Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(138)

Tyen managed a wan smile in return. Listening to Baluka, all confidence and determination, only made him feel sick. He’s going to die. The Raen, or his allies, are going to win, and the one person they’ll make sure they kill is Baluka. The knowledge was like a fist in his stomach, especially now that he knew Baluka considered him a friend.

When he’d let Baluka take over the leadership he hadn’t anticipated that he’d end up liking the Traveller. He couldn’t help admiring the man’s intelligence, determination and bravery. He sympathised with Baluka’s bleak view of the choices he’d made in the hopes of helping the woman he loved, even though he suspected she would not like the man he’d become.

Closing his eyes, Tyen concentrated on the faint pressure of Vella’s weight on the strap around his neck. A memory rose, old but much revisited, of Tarren in his rooms holding a calligraphy brush.

“… what are you prepared to do in order to fulfil your promise to her?”

He’d not known what he was getting into, when he’d agreed. He’d not had a great deal of choice, either. The Raen had caught him travelling between worlds and the only way to avoid punishment was to strike a deal.

He’d consoled himself with the hope his spying put him in a position to prevent the deaths of many people, but he knew now that the rebels were never going to give up and go home for anything less. Once the allies had attacked the first rebel base the future had been unalterable. Retaliation had to follow, and in return the allies had avenged Preketai’s death by killing Yira. He was surprised, in retrospect, at how long he’d managed to hold them back when he was leader.

But since Baluka had taken over the rebels they’d been moving steadily towards a major confrontation. Tyen could not see how he could have prevented it, either. The Raen had made it clear he wanted the Traveller in charge. Perhaps he wanted the inevitable confrontation over and done with.

Would revealing his true role as a spy for the Raen make a difference? Would knowing the ruler of worlds was aware of his plans make Baluka give up?

The urge to confess everything rose up like something rotten in Tyen’s stomach that he needed to purge. Then his throat tightened as he recalled Baluka’s words:

“That is the beauty of the plan: it doesn’t matter if he knows all of it. There are so many of us now that he and his allies won’t be able to stop the signal spreading, and we outnumber them so they can’t stop all of us gathering together.”

Nothing he could do now would stop the rebels confronting the Raen.

Nothing I can do now. Perhaps another opportunity would come. He could only watch and hope.

The urge to unveil himself and the nausea faded. He could still help the rebels. Whether they won or lost, they would need someone to transport them to safety. It was the role Baluka had chosen for him. Though the Raen had suggested Tyen find a way to avoid being there, he hadn’t told Tyen not to attend.

Tyen would make sure as many rebels escaped as possible. After all he had done, it was a responsibility he would not abandon, not even, perhaps, for Vella.





PART SEVEN


RIELLE





CHAPTER 20





Dahli had chosen the most uninteresting place in all the worlds to teach Rielle pattern shifting. It was a room, as wide as it was deep and tall, with no decoration to relieve the grey stone walls. Even the door was dull–a slab of the same stone that formed the walls. Air circulated through small, unadorned holes in the ceiling, making no noise and maintaining an even, comfortable temperature. The only light was the spark she kept alive with magic.

At first she had welcomed the lack of features, as nothing could distract her from lessons, which required intense concentration. Then the sheer boringness of her surroundings began to fascinate her. She began thinking of ways it could be even more uninteresting, or how she might decorate it. Occasionally she woke from nightmares where the room had transformed into something sinister. Then, to keep away a lurking panic that threatened to overwhelm her, she concentrated on recalling or visualising every step of the creation of a painting or a tapestry.

A range of emotions had come and gone: anger at the room’s refusal to provide stimulus, fear that she would never escape it or go mad before she did, and a gloom that sapped her resolve. Eventually she found acceptance. Either she would succeed at her task and escape the room, or Valhan would decide she had failed and set her free. It was just a matter of time.

Not that she was imprisoned here: Dahli had made it clear she could stop the lessons at any time. Only her determination to do all she could to learn pattern shifting kept her there. If she failed, she, Dahli and Valhan–especially Valhan–would know she had put all her effort into trying to achieve it.

“You use magic unconsciously all the time,” Dahli had told her on the first day. “Your body uses it to heal, but it does only what is required to keep you fit enough to survive. When you consciously use magic, you are doing more than what is required. Your body will leave a scar, as that is good enough; you will go further and remove the scar if you can.

“As a sorcerer, you have a natural, instinctive ability to draw in magic and shape it to a purpose. You may feel it is conscious and deliberate, but it is only in the same way that you focus on the muscles in your leg when you deliberately take a step. We walk without thinking about it all the time. Just as the function of each muscle happens without you willing it, you use magic in ways that you are not aware of.