Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(50)

“What will your people do now?”

Ahlen sighed. “Some will want to stop trading, others to keep going until we’re ordered to stop.” He shook his head. “But what will you do? You can’t return to your world. Where will you go?”

“For now I’m spreading the news.”

Ahlen nodded. “Thank you. We have more time to prepare now. You should go, and quickly, to warn the others. ‘News and the Raen travel fast’, as they say.”

“Do they? I’ve not heard that quote before.”

“No, it fell out of favour.” The young sorcerer smiled. He slapped Tyen’s arm. “Best of luck, Tyen Ironsmelter. And beware of shadows in the place between.”

The parting warning from his friend hovered in Tyen’s mind as he made his way to his next destination. He found himself peering into whiteness, looking for movement, or human shapes more distinct than those of the world he was leaving or approaching. He was relieved when he finally reached his destination.

The arrival place was a circular pit carved out of solid black rock. Around the rim stood four guards. Hekkirg had told Tyen not to bother with the usual formalities when he visited. As she had instructed, he skimmed across the world to the humble collection of buildings that she and her husband occupied. Several additions had been made, he noted, including a large new wing from which smoke was belching from large chimneys.

Many more servants were about than he remembered, but when he emerged in the small entry hall at the front of the main house he found it empty. He was about to call out when a scuttling noise reached him. It came from alcoves carved near the base of the walls. The sound was familiar, but he was not sure why.

Then the hall filled with a deafening buzzing and clicking as streams of metallic bodies flooded into the room.

Insectoids! Spindly machines with clawed and dagger-like limbs rushed towards him. He instinctively stilled the air around him, forming an invisible shield that they clattered up against, attacking the resistance with stabs and slashes. Though in no danger, he stared at them in horror.

A whistle pierced the clatter. At once the attack ceased. Another piercing noise sent them scurrying back into the alcoves. Tyen realised the door to the next room had opened and a stocky woman stood in the opening, staring at him.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Tyen Ironsmelter,” he replied. “To see Hekkirg.”

“Wer!” the woman exclaimed, her whole body expressing relief. She beckoned.

As she led him into a large room with an enormous fireplace he sought information in her thoughts, reasoning that learning who had misused the knowledge he’d taught at Liftre justified the bad manners of mind reading without permission. He saw that Hekkirg herself had designed them, to guard against invaders from the kingdom across the strait. Their old enemy had resumed raiding their shores in recent cycles. Visiting sorcerers were now supposed to wait to be invited to the house, so the insectoids could be instructed not to attack.

A couple sat before the fire. The pair were broad-shouldered, their long blonde hair a mass of plaits wound about their heads.

“Tyen!” the woman said, rising and drawing him into a tight embrace. It was a custom he’d never quite got used to when they were both students, and was even more discomfiting with her husband standing there. “I haven’t seen you in so many tides, I can’t count them.”

“You are looking strong, Hekkirg,” he replied. Then he turned to the man. “As are you, Ekkich.” Hekkirg translated.

Ekkich’s frown, Tyen understood, was considered good manners–that the man was taking his guest seriously. “What brings you to Gam?” the man asked in his native language, relying on his wife to interpret rather than struggle with Traveller tongue.

“Ill news,” Tyen replied. “Liftre is no more. The Heads closed it after learning that the Raen has returned.”

The couple exchanged a wide-eyed look, then began to discuss the news rapidly in their own language. Hearing the word “insectoid” several times, Tyen sought Hekkirg’s thoughts. He saw that they were discussing whether they should stop selling insectoids to other worlds.

Tyen stomach turned. “You’ve been selling insectoids as weapons?”

She nodded, smiling with pride. “We call them Defenders. They’re not as smart as human fighters, but since we’ve adapted them we’ve lost almost no guards to the raiders. Roup, who I met at Liftre, lives in one of our neighbouring worlds, where his country is constantly under attack by a neighbouring land, so we began selling them to him, and he knows of another people in the next world who were fighting off slavers. We have kept to your rule against projectile weapons, of course.”

“But…” Tyen opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure what to say.

“You did not mean for others to turn your ideas to warfare of any kind, did you?” Ekkich asked. His tone was unexpectedly sympathetic.

Tyen sighed. “No, but I suppose it was inevitable.” The knowledge he’d had of applying magic to mechanical objects had been all he had to offer in exchange for training at Liftre.

“The Raen’s return will slow the spread of knowledge,” Ekkich added. Then he smiled. “Which will be good for us, if we can find a way to keep trading, as we’ll have fewer competitors.”

At Tyen’s wince, Hekkirg stepped forward to hug him again. “Thank you for warning us,” she said. “You’ve risked your life to do so. I am sorry what we have done has upset you.” She stepped back. “What are your plans?”