Maker's Curse

by Trudi Canavan

  She had been travelling for many days – almost a quarter-cycle – but had visited almost sixty worlds in that time. As a result, her drawing skills were improving again. She had been getting out of practice, what with only being able to make art when she generated magic. She was also accumulating quite a collection of drawings.

  The second message was a little tattered, written on low-quality paper. She unfolded it and read the awkward scrawl of someone not especially familiar with the written version of Traveller tongue. The writer’s name was written at the top of the page: Annad of Infae.

  To Rielle the Maker. I have opened three clues my mentor gave me. This gives me large hope I find the place we spoke of. If you want the answers go to the temple at home. I leave messages at Restorer outpost also. I hope you are well. Annad.

  She smiled. Her visit to Infae had only been half a cycle ago, but it seemed longer. Learning that Annad had interpreted three out of seven of the clues to the secret library made her wish she was free to join him in the search.

  Scanning the message again, she frowned. Annad hadn’t mentioned what he was looking for. If anyone had intercepted the message, they’d only have learned he was looking for answers she might want to hear. But was that enough to draw attention to him? Would someone who resented the Restorers seek Annad to find out more, perhaps hoping to find a way to strike against her or those she worked for? Thinking of poor Zeke, kidnapped by the machine makers, she realised that every message Annad sent her might put him in danger.

  She sighed. It would be safer if he didn’t send her messages at all. She considered how to tell him not to. If she asked him outright, and that message was intercepted, an enemy would know that Annad and his search was important to her.

  What was she to do, then? She considered the problem, then opened her pack and brought out pen and paper.

  To Annad of Infae, I enjoyed reading of your progress in decoding the puzzle your mentor gave you. You have done well. I would very much like to hear of the answers you found but my time is now occupied attending to matters for the Restorers. I am travelling a great deal and may not receive future messages, so do not risk that your efforts will be wasted. I am sure we will meet again one day and you can tell me everything. Good luck and take care. Rielle.

  Rereading it, she nodded. It had the tone she had aimed for, of someone powerful indulging but also distancing an enthusiastic follower. Annad would not believe she cared so little about his search, since he knew the importance of Maker’s Curse to her. At least, she hoped he would see through the message to the warnings within.

  Leaving it with the Restorers with instructions for its delivery, she pushed out of the world and set off for the next to be strengthened. Qall’s message had said only that it was a cold place. She was dressed in her usual simple dress and shawl, so she would have to generate heat with magic when she arrived – unless the locals provided her with warmer clothes during her stay.

  Several worlds later she emerged in an interior arrival place. The room was circular and the walls were made of a dark, glossy substance. The stone floor did not meet the walls, and flames flickered in the gap between them, except where the floor continued out into a corridor through two doorways.

  She chose a doorway. As she stepped through, two exceptionally short, brown-skinned men leapt to their feet from low chairs made from what looked like hide stretched over a frame. She sought their minds and learned they were sorcerers and guards of the arrival place.

  “I am Rielle the Maker,” she told them. “The Restorers sent me. I am to meet with your leader, Mimpu du Purmeme.”

  The pair made a polite gesture that mimicked removing head coverings – in the outside world, baring heads to the elements in greeting was a great honour. One sang a word in the local language, and a woman with long dark hair in a braid that fell to the floor stepped out of a nearby doorway. A guard made a quick sign, and the woman turned and made the same welcoming gesture. She took one of the long ends of a rope tied around her waist and offered it to Rielle. This, too, was a polite gesture mimicking a custom rooted in the harsh environment outside. When storms could reduce visibility to nothing, holding the waist rope of a guide was the only way to know you were following them.

  Rielle stepped forward and took the end of the rope, then followed as the woman shuffled out of the room. They entered a great maze of corridors. None were straight, and many of the rooms Rielle glimpsed were round. As she walked she skimmed the minds around her, seeing multitudes of them involved in domestic tasks, many different forms of employment, learning or playing. Stretching out further, she found a group of men moving furniture from one side of the city to the other, a constant task as the glacier the metropolis was built upon moved and fragmented at the leading edge. In a local year or two, the arrival place would have to be relocated, too, and none were looking forward to shifting the heavy otherworld stone floor. They preferred the bone paving and walls, which were lighter.

  Bone? Rielle took a closer look at the walls, noting how few seams were visible. What manner of creature did these bones belong to? Some of the pieces were wider than she could have stepped across. She looked further, seeking a memory or image to explain the mystery, but only caught vague thoughts about the hunting season. One woman worried how long the city would last, if magic continued to be created too slowly for the hunters to gather enough meat, skin and bones for the city.

  By that time the corridors had grown wider and the walls were carved and decorated. Rielle examined artworks quickly as she passed. The skill of their makers was impressive. Her guide noticed her looking and began to talk about the subjects, memories of the icy landscapes and iceberg-riddled oceans enhancing her stories. She pointed out the creatures from which the bones had come: huge animals that swam in the ocean’s depths but must come to the surface to breathe.

  Music reached her ears from the direction they were heading. It was unstructured and gentle. The source was revealed as she was led into a large room. Sculptures were spaced evenly across the floor. One was a machine, and from it emanated the tune. In the centre of the room, several low chairs surrounded a circular table. A woman and two men had risen and were walking towards Rielle.

  “Welcome, Rielle the Maker,” the woman said, using the Traveller tongue. “I am Queen Purmeme, and these are my most trusted advisers.”

  A ritual containing many formal phrases and gestures followed. When all were done, Purmeme ushered Rielle to a chair.

  “We are so happy that you have come,” she said. “Especially considering the news about the machine armies.”

  A chill ran down Rielle’s spine as she read that machines had been used in attacks on nearby worlds. Was this local strife, or something worse?

  The sorcerers that Qall had sent to investigate the world Dahli had seen had found only an empty, dead place. All signs of the machines had been removed, and the investigators found no clue to where they had been taken. Baluka had located only a few inventors who had not died or disappeared. All had given up their trade under pressure from Liftre. All refused to help.

  Rielle hoped her concern did not show as she asked, “What news is this?”

  “You do not already know?”

  “No. I have been travelling for a long time, so the news I hear is often old.”

  “Worlds not far from here have been destroyed by armies of machines,” the Queen told her. “Their cities were levelled and all magic was stripped away. Sorcerers fled with as many people as they had time to transport, but those who were stranded suffered the same fate as their homes.”

  “How long ago did this occur?”

  “Ten of our local days.”

  Rielle shifted in her chair. It was uncomfortable – made for a smaller build. “It is possible that the Restorers do not know this. Did any of those who escaped come here?”

  Purmeme shook her head. “No. We heard this from traders.”

  “I had better meet with these traders and learn as much as I can
, then send that information to the Restorers.”

  “You will not seek out the attackers?”

  “No, not alone.”

  Purmeme smiled. “I would invite you to stay here a while and see more of my world, but I expect you will want to deliver this news as soon as possible.”

  “Yes. As much as I would like to see more of your world and receive your hospitality, I cannot stay – not just because of these attacks, but because I have many more worlds awaiting my help.”

  “It will be our loss.” The Queen smiled. “Let us meet with the city’s sorcerers.” Purmeme rose, and the advisers followed suit. “I must warn you: they have many questions for you regarding how we may maintain the balance of magic generation and use.”

  Rielle stood, glad to be out of the chair. “I will be happy to give them advice. It is wise of them to seek such information.”

  Purmeme led the way to the door. As they left the room, the Queen looked at Rielle and her nose wrinkled. “You may not find our sorcerers wise, when you learn how we came to find ourselves in this situation,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “They have looked down upon and separated themselves from our artisans and makers for many years now.”

  Rielle sighed. “This is not the only world to weaken for such reasons. Sorcerers too easily come to think themselves superior to all others. They tend not to like my advice.”

  “Here, magic is vital to survival.” The Queen’s smile was hard with determination. “And our survival is my primary responsibility. I will not let them destroy this world out of pride.”

  “That is good to hear. I will not always be around to strengthen worlds, since I am not ageless.”

  Purmeme’s expression became serious. She nodded. “I will ensure they understand this.” She took one end of her rope belt and offered it to Rielle. “Let me take you to them.”

  Rielle took the rope, pushing aside a feeling of foolishness. It was like being a child, clinging to its mother’s clothes so it would not get lost, and yet here it was a great honour to be led by the Queen. Straightening her shoulders, she followed with as much dignity as she could muster.

  CHAPTER 14

  Rielle hadn’t noticed on her first visit to the grass city that the binding that shaped the leaves formed patterns inside the buildings so intricate and complex that only skilled artisans could have made them. It never ceased to amaze her how humans found ways to create beauty even in the oddest and harshest of places. She was still admiring the patterns when the leader of the Restorer outpost, who had greeted her on her return, came back. Tearing her eyes away from the walls, Rielle saw that a man and a woman had also entered the room.

  “This is Adene and Liroc,” the leader told her, then turned to the pair. “This is Rielle the Maker.” Introductions done, she smiled at all of them, then left the room so they could talk privately.

  “An honour to meet you, Rielle,” Liroc said in a startlingly deep voice. He gestured to Adene and then himself. “Qall has sent us to assist your investigation into the rumours of a machine army.”

  Rielle blinked in surprise. She had assumed that the pair were meeting her only to hear what she had learned in detail. Qall’s instructions and their purpose were foremost in their minds: to use their pattern-shifting ability to heal her if she was harmed. They were both from worlds nearby, and were worried about the rumours.

  “Thank you for volunteering,” she replied. “Hopefully you’ll be useful to me only as a second and third pair of eyes and ears, not as healers. Are you newly arrived, or rested and ready to go?”

  Liroc looked at his companion, who nodded. “We are ready to leave.”

  Rielle extended her hands. The pair took one each. For a brief moment she expected them to breathe in, but then she remembered that if they could heal her they must be ageless and did not have to worry about suffocating between worlds. She filled her lungs and pushed into the place between.

  The traders she had questioned had described the route to the ruined worlds in detail, so she had only to retrace her steps to the place in which she’d interviewed them, then continue onwards following their instructions. Before long she and her companions neared the first machine world. The path between worlds had not been used recently, but it had the feeling of deep indentation that a previously well-travelled route gained. As they passed the midway point, she slowed and scanned the whiteness, anxious to make out the landscape she was approaching before arriving fully.

  A dark band of irregular shapes below a blue-green sky appeared. As details emerged, she made out the foundations of buildings surrounded by the remnants of their former walls. A large ruined city lay before them, every surface blackened with soot. She positioned herself and her helpers in the centre of the arrival place, where the rubble was thinnest, and waited while her companions moved their feet into clear spaces. As air surrounded them, the stink of smoke and burned meat filled Rielle’s nose. She took a reluctant breath and grimaced.

  “No magic here,” Adene said.

  Rielle extended her senses and encountered a dizzying, endless darkness. She had been in many dead worlds since becoming a Maker, and all were disturbing places to be in, but none had been so utterly depleted of magic at this one. A sorcerer’s reach limited the size of the area they could extract from, so if they took all the magic they could reach, they left a spherical void. An army of them could strip a world, but it tended to leave overlapping voids with little gaps between, the remnant magic slowly spreading outwards. The largest gap was always beneath the earth. Magic would eventually leach upwards into the voids, but it took time. An inhabited world that had been empty for a longer time usually contained clouds of magic around places of habitation where it was being generated by human creativity.

  This world felt like a place sucked dry of life, from the interior to the furthest reach of the atmosphere.

  How is that possible? Do the machines have a reach as great as the strongest sorcerers? Or do they dig their way underground to get at the world’s interior magic? The only other alternative she could see was that a powerful sorcerer able to reach the far reaches of the entire world had assisted in the attack. The thought that another sorcerer that powerful might exist who was commanding machine armies turned her blood cold. But why would someone that powerful need war machines?

  Since there was no magic, she could not sense even her companions’ minds, let alone discover if the attacker or survivors were here. She could restore the world, but if there were machines here, or invading sorcerers, she would be giving them more power. Was it worth the risk, just so she could search for minds?

  “Let’s levitate up and get a broader view,” she said, letting go of her helpers’ hands.

  The pair stepped up onto invisible platforms of stilled air. Doing the same, Rielle lifted herself up, her companions following. Streets and a city wall were revealed as they rose, as were the blackened shapes of burned corpses. To her right was a high mound, the only variation in their surroundings, so she headed towards it. As they drew closer it became apparent that it was no natural hill, but a larger pile of rubble. Gold-painted decoration glinted here and there, suggesting it had been a palace. She caught a glimpse of an arm clothed in a bloodstained, finely stitched sleeve. Was this person still alive? Was anybody?

  She decided she had to check. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, then began to create patterns of light in the air. Adene and Liroc drifted away to give her more room, their grim expressions brightening to smiles and astonishment as they sensed magic spilling outwards. Their pleasure cheered Rielle and helped her push away the gloom that had settled over her. She made the patterns more intricate, drawing upon shapes she could now see within the two sorcerers’ minds. But she could also sense that they, too, feared she was strengthening this world’s attackers, so she let the lights blink out.

  “Search for minds,” she instructed.

  Several heartbeats passed with them silently staring into the distance, scanning the ar
ea for thoughts.

  “Nothing,” Adene murmured in a soft voice.

  “Empty,” Liroc agreed.

  “Let’s look further afield,” Rielle said.

  Taking the lead, she propelled herself through the air. Eventually they found small groups of people living in isolated, wild areas, but wherever there had been cities and towns, all was in ruin. Areas occupied by humans were not the only ones devastated, however. They encountered large holes with fresh mounds of soil and rock around them.

  “Mines?” Liroc asked.

  Adene pointed. “Yes, there’s a slag heap.”

  “There are no roads,” Liroc observed. “Sorcerers must have brought in materials and took away whatever they were made into via the place between world.”

  Rielle descended to the top of a tailings heap. “Skim around the area,” she told them. “Look for a path leading into the place between worlds.”

  For a moment she watched the two ageless sorcerers’ ghostly images flashing back and forth, debating if she should join them or investigate the mine from the ground, but Liroc soon returned.

  “There are several paths,” he told her, “but they converge before leaving this world.”

  “Take me there.”

  He took her hand and pulled her out of the world and to a place at the centre of one of the craters.

  “Adene!” Rielle called. The woman stopped, turned and zoomed straight towards Rielle, coming to an abrupt stop. Rielle held out her hand and the woman took it. Taking over the directing of their journey, Rielle propelled them along the path. The ruined world faded. Rielle approached the next cautiously.

  The world they arrived in was in the same state as the last. Ruined cities, few survivors and the remnants of mines from which paths led out of the world. This time Rielle gathered all the magic she had created as they were about to leave.

  “You don’t want to leave the magic for the remaining people?” Adene asked.