Angel of Storms Read online

  Rielle sat up slowly, sliding her legs over the end of the bed. I was never able to read minds at home, she thought. Was that because the priests were stronger than me? But they couldn’t have read my mind either, or they’d have known I was tainted earlier. Rielle saw that the woman did not have an answer to that. Maybe magic is different here in an Angel’s world.

  Ankari shook her head. “No,” she said. “It is the same in all worlds–and nobody lives in this world.”

  Rielle stared at the woman, hearing and measuring the certainty in voice and mind. Ankari believed that this was one of countless worlds. Most were populated by humans, but this one had been abandoned long ago. She’d never heard of beings called “Angels”.

  Rielle shivered. If Ankari was right, Inekera had definitely not sent her to Valhan’s world. Unless Ankari was wrong… Rielle glanced at the light. After all, she has never heard of Angels and doesn’t know using magic is forbidden.

  Ankari smiled again. “Magic is not forbidden in most worlds. Nobody will punish you for using it, so long as you obey local laws.”

  Rielle understood then that none of the sorcerers this woman had ever encountered before–and there were many–had been forbidden to use magic. They were free to use it, and as a result were admired, respected or sometimes feared, depending on the world they were in and their reputation.

  Ankari held out a wooden cup filled with water. Taking it, Rielle restrained herself to a sip, remembering the warning of the Angel–man?–against drinking too quickly. The water tasted strange. Salty. She looked up at Ankari.

  “It contains the salts you sweated out,” the woman said, “and will help you recover.” It is strange that she didn’t know mind reading was possible, the woman was thinking. Perhaps she came from a very weak world–but then how did she leave it? How did she get here? Ankari frowned as Rielle remembered the Angel’s invitation and Inekera’s fearful expression as she shoved Rielle towards this world. Is it some kind of cruel rivalry between the Raen’s allies? Ankari thought, mistaking the Angels for people. The woman hesitated as she noticed Rielle noticing her mistake, then decided it would be rude to pursue the subject now. She nodded at the cup in Rielle’s hand.

  “Drink. Rest. I will return soon.” She pushed through the curtain and Rielle heard her footsteps recede and a door open and close.

  Rielle considered the last thoughts she’d overheard. Ankari believed it likely that the Angels were two powerful sorcerers who were loyal to an even stronger sorcerer–this man known as “the Raen”. There had been no opportunity to explain, but perhaps there would be later. She obeyed the woman’s first suggestion, draining the cup. Her stomach didn’t rebel. Instead it growled with hunger. Looking down at herself, she noticed she was not wearing her jacket, shoes or the head covering she’d fashioned from her underskirt but a simple shift. Her skin was faintly oily and smelled fragrant. She was uncomfortably warm. It must be daytime outside.

  All this she noted, yet her mind was abuzz with excitement. She had read someone’s mind! And they had read hers. What did this mean? Was it a gift from the Angels?

  The door opened again. She looked up, but nobody opened the curtain. Someone was there, however. Her skin prickled. She pressed her mind forward, seeking whoever lurked there.

  It was a young man, hesitating because it would be impolite to barge in on her, and his mother, Ankari, had told him not to disturb her. Yet he was full of curiosity. Judging by the memories that flashed through his mind, he was the one who had found her. He wanted to know if she was as beautiful in daylight as at night. Astonished, unable to help feeling vainly pleased and knowing he might have read that from her mind, she was suddenly too embarrassed to speak. A voice came from behind the curtain.

  “May I come in?”

  She cleared her throat. How do I say “yes” in these people’s language? At once his mind supplied the answer.

  “Ka,” she replied.

  She suppressed a foolish grin. This mind reading was going to be a handy ability.

  The curtain opened. He had a broad, brown face like his mother’s, with masculine and well-balanced features, and dark, curly hair. She saw in his mind that, among his people, he was considered handsome–a good catch as the son of the family leader and two powerful sorcerers… if a Traveller girl of acceptable bloodlines ever caught his eye. Rielle covered her mouth to hide a smile, but even so the young man’s face reddened as he realised she’d seen his self-assessment. His smile widened.

  “I am Baluka,” he told her.

  It was good manners to speak aloud, she read, even if one’s thoughts could be heard.

  “I am Rielle,” she replied, copying the phrase and substituting her own name.

  “You are lucky,” he told her, growing serious. “If you had been out there much longer you would have died.”

  She nodded. How did one say–ah… “Thank you,” she said in his language.

  “So how did you come to be lost in this world?” he asked. “There are no people here. Can you travel between worlds?”

  “No,” she replied, then: “An Angel brought me–well, partway at least.”

  His eyes widened in horror as he read her mind. “This woman took you halfway through and left you there?”

  She shoved me into this world, she thought, knowing she would never find the words in his mind when the conversation was going so quickly.

  “That makes no sense.” He was radiating sympathy and anger now. She could see that he suspected Inekera had meant her harm. Why leave someone between worlds when she could have brought them safely through? he thought. Unless she thought this was a dead world. And then why send someone to a dead, unpopulated world where they’d die? If she wanted someone dead, why not just kill them?

  Why indeed, Rielle thought. Inekera’s actions had almost killed her. She did not like to think it had been deliberate, but what if Baluka was right? Perhaps Inekera simply could not bring herself to actually murder someone.

  If it had been intentional, it was clear the Angels were not as united as the priests believed. If it wasn’t, then Inekera made an error, and the Angel might still find out and come here to find me.

  Baluka’s gaze intensified. “Who is this other, er, Angel?”

  “Valhan,” she said, feeling wonder and awe return with the words. “The Angel of Storms.” She drew up her memory of the Angel’s face and drew a breath to begin describing him, but a voice called out just beyond the wall.

  “Baluka!”

  They both jumped. Baluka ducked his head and she read that he’d been told not to bother her. He smiled apologetically.

  “Sorry, Rielle. I must go…”

  She nodded to show she understood and watched him retreat between the curtains. A moment later she heard a door open and close, then voices outside the room: an older male, Ankari and Baluka talking quickly in the Travellers’ language. She could sense no thoughts now. The older man’s tone was authoritative. She recalled Baluka thinking that he was the son of the leader of the group.

  After a short conversation, the door opened and closed again. Ankari opened the curtain and smiled briefly before her expression changed to a more serious one. She was carrying a basin of water and had a bundle tucked under her arm, the first she set on the floor and the second on the bed. Rielle could not hear her thoughts. The woman said a word, pressed a cloth into Rielle’s hand, then mimed dipping into the basin and wiping her arms. Then she handed Rielle a small bottle of oil and pointed at Rielle’s sunburned skin and feet. Next she pointed at the bundle and then plucked at her clothing. Rielle nodded to show she understood, then pulled a newly learned word from her memory.

  “Thank you.”

  Ankari’s face relaxed into a smile. She nodded, then closed the curtain. The door Rielle had heard before did not open and close, so the woman must have remained in the room. The voices outside were fainter but more numerous. She listened for Baluka’s but if he was there and was talking she couldn’t identify
him among the rest.

  I could try to read their thoughts… But if these people considered it rude to do so it would be particularly ungrateful of her to break that taboo when they had saved her life. Instead she concentrated on washing, peeling off her clothes and wiping the sweat and sand from her skin. It brought back the memory of a similar quick cleaning, when she had scrubbed off the muck thrown at her when… No, don’t think about that; they can hear you.

  Suddenly the disadvantage of mind reading became painfully clear. With her own mind open she could not prevent these people learning that she had been driven out of her home city as a criminal. Stop! Think of something else. They might not believe using magic was wrong, but she did not want to show them her memories of the humiliating experience.

  She kept her eyes averted from her naked body, too, putting on the clothing as soon as she was clean and dry. On top of the pile was a set of close-fitting underclothes different to anything Rielle had worn before, thankfully easy to put on. Next was a pair of trousers–very odd for a woman to be wearing but not uncomfortable. They and the short-sleeved shift that covered it were as brightly coloured as the traditional costume she’d worn at Fyre’s festivals, though the decorative stitching covered only the ankles, wrists and high neckline.

  She paused to rub in some oil, tackling her feet last. Her soles were only a little sore. Whatever the oil was, it had been very effective. A pair of sandals finished the outfit, with long straps that Rielle had to wrap around her ankles many times so she wouldn’t trip on them. Little bells had been attached to the ends of the straps but, to her relief, they made only a soft tinkle as she moved.

  The curtains opened and this time Ankari pushed the fabric to either side and secured it to the wall with ties. The rest of the room was lined with cupboards and shelving. Two squat chairs stood either side of a table fixed to a wall at one end and supported by a single leg at the other. On the table was a plate, and Rielle’s stomach growled as she saw the contents. Ankari chuckled again and gestured to the chair.

  “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.

  “Please sit,” Lejikh said, indicating two empty mats next to Ankari. Baluka led Rielle over to them.

  As soon as they sat down the family burst into conversation. Metal plates rose from a stack beside the fire and floated out to each member. The roasting animal stopped turning, lifted up and of
f the stand and settled onto a platter. Smaller pots rose out of the coals and settled beside it, their lids sliding to one side. But nothing remained in place for long as meat peeled away from the roast and strange scoops–like ladles but with no handles–carried food to plates held with outstretched hands. Rielle watched it all with one hand pressed to her mouth, astonished and a little discomfited to see so much magic being used for such simple tasks.

  She looked for Stain but only caught fleeting bursts of fine lines around the Travellers. These quickly disappeared as magic flowed in to fill them. Her plate slid out of her hands and floated in the air before her. She turned to see Baluka grinning at her.

  “What would you like?”

  “I… I don’t know.” Everything, her mind answered as her stomach vibrated with eagerness.

  Ladles flew through the air. Only when her plate was full of more food than she thought she could possibly eat did he press it back into her hands. He handed her a utensil shaped like a spoon but sharpened on one side, with short prongs like a fork at the end. She took note of how it was being used by the other Travellers before copying them. It made eating while holding a plate in one hand much easier.

  The meal was ordinary to Baluka, but to Rielle every bite was a discovery. What she thought were small round root vegetables were spongy balls of bread cooked in a rich sauce. Long green spears turned out to be a sea animal, soaked in a vinegary brine. Thick, flat cakes were in fact yellow leaves, with a crunchy crust and sweet, juicy interior. Cones of sweet red berries encrusted an inedible woody core that was tossed back into the fire. The meat was the least strange in taste and texture. All was delicious.

  She managed to finish everything. Sated, perhaps a little too full, she watched as the children collected the plates and took them away somewhere behind the carts to clean them. Cups were produced and drinks poured–another flavoured water designed to combat the drying of the desert air. She noticed then the dark lines and dots around the men and women’s arms. Baluka supplied the explanation: the lines marked major points in a Traveller’s life, from a woman’s first bleed and a young man’s coming of age, to marriages and the arrival of offspring. The dots marked each cycle, a measure of time similar to a year. Both were made with a tool that injected ink under the skin. It was a painful procedure, but had great meaning for them.