Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(165)

“I thought it was temporary,” one of the young artists was saying. “That he’d abandoned his old palace in order to set a trap there for you and your friends.”

“Not a very good one,” Gabeme replied. “Unless, of course, he was planning to die.”

Rielle stopped, frozen by the certainty in his mind that what he’d said was true.

Dead? Valhan is dead? He must be mistaken. He must have seen what he thought was—

His face turned towards her and he smiled.

“Rielle, isn’t it?” he said. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for saving me, last time. I couldn’t exactly return. Apologies.”

This one may be strong, he was thinking, but… ah! She doesn’t know how to fight or travel between worlds!

Was he reading her mind? No, he had taken this information from a woman behind her. Rielle turned to find Sesse and Penney hovering in the doorway. She bit back a curse. Sesse had no idea she’d revealed Rielle’s weaknesses by worrying about her.

Rielle faced Gabeme and straightened. “So you think you saw him die,” she stated.

“I did,” he said. “Let me show you.”

He deliberately focused on his memory. She recognised the Arrival Hall of the old palace in his mind. Men and women stood in front, their backs to him. Many more were behind him. All were attacking the man on the dais.

Who burst into flame. Who burned to a pile of ash.

“It happened so fast.” Gabeme’s voice quietened with awe. “I hope I go like that. Nobody would ever forget you, then.”

Rielle stared at him. Stared into him at the memory replaying again and again, fractured as other memories were inserted and thoughts interrupted.

Ha! She wasn’t expecting that. Nobody was expecting that. (Valhan. Fire. Ash.) All the rebels boasted about what they’d do if we won, but they lacked ambition. (Valhan. Fire. Ash.) I want my own world. My own servants. Somewhere out of the way, so other sorcerers don’t bother taking it. Like this place.

Rielle was the only potential obstacle. She was more powerful than him, but maybe not by much. And she had helped him escape. He doubted it was because she had taken a liking to him. People never did that, especially if they could read his mind. That left two possibilities: she had lived a sheltered life and objected to violence, or she hated the Raen enough to support any rebel who happened along–even a cynical, selfish fool like himself.

“So,” he said. “What is it to be? Celebration or—?”

“Get out.” Rielle started walking towards him. “Get out of this palace. Get out of this world. It is not yours to take.”

He stopped and raised his hands, palms outwards. “Can’t we make a deal? I’m willing to share.”

“Out,” Rielle repeated. “I gave you a second chance before. I will give you a third, if you go right now and never return.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked. A third chance? Looks like my first guess was right. He laughed. “I’d wager you’ve never killed anyone in your short, sweet little life.”

Rielle’s whole body went rigid as the memory of Sa-Gest disappearing over the cliffs played before her eyes. For once she welcomed it. Accepted that it had changed her, even if for the worse, because right now innocence would not help her or anyone else here.

“You’d lose,” she told him, reaching as far as she could and taking all the magic out of the world. “I may not know how to fight, but I do know how to kill.”

His smirk vanished. He still held enough magic to leave. She watched as he focused on the world around him. She realised that she, too, could sense it in the same way. As he used magic to push against it she applied her own in the same way.

The sharp edges of the crystalline room softened. The sorcerer remained solid and sharp, only his face changing to alarm as he saw that she had not faded. He blurred and she sensed he had moved away from her, so she pushed harder to propel herself in the same direction.

The walls and artists disappeared into whiteness. She rushed towards Gabeme, reached him, and caught hold of his arm as the faint shadows of the next world began to emerge. She pulled him to a stop.

What now? she asked herself.

If Valhan was dead, would the rebels seek out his friends and allies and kill them, too? Would they punish those who served him? If she let Gabeme go, would he tell them where this palace was, and return with other rebels?

From what she had seen of his mind, the most likely answer was “yes”.

I cannot let him go. She didn’t know how to take him back to the palace, or keep him safely imprisoned until Dahli arrived to deal with him.

If Dahli was still alive.

She had all but made up her mind that she was willing to fight for Valhan. To kill for him. If she was willing to do that for him, why not for the safety of Cepher?

Yet while killing Sa-Gest had been accidental, she still agonised over what she had done. Perhaps killing in someone else’s defence is easier to live with. But… I’m not even sure how to.

As Gabeme tried to twist out of her grip unsuccessfully, in this place where only magical, not physical, strength mattered, she realised she did know how to. All she had to do was wait.

It took longer than she expected, but maybe only because it was the longest wait she had ever endured. Eventually his eyes lost focus, and the fear and disbelief faded from his face. She could not look away, horrified by what she had done, yet fascinated by the shift into lifelessness. And it seemed right that, this time, she faced the full reality of killing another person. Of deliberately killing someone.