Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(40)
A second set of hands indicated Traveller Time. Since the measurement of days and years–or even hours–was never the same in any world, Traveller Time was used as a second common measurement in most of them.
It’s over six Leratian years since I left my world. Which equates to five and a quarter cycles. The time hadn’t passed quickly, but now it all seemed to have gone in a flash. He’d spent most of it at Liftre immersed in study, after half a cycle of wandering through the worlds.
Learning a new language had been the hardest part. At least there had been only one language to learn. Traveller tongue was spoken in most worlds as a second language, though often only by merchants, sorcerers and the nobility. It was a requirement of joining Liftre that all students speak it. Fortunately he’d picked up enough to get by from reading minds during that first half-cycle of wandering so he’d had a basic grasp of it by the time he’d joined the school.
The top of the decorative frame of the timepiece included a map of his world. Using magic, he pushed and pulled, warmed and cooled elements of the lock until the map hinged open. A small leather-bound book lay snugly in an alcove inside.
Vella. He eased her out. As always, she was faintly warm. As he held her in his hands he knew she was absorbing everything new in his memory since the last time he’d touched her. He’d tested her once, seeing how brief a touch it would take before she could not learn all that he had learned that day. No matter how fleeting the time of contact, she always absorbed everything.
He opened to the first page.
Hello, Tyen. So who won the Tournament?
She knew the answer, of course, but asked in order to make conversation.
Dalle–with a deceptively simple design.
Zeke’s sister. You doubted her abilities at first. You’ll not underestimate her again.
No. Though… have you any record of someone known as the Raen?
Yes. I learned of him from Tarren. The Raen was very powerful and believed to be nearly a thousand cycles old at the time he disappeared. There have been no credible sightings of him for over twenty cycles, so most believe he is dead.
Which was probably why Tyen hadn’t paid a lot of attention, or recalled the man’s name. Since coming to Liftre, filling the void in his knowledge of sorcery and developing and teaching “mechanical magic” had overtaken every part of his life. He’d figured there’d be time to learn more about the history of the worlds later. And if Tarren, the teacher who had been his mentor for most of his student cycles, and now a good friend, hadn’t made particular mention of someone called the Raen then Tyen would have assumed he wasn’t important.
Unless Tarren had another reason to not mention him.
A bell chimed in the distance. He looked up at the timepiece. Dinner for the teachers was about to begin. Tarren might even join them if he’d heard there was a juicy rumour going around.
I must go, Vella. Since everyone will be talking about this I’ll take you with me.
He closed her and moved to the desk. Digging under some loose paper covered with notes, he found a flat pouch he had made for carrying her. It had a strap that he could hang around his neck and holes to allow her cover to touch his skin so she could see and hear everything that he saw and heard. Slipping her inside, he looped the strap over his neck and slipped the pouch inside his shirt. It settled against his chest.
He looked down at Beetle, sitting immobile on the corner of his desk.
“Beetle,” he said. It whirred into life and turned to face him, antennae quivering. “Guard the room.”
It gave a little trill of acknowledgement, then its wings buzzed into life, blurring as they lifted it into the air. It flew to a stuffed animal head hanging above Tyen’s door–a gift from a former student–and settled behind the stumpy horns.
“Good Beetle,” he said. Its wings vibrated in response–one of many little refinements he’d made since leaving his world. People who found the insectoid a little frightening were reassured if it behaved like a well-trained pet. It would also dip its head in apparent shame when scolded, could replicate a pattern of knocks or taps with buzzes, and whistle a few simple melodies.
Leaving his room, Tyen found the corridors were mostly empty. The few teachers still about nodded politely as he passed. Though he had been a colleague for less than a cycle, he had brought to the school knowledge of technology more advanced than any they had seen before. He’d paid his way as a student by developing and teaching lessons on mechanical magic in classes that often included other teachers among the students. Graduated sorcerers, hearing of the new form of magic, returned to the school to learn how to use it, and he now had a list of people waiting for a space in a class.
In return Tyen had gained a thorough training in all other forms of magic. Though he’d learned the basic principles at the Academy–that everything was a variation of stilling and moving–he’d only ever learned the sorts of applications that were possible in a world poor in magic. In worlds rich in magic, which seemed to be most other worlds, so much more was possible.
It had taken some time for him to stop taking and using too much magic for a task. Fighting was certainly different when Soot, the empty space left when magic was removed from a world, disappeared so quickly as magic rushed in to replace it. For an area empty of magic to be a concern in a fight the battle would have to be immense. None of the Liftre teachers allowed any combat on that scale, mostly because it was rude to deplete worlds of magic, but also because the greater the amount of magic used, the more damage done when mistakes were made. They believed fighting at a smaller scale taught students all the skills they needed anyway. Tyen suspected they were wrong, but for him to be proven correct would take a great catastrophe, and he’d hardly wish that on anyone.