Angel of Storms

  It was in these places, within the six closest worlds, that instructions would be left leading rebels to their new base. Only the generals would gather in the interim, and a series of clues to their meeting place had been set up by Reke, a volunteer close to dying of an incurable disease. If they discovered she had failed to complete the task, or that the plan was otherwise compromised, the generals had agreed that they would go to the Worweau Market and hope to evade the allies long enough to find each other.

  Reke had left five clues to the trail, and by the time Tyen had worked his way to where the final one ought to be he estimated two full days had passed. He’d managed a few fitful hours of sleep and two small meals. One of the straps of his pack had broken on the second day, so he was fighting weariness, hunger and impatience as he approached the building with the red painted domed roof described in the last clue.

  To his surprise and dismay it was a bath-house. A familiar surge of panic flashed through him. If he was expected to publicly undress how would he keep Vella concealed? Even if he achieved that, someone might seize an opportunity to go through or steal his belongings–though Beetle would deter all but the most determined thief.

  He paused across the road, pretending to inspect the broken pack strap while he searched the minds inside. It took a while to find Volk, Hapre and Frell, their thoughts quiet compared to the many customers having a distractingly pleasant visit. The generals and a small number of assistants had gathered in a small, damp room along with one of the rebel groups. The latter should not be there. Tyen looked closer, hoping to discover why they were, but they were all caught up in listening to one of Volk’s raunchy folk tales. Though frustrating for Tyen, the ploy also kept their minds occupied with something other than rebel matters.

  After searching the thoughts of the rest of the customers and the people around the bath-house to be sure no allies were nearby, Tyen slung the pack over one shoulder, walked across the road and entered the building. A code name took him straight to the rebels. He entered a room suddenly charged with emotion.

  “You made it!” Hapre exclaimed, hurrying over quickly to embrace him. Volk and Frell exchanged a glance of mutual relief as they rose and followed. Tyen caught a memory swiftly suppressed. Hapre had muttered something earlier about what they’d do if they had to replace Tyen as leader, and they felt guilty for discussing it, and for agreeing with her choice of replacement.

  With whom? he wondered.

  “Any difficulties?” Volk asked.

  “No. Just a…” Tyen began, but as Hapre glanced at Baluka she couldn’t help wondering how differently things would go next, if Baluka had become their new leader. A chill went through him. “Why are they here?”

  “Baluka detected an ally pursuing this group,” she said. “He left us and went after him.”

  One of the young men, overhearing Baluka’s name, slapped Baluka on the back. “He killed the bastard and saved us. Lucky for him he was stronger.”

  The Traveller looked at the floor and shrugged. “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

  Tyen nodded, hoping none of them could see his dismay. “It was a risk. A brave move.”

  Baluka looked up and met Tyen’s eyes. “No more than what everyone else has done, including yourself.”

  No, you did more, Tyen thought. You killed. Not as part of a group, sharing the responsibility, but alone. Entirely by your hands. Tyen’s certainty that he had made the wrong decision letting Resca go was like a heavy weight between his shoulders. He sought some sign that Baluka’s decision had shocked and changed him. All he saw was the man’s pride. He wasn’t sure who he felt more disgust for, the Traveller or himself.

  And yet as Tyen continued to regard Baluka, the pride faltered and glimpses of a struggle surfaced. Doubt warred with determination, horror and acceptance rose in turns. Tyen’s mood shifted to sympathy so suddenly he swayed a little, and had to look away.

  “Well, then,” he said, dragging his attention back to the present, and future. “We had best discuss where to go next. Is there somewhere we”–he looked at the other generals–“can talk in private?”

  Hapre glanced at Baluka and the rebels he’d saved. “Could you leave us for a while?”

  Once the room was empty but for the four of them, Tyen stilled the air around the walls to muffle their voices further. “Any ideas?”

  Silence followed, then Hapre shifted her weight from one foot to another. “We could go to Faurio.”

  Volk shook his head. “None of us are sick.”

  The name was familiar. “It that the city dedicated to healing?”

  “Yes,” Hapre replied. “Not just one city, but many. The world has made its name and fortune out of being a centre of healing. People will still be travelling there, too. The risk is worth it for the chance to be cured.” She looked at Volk. “But we do need a reason to go.”

  “Reke,” Frell said.

  The woman who had left the clues leading to this meeting place. Tyen frowned. “Do we even know where she is–if she’s still alive?”

  Hapre nodded. “One of the servants here said Reke collapsed when she arrived to place the last clue. She’s been taking care of Reke since.”

  Tyen nodded. “Well, let’s find out if Reke is in any condition to travel to begin with–and if she wants to make the journey to Faurio.”

  “It will seem odd if several sorcerers turn up with one sick friend,” Frell pointed out.

  “Then just us three and one of our assistants will go,” Tyen decided.

  “And once Reke is cured?” Volk asked. “We’ll have no excuse to be there.”

  Tyen spread his hands. “We only need to be there long enough to decide what to do next. Perhaps we’ll see a good hiding place in the mind of one of the other patients or their companions. So. Does anyone else have a better idea…?”

  The three generals exchanged glances, and shook their heads.

  “Then let’s work out the details.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Tyen took a deep breath, then regretted it. He was certain that, after he left Faurio, the last details of the place that left his memory would be the smells. Some were intended to disguise the odours of sickness, some to treat it. The worst were either bracingly awful, or disturbingly attractive.

  They’d found a hollow-cheeked Reke living with the bath-house servant, too weak to rise from her bed. He’d been relieved to see neither hope nor dismissal in her mind at the suggestion of going to Faurio to seek a cure.

  “If they can, they can,” she’d said. “If they can’t…” She shrugged. “I’m already far from home, and I don’t care if I die there, here or anywhere else. I only wanted to do something for the rebellion, and since you all got here safely I’m content that I have.” She’d paused then. “But if taking me to Faurio puts any of you in danger, leave me here.”

  He sometimes wished they had. What made this world a good hiding place made it an unpleasant location. Being in a place full of the sick and dying meant they were surrounded by suffering, fear and grief. A scan of the minds around him required bracing himself for the raw emotion of people in pain and great discomfort, facing death or the loss of a loved one. It made the cost and risks of agelessness seem worthwhile.

  But scan he must, and as he finished his sweep of the minds beyond the small room–one he and Volk had been sharing since they’d arrived–he let out a sigh of relief. Turning to the others, he cleared his throat to gain their attention.

  “I have decided,” he told them, “after considering everyone’s advice and suggestions, that keeping all the rebels in one world is impractical and dangerous. Instead the recruits should establish themselves over many worlds, waiting for the call to meet and fight.

  “This is not entirely my idea,” he acknowledged. “The Traveller suggested something like it, though his ideas have flaws and weaknesses. We need to recognise and discuss those flaws and weaknesses now–one being how to inform everyone safely of our change of plan, another to de
livering the call to gather for battle.” He looked at the generals, noting their surprise at his endorsement of Baluka’s idea, which Hapre had championed but he had resisted until now. “Suggestions?”

  “The rebels are already scattered through the worlds,” Volk said. “I don’t think we need to gather them together in order to send them away again. We just need to get instructions to them.”

  “That could take a while, with only four of us and our assistants,” Hapre pointed out.

  “We can put messages about as we intended, but instead of instructions to find the new base we tell them to find a place to hide and wait,” Frell said.

  “Your assistants will have to place the messages,” Tyen told them. “I have other tasks for you.”

  Hapre shook her head. “I need Baluka with me. Send Daam in his place.”

  Tyen’s heart sank a little. This would ruin the best part of his plan. “The Traveller is stronger and more experienced at travelling between worlds. Daam is the least experienced–but he’s efficient and will cope with being assistant to all of us for a few days.”

  He glanced at the other generals. Though they agreed with Tyen’s assessment of the two assistants’ abilities, they all suspected he was trying to send Baluka away.

  Tyen held back a sigh. “So…” he began, then paused, distracted as he saw that Frell was wondering now whether Tyen was blind to Baluka’s potential. “Recruitment. So far we’ve not had to make much effort: they’ve come to us. How do we get the message out that we want them to wait for a call without the allies hearing about it?”

  Perhaps he does, Frell was thinking. Perhaps he sees Baluka as a riv—His thoughts belatedly shifted to the question as Tyen looked at him.

  “What do you think, Frell?” Tyen asked.

  “That’s a communication problem: Hapre’s specialty,” the man answered, looking at his counterpart.

  She nodded. “We send out messengers, who travel the worlds delivering our instructions. Each informs potential recruits of a different signal and meeting place, so if any messengers are found by the allies only one area of recruitment is compromised. When the messengers return to us, we’ll know where all the recruits are so we can get the right signal to them. If two messengers’ paths cross and deliver different instructions it shouldn’t matter, because the recruits only need to wait for one of the two signals.”

  Frell nodded. “We’ll have to hope the allies don’t read the messengers’ minds without them knowing.” Does Baluka have a solution for that problem? He should be here, discussing this with us.

  Volk, the stronger sorcerer of the two, nodded without realising he was responding to Frell’s thought. Strange how Tyen always refers to Baluka as “the Traveller” as if he’s reluctant to encourage familiarity. If he does see Baluka as a challenger to his authority, surely he’d welcome it. He didn’t want to be leader. But then, maybe he has come to like it.

  Now him, too. Tyen closed his eyes and shook his head. Some of the other options he and Vella had discussed came to mind. One was to keep the generals busy and apart to prevent, or at least delay, them from colluding against him.

  “You should start straight away, Hapre,” he said. She paused, then nodded. “You’ll need more than just our four assistants for this. Since you wish to keep Baluka with you, the two of you should track down more rebels and employ them as messengers.” He turned to Frell. “Frell, the recruitment challenge is yours. Find volunteers willing to travel the worlds recruiting rebels and telling all about the signal and what to do when it comes. Volk, now that you don’t need to attend to the security of hundreds of rebels, I want you to gather information for us. We have no idea of the Raen’s strength, or how many allies there are now, and it is time we did.”

  The man blinked in surprise, then, as he considered what this would entail, his expression became serious. This is more dangerous than recruiting rebels. It means going to places the Raen and allies are well known and asking dangerous questions. Is he sending me away because he could hear me thinking about Baluka being a potential rival?

  “We ought to find out where the Raen’s home world is, too,” Hapre added, oblivious to her counterpart’s rising panic.

  “You don’t have to go yourself,” Tyen reassured Volk. “Recruit spies. It is time we knew more about the enemy.”

  To Tyen’s relief, Volk began to calm down. He nodded slowly. “I know a few people who would suit the role.”

  “Let’s all think about the nature and delivery of the signal we will send,” Tyen suggested. “Then meet back here tonight. I’m going to check on Reke.”

  The three generals nodded, then moved to the door. He followed them into a narrow corridor. Their paths soon diverged, and he walked alone out of the dorms and along a road towards the building where Reke was being treated. Since they’d arrived he’d visited the woman twice a day, at first out of guilt that they had used her as an excuse to come here, even if it was for her benefit, and then to escape the others. The generals had been relieved to see Tyen take up the role of being Reke’s concerned friend, leaving them free to worry about him and the rebellion’s future.

  To his surprise, tending to Reke was mostly calming, even comforting. Aside from escaping the generals for a while, here someone only required him to be present. He never had to give orders, make decisions, manipulate and direct. Reke was the focus of attention, not him, Baluka or the Raen and the rebels.

  Reke was deeply asleep when he arrived, lying on a clean bed in a tiny room. Her breathing was loud and rough, but treatment the healers had given her had dulled the pain enough that she could sleep. Their assessment had been grim: the disease was so advanced that no cure was possible. He settled on the stool beside her, drew a little magic to still the door closed so that nobody could interrupt, and drew Vella out.

  Well, that meeting didn’t go as we hoped it would.

  No.

  Separating the generals and sending them out into the worlds will at least remove Baluka’s influence on Volk and Frell.

  It will, yet it may also give them the chance to meet without you there to discuss the leadership.

  If they do, they’ll know I will learn about it as soon as they return.

  Yes, so if they decide they want to make Baluka leader, they will act straight away. If not, they know you’ll have no choice but to accept that they considered it. They believe you need them, though not for the reasons you do. You’re better off with them in place, not a new set of generals who will demand more progress from their leader.

  She was right. A chill ran through his blood.

  What can I do to stop them if they decide to support Baluka?

  You can’t hold on to leadership with force–unless you secretly kill or threaten Baluka–and you don’t want to do that. You must change their minds. Convince them that Baluka is unsuitable.

  Or that I am more suitable.

  A sound drew Tyen’s attention to Reke. Her eyelids moved and the vague images of dreams flashed through her mind. Her breathing was more laboured, fluttering in her throat. But she did not appear to be waking, and she relaxed again, so he looked down at the page again. He began to form a question in his mind.

  “It is not preventing the Traveller from ousting you that is the challenge,” a voice said close behind him. “It is doing so while retaining a position of influence among the rebels.”

  Tyen’s whole body jerked, and Vella slipped from his hands. Heart pounding, he reached down to pick her up then turned to face the intruder.

  The Raen’s attention was fixed on Reke. Tyen followed the direction of his gaze. The woman was awake, but her thoughts had the glamour of a dream. She was staring at the intruder, a crease between her brows. Then the crease diminished as her face relaxed. A look of recognition and amazement came over her features. Turning back, Tyen caught his breath. The Raen’s skin had darkened, and his hair was rapidly turning white. His eyes lightened to a startling yellow–a fresher shade than the dark orange of
Reke’s–and his chin narrowed.

  He walked over to the bed, took her hand and said one word. The meaning bloomed in her mind, in the language of her world. Rest.

  She closed her eyes, nodded, exhaled and her whole body shifted, limbs settling, chest no longer struggling for breath. Tyen stared, caught between horror and wonder at both the signs of physical death, and the calm fading of her mind from his senses.

  He tricked her, he thought. Pretended to be a deity of her world. But if he had not and she had realised who he was, would that have been more cruel? Would she have died in terror?

  There had been no advantage to the Raen in soothing her passing. It had been an act of kindness. And an extraordinary demonstration of his abilities.

  The Raen’s face, hair and eyes were returning to normal–or at least, what was familiar to Tyen. Then all started to fade. He jumped to his feet.

  “Wait!”

  The Raen’s gaze snapped to his and he grew substantial again. One eyebrow rose in question. Tyen paused to gather the right words.

  “Baluka could as easily become a competent leader as a failure.”

  “Either does not matter. Do not interfere, as any obstacles you put in his way will draw suspicion upon you.”

  “But… if he does become a danger… well, he says you have taken his fiancée. I am certain he would agree to leave the rebels if you released her.”

  A faint smile creased the man’s jaw. “He may, but the decision must be hers.”

  “So… she doesn’t want to leave?”

  “She only agreed to marry him because she thought she had no other choice.”

  “Ah,” Tyen looked down. “Always two sides to a story.”

  “Indeed.”

  Vella’s cover was, as always, warm in his hand. He looked up again. “And your research…?”

  The smile vanished. “I have encountered some difficulties and limitations I had not anticipated. It is likely we will have only one chance to restore her. She must be unmade to be remade. Unless I can find a way around this, I ought to test the process to ensure it works. I would not go to that extreme unless I have no other choice.”