The corridors were busier than ever. Small groups of students blocked the way, so intent on their conversation he had to clear his throat loudly before they noticed him and stepped aside. Lone students hurried back and forth, which was normal, but all looked distressed rather than happy that lessons were over for the day.
When he ascended to the floor above he found teachers also blocking the way, talking in hushed tones. If they noticed him as he approached they fell silent as he passed by. When they didn’t he listened carefully, and heard the name Dalle had spoken.
Whoever this Raen is–or was, he thought, he must have held a great deal of power to still scare everyone this much.
Reaching his room, he settled into his usual post-class routine, changing out of uniform and into clothing more like what he had worn in his home world. He opened the large cabinet that held his books, various insectoids and other mechanical creations he’d made since joining Liftre. A large timepiece stood at the centre. The first set of hands showed the time and date in Leratia. He’d come to refer to his home world by the country of his birth, since it did not have a separate name as most worlds did. It was only because some of the components of Beetle were normally used in making watches that he’d been able to create a timepiece that showed Leratian time.
A second set of hands indicated Traveller Time. Since the measurement of days and years–or even hours–was never the same in any world, Traveller Time was used as a second common measurement in most of them.
It’s over six Leratian years since I left my world. Which equates to five and a quarter cycles. The time hadn’t passed quickly, but now it all seemed to have gone in a flash. He’d spent most of it at Liftre immersed in study, after half a cycle of wandering through the worlds.
Learning a new language had been the hardest part. At least there had been only one language to learn. Traveller tongue was spoken in most worlds as a second language, though often only by merchants, sorcerers and the nobility. It was a requirement of joining Liftre that all students speak it. Fortunately he’d picked up enough to get by from reading minds during that first half-cycle of wandering so he’d had a basic grasp of it by the time he’d joined the school.
The top of the decorative frame of the timepiece included a map of his world. Using magic, he pushed and pulled, warmed and cooled elements of the lock until the map hinged open. A small leather-bound book lay snugly in an alcove inside.
Vella. He eased her out. As always, she was faintly warm. As he held her in his hands he knew she was absorbing everything new in his memory since the last time he’d touched her. He’d tested her once, seeing how brief a touch it would take before she could not learn all that he had learned that day. No matter how fleeting the time of contact, she always absorbed everything.
He opened to the first page.
Hello, Tyen. So who won the Tournament?
She knew the answer, of course, but asked in order to make conversation.
Dalle–with a deceptively simple design.
Zeke’s sister. You doubted her abilities at first. You’ll not underestimate her again.
No. Though… have you any record of someone known as the Raen?
Yes. I learned of him from Tarren. The Raen was very powerful and believed to be nearly a thousand cycles old at the time he disappeared. There have been no credible sightings of him for over twenty cycles, so most believe he is dead.
Which was probably why Tyen hadn’t paid a lot of attention, or recalled the man’s name. Since coming to Liftre, filling the void in his knowledge of sorcery and developing and teaching “mechanical magic” had overtaken every part of his life. He’d figured there’d be time to learn more about the history of the worlds later. And if Tarren, the teacher who had been his mentor for most of his student cycles, and now a good friend, hadn’t made particular mention of someone called the Raen then Tyen would have assumed he wasn’t important.
Unless Tarren had another reason to not mention him.
A bell chimed in the distance. He looked up at the timepiece. Dinner for the teachers was about to begin. Tarren might even join them if he’d heard there was a juicy rumour going around.
I must go, Vella. Since everyone will be talking about this I’ll take you with me.
He closed her and moved to the desk. Digging under some loose paper covered with notes, he found a flat pouch he had made for carrying her. It had a strap that he could hang around his neck and holes to allow her cover to touch his skin so she could see and hear everything that he saw and heard. Slipping her inside, he looped the strap over his neck and slipped the pouch inside his shirt. It settled against his chest.
He looked down at Beetle, sitting immobile on the corner of his desk.
“Beetle,” he said. It whirred into life and turned to face him, antennae quivering. “Guard the room.”