She followed him to a waist-high cabinet to one side of the painting. The cabinet’s top was one sheet of flawless glass, a wonder in itself. Beneath it three books had been carefully arranged, pages open to display more portraits. A jolt went through her as she recognised the face. Printed in black ink on paper, it was white, enhancing the uncanny resemblance to the Angel. A word was written in the border of one of the images. As she looked at it, the servant noticed and the meaning sprang into his thoughts: the Raen.
“There is another book,” Felomar said. “I haven’t shown many people this one.” He reached over the cabinet and pressed it somewhere in the back. A panel sprang open, hinging forward. From the cavity beyond he drew another tome, discoloured with age. The pages crackled faintly as he opened it to a page near the beginning, marked by a faded blue ribbon. Another version of the same face, shockingly familiar, appeared.
Across the top were the words from the other book: The Raen. Along the bottom was another word–the title written in another language, she assumed, until she read it from the servant’s mind. It was a name.
“Valhan,” Pel whispered, then caught his breath and looked up at his employer.
Rielle stared at the word. Her heart had frozen. How can he have the same name? Doubts crowded in. Surely that was too great a coincidence.
But if it is true, if they are the same…
Then she had been tricked. She, and Sa-Mica, and all priests who had believed Valhan was an Angel.
But the man she’d met, whether Angel or not, had been good and kind. He had stopped the terrible abuse of the tainted at the Mountain Temple. He had been warm and forgiving. His eyes did not have the coldness of those of the man in the painting.
Maybe it is the other way around. Maybe this man they believe is a sorcerer is an Angel, but because they have not been brought up with the truth they cannot see him as more than human.
Which meant she would never be able to convince the Travellers or Lord Felomar that the Angel who had invited her to his home was not a powerful, feared sorcerer. They would think she had been deceived and pity her if she remained loyal to her beliefs and memories.
It didn’t matter. Rielle drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and made herself smile at Lord Felomar.
“I do not know this man.”
He regarded her thoughtfully, then nodded. “Would you like to see more of the paintings?”
“Yes, but… another time?”
He nodded. “Of course. It will be my pleasure. I can see you have a love for art and it makes me happy to see others enjoy my collection.” He looked around. “I should try to sleep as well. Do you mind if Pel escorts you back to your room?”
“Not at all.”
“Then I wish you a good night.” He bowed, then moved closer to his servant and bent so his mouth was close to the man’s ear. “Do not fear, my old friend,” he murmured. “It has never been said or written that it is forbidden to know his name. Even so, it would be best if you didn’t speak it aloud again.”
Pel nodded. As the lord straightened, the servant turned to Rielle and gestured that she should follow. She bowed to the lord as Baluka had taught her, then followed Pel out of the room.
CHAPTER 10
After a while the light filtering between the curtains brightened. Rielle climbed out of the bed and moved to the crack, parting the cloth to see the courtyard in what constituted daylight in this world. Everything seemed altered, yet nothing was different. The change was within herself, she realised. Do I now believe that Valhan is a thousand-cycle-old sorcerer?
No. But the Travellers did. And Lord Felomar, who would be helping her after the Travellers left. We believe different things, and I will have to learn to live with that.
Baluka had warned that people in Diama were easily offended by those who did not share their religious ideas. She’d assumed they’d disapprove of her disbelieving in what they did. This situation was the other way around. Though, I am not offended that they don’t believe in the Angels, but I would be if they tried to make me disbelieve. After all, she had all the proof Angels existed that she needed: she had met one.
But a nagging thought surfaced, as it had many times since she’d returned to bed, when she recalled Felomar’s words: “Yet no painting of him can be considered entirely reliable, since he can change his appearance.”
A tap at the door made her heart skip. She answered it to find a servant outside holding a bundle of fresh Traveller clothing. The man pointed to her forehead as Pel had done, so Rielle looked into her mind. Lejikh wanted her to join him. He would lead her to him when she was dressed and ready.
Weariness washed over Rielle as she closed the door. If she had slept at all after returning to her room, it had been in snatches she hadn’t noticed. She changed quickly, then returned to the door. The servant bowed and led Rielle to the end of the corridor then down another. He stopped at an open door, bowed, and walked away.
Rielle could see Ankari sitting inside the room within. She hesitated, gathering strength for the conversation she expected. Lejikh was standing by a window and Baluka sat opposite his mother. They were silent, each staring pensively beyond their surroundings, each looking as if they’d had as little sleep as Rielle.
Then Baluka noticed her and sprang out of his chair, smiling.