Angel of Storms

by Trudi Canavan

  But at that moment the distant sound of drums and music started. He pulled away. “They will want us to go back,” he said.

  “Ah,” she replied, hoping she didn’t sound too disappointed. “Do we have to?”

  “Yes.” He chuckled and stood up, then tugged her to her feet. “Before we do…” He made a little grimace. “The leaders say the Raen will not see you as a threat once we are married. So we must marry before the end of the Gathering. On the last day.”

  She nodded. “I understand.” Then she laughed. “Ankari will want to make… make…”

  “Clothes. Plans.” He smiled. “Yes. And you must learn the words of the ritual.”

  Rielle winced. “Are there many?”

  He chuckled again. “You will find out tonight.” He pointed to the plateau.

  “Sadeer!” Rielle exclaimed, turning to look. “When?”

  “Now.”

  “Then we must go back quickly!” She let go of his hands, turned and took a step towards the wagons.

  And stumbled to a halt as she realised someone was standing behind her. For the smallest moment she thought it was one of the Travellers come to make sure they did not get up to mischief before their wedding night.

  But the face was not that of a Traveller, and the features sent a shiver of recognition through her.

  A hand gripped her arm. She heard Baluka shout.

  Then all turned to white.

  CHAPTER 15

  Two, three, four landscapes appeared and disappeared in rapid succession, but Rielle did not see them. She did not even try to take a breath, sure that she would not have managed it in the slip of time air was available. Instead, she stared and stared at the face before her as shock turned to uncertainty and dread.

  Is it him, or the other?

  His hair did not reflect blue. His skin was pale, but not white. His eyes were cold and calculating, and she was glad they were not fixed on her.

  His head was tilted, gaze distant, as if listening to something.

  As she thought this, her awareness spread beyond him and she sensed a shadow. Not one of the shapes within the whiteness from the next world, like objects seen through several layers of sheer curtains, but a presence, closer, though still veiled by distance.

  Coming closer.

  The grip on her arm tightened. She saw the Angel–or Raen–narrow his eyes and their progress slowed a little. A shape began to form in the whiteness and she heard a familiar voice in her mind.

  “Rielle!”

  Baluka? Was he following?

  The Angel/Raen’s eyebrows rose and his mouth twisted in contempt. He looked away and she sensed them moving again. A world flashed in and out of sight. The presence was there again, in the space between the next worlds, but barely discernible. Another world flashed in and out of sight, and in the whiteness she searched in vain for it, wanting to know if it was Baluka, wanting him to keep up, wanting him to steal her back. And then she realised what might happen if he did catch up, and she searched with fear in her heart, relieved when she found nothing.

  I could not bear it if Baluka should die because of me.

  Which turned her thoughts back to the man responsible. Why? She regarded him warily. He was not so difficult to look at as he had been when she was certain he was an Angel. Perhaps she knew instinctively that he was not. Who are you? she thought.

  His gaze snapped to hers. She could not read his expression. It had none of the warmth of the Angel but neither was it as cold as those in the Raen’s portrait.

  Green surrounded them, and stayed. The branches of strange trees formed a tangle around them. Her chest heaved, sucking in air. He let go of her arm and watched as she fought to catch her breath. Why isn’t he gasping for air, too?

  “Magic,” he said, using the Travellers’ word for it.

  His voice was that of the Angel. It sent a shiver up her spine. And it stirred an unexpected anger.

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “Who do you believe I am?”

  “I don’t know. Are you the Angel?”

  “Yes.” A faint smile widened his lips.

  No elation filled her. None of the exhilaration and amazement she had felt before. Not even relief to know she was safe–because she was certain she wasn’t. What was it about him that made her disbelieve? She looked at his hair and skin. “You look different.”

  “I do.”

  “Are you the Raen?”

  “Yes.”

  Her heart shrivelled, then began to beat faster.

  “Then you are not the Angel,” she told him.

  “No?” A strand of his hair moved though not even a faint breeze stirred the forest that surrounded them. The black strands changed subtly, gaining an impossible shine. His face had leached of colour. Within a few breaths she beheld the Angel, and a familiar mix of fear and adoration stirred within her.

  She stepped back, horrified and confused.

  “But you just said you are the Raen!” The words burst from her.

  His features slowly regained their former colouring. “I am the one you believed was an Angel. But I am not what you believe Angels are. In all the cycles I was in your world, I saw no Angels. Nor have I seen them in any of a thousand thousand worlds.”

  That does not mean there are no Angels, she thought.

  His expression softened. “No, it does not. There is much in the worlds that remains…” he said a word she did not understand; then, to her surprise, changed to the language of her homeland “… unexplained and undiscovered. Perhaps the priests of your world know something the rest of us don’t.”

  But they did not know enough to realise they were being deceived. He tricked everyone. Except, maybe, the woman who had accosted Sa-Mica at the port where Rielle had boarded the ship to Schpeta.

  Rielle shook her head. “So many lies. Why?”

  “To be safe in your world until I could leave it. To stop others using the magic I needed.”

  The Travellers are right. He had been trapped. And he had stripped her world of magic in order to escape it.

  “You stole from the Angels.” He had escaped partly because of her. She had made some of the magic that freed him. “Why did you take me with you?”

  Again, that faint smile. “For exactly the reason I told you. It was likely the artisans of my world had left due to my long absence, and you would make a good first replacement.”

  His tone was neither full of flattery nor coldly practical. She looked away, unsure how to react. His plans had been thwarted, anyway.

  “Did Inekera try to kill me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “She did what she thought would please me. You are strong, so she saw you as a potential threat.”

  A threat. She forced herself to look at him, to face the man who killed those who might challenge his control of the worlds. How could she be a threat? Even if she was as powerful as he was, he had lived a thousand cycles. She could barely use magic at all.

  “And… do you?”

  He smiled. “No. I don’t intend to kill you.”

  She exhaled in relief, then gathered her courage again.

  “So why have you taken me from the Travellers?”

  “To repeat my offer of a place in my world.”

  She felt an echo of the excitement she’d felt in the Schpetan palace, when he’d first made the offer, but it soon withered away. He is not the Angel, she reminded herself. He is the Raen. He only wants me around because I’m a Maker, and to use the magic I generate to do terrible things out in the worlds.

  He chuckled. “I do not need anyone to generate magic in my world. There is plenty there already. When I use magic, I take it from the world I am in, so the only place I’d be using the magic you create would be in my world. Since I take nobody there but those who wish to serve me and I have no reason to harm them, I will not be doing terrible things with your aid.”

  “Then why take me there?”

  “
First, you are an artisan. A good artisan. One day you will be a great artisan. Second, the magic you made in your world enabled me to escape, and I wish to reward you for that.”

  She looked down at the braid around her wrist. “I have found a life among the Travellers.”

  “Have you?”

  At the note of scepticism in his tone, she looked up and glared at him. “Yes! I accepted a marriage proposal just before you took me away!”

  His gaze did not waver. “Yet you do not love him.”

  She stared at him, suddenly hollow inside. It was pointless to deny it. He could see the truth in her mind. “Plenty of women do not marry for love.”

  “But they would, if they had the choice. You have the choice. But you are still thinking like the girl you were in Fyre,” he told her. “The girl you were supposed to be in Fyre.”

  “It was… the best choice,” she protested.

  “It was the least challenging for you. That isn’t very fair on your fiancé.”

  “It’s hardly fair on anyone to have you as a rival.”

  He shook his head. “No. I am not his rival. You do not love me, either. You never have.”

  A shiver ran over her skin. I did once, but not in a romantic or even carnal way. It was a spiritual love, based on a lie. And now I know he is not an Angel, and what he really is, I feel… She was not sure what she felt. Disappointment. Anger. Guilt. And a strange, uneasy hope. I am not considering his offer, she told herself. He is the Raen. Cruel and controlling.

  “You judge me on the worst of what you have heard of me.”

  “I read the mind of a witness, who saw you murder a man,” she told him.

  He nodded. “At the Worweau Market. Yes. He was planning, with the help of other sorcerers, to kill me.”

  “Oh.”

  “I do what I must to keep the worlds from falling into chaos, and that includes dealing with those who would disrupt them. That cannot be done without some violence.” His voice darkened. “I killed some of the corrupt priests at the Mountain Temple who bred with the tainted women imprisoned there. You have also killed a priest.”

  She winced. “I didn’t mean to,” she protested.

  “No. You did not,” he acknowledged. “That it torments you despite this, and despite his nature, is to your credit.” He paused. “I choose carefully those I invite to my world, Rielle. At least explore this other choice before you dismiss it for a short life with a man you do not love. I can provide a teacher better than any of the Travellers can. They mean well, but a sorcerer of great strength learns best from another sorcerer with great strength. Once you know your true potential, you can choose whether to stay, leave, rejoin the Travellers or return to your world.”

  “They would not take me back.”

  “They might. They do not like me, but they also do not hate me. You know this.”

  She looked away. He was right. The Travellers feared the risk of losing their freedom to travel and trade. She remembered what Yaikha had said: “As my father and his father before him said: the Raen may not hesitate to kill, and we may not agree with his reasons, but he does not do it for enjoyment.”

  And not all people in the worlds hated him. He was loved in some. But he inspired fear even in those who loved him, as anyone with immense magical strength would. As Angels did.

  He was not the Angel. But that did not mean what she had seen in him–what had made her certain he wasn’t the man the worlds feared–was false. She had seen kindness. Warmth.

  He wanted to teach her magic.

  She frowned. This man told me I was forgiven for using magic, and that I could do so for self-defence. But he had no right to. I should obey the Angels…

  His eyebrows rose. “Either there are no Angels and your soul is safe, or they exist and your soul is already forfeit.”

  She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. He was right. To think otherwise was to ignore the teachings of the priests. The punishment did not come in levels of severity according to the amount of magic used. Like physical death, your soul couldn’t be partly destroyed. So I may as well learn magic.

  Yet that was what he wanted her to think.

  “Of course,” he added, “once you learn how to prevent ageing, and if you don’t invite a violent death, you may never have to face the Angels.”

  She found herself staring at him again. “You would teach me that?” she asked, her voice weak. Agelessness! Living forever! All the time in the worlds to paint and weave–or work at improving the lives of people like the serfs in Zun.

  His gaze was unwavering as he nodded his head. She searched for some sign of deception–more deception–and found none. Not that I would see it. After a thousand cycles a person would be very good at hiding their true intentions.

  She turned away, as if hiding her face would hide her deliberations. How can I know if he can be trusted? She couldn’t. Accepting his offer would be a risk. But then, he could have forced her to go with him. He could have continued to let her believe he was an Angel. He could have changed his appearance and behaviour to suit her desires in order to charm and seduce her, like he had done to Lejikh’s first love.

  And how could she criticise him for lying to her? She had all but lied to Baluka. Like Lejikh’s first love, she was being dishonest about her feelings towards a man who loved her. All to have a comfortable, safe life. Though the thought of losing this chance to be a part of Baluka’s family and the Travellers sent a pang of hurt through her, the knowledge that she would be deceiving them had niggled at her like a thorn in her clothing. If she truly respected and loved them, she would not hurt any of them in this way.

  If they knew the truth they might wish they had not welcomed her.

  If they learned she had chosen to join the Raen rather than marry their son they would be hurt as well.

  Do they have to know?

  Baluka had seen the Raen take her. Even if she went back and told him why she couldn’t marry him, he would think she’d been forced to say that, or seduced, like his father’s first love.

  And yet… they don’t need to know anything more than that the Raen took me away. Let them believe Valhan is sending me home–and I agreed to go because I will bring them trouble otherwise. It’s another lie, but this time one to avoid hurting others, rather than me.

  She shook her head as she realised she was thinking like someone who had accepted the Raen’s offer.

  I am. I can’t believe it! Am I mad?

  No. It felt right. For all that she liked Baluka, the thought that she didn’t have to marry him to have safety and a home had lifted a weight from her conscience. And the Raen…? I could be wrong about him. Very wrong. If he was lying he would not let her return to the Travellers, now or later.

  It never hurt to extract a promise, verbal or otherwise. No self-respecting merchant’s daughter would do otherwise. She turned back, straightened and met his gaze. “Do you swear that you will let me leave you and join the Travellers, or find a new home somewhere in the worlds, if I choose, whenever I choose?”

  He nodded. “I promise you, I will.”

  “Then take me back to the Travellers.”

  His brows lowered as he read her intentions from her mind. “That would not be wise.”

  “I can’t disappear without an explanation.”

  “How do you think they will react to my arrival?”

  She pursed her lips. “They need not see you. Arrive somewhere out of sight. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  “Baluka will not let you leave again.”

  “Lejikh will make him, if I demand it.”

  He nodded, then closed the distance between them and took her hand. The contact was gentler–friendlier–than his earlier grip on her arm. The forest faded into white.

  Several worlds flashed past, faster than before. They did not stop to breathe, but arrived at their destination so quickly that she only needed to draw in a deep breath of the chilly night air to recover. Following the distant sound o
f drums and singing, she located the plateau with its fire and dancing figures.

  The wedding! she thought. Did I miss it? At least her disappearance hadn’t spoiled the celebrations. She took a step away and Valhan’s fingers slipped out of hers. After a few strides, though, he called out to her.

  “Baluka is not there.”

  She paused and looked back to see him frowning as he scanned the distant crowd.

  “Lejikh? Ankari?”

  His head turned towards the hill where the family’s wagons rested. “They are there. Baluka has left to seek help retrieving you,” he added. “They do not know where he has gone.”

  “Then they need to know I am safe,” she said. “He will learn this when he returns.”

  He nodded. “Go speak to them.”

  It was not an easy walk, along the side of the hill, down past the boggy crease between the hills, then up to the circle of wagons. As she walked she went over all that he had said and she had concluded, and came to the same conclusion over and over. To stay was not fair on Baluka, or the Travellers. She was taking a great risk going with Valhan, but if he had lied, at least leaving the Travellers meant they might not suffer because of her.

  Her shoes were sodden and her calves hurt by the time she approached Lejikh’s wagon. The small windows were aglow with light. She saw no other Travellers about. Extending her senses she detected only two familiar minds, both full of agitation and worry.

  Hurrying up to the wagon, she climbed the ladder and tapped lightly on the door. Footsteps drew nearer, the door opened and she recognised Lejikh silhouetted against a floating flame inside.

  “Rielle!” he gasped.

  “Rielle?” another voice echoed, from inside.

  Lejikh glanced about, then took her hand and hauled her inside. He looked her over, frowning at her muddied shoes.

  “Are you unharmed?”

  Her “yes” came out in a whoof as she was squeezed between two arms. Ankari sniffed, pushed away and wiped her eyes. Rielle’s heart warmed to see the woman so upset, then her gut twisted as she remembered what she had come to tell them.