Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(19)

“Eat,” she said, miming to ensure Rielle understood.

The meal consisted of bread, dense and chewy, pale cold meat she couldn’t identify, and a piece of unexpectedly sour fruit. There was a lump of something squishy and yellowish that she couldn’t identify, but she assumed it was edible because it was on the plate. It tasted good and she was too hungry to care.

When she was done she drained another mug of water and then sighed in relief and appreciation. Ankari patted her arm, her sympathy and understanding not needing words. Then she nodded to the bed.

“Rest,” she said.

Rielle frowned, thinking that she had slept long enough already and it was too hot, but now that she had eaten she was a little sleepy. As she moved to the bed Ankari opened shutters to reveal windows on either side. The breeze that wafted through was warm, but eased the stuffiness of the room. The woman left through a narrow door at the other end of the room.

Alone, Rielle could not resist getting up to check the view outside. Beyond the first window was a dune, higher than the room so she could see nothing but its gently sloping side. The second revealed several covered carts and by their shape and size she guessed she was in one of these strange vehicles.

The carts had been arranged in a circle. A canopy had been stretched between them and people were sitting in the shade beneath. She counted eighteen people, including a baby and several children. The sound of voices reached her, but she could not understand anything. From one of the children she caught a flash of thought–impatience over someone being elsewhere when he wanted something. That told her two things: more people were here than she could see and children weren’t good at protecting their thoughts. Curiosity sated as well as it could be, she returned to the bed, took off her sandals and lay down.

When she opened her eyes again it was dark and a chill breeze cooled her skin. She listened and heard a fuller sound of chatter: more people were talking than before. Getting up, she moved to a window to see she was right: the gathering was larger. The smell of cooking reached her and hunger stirred, yet she hesitated. How could she approach these strangers and ask for food she couldn’t pay for? Though she was sure they were friendly, they were strangers with strange abilities…

She jumped as the door opened and a small flame floated into the room. Baluka greeted her with an amused smile.

“You don’t even know how to make a simple light,” he said, the meaning of his words clear in his thoughts. “We’ll have to do something about that.” Then he paused. “Though I see learning magic goes against your beliefs. Don’t worry, I won’t make you learn anything you feel is wrong.”

He was concerned that he had offended her, but also disgusted at the idea of anyone forbidding the use of magic. It was as cruel and backward as forbidding singing or dancing, in his opinion. He looked at her expectantly.

“I can…” she began. She could tell him that the Angel had said she could use magic only in her defence, but he didn’t believe in Angels. The Angel also said that the magic of my world would be restored one day, and all would be free to use it. If this world, and others, are full of magic then perhaps people in them are free to use it.

Baluka looked pleased and hopeful at that. She shook her head. It was not for her to decide what everything meant. Only an Angel could confirm that anyone was free to use magic.

“Come and eat.” Baluka held the door open. The smell of food set her stomach rumbling. Glad of a change of subject, she reached for her sandals.

“Don’t worry about those,” he told her impatiently. “The sand is clean and still warm from the sun.”

She inspected her soles. They were no longer red and tender. She shrugged and walked barefoot to the door, descending steep steps to the ground. A familiar chill surrounded her. The people under the canopy sat on small mats arranged in a circle. They had all turned to watch her approach. A group of children playing nearby ran over to her, eyes afire with curiosity, some shyly half-hiding behind the bolder ones. She smiled at them a little nervously, knowing that adults would be slower to accept anyone their children instinctively rejected.

“Join the circle, children,” a voice called out. Rielle grasped the words because she could still read Baluka’s mind. Knowing that she was watching, he told her in thoughts that he had been chosen to be her translator. The rest of the family would maintain their usual blocks.

The children took their places as Baluka led her into the circle. His floating flame joined many more under the canopy. A fire burned in the centre, giving off a welcome heat. An animal was roasting over it, slowly turning with no sign of anything cranking the spit. She wondered where they had found the wood in the desert, then learned from Baluka that they always brought some here with them from the last world they had visited.

“Welcome, Rielle Lazuli,” a man said, rising to his feet. He had a tidy beard peppered with as much grey as his hair. This was Baluka’s father. “I am Lejikh, and I am the leader of this family. I welcome you to our fire.”

She resisted glancing at Baluka as she read the appropriate response from him.

“Thank you for offering a space at your fire,” she replied. And thank you for saving my life and giving me food and clothing, she added, hoping they could all see the words in her mind. She saw smiles and nods and knew they had.

Yet at the same time she saw something else in Baluka’s mind. The greeting, “I welcome you to our fire” was spoken to guests who joined the Travellers for a meal, or a short stay. Not long enough to teach her to use magic, he was thinking. He thought this a shame and wanted to object. But she can’t stay with us longer. There is only one way an outsider can do that.