He was right about that, Tyen mused. He was right about too many things. Here, finally, was a young man of considerable magical strength willing to take on the leadership of the rebels. The temptation to let him was strong, but Tyen knew that the next time he met the Raen the man would know he’d allowed someone potentially competent take charge.
He said I only had to report to him on their decisions, he reminded himself. It was me who decided I had to hold them back, for their own safety. And the sake of his own conscience. If he was going to keep the rebels out of a confrontation they couldn’t win, he would have to prevent this young Traveller usurping his position.
“Contrary to how it appears, I’m not sitting in the dark doing nothing,” Tyen told Baluka, letting a little hardness enter his voice. “I am keeping an eye on the minds about us, watching for the Raen’s allies. It’s much easier to do that when there are no distractions. If you have no more questions for me, please join Hapre–who I’m sure would appreciate help over criticism.”
Baluka’s head bowed and he took a step away. “I’m sorry. I will look for ways to be useful and avoid annoying people–though I suspect I’ll be more successful with the former.” He retreated to the door, where he paused. “And I’ll keep trying to think of a signal we could safely send out to all the worlds to rouse a rebel army without alerting the allies.”
I know you will, Tyen replied silently. He nodded. As the door closed, he turned his mind to more immediate threats, once again searching the minds in the local area for the Raen’s allies. All too soon, his attention was drawn back to the door by a loud and rapid knocking. He sought the source and drew in a breath as he read the news Volk had brought.
“The allies have killed new recruits at two arrival places,” the man said as Tyen stepped out into the corridor.
“Are the fake hiding places ready?”
“Half of them are.”
“They’ll have to do. It’s time to leave.”
CHAPTER 13
The three generals slowly faded from sight, each taking the rebels who worked with them. Tyen took a last look out of the window, and at the minds of the people living and working in the area. He found none watching and, with no other reason to delay, propelled himself into the space between worlds.
Instead of forging new paths through to the neighbouring worlds, as the generals were doing, he began skimming. He travelled fast, putting plenty of distance between him and the canal city. Crossing the sea, he stopped at the far shore to breathe, then began roaming back and forth, seeking signs of recent passage into the world.
At first he found none, and he began to wonder if the message to leave hadn’t reached any of the rebel groups, or that the allies weren’t roaming the world hunting for them as reported. The murdered groups could have been the result of an attempt by the allies to scare the rebels into leaving rather than a coordinated attack.
But new paths leading directly in or out of the world were not as easy to detect as those caused by skimming. It was like trying to find a column while blindfolded compared to locating a road. Skimming was what he expected the allies to be doing as they swept back and forth, looking for places rebels might hide in, then arriving and searching the minds of locals for thoughts about foreigners taking up residence recently.
When he finally detected a fresh path, it led out of the world. He cursed his and the other rebels’ bad luck as he skimmed away, knowing that if an ally followed his trail and detected that he’d paused, they’d stop to see why and notice the other path leading out of the world. They might guess who had made it and chase the rebels rather than Tyen. After all, Tyen was leaving the sort of traces an ally might make.
At last he found the fresh path of someone skimming. They’d skipped over lush farmland from city to city, each time emerging in the shadows of a building then continuing on. The trail ended in a small city of wooden buildings, roofed with bundles of dry leaves that fluttered in the wind. Tyen emerged and stood in an alcove of a wall as he searched the minds around him.
He found some locals who were twitchy and alert. The group of young sorcerers who had rented the room above the warehouse had vanished, some in the middle of repairing the roof in lieu of rent. The landlord was annoyed at the job half finished, but the other workers had seen the fear in the youngsters’ faces before they disappeared, and were smart enough to worry about anything that magic-users found scary.