Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(130)

Each region had at least one style it was famous for, and that was constantly evolving where innovation was encouraged. Tyen had browsed the markets and the workshops of many, marvelling at the diversity and skill. He had watched potters and firers, and seen a Maker at work for the first time. Seeing the magic flowing from the young man, a shout compared to the whisper most artisans made, he understood why a sorcerer would want to keep one around. He wondered how quickly a Maker could restore a world poor in magic, like his home world. He thought of Baluka’s lost fiancée. Was she strengthening the Raen’s world? Did she knew what her former betrothed was doing now, because of her?

Drawing away from the window, Tyen sighed. He had grown fond of this world. At first it had been a place to stay for a few days before a pre-arranged meeting with Baluka. A place to rest, eat good food and catch up on sleep. The people had been so friendly, and the climate in Glaya so agreeable, that he’d stayed several days longer. But if he did not leave now any delay while travelling would prevent him arriving in time to meet the rebel leader. He turned away from the window… and froze as he saw the man sitting on the other side of the room.

The chair the Raen occupied was tattered and rickety. He ought to have been lessened by it, but instead it was the seat that seemed further humbled in comparison to the man’s fine, simple clothing and flawless features.

“Raen,” Tyen said.

“Tyen.” The corners of the man’s mouth quirked upwards. “What are my rebels up to?”

The man’s tone was almost affectionate. His rebels? Tyen thought. He wasn’t sure whether he was more amused or disturbed by the phrase.

“Baluka’s plan is audacious,” Tyen began. He sketched out the decisions the Traveller had made since becoming leader. “He isn’t going to try to conceal the signal from you and your allies, figuring that it’s better to make plans that don’t rely on secrecy. When it is made, all rebels are to meet in one place. We haven’t chosen the location yet. He hopes that if hundreds of rebels are travelling at the same time there won’t be enough allies to stop them all. Then once they are together there will be too many for your allies to defeat. And from there they… well, they attack you.”

Valhan nodded. “They have made progress.”

“What should I do to stop them?”

“Nothing.”

His confidence was amazing. Tyen had begun to worry that the rebels might actually succeed at their aim, thanks to Baluka’s bold plan. Or that they would fail spectacularly and many hundreds of people would be killed.

“Can a battle be avoided?”

“It is unlikely.”

Tyen bowed his head. He was resigned, now, to the fact that he could no longer steer the rebels from a confrontation, that it had never been a realistic aim. He felt sick, thinking of the people he respected slaughtered or hunted down as Yira had been. But I didn’t make their decisions for them. They all know the risk they’re taking. Even if they knew I was a spy, and the Raen was aware of their plans, they would still rebel. They might alter their tactics but whatever change they make will still lead to a lot of people being killed. And they would expect him to join them.

“I suggest you find a reason not to be there.”

Tyen looked up. “They’ll find that suspicious.”

“I’m sure you’d rather I didn’t kill you, but if I don’t there may come a point during a confrontation when they wonder why I haven’t attacked one of their strongest. And I may not be able to prevent my allies doing it for me.”

Tyen sighed. “So no matter what I do, my treachery will be discovered.”

“Yes. I advise you to choose your moment of betrayal carefully.”

“And… afterwards…?”

“Consider your side of our deal fulfilled. I will continue to search for a way to restore Vella. If you wish to join me, you may.”

Tyen’s heart skipped a beat. “I would like that very much.”

The Raen’s smile was slightly crooked. “I’m sure you would.” His serious expression returned. He nodded to a box on the table. It hadn’t been there before his arrival. “I brought this to show you.”

Tyen approached the table. The box was octagonal and about the size of a Beltonian woman’s hat box, but made of polished and engraved wood. A single latch held it closed. He undid it and lifted the lid.

As he saw what was within, his grip loosened and the lid dropped shut with a dull thud.

Heart beating quickly now, he steeled himself and opened the lid again. He had not imagined it. There really was a small child’s head within, its face set in a permanent scowl. The skin of the scalp was smooth, with a faint stubble of fine hair. Shock and revulsion faded as he took in the signs of preservation. Someone had sewn the eyelids and mouth closed with tiny, perfect stitches. Padded cloth around the neck hid whatever means had been used to deal with the skin, flesh and bone where it had been severed.

“The woman I removed this from was born with it attached to her side,” the Raen told him. “It would have been her twin, had it grown into a separate, whole child within the womb. When she asked me to remove it, I saw the potential for replicating Vella’s creation in a limited way–but enough to then test recreating it. Its mind barely existed–neither conscious nor semi-conscious–but enough of it did for me to know whether I would succeed in preserving it. I have stored some information within it that you can initiate by touch.”