Angel of Storms (Millennium’s Rule, #2)

She smiled. “Very well, then, take this”–she nodded at the basin she had been washing dishes in–“and dump the water in one of the latrines. I’ll go ask Rea what else needs doing.”


From then on he made sure the women kept him busy, first with the many small tasks they had been putting off because they required lifting heavy items, or magic; then, as they grew used to him working among them, he joined them in their regular chores.

Soon he was included in their chatter. He asked a few women if they were happy being here or were afraid for their safety. Most said they wanted to help the cause and take care of their loved ones. They weren’t oblivious to the danger of living in the base and were aware that having so many mouths to feed meant more trips to acquire supplies, and a greater danger of the base being found.

He also heard stories of the Raen and had to admit their grudges against him sounded justified. Reading their minds, he knew where they exaggerated, or how much of the tales were from personal experience or hearsay. It was doubtful that anyone who’d joined a rebellion had good stories to tell of their enemy, though. When they asked him why he had join the rebellion he said he believed all sorcerers should be free to roam the worlds and teach others how to do so. After all, if he hadn’t learned to do it he’d still be stuck in a magically poor world.

In the middle of describing aircarts to three of the women, he was interrupted by someone speaking his name. Turning, he found Brev, the rebel who had shown him the tunnel to the base, standing behind him.

“You’re to come with me.” Brev turned on his heel and strode away towards the sleds.

Tyen put down the nut splitter he’d been using, and bowed to the women. “It has been a pleasure,” he said, then hurried after Brev. He heard a laugh, quickly stifled, then low voices, and he smiled.

But his satisfaction soon evaporated as he considered what could happen to the women if the base was discovered. They shouldn’t be here. Not unless they truly intend to participate in the fight, and then they should be treated as equals, not servants. He’d not seen the rebels make any effort to acknowledge their families’ help. They should at least tell them that their efforts are appreciated.

Then he remembered that they would all hate him, if they knew why he was here. He wasn’t sure if he’d been more uncomfortable being unfairly labelled a thief in his world, than secretly being a spy now. But my intentions are good, he told himself. If all goes well I can both save Vella and keep these people safe.

Brev stopped at the sleds, set his pack down on the front of one and began pushing it towards the tunnel. Following suit, Tyen hurried to catch up.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

When the man didn’t answer, a chill ran down Tyen’s spine.

“So that’s how it is,” he muttered as Brev sent his sled into the darkness. He sought the other man’s mind. To his relief, Brev’s orders were nothing more sinister than to get Tyen away from the women. One of the husbands had noticed, and his jealousy had prompted Ceilon to worry that leaving the newer members of the rebellion sitting around with nothing to do was inviting mischief.

What if that’s what Tyen’s really here to do? Brev wondered. For someone who had shown a near-stranger how to get to the base, this shift in attitude was a surprise. As Tyen listened to the man’s thoughts he realised his refusal to allow a mind-read, and Brev not realising that Tyen had been the one to point out their poor security measures, meant the man now distrusted and feared him.

The man maintained a sullen silence throughout the journey along the tunnel, his only instruction being a wave to indicate Tyen should cross the bridge first. They did so with large, empty packs on their backs. When they emerged from the other end of the tunnel it was into a night landscape. Brev took hold of Tyen’s arm and moved them both into the space between worlds.

The speed the man set and the lack of light made the landscape hard to distinguish, but Tyen could sense they were moving left and right and even up and down as they wove through the many already established paths in this world. Brev stopped now and then so they could both take a few deep breaths. When they reached the market he chose a dark alley between two rows of stalls to arrive in. They slipped out of it onto the main road and joined the crowds.

If anything, the market seemed busier at night than it had been when Tyen had first seen it. Brev wasted no time, going straight to the stalls he preferred and bartering with the efficiency of familiarity. He consulted a list, paid with slips of gold from a wallet attached to his belt, and filled the packs efficiently. The goods went into Tyen’s pack first before Brev started filling his–a decision that gave the man a mean feeling of satisfaction. Tyen said nothing, concentrating on noting the position of stalls, their stallholder’s names, and the price of the goods. He doubted he’d remember everything but he’d retain more if he came here again.

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