Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(116)

“I am.”

“Something that will send me far away where I can’t be a nuisance?”

“No.”

“Are you going to ask me to be your assistant?”

Tyen shook his head.

“Adviser?”

Tyen shook his head again.

Baluka’s eyes narrowed. “A general?” he asked, disbelieving.

“I had something else in mind.”

The young man shook his head. “What else is there?”

“The leadership.”

Baluka’s control of his expression finally slipped completely. Every feature betrayed his astonishment.

“Not immediately,” Tyen cautioned. “You have only just joined us. The others are impressed by you, but they’ll always worry about your inexperience if you don’t prove your leadership abilities first. We’ll all have to work together to make sure you’re ready for the job, when you take it.”

The young man broke from his state of shock. “Why?”

“There’s something I want to do,” Tyen told him. “Something I can’t do as leader. And as I said, I don’t like ordering others to endanger their lives, especially when I could do the task more easily and safely.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Ultimately, our aim is to destroy the Raen and his allies. That, Yira used to say, won’t happen without taking risks. Nor will it happen while I’m in charge. But with you as leader,” Tyen smiled. “We might achieve something.”





PART FIVE


RIELLE





CHAPTER 16





The roof of the cavern was lost in gloom. Concentrating, Rielle fed magic to the flame hovering above her head and sent it upwards. The darkness shrank away from it, revealing walls curving inward to form a domed ceiling carved with an intricate, random pattern.

It was not the only huge space in the underground city. She’d found an enormous stairwell linking nearly fifty levels, a low-ceilinged room supported by endless rows of columns she could not see the far side of and, largest of all, what could only be described as a valley with undulating sides covered in houses of all shapes and sizes–looking like any ordinary urban sprawl except that the valley walls continued up above the city and met overhead.

All but a small corner of the palace was filled with dust and darkness.

Sections had been abandoned far longer than others. Guessing the uses of some rooms had been impossible, as the furniture had long ago crumbled to dust. One circular room, four storeys tall, had been waist high with desiccated wood. Regular holes in the walls suggested balconies had once encircled the interior. Investigating the remnants of timber she found broken shelving and, in sheltered areas, rolls of paper that disintegrated when touched.

The cavern she was exploring now was square. The floor was covered in large regularly spaced, rectangular mounds. The dust was dotted with random pockmarks. Walking over to one, she brushed aside some of the dust. Thicker, denser dust lay beneath.

“These were gardens,” a voice said. “There are many rooms like this. Most provided food or medicinal crops, but a few held plants selected for their beauty alone.”

She turned to see a familiar man standing in the wide, doorless entrance. A flash of radiating lines seen only by her mind told her he was, like Valhan, constantly drawing in a small amount of magic.

“Dahli.” She smiled sheepishly. “You followed me?”

His shoulders lifted. “As I’ve told you so many times before, parts of the old city are unstable, and you could easily get lost.”

She dusted off the residue of centuries from her hands. “Yet you haven’t followed me before.”

He smiled. “Haven’t I?”

She studied him, wondering if this was another test to see if she’d read his mind. He’d asked her not to, and she hadn’t, but now and then he seemed to be trying to trick her into revealing that she had.

He entered the room, walking with the ease of someone who never questioned his fitness. His actual age, he had told her, was between three hundred and fifty-four and three hundred and fifty-six cycles. The imprecision was due to not knowing his birth date in his mortal life, though he’d never told her why he didn’t other than that he had been orphaned as a child.

Like all the ageless he was good-looking, but not in the same way that Valhan was. Dahli’s looks were of the amiable and charming kind rather than soul-stirring beauty. The artist in her wanted to try to capture his slightly reddish, curly brown hair, his pale tan skin, broad jawline and mouth, and long, perfectly curled eyelashes that gave his eyes a permanently cheerful look. It was no illusion. He laughed easily and little seemed to bother him.

Yet he was a demanding teacher. Every day he appeared not long after she had risen to begin their lessons, only allowing her to rest during meals and when it was time to sleep. Sometimes she grumbled to herself that it was just as well he was so likeable, because otherwise she would probably hate him. Sometimes, when she couldn’t face another lesson she slipped away before he arrived, exploring the palace and the city.

“Would you like to take a closer look?” He was gazing up at the distant domed ceiling, still illuminated by her flame.

“Yes.”

“Do you remember how to levitate?”