Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(147)
As far as Rielle could tell, the only other sorcerers in Cepher were of the more common, mortal kind, and they were treated no differently to the artisans with no magical ability. Since Valhan’s original intention had been for her to become an artisan in his world, and he had brought her to a place full of them, it seemed obvious that he didn’t intend her to sit about doing whatever non-artisan sorcerers did in their spare time. He expected her to create, and to mingle with other creators.
The trouble was, she feared the artisans’ judgement of her. Memories of being mocked and rejected by the artists in Schpeta crowded her mind when she contemplated exploring the building. She had wondered if she might be better off approaching the tapestry weavers first, since in her experience weavers were more welcoming and were used to working in a group. Yet what would they make of her, a sorcerer and the Raen’s… what?
She did not know how to describe her relationship with him. Not friend, as they weren’t that close. Not follower, as she’d not made any conscious decision to serve him. Not ally, as they’d made no deal. Not student either, as he wasn’t the one training her. All they knew was that she had an association with the most powerful sorcerer in all the worlds. They might fear her based on that alone.
She didn’t want to scare or intimidate anyone. She wanted them to feel she was their equal.
Artists were not so easily daunted. Yet that meant they would treat her as an outsider if she didn’t impress them with her skills. In order to prove she was more than a sorcerer, she had asked for tools and materials a few days after arriving, and begun working.
It wasn’t going well. She’d told herself she was out of practice, ignoring the empty feeling in her gut each time she sat back and gave her work a critical lookover. She had tried warm-up exercises, different drawing and painting mediums–even oily paint, which was no novelty to the artists here.
Today she had returned to the simplest method: chalk and paper. Her subject was the mechanical insect Valhan had given her.
Picking it up, she examined it again. She still wasn’t sure what it was for. An amusement, or something more practical? Though Valhan had said it could be trained to obey commands, she’d had no luck in doing so. Without any idea what sort of rewards would motivate it, how could she teach it anything?
And yet… Valhan had said this odd little thing was the future.
She set it down in the same position, picked up her drawing tools and continued her sketch. Nothing focused the mind on a subject like drawing. She ought to notice details she’d missed before. But though that was her intention, her thoughts soon wandered.
How well will I draw and paint in a hundred cycles? What about a thousand? Would she live in Valhan’s palace for long, or one day leave it? Or create her own? Me the ruler of a palace? No… but it would be nice to be able to create a place like this, where artisans can work together.
Would she always want to paint? How much would she change, whether through the experience of living, or the influence of others? Would time keep passing faster and faster, as it seemed to now compared to when she was younger? Would other people’s lives seem to flash by? What if she fell in love with a mortal man? Would he age before her eyes, and die all too soon? If she fell in love with an ageless man, could they hope to remain in love for hundreds, if not thousands, of cycles? If she could read his mind, how much would his expectations influence her appearance and personality? Would it be too painful to see what he didn’t like about her as well as what he loved? Perhaps it would be better to fall in love with someone whose mind she couldn’t read. So far, the only person she’d met whose mind was inaccessible was Valhan.
A small thrill ran down her spine. He was a beautiful man. And powerful. Both were very attractive. But the power also repelled her. And she wasn’t filled with anticipation and excitement when she saw him, as she had been with Izare, counting down the hours until she saw him again… before she met the corrupter and everything began to fall apart. With Valhan, she felt a contradictory fascination and dread.
Besides, love was a complication she didn’t need right now. Perhaps she would welcome it again one day. After all, an eternity with no love was a sorry prospect.
Since Valhan is the most powerful sorcerer in the worlds and can read everyone’s mind, can he even risk falling in love? Dahli had said Valhan hadn’t taken a lover in hundreds of cycles. No, he said Valhan hadn’t seduced anyone for that long. That’s different.
But love? A lover’s expectations would surely have a greater influence on an ageless sorcerer. Their expectations were greater and…
A tapping interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see one of the servants standing at the entrance to her suite of rooms. The woman’s knees bent, then she quickly straightened them. Rielle had put a stop to all the falling to the floor in supplication, telling the servants that she was neither royal nor holy, but just another artisan.
“Yes, Sesse?”
“Do you wish for anything, Sorcerer Rielle?” Sesse’s eyes were bright and wide, and her voice wavered. Fear radiated from her.
“What is it?” Rielle asked.
Sesse’s eyes dropped to the floor. “They said I wasn’t to tell you.”
Putting down the chalk and paper, Rielle beckoned. “Sit.” She waved at a nearby chair.
Sesse entered the room, not raising her eyes until she was perched on the end of the chair.