Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(53)

Then doubts crept in and he began to grow certain he had made a bad and hasty choice. But what choice did I have, really, with the Raen standing there? Say “sorry for breaking your laws” and hope he didn’t kill me? Perhaps he would have let Tyen live. The man had suggested he would forgive these potential rebels if they gave up their plans of resistance and obeyed his laws.

He took Vella from her pouch again and opened her pages.

What did you make of the Raen, Vella?

Nothing. I could not penetrate his mind.

You couldn’t? But you were able to read Roporien’s, weren’t you?

Yes.

He paused to marvel at that. It made sense that the Raen was more powerful than Roporien, since he had killed his predecessor. If that was, indeed, how Roporien had perished. It was always possible people had assumed so only because that was what Millennium’s Rule predicted and the Raen rose to power at the same time that Roporien had died. He looked at Vella’s pages again.

Did the Raen ask you anything?

No. Nor did he seek specific knowledge. Yet I am sure that I was thoroughly examined. I presented questions to him in the Traveller tongue, since he spoke it, but he did not respond.

That news was both disappointing and hopeful. He had hoped Vella could tell him whether the man was likely to keep his word.

Well, I have to trust that Tarren is right and he’ll keep to his side of our deal. I have no choice but to keep to mine.

How hard was it going to be to dissuade these potential rebels from confronting the Raen? He wouldn’t be able to suggest it outright, or they’d wonder why he’d bothered joining them. While he hated the idea of spying on his former classmates and teachers, what if the Raen was right? What if by doing so he saved them? And perhaps, if a confrontation proved unavoidable, he could persuade the Raen to spare his friends.

First I have to find them, he told himself.

He considered who among his friends might have joined the rebels. Parel appeared contented with his life. He was patriotic, and wouldn’t risk harming his world out of self-interest. He had said something dismissive about rebels in their last conversation, too. Ahlen would be too busy helping his people survive the impact on their cross-world trading. Hekkirg and her husband’s main priority was protecting their people from raiders.

Yira, on the other hand, would not want to be restricted to her world. She enjoyed exploring too much. When he thought back to their last meeting, he realised that her invitation to him to come and live with her and her “friends” was more than out of character, it was a little suspicious. Yira had made sure her lovers never met each other. Men could not help their jealous natures, she’d said, and must be kept separate if they were to stay out of trouble. He doubted she’d ever expect them to live together.

What do you think, Vella? Is Yira my best bet?

Of your Liftre friends, she is the only one with warrior training. It is logical that she would choose to fight.

He nodded. Then I will go to her world next.

Taking a deep breath and some magic, he propelled himself away. Reaching Yira’s world meant retracing his steps for a few worlds, then striking out in a direction that took him closer to Liftre. The arrival place was atop a stone platform carved into the top of an enormous rock, but Tyen didn’t stay there for long. He skimmed through the edge of the world. The streams that skirted the rock converged to form a river, which wound back and forth through forests and fields before fragmenting into several tributaries. At the convergence of two of these lay a sprawl of white-tiled roofs sheltered by the canopy of huge trees.

Descending to an open space of stone arches filled in with iron bars–the only place a sorcerer was allowed to arrive within the city–he emerged into the world. A guard in a small room built into one of the arches called for his name. Remembering the protocol he’d been taught, he turned his hands palm upwards and dropped to one knee.

“Tyen Ironsmelter humbly seeks entry,” he said, eyes fixed on the ground. “I have come at the invitation of Yira Oni.”

“Yira Oni left instructions…” the woman said, consulting a book. Tyen read from her mind that his friend had left a list of names of people to be sent to her home if they sought her out, though she was no longer in her home world. The guard instructed a man standing in the deeper shadows of the room to take Tyen to his destination.

The gate was unlocked and the guide set off through the city streets. As Tyen followed he noted all over again the oddities that struck him whenever he visited Yira’s home world. A well-groomed young man stood in a doorway, baby on his hip and another child clinging to his leg. He watched Tyen with open curiosity and wondered how a man with so little care for his appearance could ever attract a woman. A pair of merchants discussing trade paused to openly discuss Tyen’s pale colouring and whether a woman had already claimed him for her own.

He had often wondered if Sezee’s island home had been like this, before the Leratian Empire had conquered it. The women here were so sure of their superiority over men, and few men ever seemed to do more than grumble about the unfairness of this. Because of her assumption that all worlds were like hers, Yira had struggled to fit in at Liftre at first. Only Tyen had understood her, pointing out to those who thought her arrogant that she behaved no differently to men from worlds where they had most of the advantages. He had been relieved, too, when she had begun to see that the men in her world sometimes had good reason to complain.