Maker's Curse Page 8

  His fears were doing nothing to ease Rielle’s anxiety. She moved away from Gere and sought other minds, hoping to find out where Qall had gone or been taken, and why. A fruitless search for the Head Priest followed. Most minds were now focused on a ceremony. From those observing the proceedings she learned that the High Priest Sa-Wan had left with Sa-Kal. They did not know where the pair had gone. They did not even know that Sa-Kal claimed to be an Angel.

  The rest of the priests were too involved in the ceremony to let their minds wander to recent events. Rielle resigned herself to waiting and watching. Then, just as one of the senior priests thought that his duties would soon be done, she heard a sound close by. Bringing her attention back to her immediate surroundings, she looked around, seeking the source of the noise. Shadows flickered beyond the door of the barn, and she heard the scrape of a rusty latch.

  Taking a quick, deep breath, she pushed out of the world. The building faded to a grey shadow. A rectangle of white appeared, a vague shape moving within it. The farmer’s son had returned, she guessed. With her hiding spot compromised, she propelled herself upwards and hovered over the village.

  She sought another place in the village, then changed her mind. The closer she was to the minds she wanted to read, the less magic she needed to release. She skimmed over to the island and emerged in the world above the temple, hovering on a support of stilled air. Using her eyes and the minds of those below, she pieced together the gist of the interior layout, seeking a secluded place to arrive. The ceremony had ended, and most of the occupants were leaving the main hall. Novices headed towards their quarters or to lessons. Priests scattered to begin a variety of tasks. The only two people that weren’t moving were in isolation as punishment for a sin or small crime: Gere in order to prevent him chasing after Qall, and another novice for stealing.

  They occupied only two of eight isolation rooms. Rielle pushed out of the world and skimmed down into one. Once in place, she released a little more magic and sought the minds of the senior priests again.

  One was standing in for the High Priest, so she watched him closely. He wondered for some time how Sa-Wan kept everything running smoothly, then at last he paused to reflect that he didn’t envy the man his current task, and she saw the true reason for Qall’s departure.

  The senior priests had been sceptical about Qall’s claim to be an Angel, and when the young man’s dalliance with Gere had been discovered, they’d seen it as proof he wasn’t. Not because Gere was a man, but because Angels weren’t supposed to be base and lustful. It was possible, they’d realised, that the Angel had been corrupted by this world. By Gere, perhaps.

  Either way, the substitute High Priest thought, it is a matter that must be dealt with – but not by us. Only the Voice of the Angels can judge if Sa-Kal is what he says he is, and whether he had been corrupted. This Voice of the Angels was the highest authority of the priesthood, who lived in a secret temple several days’ journey away, in a location only the High Priest knew of.

  Sa-Kal had been dismissive when confronted, then defensive, then had acquiesced to their demand that he be questioned and judged. “I can’t stop you taking me away from here,” he’d told them. “Only know that I do not wish to go.”

  Rielle muttered a curse in her language, briefly musing that for once she was in a place where the words would be understood if anyone had overheard them. The only way she could find Qall was to seek him and the High Priest in the minds of people he might have passed along the journey to the secret temple. Tracking him this way was slow and would use a lot of the magic she carried. He was several days ahead of her and might arrive in the secret temple before she caught up.

  She had no other choice, however. She must track him in whatever ways she could. If Qall died because she was a few days late, she would never forgive herself.

  Or Baluka, for delaying me, she could not help thinking.

  CHAPTER 8

  Rielle had always been fascinated by the way that fog made objects appear larger and further away. The whiteness of the place between worlds had the same effect, enhancing the imposing size of the gates of Amete, the secret temple of the priesthood and home to the Voice of the Angels. They loomed over Rielle like the doors to a giant’s world.

  Each was four times the height of a man, carved deeply to depict a parade of Angels. The figures were ones she had learned about as a child, representing birth, death, drought, storm, wild, tame, fire, snow, justice and love. Valhan had claimed to be the Angel of Storms perhaps because it would be easier to convince followers that there were more angels than the eight they knew than to pretend to be one of those eight convincingly. Qall had been given the title of Angel of Justice, since he was to decide whether this world was worthy of restoration.

  The priests had brought Qall all manner of local matters to settle, but he’d wisely refused to oblige, saying that the Angels trusted humans to deal with minor issues. He also avoided being drawn into conversations about theological matters, especially with those who held doubts that he was truly an Angel, to reduce his influence on the world. He had one job, and one alone, and as a result he asked the questions, but didn’t have to answer any.

  Several days of tedious tracking had led Rielle here. She drifted through the closest gate into its shadow on the other side. The road continued on, low houses edging either side. Everything was symmetrical: the road straight, houses identical to those opposite, central doors with the same number of windows either side. Even the rows of potted plants beside doorways were of identical size and shape. Only two elements were uneven: the many priests walking along the road, and the stance of the two guards standing either side of the gate. One had turned towards her. She glanced at him to see why.

  He was staring at her, his mouth open in disbelief and shock.

  She hid her dismay, turning away as if he didn’t matter before propelling herself down the road. He might believe he had seen an Angel or a ghost, but more likely the latter since an Angel was not likely to be wearing travel-stained clothes and carrying a pack.

  She moved quickly so that if anyone caught an impression of her transparent form she would be gone before they could question what they’d seen. Taking a side street, she sought an unoccupied place to arrive in. The openness and symmetry of the temple meant it was some time before she found somewhere suitable – a cellar under one of the buildings.

  Once in the world again, she endured a savage wave of dizziness, as denying her body of air for so long caught up with her. When her sight cleared and she was no longer gasping for breath, she found herself kneeling on the floor of a liquor storeroom. Rising, she dusted herself off, then sat on a low stool next to a barrel topped with a couple of dirty glasses.

  Concentrating on sensing magic, she was surprised to find it stronger here than anywhere she’d encountered so far in her world. It flowed from several points in the complex, suggesting that many forms of creativity were taking place. One of these was quite close, so she was able to release a little magic to strengthen the area even further without risking drawing notice.

  Her caution was justified by what she found. The minds around her belonged to priests, and priests alone. Where a village of ordinary people might normally provide goods and services to a local temple, here priests undertook the same tasks in order to keep their home self-sufficient and secret.

  This meant every person in the temple was male. If she emerged to mingle among them, she would stand out as an imposter immediately.

  The fastest way to find Qall would be to appear before a priest and ask where Sa-Kal was, and read the answer from the priest’s mind if he was unwilling to tell her. Then he would no doubt alert the temple there was an imposter present, however, and if Qall was in danger her questions about him might push the priests into harming or killing him.

  Better to stay hidden and watch the minds around her. It would take longer, but eventually someone would think of Qall, and his location. Once she had it, she could skim to him and
take him out of the world. Unless she bound and gagged him…

  But what of testing him to see if Valhan has overtaken his mind? She drummed her fingers on the barrel as she considered. I will take him somewhere else in this world to do so before we leave.

  She began to watch the minds around her. After some time, she reached the point where the magic she had released had thinned to the degree that she could not read thoughts any more. The only minds she’d encountered were of lower-ranked priests, who hadn’t thought once about a man claiming to be an Angel in the temple. Most likely only a few priests knew Qall was here. If everyone knew a man who might be an Angel was incarcerated here, it would be sure to cause upheaval and possibly trouble.

  She could release enough magic to strengthen a larger area, but that might be noticed. Instead, she decided to move to a location closer to higher-status priests. Rising above the temple, she headed towards a larger building near its centre. Entering one of the spires, she found a space within the conical peak just large enough for her to sit and scan the minds below.

  No priests were thinking about Qall, but one among a group of administrators did pause to wonder about a secret matter occupying the Voice of the Angels these last few days. The administrator didn’t know about Qall, but Rielle did learn of the Voice’s probable location.

  Roaming through the rooms of justice even as a ghostly figure would be risky, so she searched for a place to spy from in the buildings that surrounded it. Near the kitchens she found a latrine she could pause in, lockable from the inside. Just as she located the temple’s prison cells, a priestly cook came by and started to complain loudly that whoever was in there was taking too long. She was tempted to leave the door locked when she left, but didn’t, instead letting him open it to an empty room and wonder if he was going a little mad in his old age.

  Her hopes of finding Qall in the cells were soon dashed. They proved to be unsuitable as a place to hide, too. Open on one side, they were constantly watched by guards. These priests were attentive enough that the passing of her ghostly figure had them jump and stare in her direction, and she quickly retreated below the floor.

  There she found another storeroom, this time full of cabinets. Establishing that she was alone, she emerged into the world and caught her breath as quietly as she could. Catching sight of a few oddly-worded labels, she gave in to curiosity and opened some of the cabinets. Inside were piles of documents and boxes full of personal items. None of the labels explained why the latter was here, with only a person’s name written on the front of each box. Perhaps they were the earthly possessions of each priest, given up when they took their vows.

  Bringing her attention back to her task, she released magic slowly and impatiently watched for thoughts to emerge from the silence. As her senses touched each mind, she listened and watched only long enough to establish if anything useful was passing through their conscious thoughts. Most were occupied with administrative tasks. Then, like a magical light sparking into existence, a mind bright with anxiety flared into her senses. This man was half afraid, half angry, and ached with exhaustion.

  I travelled all this way to bring them this man pretending to be an Angel, he thought, and now they’re ignoring me. As if I was part of the deception. Instead, the Voice of the Angel’s attention had turned to a strange, scarred priest who he believed had been an Angel’s human assistant many years ago, who was supposed to be able to tell if one had come to the human realm in mortal form.

  Seeing the face of the strange priest in his memory, Rielle’s heart skipped a beat. But he’s supposed to be dead! Yet the scarred features were familiar, even if deepened by age. It had to be Sa-Mica. Who else could it be? She let out a sigh of relief. If he sees Qall, he’ll recognise him as Valhan. He’ll confirm that this is the Angel he knew.

  Seeking more minds, she jumped from one to the next. After what seemed like an age, she suddenly found herself in Sa-Mica’s mind. Though she had never read it before, she knew him immediately from his humourless manner and quiet intellect. Her delight at finding him was eclipsed by horror, however, as she witnessed him telling an important priest that Sa-Kal was not an Angel.

  “How do you know?” the other man asked. This, Rielle saw, was the Voice of the Angels himself.

  “He has the appearance of the Angel I knew,” Sa-Mica said, his disappointment sour in his mind, “but his manner and way of speaking is quite different. The Angel I knew had a… a weight about him. You knew he had existed for thousands of years.”

  He was right: Qall had none of Valhan’s presence. She cursed as she realised how wrong she had been. Sa-Mica would never have been fooled by Qall’s disguise.

  “Then we must deal to him the appropriate punishment,” the Voice replied.

  Sa-Mica flinched as he realised death was the likely sentence. He had badly wanted the pretender to be the Angel, just so that he could be in the man’s presence again. He had been so wrapped up in considering what he would say that he hadn’t considered what would happen to the young man if he declared him a pretender. Knowing that he had taken part in the decision to execute Sa-Kal would sit uneasily with him for the rest of his days, despite knowing the youth’s guilt.

  Rielle moved to the Voice’s mind to find out if Sa-Mica’s guess was true. The man was watching Sa-Mica – noting the sadness and dismay in the old priest’s face. If Sa-Mica is unsure of his assessment, he had better tell me in the next few hours, the Voice thought. He looked for a sign of doubt, but all he saw was sympathy for the young man, and that Sa-Mica missed the true Angel who had blessed him with his trust and favour.

  Wait a moment, the Voice thought. I am reading his mind! The magic around us has increased too much. I will have to have words with the artisan priests…

  Suddenly all the magic in and around the building rushed to one point. The minds within it vanished from Rielle’s senses and an impression of darkness enveloped her. She stared at the cupboards around her, her awareness abruptly restricted to her physical senses.

  What can I do now? she wondered. Since the Voice had stripped the area to protect his mind from being read, he would notice if she released more magic. She pushed aside panic and considered the situation carefully. She could not do anything until she located Qall. She could not read minds again in this location. Who outside this location might know where Qall was?

  She was in an administrative temple building. As far as she could tell, nobody slept here. At some point, someone who knew where Qall was would leave the building. She needed to find a place from which to search their minds as they did.

  That place turned out to be another wine cellar. The temple certainly had a lot of them. She released more magic and searched in vain for Qall between skimming the minds of the priests who left the building. Several areas of the city were devoid of magic, and she guessed Qall was in one of them.

  Then Sa-Mica left. She watched him walk across the temple to his rooms. His thoughts lingered on Qall, but not on the pretender’s location. Frustrated, Rielle wished she could ask him directly… then realised that, of all the priests, he was one she could approach. Surely he would remember her. If he didn’t, she might still see Qall’s location in his mind.

  It was a risk worth taking. Pushing out of the world, she skimmed into his room and emerged. His back was to her as he leaned over a basin of water, washing his face and hands. She let out enough magic to imbue the room and waited until he had patted his face dry.

  “Sa-Mica,” she said.

  He jumped and spun around, his eyes widening with recognition and shock as he saw her.

  “Rielle Lazuli,” he replied. He glanced at the door, thinking that he had locked it. “How did you get in here?”

  She shrugged. “The same way I left this world, all those years ago.”

  He stared at her a little longer, noting there had been only a subtle change in her appearance. She looked older, but not as old as she ought to look.

  “It is good to see you again.”


  “And you.” She smiled. “I am happy to see you’ve not joined the Angels, as they believe in Fyre.”

  “As am I.” He looked down at himself. “Though it will not be many more years before they will be right.” He frowned and his gaze became sharp. “Are you here because I judged wrong?”

  “Of Sa-Kal?” She grimaced. “No, you are right that he is not the Angel you knew. But…”

  “But?”

  “He is no pretender, either.”

  His face paled and he pressed his hands to his cheeks. “What have I done?”

  “No more than anyone in your position would have done,” she assured him. “And nothing you cannot rectify.”

  “You want me to speak to the Voice?”

  She nodded. “But first, I must speak to Sa-Kal. And none but you must know I have.”

  He rubbed his palms together. “That will be difficult. He is guarded.” He frowned. “If I distract the guard and you both disappear, they will believe I let Sa-Kal escape.”

  “I will ensure they know you acted only on my orders.”

  He drew in a deep breath, then let it out again. “Then we had best hurry. He is to be executed in the next hour.”

  Rielle caught her breath, then let it out slowly. “Tell me where he is.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Hovering over the building where Qall was imprisoned, Rielle recalled Sa-Mica’s description of the configuration of rooms and corridors inside. She got her bearings from a row of pipes projecting from the roof to ventilate the toilets below. They ran crosswise to the corridor Qall’s room was located on, and the corridor stretched along the spine of the building.

  She moved further out of the world so that her surroundings looked like a bad-quality painting left in the sun, then plunged downwards, passing through roof tiles and beams into an attic, then through a wooden floor into the second-level rooms. She saw a face in the shadows very close, eyes closed, and realised she was passing through a person napping in a large chair. Another sat staring out of a window, looking bored.