The woman smiled. “Yes, we know the Raen was here.”
Rielle blinked in surprise and checked that the block shielding her thoughts was still in place. Then she realised that it was unlikely the Travellers hadn’t heard already. News like that would have spread through the market like fire through a seed crop in the dry season and the Travellers would have also picked it up from the minds around them.
“Will we leave?” she asked.
Ankari shook her head. “Many days have passed.” She opened a basket set beside her and brought out a tunic similar to the one Rielle was wearing. She laid it across her lap, measured a length of coloured thread and began to add to a design stitched around the sleeve cuff. Rielle watched, fascinated by the deft movements of the woman’s hands and the speed at which the design began to emerge. It made her itch to weave, and not for the first time since she’d left Schpeta. Thinking back to the items the Travellers had made to sell, she wondered if tapestries would attract buyers in places like this. Would it be a way to contribute towards the Travellers’ costs without insulting them by implying their hospitality came at a price?
Ankari glanced up and smiled as she saw Rielle watching her.
“It is beautiful,” Rielle said, glad that she knew the right word in this instance. She’d picked up the Schpetan word for “beautiful” early on, too.
Ankari’s smile broadened. She spread the tunic out over her lap, pointing out different stitches, but the explanation used too many unknown words for Rielle to understand much.
Baluka returned. His eyebrows rose as Ankari said something to him, then he beckoned to Rielle. She stood and followed him out onto the market street.
“Mother says to help you find materials so you can paint or weave.” He gestured to communicate the meanings of the last words, brandishing a paintbrush first and then weaving an invisible bobbin.
She blinked in surprise, then smiled. I suppose it was obvious to another maker that I was longing to create something. But purchasing supplies would mean Rielle had cost the Travellers more.
“No, I don’t…” Rielle began, and faltered as she could not think of the right words to object. “I won’t find time.”
He shrugged. “We’ll be here three days,” he said. “Can you make something in that time?”
She considered. Not a tapestry or a large painting, but perhaps some drawings. The materials did not have to be expensive. Just some chalk and cheap paper.
“A small thing,” she said.
He nodded. “If Father finds no teacher you will travel with us longer. Would you like that?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
His answering smile faded quickly, and he regarded her thoughtfully, even a little warily. She began to worry that he had misunderstood, or she had used the wrong word. Then she remembered that while she didn’t believe the Angel was the Raen, and so the family were in no danger, in their minds they were taking a risk keeping her with them.
“Rielle,” he said, slowing to a stop. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. She felt a pang of sympathy. He liked her–she was fairly certain of that. It must be hard to tell someone you like that they are a danger to your family.
“Yes?” she asked, trying to communicate encouragement and reassurance in her tone.
He looked down, then at her, then away again. Finally he straightened his shoulders and met her eyes.
“You can stay with us and be safe–and learn to travel between worlds.” His gaze shifted from one of her eyes to the other. “If you and me…” He paused, then traced a line around his right wrist.
She caught her breath. Lines around the right wrist of a Traveller indicated marriages.
“Our laws and our agreements with…” He did not say the Raen’s name. “He would be breaking that agreement, if he killed you.”
For a long moment she was aware that her mouth was open and she was staring at his wrist. But she couldn’t make herself stop. Or think what to say. Of all the things she’d expected from him, a proposal of marriage certainly had not been the most likely.
A little thrill of flattery warmed her. He must really like me! And she liked him. He was a good man, and certainly an attractive one.
But do I love him? She tried not to frown as she considered. Not in the way I loved Izare. Of that she was sure. But did that matter? Her family had not cared whether she was treated well by the man she married, let alone whether she liked him. Her aunt had told Rielle she might grow to love her husband in time.