I could not bear it if Baluka should die because of me.
Which turned her thoughts back to the man responsible. Why? She regarded him warily. He was not so difficult to look at as he had been when she was certain he was an Angel. Perhaps she knew instinctively that he was not. Who are you? she thought.
His gaze snapped to hers. She could not read his expression. It had none of the warmth of the Angel but neither was it as cold as those in the Raen’s portrait.
Green surrounded them, and stayed. The branches of strange trees formed a tangle around them. Her chest heaved, sucking in air. He let go of her arm and watched as she fought to catch her breath. Why isn’t he gasping for air, too?
“Magic,” he said, using the Travellers’ word for it.
His voice was that of the Angel. It sent a shiver up her spine. And it stirred an unexpected anger.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Who do you believe I am?”
“I don’t know. Are you the Angel?”
“Yes.” A faint smile widened his lips.
No elation filled her. None of the exhilaration and amazement she had felt before. Not even relief to know she was safe–because she was certain she wasn’t. What was it about him that made her disbelieve? She looked at his hair and skin. “You look different.”
“I do.”
“Are you the Raen?”
“Yes.”
Her heart shrivelled, then began to beat faster.
“Then you are not the Angel,” she told him.
“No?” A strand of his hair moved though not even a faint breeze stirred the forest that surrounded them. The black strands changed subtly, gaining an impossible shine. His face had leached of colour. Within a few breaths she beheld the Angel, and a familiar mix of fear and adoration stirred within her.
She stepped back, horrified and confused.
“But you just said you are the Raen!” The words burst from her.
His features slowly regained their former colouring. “I am the one you believed was an Angel. But I am not what you believe Angels are. In all the cycles I was in your world, I saw no Angels. Nor have I seen them in any of a thousand thousand worlds.”
That does not mean there are no Angels, she thought.
His expression softened. “No, it does not. There is much in the worlds that remains…” he said a word she did not understand; then, to her surprise, changed to the language of her homeland “… unexplained and undiscovered. Perhaps the priests of your world know something the rest of us don’t.”
But they did not know enough to realise they were being deceived. He tricked everyone. Except, maybe, the woman who had accosted Sa-Mica at the port where Rielle had boarded the ship to Schpeta.
Rielle shook her head. “So many lies. Why?”
“To be safe in your world until I could leave it. To stop others using the magic I needed.”
The Travellers are right. He had been trapped. And he had stripped her world of magic in order to escape it.
“You stole from the Angels.” He had escaped partly because of her. She had made some of the magic that freed him. “Why did you take me with you?”
Again, that faint smile. “For exactly the reason I told you. It was likely the artisans of my world had left due to my long absence, and you would make a good first replacement.”
His tone was neither full of flattery nor coldly practical. She looked away, unsure how to react. His plans had been thwarted, anyway.
“Did Inekera try to kill me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She did what she thought would please me. You are strong, so she saw you as a potential threat.”
A threat. She forced herself to look at him, to face the man who killed those who might challenge his control of the worlds. How could she be a threat? Even if she was as powerful as he was, he had lived a thousand cycles. She could barely use magic at all.
“And… do you?”
He smiled. “No. I don’t intend to kill you.”
She exhaled in relief, then gathered her courage again.
“So why have you taken me from the Travellers?”
“To repeat my offer of a place in my world.”
She felt an echo of the excitement she’d felt in the Schpetan palace, when he’d first made the offer, but it soon withered away. He is not the Angel, she reminded herself. He is the Raen. He only wants me around because I’m a Maker, and to use the magic I generate to do terrible things out in the worlds.
He chuckled. “I do not need anyone to generate magic in my world. There is plenty there already. When I use magic, I take it from the world I am in, so the only place I’d be using the magic you create would be in my world. Since I take nobody there but those who wish to serve me and I have no reason to harm them, I will not be doing terrible things with your aid.”
“Then why take me there?”
“First, you are an artisan. A good artisan. One day you will be a great artisan. Second, the magic you made in your world enabled me to escape, and I wish to reward you for that.”
She looked down at the braid around her wrist. “I have found a life among the Travellers.”