Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(131)

Tyen reached out towards it, then hesitated. “Does she have the same ability to read minds that Vella has?”

“No.”

His fingers met the smooth scalp. The skin was dry. He recoiled. Where he’d touched it the skin darkened like a bruise, then the colour shifted and spread to form a word: “Yes.”

“To what?” he asked.

“Nothing,” the Raen replied. “It shows ‘yes’ or ‘no’ randomly.”

Tyen shivered. Such a thing could easily become an oracle to people who did not understand how and why it had been made. Terrible decisions could be made based on meaningless answers.

“Will you destroy it?”

“Yes, it will be unmade when I try to restore it.”

“As a living head? Will it survive without a body?”

“No, but it should live long enough to judge if the method was a success.”

Tyen stepped back. He was both fascinated and repulsed by the head, and sure he’d be even more so by the living recreation. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t involved in the Raen’s experiments yet.

The Raen rose, walked to the table and closed the box. Tucking it under his arm, he turned to Tyen.

“You will know the result when we meet next,” he said. Then he rapidly faded from sight.

I had best be on my way, too, Tyen thought. He picked up his pack, slung it over a shoulder and pushed out of the world. He paused and looked for the Raen’s path. When he did he nearly drifted back out of the place between in amazement.

Somehow the Raen had all but hidden his passing. Only the slightest trace of a path remained. If Tyen hadn’t been looking for it, he would have assumed it was an old one, made long ago.

He’d never encountered anything like it–no, he could have done so many times but never known.

Nobody had ever said this was possible.

What about you, Vella? Have you heard of anybody hiding their passing like this before?

“Only rumours. Nothing confirmed.”

So not even Roporien could do this?

“Not before he created me.”

So this was how the Raen had visited him so many times without the rebels noticing. If the Raen could move between worlds undetected, he could skim unnoticed as well, though he’d still be visible as a ghostly figure. Unless he knows of a way to prevent that, as well.

Tyen wanted to stay and study the concealed path, but he could delay no longer. Pushing on, he headed for the next world, then began an indirect, convoluted journey to his destination.

What do you make of the head, Vella?

“It is an appropriate test subject.”

But is it wrong for him to experiment on a person, even when that person isn’t even whole or conscious?

“Some people would consider it wrong. Most, in this case, would reason otherwise, since it was not fully conscious and its removal would have killed it anyway.”

And removing it helped the woman it came from. Killing the head does not bother me as much as the Raen recreating it. That seems… cruel. I hope it does not suffer pain or anguish when it is revived.

“It won’t survive long without a body to sustain it.”

Tyen considered what else had disturbed him about the conversation.

He called the rebels “my rebels”. As if he owns them.

“They aren’t rebelling against anyone else,” Vella pointed out. “Though some are rebelling against the allies more than the Raen.”

That’s true.

He was approaching the world he would meet Baluka in now. Arriving on a ledge of a high cliff covered in vegetation, he caught his breath at the view, still as impressive as when he’d first seen it. He stood on the rim of a massive crater. The volcano, thankfully, was long dead. The inner surface was made up of countless long crystalline tubes packed together. Dirt had accumulated within the hollows centres, allowing plants to grow.

Where life took hold inevitably humans found a way to cultivate it and settle. Looking down, he traced the network of cables fixed to metal arms extending out of the cliff. Along them ran vehicles of all shapes and sizes, powered either by humans turning wheels with feet and hands, or by animals, or magic. Some were able to carry one person, some as many as twenty. Some were simple constructions, others fancy.

One of the larger, plainer vehicles was approaching the ledge. Tyen recognised it as a public vehicle. It slowed a little as it passed, allowing Tyen to step on board. A man with a beard hanging down to his feet strolled over, his gait matching the sway of the cabin, to extract payment from the new passenger.

Tyen navigated his pack with one elbow hooked around a rail so he didn’t fall whenever the vehicle passed a cable arm. He bartered for an unlimited day-long journey pass, allowing him to go anywhere on the vast transport network. The ticket-seller caught sight of a small red gemstone in Tyen’s pouch, and wouldn’t accept anything else.

Many hours later, when the novelty of the strange form of transport had all but evaporated, Tyen finally neared his destination. Travelling by non-magical means was the best way to avoid being tracked by allies, but it was time consuming and, at times, boring. He had lost count of the number of vehicles he’d ridden in, switching from one to another as he made his way along the cliff. The final leg revived him, however, as it involved an exhilarating slide along a steeply descending cable carried in what was nothing more than a chair hanging from a pulley.