kind of face that looked perpetually cheerful, and her daughter did, too. Happy eyes, she mused. And dimples that remain even when they’re not smiling. She had a sudden itch to draw them and compare.
Ankari said nothing of Baluka’s proposal as she introduced Rielle. “As for her story… Baluka found her, so he should do the telling,” she finished.
Injiki’s eyebrows rose. “Where is he?”
“With the leaders. Go save him.”
The young woman chuckled and headed towards another of the canopies. Ankari hooked an arm around Uouma’s and the pair started walking, Hari, Jikari and Rielle following. Looking ahead, Rielle noted that their destination appeared to be another canopy, near the centre of the plateau, under which many children were gathered. “How is Ulma?”
Uouma’s shoulders lifted and her reply was quiet and in an accent Rielle found difficult to decipher. The older pair talked quietly as they strolled across the plateau. As they reached the canopy Ankari stopped and Uouma continued on, calling out a greeting to the men and women within.
Ankari turned to Rielle. “Come with me,” she said. Looking at the other two women, she made a small gesture, and the pair did not follow as Ankari led Rielle back the way they’d come.
Looking at Ankari sideways, Rielle waited to see if this meant Baluka’s mother wanted a private chat with her. The woman’s expression was serious.
“Baluka told you of a Traveller who can… mend people’s hurts,” she began. “She lives with Yaikha’s family. Her name is Ulma. She can help you, if you want.”
Rielle winced. Ankari could only be referring to the damage the corrupter had done. The heat of embarrassment was quickly followed by a chill of fear. The magic that had made her infertile had hurt. Would healing her be as painful?
“How?” she asked, and instantly berated herself for asking such a foolish question. It would involve magic. Exactly how did not matter.
“Only Ulma knows,” Ankari replied firmly. “She must look at you first.”
As Rielle nodded and lowered her eyes, Ankari stopped and reached out to touch Rielle’s arm, her eyes full of sympathy.
“I know you fear. Do you want to see her?”
If she can heal me, why wouldn’t I let her? Rielle thought. She nodded. “What is the price?”
Ankari’s eye crinkled in amusement. “No price.” She started walking again, and pointed to a hilltop now occupied with wagons. “We ask Ulma now?”
Ignoring the chill that ran over her skin, Rielle nodded again. “If she is ready.”
“She will be,” Ankari replied with confidence.
They walked the rest of the way to Yaikha’s wagons without conversing, Ankari humming a tune Rielle recognised as one she’d heard other Travellers whistle or sing from time to time. They chose a less direct route to avoid the steep descent to the road, so by the time they reached the wagons the first of the suns was kissing the horizon and twilight began to turn the colours from the pale world to greys.
A sick feeling of dread took turns with impatience as Ankari exchanged greetings with the other Travellers and introduced Rielle. All had Uouma’s thick accent, so Rielle was reduced to nodding and smiling, repeating the appropriate phrases of greeting and noting the slight hesitation as they deciphered familiar words out of her own way of speaking.
Finally she heard Ankari ask after Ulma. All turned to regard a woman with long grey hair, watching them from the step of a wagon. A faint smile deepened the woman’s wrinkles and she beckoned.
The rest of the family returned to whatever they had been doing before. Ankari led Rielle to the old woman.
“Oliti,” Ankari said. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” the woman replied with a wry expression.
“Rielle wishes to see Ulma,” Ankari continued. “Is she—?”
“Come in,” a high voice said from within the wagon, then a string of words spoken rapidly, followed by a laugh.
The old wo
man rose stiffly and withdrew into the doorway. Ankari led the way up the steps and into a bright interior. The light of a floating flame reflected between thousands of bottles and jars made of glass, ceramic, metal and other substances Rielle could only guess at. The mingled smell of dried vegetation wafted from bunches of leaves and twigs hanging from the walls and ceiling. Between these were numerous dolls, exquisitely realistic, of young women. All had different hair, skin and eye colour, yet the same face–clearly made from the same mould.
A young woman sat cross-legged on an unmade bed. She looked no older than Rielle had been when she had met Izare. Yet the way the old woman regarded her with poised expectation, like a servant ready to do her bidding, hinted at a respect that eclipsed youth.
“Ankari,” Ulma said. “You are well.”
“Ulma,” Ankari said, with warmth and deference. “This is Rielle.”
The girl smiled at Rielle’s surprise. “You are not a Traveller.”
Rielle shook her head.
“Sit.” Ulma patted the mattress. “Drink oali with me.”
As Ankari and Rielle settled onto the bed the old woman brought out chipped ceramic cups, filled them with water which immediately began steaming, then mixed in a dark red powder. The drink was pleasantly spicy, though Ankari grimaced after the first mouthful and set her cup aside.
“Who seeks my help?” Ulma’s gaze moved from Ankari to Rielle, searching. “You are not unwell.”
“Rielle was harmed many cycles ago,” Ankari explained. “She cannot bear children. She does not know how it was done.”
The girl’s eyes fixed on Rielle’s stomach. She shuffled closer. “Show me.”
Conscious of the women watching her, Rielle pushed aside reluctance and lifted the front of her tunic. Ulma did not wait for her to untie the waist of her trousers, slipping a warm hand under the waist and onto Rielle’s belly. The gesture was so similar to what the corrupter had done that Rielle flinched.
“Do not fear,” Ulma said, looking up and smiling. “I will not hurt you.” She closed her eyes. “I see scars. I see what was done,” she said after a pause. “The path is open. I look more…” She frowned, then shook her head. “No. No other scars.” Opening her eyes, she withdrew her hand. “You are mended. You…” She turned to Ankari and spoke rapidly.
Ankari’s eyebrows rose and she nodded. Ulma’s smile was bright and she patted Rielle on the shoulder.
“You can make children. Strong sorcerers mend from bad hurts. You like oali?”
Too surprised for the change of subject, Rielle could not answer. I’ve healed naturally? Or did I fix myself that day by the garbage heap, all those years ago? Have I been able to have children all this time? Relief was followed by unexpected anxiety. The prospect of bearing and raising children sudden loomed over her, with all its risks and responsibility. Will the Travellers expect me to have children straight away, like Baluka’s sister has?
Ulma said something to Ankari and the pair laughed.
“Learn magic first,” Ankari said, patting Rielle’s arm. “Better to bear children when you can keep them safe.”
Oliti pressed another hot mug into Rielle’s hands. Savouring the warmth and spice, Rielle slowly relaxed, listening but not minding that she only half understood the women’s chatter, which moved on to trade and cooking. Gazing at the dolls, Rielle suddenly realised they, or at least the shape of their faces, were modelled on Ulma.
“You like?” Ulma asked, noticing the direction of Rielle’s attention.
“Yes,” Rielle replied.
“My daughter make them,” she said, looking at Oliti.
“They are beautiful.”
The old woman nodded. “Thank you.”
Ulma grinned, looking proud. She looked at Oliti and said something Rielle did not understand.
When they left, Rielle was surprised to find it dark outside, with a chill in the air. Fires had been lit over on the plateau and people had emerged from canopies to sit around them. She could hear music and the steady rumble of drums. The oali in her stomach kept her warm as she and Ankari walked back. She considered the conversation with the healer. Some of it had been very odd. Particularly the way Ulma had said her daughter had made the dolls, and the old woman had thanked her. Most likely she had mixed up the words for “daughter” and “grandmother”.
“Mother!” a voice called.
They had reached the plateau. A figure broke from the crowd, silhouetted against a fire as it approached. I think I would recognise Baluka’s shadow anywhere now, Rielle mused. There was a tension in him, she noted. Did he know where she and Ankari had been, and why?
“Rielle,” he said as he neared. His voice had the tone of someone delivering bad news, not expecting it.
“What is it?” Ankari replied.
“Some of the leaders have objected to… to Rielle joining us. They don’t want to risk the Raen’s anger. They want to question her before they agree to… to…”
Ankari drew in a sharp breath. “Ah,” was all she said.
“But…” Rielle began, then let the rest of the words dissolve off her tongue unheard. But the Raen is not the same person as the Angel. She hadn’t tried harder to convince Lejikh’s family of this because it didn’t matter. But now it did. She had to try again. And convince these leaders as well, who had no reason to trust her. If she even got the chance…
“They want to talk to Rielle,” Baluka added. “Tomorrow.” He moved to her side and hooked his arm around hers. His muscles were too rigid for it to be comforting, but she appreciated the gesture. “I’m sorry,” he told her, but his voice vibrated more with anger than apology. “With the Raen gone, some of them lost trade. Now the law against travel means only Travellers can trade again, so they fear to lose the deal with him.”
“Then they only need to know they do not need to fear,” she told him. “If I tell you what I know, you can tell me how to say it.”
He looked at her and nodded. “Yes. We need to be ready. But we will talk tomorrow.” His face relaxed into a smile. “Tonight there will be feasting, singing and dancing!”
CHAPTER 14
Rielle absently rubbed the sore muscles of her calves as Baluka considered her suggestion, then tucked her feet back into the shade of the small canopy he’d erected for them a few hundred paces away from Lejikh’s wagon. Though not particularly warm, the sunlight here could burn the skin quickly, and Ankari had warned her to keep to the shade whenever possible.
Though the suns were high, most of the Travellers were still asleep. Since night held no risk of skinburn, they preferred to sleep through most of the day and gather at night. Most of the gathering involved music, song and dance, spaced between meals and drinking, and recovering from meals and drinking.
Baluka had kept his promise to teach her some of the Traveller dances. She picked them up quickly and enjoyed their boisterous energy. Half were for couples, the rest ranged from more complicated traditional turns involving several couples swapping partners, to individuals and groups of women or men in more skilled acrobatic performances.
The songs, too, ranged from single to group performances, sometimes watched in appreciative silence by all, other times with everyone joining in. As always, Rielle sang or hummed quietly enough that her lack of ability did not spoil the tune. Baluka sang heartily, admitting it was to make up for his lack of talent.
But it was Marta and Sadeer she admired most. Grandmother and granddaughter, together and apart, pierced the night with passionate, beautiful voices. Sadeer ended her first song by shyly handing a flower to a young man who had watched her with rapt fascination. Her fiancé, Rielle learned later. She also caught the glance Jikari made at a slightly older youth, who either did not notice, or pretended not to. Later she saw the young woman dancing and laughing with two other Traveller men.
After Jikari introduced Rielle to them she leaned close to whisper: “Life is too short for men who ignore you.”
Remembering that now, as Ri
elle rested under Baluka’s shelter, she was relieved to see that he was listening closely. His brows were creased in thought. When she finished, the lines deepened, then softened again. He pursed his lips, then shrugged.
“It is a good point,” he said.
She smiled, warily triumphant.
His frown returned, though. “If you are wrong… if he and the Raen are the same… do you understand the danger the leaders fear?”
She nodded. “They fear the Raen will end the deal between him and the Travellers.” Their freedom to trade between worlds would be revoked. They would be forced to settle in a world. Perhaps whichever worlds they were in when the Raen’s permission was withdrawn, which meant their people would be scattered throughout the worlds. Though sorcerers were capable of protecting themselves, they could still be in danger if the world they landed in contained stronger sorcerers. “If he is the same person, why would he do that? He gave me a choice. I could have stayed in my world. Is it worse that I choose to stay with you now?”
Baluka sighed. “We don’t know.” His brows knit even tighter. “We may have to ask him.”
Her heart lightened. “Then you will all know he is not the Angel.”
His frown did not ease, and she wondered what it would cost them to approach the Raen. He would learn that they had concealed someone they knew he had wanted to employ, and might punish them.
“If he is, and he did mean you to die, you won’t be able to stay with us. It would make it too easy for him to find you,” Baluka pointed out.
“Ah.” There was that. For all that she was sure that the Raen was not the Angel, she had to acknowledge that she could be wrong. And if she was, it was also possible that Inekera had tried to kill her on the Raen’s orders. Her stomach turned like a child tossing in her sleep.
A hand surrounded hers. She looked up to see that Baluka had shifted closer, frowning at her in concern. Her heart warmed with gratitude, not just that he wanted to reassure her, or even that he had saved her. He’d listened to her. He’d considered her suggestion and seen the merit in it. That will make him a good husband, more than anything else, she found herself thinking. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was lost as Ankari called her name from somewhere behind and above them.
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