Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(123)

Rielle extracted herself from Oerti’s mind and looked with her own eyes at the girl’s leg. It was now almost straight, and had grown to the same size as the left. Impossible! But she could see it morphing and changing, defying her inability to imagine how such a thing could be possible. Memories of Valhan changing his appearance sprang to her mind–a trick that probably took less effort than this healing. And agelessness… It’s not something as visible and obvious as this, but somehow seeing this makes it easier to believe that Valhan, and Dahli, truly aren’t getting physically older.

She understood, then, that Valhan had been right not just about the unfairness of her marrying Baluka when she didn’t love him, but that she had needed to know exactly what she would have missed out on in doing so. What she could do.

Staying with the Travellers would have been unfair on me as well as Baluka. Baluka had believed it would be a waste for her not to realise her potential as a sorcerer. He was right. And he could not have taught me this.

She touched the little paintbrush pendant hanging from the chain around her neck. It had been a constant reminder of the Travellers. Each time she saw it she’d felt a pang of guilt or sadness, but she had continued to wear it because she did not want to forget the debt of kindness she owed to the family. Now she felt no guilt, only acceptance.

I didn’t belong with the Travellers. I was never meant to be Baluka’s wife.

Only a lingering concern that Baluka was still searching for her remained. Valhan had instructed Dahli, at her request, to send out sorcerers to search for Baluka and deliver a message from her. So far none had found the Traveller, and he had not returned to his family.

Valhan stepped away from the bed, which, in the small room, brought him back beside Rielle. Oerti sat up and looked at her leg with bright, round eyes. She wriggled her perfect toes.

“I think it worked,” she said.

Her mother gave a little gasp and wrapped her arms around her daughter. At the same time, a hand encircled Rielle’s arm, and the scene dissolved into whiteness.

Not staying for their thanks, she thought at her companion.

“No,” he replied.

His mouth hadn’t moved, yet she had heard his voice. Rielle absorbed that revelation, then returned to her former train of thought. Why, indeed, would he accept thanks when he’d asked for something else? She shaped a question in her mind.

Why did you require something in return for helping them?

“If people expect me to help them for free they will be resentful if I refuse.”

So if he refused to do what they requested, they could not know whether it was because he did not want to do it, or because what they offered as payment hadn’t been worthy enough. Some people probably assumed the latter, and would keep offering greater and greater payments in return–though only if he was around long enough for them to keep approaching him, which she doubted happened often.

What will you ask from Semla? What can she possibly offer to equal the healing of her child?

“It is likely I will never ask for anything,” he replied–this time out loud because they had arrived in another world. She drew a breath to speak but before she could do so they entered the place between again.

But the possibility is always there in her mind, she pointed out.

“And mine. I have performed countless small favours throughout the worlds. When I need a minor task performed, I need only search local minds until I find someone who owes me a favour. I do not ask for anything greater than what they consider equal to what they demanded.”

So major tasks require greater favours?

“Occasionally. Much can often be achieved through many minor ones, however. People’s needs are often the same, no matter what position they hold in a society.”

The healing of a king’s daughter would be a debt far more likely to be paid than that of a washer woman, she mused. As they flashed in and out of three more worlds, she considered why he might refuse to do something.

What if you can’t do what they request?

“Then we have no agreement.”

How likely was it that he was incapable of fulfilling a request? She decided it would be best not to ask. It was rude and foolish to ask a ruler what his weaknesses were, after all. Better to ask what they could do.

Which, for him, included the most sophisticated of the uses of magic. Ironically, it was the kind the corrupter had expected Rielle to learn and use on herself. Unless the woman had meant her to return to ask for healing. If so, did that mean the corrupter knew pattern shifting?

“That is extremely unlikely.”

According to the Travellers’ healer I have… wait… does Ulma use pattern shifting to heal?

“Yes.”

Suddenly Ulma referring to the old woman helping her as her daughter made sense. Rielle thought of all the dolls made from the same mould, each with different colouring, and wondered… then brought her thoughts back to the question she had wanted to ask.

I have healed myself, according to Ulma. Does this mean I have a talent for pattern shifting?

“Not necessarily,” Valhan replied aloud as they surfaced in a forest she remembered from their earlier journey. “Your body heals without conscious effort, and since you have access to magic, it can use magic to assist the process, though not reliably.”

So she could have been using magic all her life without realising it. The priests of her world would not have approved of that. And she couldn’t have been using much since she had never noticed Stain in her home.