Tarren’s mouth quirked into a crooked smile. “Yes, that’s the one. I am planning to get well out of the way. You, I think, would best be choosing a side. Either way, we probably won’t see each other again.” Tarren smiled. “I will miss you, young Tyen, and not just because it is so rare to meet a sorcerer from a magically poor world, with unique insights into magic and men.”
Tyen looked up to see affection in the old man’s gaze. “And I you.” His chest suddenly felt hollow. He stood, wiping at an ink stain on his hands. No matter how careful he was, somehow he always wound up with at least one. “When will you leave?”
“Tonight. Tomorrow. When I’m ready. If the Raen finds me, he’ll know I pose no threat. One look and he’ll see I’ve only ten cycles left at most, and no desire to train rebels.”
Tyen’s throat was tight. He looked down at the paper, then up at the many banners on the wall. His own brushstrokes were awkward and heavy compared to the old man’s practised hand. He did not want to think about his friend leaving, let alone dying.
“If only—” he began.
The old man raised a hand to silence him. “Don’t taunt me with such thoughts. I am not strong enough, and that is that.”
Tyen closed his mouth. When he’d told Tarren about Vella, the old man had been most excited to know she contained the secret of halting ageing. They had both been dismayed to find it was beyond Tarren’s abilities.
“Promise me you will try it one day,” Tarren said.
“I will,” Tyen replied, though the thought sent a chill through him. “When I’ve had my share of mortal cycles and the price and risk is worth it.”
“Let’s hope you don’t run out of time before then,” the old man said, starting towards the stairs. “Believe me, time has a habit of speeding up when you’re not paying attention.”
Tyen nodded. “If I’d known this was going to happen, I’d have started trying to restore Vella’s body cycles ago.”
“I doubt you would have succeeded, even if you’d dedicated the last five cycles to the task. If it was easy, she’d already have the knowledge within her. Now, go pack your bags and leave, Tyen Ironsmelter, and stop letting this old fool keep you here for his own selfish entertainment.” He moved to the door. “Go before he gets here.”
Tyen looked from the door to his friend. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for everything.”
The old man’s expression softened. He drew Tyen into a brief embrace. “Whatever you decide to do, I wish you the best of luck.”
“If there’s any way you can let me know where you settle…?”
Tarren chuckled. “If I think of one, you’ll find the first clue here. Now go.” He opened the door and shooed Tyen out.
“Wait,” Tyen said when the door had almost closed. Tarren paused and opened it again.
“Yes?”
“And if I decide to… how do I find him?”
The old man leaned out of the doorway, checking to see if anyone else was in the corridor. “Oh, if it were me I’d roam around the worlds for a bit,” he murmured. “See if it’s true he can sense people travelling in the place between.”
“If he is coming here I could wait.”
“If there’s resistance you don’t want to be caught up in it. And it would not be very tactful, don’t you think, to approach him afterwards?”
Tyen shook his head. “I suppose not. Goodbye, Tarren.” With a last nod of farewell, he turned away. The door clicked shut behind him.
He sighed and headed back towards his room. The corridors were quiet, now. The few teachers he saw were hurrying to their destinations with heads low, one teacher yelping in fright when Tyen rounded a corner to find her peeking out of her room. He occasionally heard voices, low and urgent, only for them to go silent as he drew closer to the source. It all made it easy to feel like an elaborate joke was being played, and someone was about to jump out and tell him there was no such man as the Raen, and what a fool he was for believing it.
As he passed the top of the staircase to the lower floor he slowed, wondering if he should go down and see if any of the students remained. Did a few, like him, come from worlds they couldn’t return to, and had nowhere to go? What could he possibly advise them to do?
“Tyen!”
He jumped. Turning in the direction of the voice, his anxiety and sadness faded a little as he recognised the woman walking towards him.
“Yira.”
She looked good, he thought. Confident. Strong. Her long limbs were back to being toned from weapons training, as he’d remembered them being when they had first met. The way her brown skin darkened around the eyes and mouth emphasised them, and her glossy hair was gathered in a braid that fell to her waist. He caught a glint of metal and guessed that she’d taken to weaving in the spurs that Roihe women added to dissuade enemy combatants from grabbing their braids during contests.
He noticed that she was wearing the bracelet he’d given her, a bold segmented cuff that would uncurl at a command to become an insectoid–one that could sting an attacker or curl up into a bauble for her children to play with.