“Nothing.”
His confidence was amazing. Tyen had begun to worry that the rebels might actually succeed at their aim, thanks to Baluka’s bold plan. Or that they would fail spectacularly and many hundreds of people would be killed.
“Can a battle be avoided?”
“It is unlikely.”
Tyen bowed his head. He was resigned, now, to the fact that he could no longer steer the rebels from a confrontation, that it had never been a realistic aim. He felt sick, thinking of the people he respected slaughtered or hunted down as Yira had been. But I didn’t make their decisions for them. They all know the risk they’re taking. Even if they knew I was a spy, and the Raen was aware of their plans, they would still rebel. They might alter their tactics but whatever change they make will still lead to a lot of people being killed. And they would expect him to join them.
“I suggest you find a reason not to be there.”
Tyen looked up. “They’ll find that suspicious.”
“I’m sure you’d rather I didn’t kill you, but if I don’t there may come a point during a confrontation when they wonder why I haven’t attacked one of their strongest. And I may not be able to prevent my allies doing it for me.”
Tyen sighed. “So no matter what I do, my treachery will be discovered.”
“Yes. I advise you to choose your moment of betrayal carefully.”
“And… afterwards…?”
“Consider your side of our deal fulfilled. I will continue to search for a way to restore Vella. If you wish to join me, you may.”
Tyen’s heart skipped a beat. “I would like that very much.”
The Raen’s smile was slightly crooked. “I’m sure you would.” His serious expression returned. He nodded to a box on the table. It hadn’t been there before his arrival. “I brought this to show you.”
Tyen approached the table. The box was octagonal and about the size of a Beltonian woman’s hat box, but made of polished and engraved wood. A single latch held it closed. He undid it and lifted the lid.
As he saw what was within, his grip loosened and the lid dropped shut with a dull thud.
Heart beating quickly now, he steeled himself and opened the lid again. He had not imagined it. There really was a small child’s head within, its face set in a permanent scowl. The skin of the scalp was smooth, with a faint stubble of fine hair. Shock and revulsion faded as he took in the signs of preservation. Someone had sewn the eyelids and mouth closed with tiny, perfect stitches. Padded cloth around the neck hid whatever means had been used to deal with the skin, flesh and bone where it had been severed.
“The woman I removed this from was born with it attached to her side,” the Raen told him. “It would have been her twin, had it grown into a separate, whole child within the womb. When she asked me to remove it, I saw the potential for replicating Vella’s creation in a limited way–but enough to then test recreating it. Its mind barely existed–neither conscious nor semi-conscious–but enough of it did for me to know whether I would succeed in preserving it. I have stored some information within it that you can initiate by touch.”
Tyen reached out towards it, then hesitated. “Does she have the same ability to read minds that Vella has?”
“No.”
His fingers met the smooth scalp. The skin was dry. He recoiled. Where he’d touched it the skin darkened like a bruise, then the colour shifted and spread to form a word: “Yes.”
“To what?” he asked.
“Nothing,” the Raen replied. “It shows ‘yes’ or ‘no’ randomly.”
Tyen shivered. Such a thing could easily become an oracle to people who did not understand how and why it had been made. Terrible decisions could be made based on meaningless answers.
“Will you destroy it?”
“Yes, it will be unmade when I try to restore it.”
“As a living head? Will it survive without a body?”
“No, but it should live long enough to judge if the method was a success.”
Tyen stepped back. He was both fascinated and repulsed by the head, and sure he’d be even more so by the living recreation. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t involved in the Raen’s experiments yet.
The Raen rose, walked to the table and closed the box. Tucking it under his arm, he turned to Tyen.
“You will know the result when we meet next,” he said. Then he rapidly faded from sight.
I had best be on my way, too, Tyen thought. He picked up his pack, slung it over a shoulder and pushed out of the world. He paused and looked for the Raen’s path. When he did he nearly drifted back out of the place between in amazement.
Somehow the Raen had all but hidden his passing. Only the slightest trace of a path remained. If Tyen hadn’t been looking for it, he would have assumed it was an old one, made long ago.
He’d never encountered anything like it–no, he could have done so many times but never known.
Nobody had ever said this was possible.