The songs, too, ranged from single to group performances, sometimes watched in appreciative silence by all, other times with everyone joining in. As always, Rielle sang or hummed quietly enough that her lack of ability did not spoil the tune. Baluka sang heartily, admitting it was to make up for his lack of talent.
But it was Marta and Sadeer she admired most. Grandmother and granddaughter, together and apart, pierced the night with passionate, beautiful voices. Sadeer ended her first song by shyly handing a flower to a young man who had watched her with rapt fascination. Her fiancé, Rielle learned later. She also caught the glance Jikari made at a slightly older youth, who either did not notice, or pretended not to. Later she saw the young woman dancing and laughing with two other Traveller men.
After Jikari introduced Rielle to them she leaned close to whisper: “Life is too short for men who ignore you.”
Remembering that now, as Rielle rested under Baluka’s shelter, she was relieved to see that he was listening closely. His brows were creased in thought. When she finished, the lines deepened, then softened again. He pursed his lips, then shrugged.
“It is a good point,” he said.
She smiled, warily triumphant.
His frown returned, though. “If you are wrong… if he and the Raen are the same… do you understand the danger the leaders fear?”
She nodded. “They fear the Raen will end the deal between him and the Travellers.” Their freedom to trade between worlds would be revoked. They would be forced to settle in a world. Perhaps whichever worlds they were in when the Raen’s permission was withdrawn, which meant their people would be scattered throughout the worlds. Though sorcerers were capable of protecting themselves, they could still be in danger if the world they landed in contained stronger sorcerers. “If he is the same person, why would he do that? He gave me a choice. I could have stayed in my world. Is it worse that I choose to stay with you now?”
Baluka sighed. “We don’t know.” His brows knit even tighter. “We may have to ask him.”
Her heart lightened. “Then you will all know he is not the Angel.”
His frown did not ease, and she wondered what it would cost them to approach the Raen. He would learn that they had concealed someone they knew he had wanted to employ, and might punish them.
“If he is, and he did mean you to die, you won’t be able to stay with us. It would make it too easy for him to find you,” Baluka pointed out.
“Ah.” There was that. For all that she was sure that the Raen was not the Angel, she had to acknowledge that she could be wrong. And if she was, it was also possible that Inekera had tried to kill her on the Raen’s orders. Her stomach turned like a child tossing in her sleep.
A hand surrounded hers. She looked up to see that Baluka had shifted closer, frowning at her in concern. Her heart warmed with gratitude, not just that he wanted to reassure her, or even that he had saved her. He’d listened to her. He’d considered her suggestion and seen the merit in it. That will make him a good husband, more than anything else, she found herself thinking. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was lost as Ankari called her name from somewhere behind and above them.
They leaned apart to peer around either edge of the canopy. Ankari stood at the hill top, beckoning.
“Is it time?” Rielle asked as she got to her feet.
“No. The meeting is mid-afternoon. All the leaders will have arrived by then.”
They walked up to meet Ankari. The woman held up Rielle’s drawing materials.
“People want you to draw them,” she said.
Rielle smiled. “I’d love to.” It would, at least, keep her mind from the meeting. She took the paper, board and sticks.
“Baluka. Your father wants your help separating two of the male lom,” Ankari added.
He nodded and hurried away. Falling into step beside Ankari, Rielle walked to the plateau. The number of canopies had tripled now, some set up next to the earlier ones to form a larger sheltered area. Ankari introduced Rielle to members of two new families before settling beside her daughter and other members of Uouma’s family.
A friendly argument started immediately over whom Rielle should draw first. She raised her hands to silence them, and moved to sit opposite Marta. There were “ahs” of approval, and the old woman smirked shamelessly.
Conversation soon resumed as Rielle began to work. She let the words blow over her like the brisk wind that stole under the canopy from time to time. They talked of the worlds they had visited during the cycle just passed–of politics and trade, natural disasters and wars. It was not long before the Raen’s name was spoken, making Rielle’s hand freeze involuntarily. She forced herself to continue, her next mark going awry so she had to smudge it out again. When she looked up again, Marta was watching her, but quickly returned to her stitching.
“I did not believe it at first, but we soon saw…” someone said.
“He’d been there just three days before…” another added.
“Has he visited any family yet?” an old man asked.
A pause followed the question, then denials all around.
“How can we be sure the deal between us still stands?”