Maker's Curse

by Trudi Canavan

  He was thinking all this deliberately, using the Traveller language that his mentor had taught him, as it was known by sorcerers who moved between worlds, hoping she would see she was in danger and have time to flee.

  “I am in no danger,” she assured him. “But I do not want to cause trouble. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  He considered. It was a risk. Probably too great a risk. But she deserved an explanation. If she could get to his late mentor’s rooms unseen…

  She moved closer and held out a hand. He looked at it dubiously. As she began to withdraw it, curiosity overcame his fears, and he took it.

  Pushing out of the world, she took them far enough into the space between worlds that the city almost disappeared. Enough details remained visible that she could navigate, skimming high over the city. Annad’s eyes widened, but his surprise was quickly replaced by fascination. He knew about world travelling, she guessed, though perhaps not how to.

  She took them back towards the world so they could see more of the city’s streets and buildings.

  “Where are your mentor’s rooms?” she asked.

  He pointed. “The highest room of the tower with the five-panelled roof.”

  No other roof fitted that description. She skimmed down, through the roof and into a circular room. To her relief it was unoccupied. She did not want to make his situation any more complicated and dangerous.

  As they arrived she let go of his hand. “I am Rielle,” she told him.

  “I am Annad,” he replied.

  “What happened in this world?”

  He told her about the loss of magic. Foreign sorcerers had been blamed for it, and many of them murdered. After they had died or fled, the Followers of Rel had arrived, spreading their tales of a goddess who had taken all the magic of Infae, disgusted with the way sorcerers enslaved and exploited non-sorcerers. Now it was the local sorcerers who were murdered, and while he had survived so far, Annad did not like to think about his chances of living out the year if his friend lost influence among the Followers.

  “But they do not kill Makers,” he assured her. “You are a powerful Maker?”

  “Yes. But I am also a sorcerer.”

  “How long have you been here?” he asked.

  “I arrived in this world today.”

  His eyebrows rose in surprise. At the same time he felt a rush of excitement as he realised she must be powerful to have travelled all the way to other worlds through the place between. “You did not know this was a dead world?”

  “I knew.”

  “Then why did you enter?”

  “To see what has happened since the magic was taken.”

  He frowned. “How did you know it was taken?”

  She sighed. “Because I was here when it happened.”

  He stared at her, recalling what the priestesses believed. Is this her? Is this Rel? The Followers say she will return. If we are better, if all are free, she will restore the world.

  Rielle shook her head. “I am no god. I did not mean for this to happen, but it is my fault. I should have come back sooner. I was…” She sighed. “I should not have meddled.”

  Annad stared at her silently. He did not see the goddess the Followers spoke of. He saw a powerful sorcerer and Maker in obvious distress. He thought back to his mentor, Sentah, who had been strong enough not just to travel between worlds, but to become ageless. When the magic had left the world, Sentah had been unable to heal himself when yellowlung spread through the city. But he had welcomed that death, saying he had lived far too long. His only regret was not being able to teach Annad everything he knew.

  “I’m sorry,” Rielle said.

  He shook his head. “It is not your fault he caught yellowlung.”

  Nor was it entirely her fault that the old man had been unable to heal himself. The magic she’d made, then taken, before leaving Infae would not have spread this far.

  “So… what will you do now?” he asked.

  She drew in a deep breath and straightened. “Decide whether or not to restore this world. I think, before I do so, I will need to find out more about the Followers. Where are they based?”

  “Vohenn.”

  The delta city. She nodded. “Then I will go there.”

  Annad crossed his arms. “By restore, do you mean fill Infae with magic?”

  “Yes. I am a Maker. A particularly strong one.”

  He nodded. “That’s what Sentah believed. He’d said Makers couldn’t be gods, since they could not become ageless. Not without breaking the worlds. It was the price they paid for their ability.”

  She blinked in surprise. “You know of Maker’s Curse?”

  Annad straightened, glowing with pride that she should be impressed by his knowledge of magic. “Sentah told me of it.”

  “How did he know about it?”

  “He was a member of a secret library, so I expect he read about it there.”

  She felt a flash of hope. “Where is this library?”

  Annad grimaced. “Lost. Sentah’s membership was revoked many cycles ago, and all of those who belonged to it have died since. He gave me clues to its location when he was dying, saying if I could work them out I was worthy of its treasures, but it is not in this world.” The young man shrugged. “And even if this world was restored, I don’t know how to travel between worlds.”

  Rielle considered him. I could teach him. If I decide not to restore Infae’s magic I’ll have to take him out of this world first. Then go with him on his search? But what of restoring worlds?

  She’d decide later, after she had sorted out matters here.

  “Where is Vohenn?” she asked.

  A vague idea of the city’s location flitted through his mind, his knowledge based on Sentah’s maps.

  “May I see the maps?”

  He nodded, then hurried over to a cupboard and, with hands shaking, opened it and rifled though a multitude of scrolls, packets and loose sheafs of paper. Drawing out a large roll, he moved to a table and pushed aside the dirty utensils and crockery of several past meals to make space for the unrolled map.

  Rielle watched his mind as he pointed out details. Vohenn was half a world away. It had only taken five cycles – nearly seven years in Infae’s measure of time – for the Cult of Rel to spread so far.

  She touched the map. “Can I take this?”

  “If you take me with you,” Annad replied.

  Rielle looked up at him. “If I have to leave this world suddenly, you will be stranded on the other side of it.”

  His shoulders lifted. “I am willing to take that risk.” Not just for the fame of being her guide, he told himself, but if she is here to decide whether to restore magic, I must speak on behalf of sorcerers. “It’s not like there’s anything to keep me here now.”

  “Then pack a bag. Even if I restore magic, you won’t survive with nothing to trade.”

  She picked up the map and examined it as he rushed about packing. He did not take long, pausing only to write two quick notes, one for the landlord and the other for a friend. When he was done, she held out a hand. He took it gingerly.

  “Take a deep breath.”

  As he did so, she sucked in one herself, then pushed them both out of the world and began skimming upwards. The land below shrank, and soon she was able to recognise local features on the map. Having got her bearings, she sent them shooting off towards the nearest coastline. Following it would take longer than going directly to Vohenn, but a large ocean lay between them and their destination, with no features to get her bearings from.

  She stopped several times to breathe, Annad coping with standing on an invisible surface high above the world remarkably well. He had travelled with his mentor using this method once or twice, though never so high above the ground, and never so far from home. At last a delta city appeared. The waterways glistened brightly, the reflection of the dawn sky making the water appear clean rather than the waste-tainted filth she remembered. Taking them downwards, she real
ised that the illusion was not entirely false. The waters were much less polluted now and no slick of wastes stretched to the horizon.

  The city was still a shambles, but at the centre a shining new building was under construction. Rielle had seen plenty of temples before and it was clear this was to be one. Stopping high above the city, she brought them into the world again to consider her next move.

  To her surprise, plenty of magic surrounded them. It emanated from the city below like a comforting mist, spreading a little way out into the countryside. The sources were numerous, but one in particular was stronger than the rest and she traced it back to a building in the temple complex. She sought minds.

  A man was resuming his carving of a sculpture, taking advantage of the quiet of early morning to get some work done before the rest of the Makers arrived. This was where the Cult of Rel housed the Makers it had attracted with the promise of good living conditions. Many were working on the temple decorations, their professions ranging from carvers to painters to weavers. They were overseen by a priestess named Bel.

  Rielle recognised the face in the carver’s mind. The youngest and most shy of the three young women who had helped Rielle, Bel was now full of confidence and purpose. She liked working with the artisans, and they looked up to her as one of the three who the goddess had judged worthy, and whose likeness Rel had painted in The Promise.

  Rielle winced. As she feared, they’d taken the images she’d made of them on the factory wall as a kind of prophecy and order. They believed they must make the scene of prosperity and equality happen before she returned.

  How had this translated to killing sorcerers? Looking around the city, she saw no sign of burned houses. She skimmed across minds until she found a sorcerer enjoying a morning meal with his family. He nursed no fear of being murdered. Searching further, she found no sign that sorcerers were being attacked here. Many were not as wealthy as they had been before, but few had fallen on hard times. Enough magic existed that they could trade small services for payment. Several had joined the temple and become priests and priestesses.

  Turning back to the temple, Rielle searched the minds there. She found young priests and priestesses gathering for their morning class.

  “Sorcerers aren’t being killed here,” she observed.

  “They call themselves the Cult of Rel,” Annad observed. “Not the Followers.”

  Rielle looked into the minds of people within the centre of the temple. A familiar name caught her attention. She handed the map to Annad, pushed out of the world and sent them downwards.

  “Time to find out what’s going on.”

  They passed through the temple roof into a large room. A young woman stood before a mirror adjusting her plain white high-priestess robes. Rielle let go of Annad’s hand and walked over to the young woman.

  “Solicitations, High Priestess Bel,” Rielle said.

  The young woman looked up at the mirror, blinked as she saw Rielle’s reflection, then spun around. Rielle smiled as disbelief fought recognition in the woman’s mind and lost.

  “It’s you!” Bel exclaimed. “It’s really you!” She put a hand to her mouth in amazement, covering a grin. The young woman considered what would be appropriate behaviour, then decided she must prostrate herself.

  “No,” Rielle said quickly, catching Bel’s hands. “Do not lower yourself before me. I am not… We are friends. And we have much to discuss.” She let go of the girl’s hands. “Are Mai and Vai here too?”

  Bel nodded. “I’ll send for them.” She moved to the door and, opening it a crack, spoke to someone beyond. “Find High Priestesses Mai and Vai and tell them to meet me here immediately.” She closed the door, then glanced at Rielle’s companion.

  “This is Annad,” Rielle explained. “I arrived on the other side of the world and he offered to be my guide.”

  Bel smiled at him. “Welcome to the Temple of Rel, Annad. You have travelled a long way.”

  He shrugged. “Yes. Thank you,” he replied haltingly, unfamiliar with her language but able to understand and answer because he could read her mind.

  Bel paused, deliberating whether she should send someone for food. She was saved from deciding by the door opening. They all turned to see Mai entering.

  “Rel! You came back!” The young woman beamed and hurried towards Rielle, then stopped abruptly. “I mean… goddess Rel, welcome back.” Her knees began to bend.

  “Thank you,” Rielle replied. “Please don’t do that.”

  Mai froze, then straightened and continued the rest of the way to Rielle, her steps measured and her face calm despite the multitude of emotions vibrating within her. Fear, delight, even a little guilt. She, Vai and Bel had presumed so much by starting all of this, not because they believed Rielle was a god, but because they knew she wasn’t.

  “Then why tell people I am?” Rielle asked.

  Mai paled. “Ah…”

  “We didn’t think you’d come back,” Bel replied. “The whole idea that you might return wasn’t ours. We wanted people to fix their own problems, not wait for you. That’s why we seek out Makers and pay them well in exchange for creating things. We believe we can bring back the magic ourselves.”

  “But people are so excited by the idea of a goddess visiting our world. They want to meet you themselves,” Mai explained. “They want it so badly that when we suggested you wouldn’t return, they lost interest in fighting for freedom.”

  Bel smiled. “And you were clearly so powerful you might well have been a goddess.”

  Rielle shook her head. “Gods don’t make mistakes. I do.”

  “All gods do,” Mai told her, frowning. “How could anyone believe in gods that were infallible, when they see how imperfect the world is?”

  Rielle could not answer that.

  “Why did you leave that picture?” Bel asked.

  Before Rielle could reply, the door opened again. Vai stepped into the room and, seeing Rielle, stopped to stare.

  “Yes,” Rielle said. “I’m back. I’d have come sooner, but…” What could she say? That she had avoided coming for fear of what her interference might have led to?

  “You don’t need to have an excuse,” Mai said. “Why have you returned?”

  Rielle sighed and turned to Bel. “The picture was… I wished you had a better life. I wanted to show you that you deserved to be treated with fairness and dignity. It was a way to say thank you for all the help you gave me.” She paused. “But… to be honest, I did hope you and the other workers would be inspired to make a change, even as I worried that my interference would lead to strife. And it did.” She glanced at Annad. “I arrived on the other side of the world and found that the Followers of Rel were killing sorcerers in my name.”

  “Ah,” Vai said, her voice darkening. “The Followers.”

  “They disagreed with us,” Bel explained. “And formed their own cult.”

  “It wasn’t easy, in the beginning.” Vai came forward to join them, now recovered from the shock of seeing Rielle. She had always been the most confident and pragmatic of the three. “People didn’t know if what you drew was a promise or an instruction. Or meant anything. We and the other workers decided that it must mean something. We wouldn’t let it mean nothing, so we refused to work.”

  “It wasn’t easy.” Mai shuddered. “The factory managers didn’t have magic, but they had other weapons. Beatings. Withholding pay. Throwing the children out of the compounds and keeping their parents within. But the factory owners weren’t going to make any money if we didn’t work, so they had to give in eventually.”

  “The controllers who saw you disappear told others about you, before the managers ordered them to silence,” Bel added. “As word spread that we were visited by a goddess, many controllers refused to deal out the beatings, or joined us. One had made a copy of the painting you left by pressing cloth against the wall, so that others could see and replicate it.”

  “By the time the owners were ready to negotiate, it was
too late,” Vai finished. “It was out of their control. Out of everyone’s. People looked to us for answers. They didn’t like that we didn’t have any, so we had to start making things up. To make rules and give orders. We managed to stop things going completely crazy.”

  “There’s no stopping the current, so we stick to steering the boat,” Bel added, in a tone that suggested she’d used the saying many times before.

  “That all seems like a long time ago,” Mai said. “We’ve been in control here for a few years now. Elsewhere… unfortunately the other side of the world is too far away for us to influence. One day we will be strong enough to deal with the Followers, but not right now.”

  “Are you… are you unhappy with what we’ve tried to do?” Bel asked.

  Rielle glanced from face to face. The women were holding their breath. She realised she was frowning and relaxed her expression.

  “No. I’m amazed you have achieved so much. And yet…” Rielle hesitated, trying to put words to the nagging doubt she felt.

  “What?” Vai asked.

  Rielle spread her hands. “I am troubled, that it is all built on a lie. I am not a god.”

  They bowed their heads.

  “Would you have us undo everything?” Mai asked.

  Rielle sighed. “No. The truth might be as dangerous as the lie.” She grimaced. “Though it might stop the Followers.”

  “Could you pretend to be a god in order to stop them?”

  Rielle winced. “If I had to, I suppose I could.” She looked at Annad. “What do you think, Annad?”

  He shook his head. “I think they would fight to retain their power. They would declare you a fake – a sorcerer pretending to be Rel.”

  “Even if I restored the magic of this world?”

  He shrugged. “Then perhaps you wouldn’t have to convince them of anything, because the sorcerers could defend themselves again.”

  Rielle turned to the girls. “People here obey you and made hard changes because you let them believe I would return and restore the magic of this world. That was a risk. I might never have returned. But I am here, and that means you face another dilemma: if I do restore this world, I will be putting power back into the hands of those who oppressed you.”