She suppressed a foolish grin. This mind reading was going to be a handy ability.
The curtain opened. He had a broad, brown face like his mother’s, with masculine and well-balanced features, and dark, curly hair. She saw in his mind that, among his people, he was considered handsome–a good catch as the son of the family leader and two powerful sorcerers… if a Traveller girl of acceptable bloodlines ever caught his eye. Rielle covered her mouth to hide a smile, but even so the young man’s face reddened as he realised she’d seen his self-assessment. His smile widened.
“I am Baluka,” he told her.
It was good manners to speak aloud, she read, even if one’s thoughts could be heard.
“I am Rielle,” she replied, copying the phrase and substituting her own name.
“You are lucky,” he told her, growing serious. “If you had been out there much longer you would have died.”
She nodded. How did one say–ah… “Thank you,” she said in his language.
“So how did you come to be lost in this world?” he asked. “There are no people here. Can you travel between worlds?”
“No,” she replied, then: “An Angel brought me–well, partway at least.”
His eyes widened in horror as he read her mind. “This woman took you halfway through and left you there?”
She shoved me into this world, she thought, knowing she would never find the words in his mind when the conversation was going so quickly.
“That makes no sense.” He was radiating sympathy and anger now. She could see that he suspected Inekera had meant her harm. Why leave someone between worlds when she could have brought them safely through? he thought. Unless she thought this was a dead world. And then why send someone to a dead, unpopulated world where they’d die? If she wanted someone dead, why not just kill them?
Why indeed, Rielle thought. Inekera’s actions had almost killed her. She did not like to think it had been deliberate, but what if Baluka was right? Perhaps Inekera simply could not bring herself to actually murder someone.
If it had been intentional, it was clear the Angels were not as united as the priests believed. If it wasn’t, then Inekera made an error, and the Angel might still find out and come here to find me.
Baluka’s gaze intensified. “Who is this other, er, Angel?”
“Valhan,” she said, feeling wonder and awe return with the words. “The Angel of Storms.” She drew up her memory of the Angel’s face and drew a breath to begin describing him, but a voice called out just beyond the wall.
“Baluka!”
They both jumped. Baluka ducked his head and she read that he’d been told not to bother her. He smiled apologetically.
“Sorry, Rielle. I must go…”
She nodded to show she understood and watched him retreat between the curtains. A moment later she heard a door open and close, then voices outside the room: an older male, Ankari and Baluka talking quickly in the Travellers’ language. She could sense no thoughts now. The older man’s tone was authoritative. She recalled Baluka thinking that he was the son of the leader of the group.
After a short conversation, the door opened and closed again. Ankari opened the curtain and smiled briefly before her expression changed to a more serious one. She was carrying a basin of water and had a bundle tucked under her arm, the first she set on the floor and the second on the bed. Rielle could not hear her thoughts. The woman said a word, pressed a cloth into Rielle’s hand, then mimed dipping into the basin and wiping her arms. Then she handed Rielle a small bottle of oil and pointed at Rielle’s sunburned skin and feet. Next she pointed at the bundle and then plucked at her clothing. Rielle nodded to show she understood, then pulled a newly learned word from her memory.
“Thank you.”
Ankari’s face relaxed into a smile. She nodded, then closed the curtain. The door Rielle had heard before did not open and close, so the woman must have remained in the room. The voices outside were fainter but more numerous. She listened for Baluka’s but if he was there and was talking she couldn’t identify him among the rest.
I could try to read their thoughts… But if these people considered it rude to do so it would be particularly ungrateful of her to break that taboo when they had saved her life. Instead she concentrated on washing, peeling off her clothes and wiping the sweat and sand from her skin. It brought back the memory of a similar quick cleaning, when she had scrubbed off the muck thrown at her when… No, don’t think about that; they can hear you.