Angel of Storms Read online

  Change the subject, he told himself again. Rielle heartily agreed. She considered the people around her.

  “Does your family have a home world?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “We consider some places ours in that only this family visits them. Like the world we just left. It is a safe resting place because there is magic and it is unpopulated. The closest we come to a home world is the one where all Traveller families meet each cycle.”

  “Cycle?”

  “A measure of time based on the lom’s fertile cycle. It has become a method of measuring time across many worlds, used in combination with each world’s own seasons, because it is always the same length, whereas nearly all worlds’ seasons don’t match and some don’t have any. Travellers meet in a particular world at the lom’s fertile time so we can crossbreed our animals. We exchange news and catch up with family members who have married outside of the family, arrange ma… Ah! Derem is back already.”

  Following his gaze, Rielle saw the young man talking to Lejikh. He was smiling, and Baluka took this to mean all was well at their destination. Lejikh moved to the centre of the circle and called for everyone’s attention.

  “The Kezel know we’re here,” he said. “We’ve been invited to a feast. Chief Ghallan is entertaining a rival leader and wants to impress the man with his association with us. If we’re to get there in time we have to leave now.”

  Baluka grinned. “Come on. My parents’ wagon will go first and you’ll want to ride in it. The road to Zun is always a mess. It’s not a long journey, though… I hope you don’t get wagon sickness.” Which was like sailing sickness, Rielle saw in his mind. All the passengers on the ship to Schpeta had been ill from it, including herself–a memory that hadn’t faded in five years. She could only hope wagon sickness wasn’t as bad.

  Following him to the wagon, she stopped as she realised the stairs were gone, leaving only a single step below the doorway. Before she could consider how she was going to climb up gracefully, hands grasped her by the waist and lifted. A yelp of surprise escaped her.

  “Knees up,” Baluka said, amusement radiating from him.

  The step was at the level of her thighs now. Somehow she swung her feet up onto it, grasped the sides of the doorway and hauled herself inside. Though his hands were no longer on her waist she could still feel the pressure of them. She wasn’t sure if she ought to be annoyed at being handled like a piece of baggage or grateful for his help. Then the wagon lurched and she was scrabbling for a handhold. The door frame met her palm and she gripped it, managing to stay upright. Outside, Ankari was holding one of the lom’s head straps, leading it forward. The cart was rolling over the uneven ground towards a gap in the trees.

  Baluka and Lejikh walked before the wagon. Vines filled the space between the trees, but as the pair neared, the plants seemed to shrink away from them, leaving bare, dark earth. She looked for Stain around them, but the rocking of the wagon made it hard to focus that closely. Still, it must be a world with plenty of magic or the Stain would be obvious.

  Once the wagon reached the cleared area it stopped rocking. Ankari let go of the lom’s head strap and, with a nimbleness that Rielle hoped she’d enjoy at the woman’s age, hoisted herself up onto the wagon, twisting so she landed sitting face-out on the wagon doorstep. She glanced back and up at Rielle and smiled, then pointed first at one of the squat chairs inside, then at her eyes and at the nearest window. Nodding, Rielle moved the chair close to an opening and sat down.

  The forest passed by slowly. After a while she began to notice smaller details. Little creatures with pincers and shiny wings glided between the trees. Colourful growths fanned out from the bark. Vines stretched and twined upwards, using the trees as a support and sometimes forming a net between them.

  Beyond Ankari and the doorway a more even green appeared ahead of the road, murky in the twilight. The trees ended abruptly and the view through the window changed to cultivated hills on either side. Ankari stood up to allow Baluka to climb up through the doorway, then handed the reins to Lejikh as he settled on the step. Baluka moved to the edge of the bed, while his mother settled in the other chair.

  Seeing people outside the window, Rielle turned to see what they were like. The fields were being worked by a scattering of bent figures. The locals were as pale as Schpetans but most had curly hair cropped at the shoulders and all the men were bearded. They were small in stature. One straightened to stretch her back, revealing thin arms and sunken cheeks. She scowled as she saw the wagons, then bent back to her work.

  Surprised, Rielle looked closer, seeking minds. Most were curious, she sensed, but they did not see themselves ever having dealings with the Travellers.

  … don’t get this finished we’ll have nothing after paying the tithe to get us through the dry…

  … now the chief will use the money from the harvest to buy more useless pretty things from those Travellers rather than feeding his people…

  … she’s always complaining that she’s hungry. That the chief of her homeland fed his people better. Well, she didn’t have to marry me. I suppose once she’s had the child…

  Rielle shook her head. These people were hungry and tired. They had no choice but to work for the chief. They regarded themselves as the man’s possessions. Are they slaves? She turned away and found Ankari watching her. The woman’s expression was grim, and she spoke quietly to Baluka. He turned to Rielle.

  “Most people don’t like knowing their minds can be read,” he told her. “We have an agreement here that no Traveller will read anyone’s mind without permission from the chief. You’re a guest and not bound by the same promise, but it would be better for all of us if you didn’t do so either.”

  Her face warmed. “I didn’t know. I apologise.”

  “It’s fine,” he assured her. “It’s a new skill, it’s hard to stop looking once you know how. Just… when we get there, try not to react to what you see.”

  She nodded. “That’s going to be hard, if I keep seeing things I don’t like.”

  Ankari smiled, and Rielle was surprised to see approval in the woman’s gaze.

  “I’m sure there were parts of the culture you last lived in, even parts of your own culture, that you didn’t like and couldn’t do anything to fix,” she said, Rielle reading her meaning in Baluka’s mind. “I’m also sure you learned to hide your dislike for the sake of avoiding insult and conflict. Whether you notice with your eyes or mind, that same sense of manners or self-preservation applies in all worlds.”

  Rielle glanced out of the window. “But it seems wrong to not look, though; as if I’m pretending their troubles don’t exist.”

  “I understand,” Ankari assured her. “But there are a thousand thousand people in most worlds, and countless worlds out there. If you looked into every person’s mind you wouldn’t always see pain and suffering, but overall there will be a great deal of it. Most of the time you can’t do anything to help, and knowing that while still seeing everything…”

  “It could drive you mad,” Baluka finished. He sounded so much older and wiser than he had previously that Rielle found herself staring at him. “No world is perfect. Some are terrible. We only trade with one of the more benevolent chiefs here in order to encourage better treatment of their serfs, but anything more would be unwelcome interference.” Baluka’s serious expression vanished. “Still, there is nearly always something to like about a place, even if a small thing. They bake amazingly good sweets here. Like bulbul. It’s a kind of a cake with a hollow inside which they fill with a thick tuk-flavoured syrup.”

  Rielle couldn’t help smiling at his wistful, hungry expression. “But we’ve only just eaten an enormous meal!”

  “Yes, but there’s always more room for sweets.” He looked from her to his mother, who shook her head in mock exasperation.

  “You have a whole feast to get through first,” the woman reminded him.

  He winced. “If only more cultures served sweet courses fi
rst,” he lamented, then he peered around Lejikh. “We’re nearly there.”

  Beyond the loms’ backs, the road ascended a low hill towards a dark, horizontal band. Slowly this grew nearer and larger until it resolved into a wooden wall several times the height of even the tallest Traveller. As tall as the trees in the forest they’d arrived in, she realised.

  The road led to a gap in the wall barely larger than their wagon. As they trundled through Rielle caught a glimpse of a mechanism of some sort on the inner side of the wall. Chains led up, perhaps to some kind of door suspended above the entrance.

  Ahead was a façade half as tall as the wall, yet high enough for three rows of mean, narrow windows. It had been painted a glossy black. The courtyard between was ringed with iron lanterns stained with rust. People were rushing about, carrying burdens in their arms or on their backs, or throwing items into carts. Clearing a space for the Travellers, she guessed, resisting the temptation to seek an answer in their minds. The overall mood the façade and the atmosphere of haste produced was grim and unwelcoming, and as the wagons rolled into a circle within the courtyard a reluctance to venture outside grew within her. Then voices attracted her attention, and as she looked out of the window now facing the building she blinked in surprise and disbelief.

  A stream of brightly garbed, smiling men and women were emerging, exclaiming loudly in surprise and delight. The women’s sleeves were so billowy and long their hands were lost in the folds, and they held up their skirts to stop them dragging. The men wore broad belts over long shirts that fell to their knees, then trousers so wide they might as well have been skirts. If they aren’t actually skirts, Rielle thought. Their leader, a man with plenty of grey in his hair and beard, approached with open arms.

  The Travellers emerged from their wagons and gathered before the colourful locals. Following Ankari out, Rielle managed to leap down to the ground without Baluka’s assistance. She sensed his disappointment.

  “Traveller Lejikh,” the grey-bearded man said, then launched into a long formal welcome that Baluka soon stopped listening to out of boredom, so Rielle only understood the first part of it.

  Baluka glanced at her and smiled. I should warn you: don’t accept or give anything or you’ll get stuck in a cycle of gift-giving that you can’t end without being unforgivably rude. I mean it. Wars have started over as small a thing as a flower offered to a child. Even leaving Kezel doesn’t end it, as the exchange starts again when you come back. My grandfather had one going for over fifty cycles.

  She frowned. How do you conduct business, then? Isn’t that the exchange of gifts?

  Fortunately they regard trade differently. It has to involve the immediate transfer of goods, though. They must be exchanged at exactly the same time, starting and finishing together.

  No keeping of accounts to be paid later? No credit?

  He shook his head. If you are invited to dinner you must “take” the food. If anyone serves you it is seen as “giving”. If someone presses something into your hands don’t take hold of it. If they need to give you something they should stand there and hold it in a thoughtful way, so that you can take it off them without obligation.

  It sounds very complicated.

  It’s not once you get used to it. Ah, they’re done at last!

  Most of the Travellers were moving forward now. A handful stayed behind. Guarding the wagons? The young mother and the more elderly of the older couples were among them, so perhaps they simply wanted rest. They had left the desert world after sundown, so this was effectively a second evening on top of the first. But I don’t feel tired, Rielle thought. I guess I did sleep for most of the day.

  On the other side of the black doors of the façade was a riot of colour. The walls and ceiling had been painted deep, rich shades of red, green, purple and blue, with patterns and crudely painted figures and scenes rendered in gold on top. The floor was a glossy black, but most of it was covered in thick, bright carpets. Many of these were as intricate as tapestries and she felt a frisson of delight as she realised they were all meant to look like the ground–littered with leaves and bugs and vines like in the forest, or grass and flowers and birds, and even water with little creatures swimming within.

  I wish Master Grasch could see this! The thought came with a pang of sadness. Even if she had brought him here, his sight was all but gone now. Chances were she’d never see him again if she decided to settle somewhere new, whether in her world or not. The thought left her feeling lost and anxious, and she moved a little closer to Baluka. I feel so certain I can trust him. It must be because I have read his mind. If he were a bad person she was sure he would not be able to hide it.

  They entered a huge hall, the carpet covered in representations of food. A bit obvious, this one. Odd wedge-shaped pillows were arranged neatly around the edges. A group of people were sitting on these and from among them rose a young man. He was introduced to Lejikh.

  This is the other chief that Ghallan is hoping to impress, Baluka told her.

  For a while all had to stand around waiting while the correct formalities were observed, jokes made and the young chief flattered his host by trying to persuade Lejikh to sell his wares to him even as he knew he would not succeed. All were slowed by the difficulties of translation and complexity of local manners. When finally they all were free to sit Rielle had to hold back a sigh of relief.

  Servants entered with little carts stacked with folded pieces of cloth. They pulled them past the chief and his entourage first, who each took one and laid it across their knees, protecting themselves and the carpet from spills. The Travellers followed suit. Soon all were taking utensils from more carts, and then helping themselves to the contents of steaming cauldrons and well-laden baskets.

  The excitement of the visitors at meeting the Travellers buffeted the edges of Rielle’s senses, inviting her to look closer, but she kept her mind averted as best she could. One of the men kept staring at her, and yet she heard no whisper of thought emanating from him. When he finally turned away to answer his leader she took the opportunity to look closer. He was almost as thin as the serfs she had seen.

  As he looked back in her direction she returned her attention to the conversation between Lejikh and Chief Ghallan. They were cheerfully bartering. Baluka’s father produced a few items from within his clothing. Gemstones, mostly.

  “It is a night bead,” Lejikh said, handing over a tiny bauble. “At first it appears black, but look closer. It is said it reflects every colour that ever existed. But mostly the colours that are near, like those you are wearing.”

  Rielle smiled. Selling a black bead to people who loved colour so much seemed an impossible challenge, but his description made her want to see the effect for herself. Black that reflected colour. Like the Angel’s hair…

  Ankari touched her arm, then pointed at another small cart being pulled around the diners. At once Baluka straightened.

  “Bulbul!” he exclaimed in a hushed tone, his eyes wide.

  She suppressed the urge to giggle at his childlike excitement as the cart drew closer. At the last moment one of the Travellers called the servant back to him and Baluka let out an explosive breath in frustration, earning laughs all around. Then finally the cart stopped before them and, despite Rielle’s protests at how full she was, he scooped up two of the enormous servings.

  The cake was bland and a disappointment, until she reached the middle, which was a revelation of sweetness tempered by both soft and tangy flavours. She spent the rest of the evening slowly working her way through the whole cake, then followed Baluka back to the wagon feeling uncomfortably full and yet sure she could not have helped trying to eat more.

  The stairs to the wagon had been replaced, to her relief. Baluka did not follow her and Ankari inside. She looked around for Lejikh, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Father will be negotiating for some hours yet,” he said. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  As Ankari closed the door Bal
uka’s mind slipped beyond her senses, and for a second she felt disorientated and utterly alone. She looked towards the nearest window and found all the shutters closing. Ankari reached under the bed and began to pull. Another, smaller bed emerged, rolling on little wheels. She positioned it where the table had been, now folded up and fixed onto the wall. Smiling at Rielle, she patted the covers.

  Rielle hesitated, thinking that the last thing she would be able to do was sleep when she had slept for most of the day. But Ankari had been awake for many, many hours and was probably tired, so Rielle sat on the edge of the bed. The woman let down the curtains and disappeared behind them. With nothing else to do, Rielle lay down and considered everything she had seen. The forest. The serfs. The castle. The colourful occupants of the castle.

  I don’t think I’d like to live here, she thought fuzzily as sleep crept over her. Though it’s almost tempting, for the sweets.

  CHAPTER 8

  A curse woke Rielle. She wasn’t sure how she knew it was a curse, except it was uttered with the right sort of vehemence. Then she began to wonder if it had been in her dream, which had been about… she couldn’t remember. Blinking, she looked around. She was low to the floor, on a bed… the wheeled bed in Ankari and Lejikh’s wagon. Among the Travellers and in a land ruled by rich chiefs and starving serfs. In a world far from her own. Not in the Angel’s world, where she was supposed to be, thanks to Inekera, who possibly had meant to kill her…

  It took a long moment to remember and accept all of that again, and for the disorientation to pass. I am safe, she told herself. Don’t worry about the rest. It occurred to her then that she had been lucky twofold that Baluka had found her. Not only had the Travellers saved her life, but she had been found by good people.