Rift in the Sky (25 page)

As was Aryl. All she said to it was: “I will wait for you.”
I'm sorry, Enris, Naryn. Anaj. Patience. I ask your patience. This could
—a hint of
irony
—
take a while.

What's she up to?
Anaj, a hint of
frantic
in her voice.

She didn't know them, Enris reminded himself. She had nothing to trust.
Aryl is Sona's Speaker, but she's of Yena. She's dealt with both Oud and Tikitik before. She won't let us come to harm.

He eyed the tall, narrow esask and sighed inwardly.

Of course, insisting on the uncomfortable and terrifying wouldn't bother Aryl di Sarc at all.

T
HE ESASK POUNDED ITS FOOT into the water, splashing the backs of her legs. They could move silently; this was a display, of temper or warning. Or both. Aryl didn't react, her eyes on the Thought Traveler who'd brought them to “lunch” and then followed them here. She was gaining a feel for this place and its rules, enough to test it. The Tikitik wouldn't impede her movements; they wouldn't direct them. As usual, they waited to see what others would do.

To some consequence. That, she didn't doubt. It had goaded Enris, possibly to discover the extent of Om'ray self-control. Had that sparked his dispute with Naryn? UnChosen Yena who clung to anger were put on a branch to resolve their differences. Maybe this was the Tuana version. She'd kept her distance. They weren't shouting anymore, at least.

The impatient esask was part of the Tikitik's game, there to take them wherever they must go next. She could easily scale its side; so could Thought Traveler, his kind being marvelous climbers. Naryn, unlikely. Enris, with his greater bulk? He'd likely pull the poor creature's hair out trying.

The esask she'd seen before knew to crouch for a rider to dismount or mount. What signaled this convenient cooperation was a Tikitik secret. So. Wait. Watch. Without looking away from Thought Traveler, not even to feast her eyes on Enris or check on Naryn, already weary. If it wanted a contest of will, Aryl smiled to herself, she was ready.

That set the Old Adept back for an instant, but only an instant.
Are you a fool?

Sometimes. Not this time,
she sent, keeping it private as the other did. Power granted such fine touch.
It waits for me to break the rule here, to ask a question. Or to abandon you. It tests my resolve. The Tikitik were Sona when you were its Speaker, Anaj. You know them. Can I afford to appear weaker?

No.
Immediate and sure.
Never back down from them. Never allow them to ridicule or offend you. They respect determination, when used to a purpose.
Something eased between them.
I knew a Yena, once. Fierce, like you. Strong. I remember he made a room smaller by being in it.
Her sending expanded to the others, became light.
You wouldn't be from Pana, would you, giant Chosen of Sarc? My cousin's son took Passage there. Big, too. Bit of a dreamer. Good at making things, but always eating.

Sounds right,
this from Naryn, bravely trying to keep the conversation going. Her shields were tight.
But Enris and I came from Tuana.

Thought Traveler's smaller eye cones had begun to track the esasks and riders moving down the river. Aryl didn't need to look to know they were now fewer, with longer intervals between. The sun beat down on her head. Nice to be warm for a change.

I had a great uncle from Pana,
Enris added cheerfully.
Chosen by my grandmother's sister. Dama claimed he ate so much they had to make a new door to the metal shop.

Aryl made a point of shaking her head. To joke about food—sometimes she didn't understand these Om'ray.

Images, then, from Enris. A very large door, wide to allow a cart full of fragments of green metal scavenged from the Oud, a short ramp into a vat that burned with fuelless flame. The metal, melting, flowing, becoming what was new and useful. The images abruptly stopped.
It was a good door.
Despite shields, his
grief
tolled through her mind.

No more Tuanas, Aryl vowed, no more Clans destroyed. If it took staring at this Tikitik until her legs collapsed under her, so be it. She'd know every bump and knob of its skin soon. Blue-black skin, white spines and cones. Bold, unique coloring. Why? Not for Om'ray benefit. What did it mean to other Tikitik? Importance? Age? Or was it their neutrality, for Thought Travelers insisted they belonged to no faction and spread their news to all. To help Tikitik decide what to avoid, she remembered. To stay away from any course likely to be wrong. A Thought Traveler had told her that.

This one was scarred. Fractures crossed several of the hard knobs. Perhaps old, for its kind. A survivor. The wristbands were of the finest weavings she'd ever seen, as was the sash across its shoulder. Important. Or particular.

There were tiny hairs on the protuberances that obscured its mouth, hairs like those on the backs of her fingers. Sensitive. She'd had such thrust into her mouth to suffocate her into unconsciousness; she'd had them feed her dresel.

Of course, the Tikitik stared back. The large hindmost eyes never left hers. Without eyelids, it didn't blink, but the eyes themselves rolled back and forth in their sockets, replenishing their moist coating.

Aryl smiled, shared it inwardly.

Chosen could do that.

At some point, no more esasks traveled by; their own waiting mounts were sound asleep, lips loose and backs sagged in two places. Enris made a nest of sorts of sticks to keep Naryn out of the mud and took turns sitting with her or pacing where the ground was firmer, careful not to cross Aryl's line of sight. If there was a will stronger than hers, she thought fondly, it was his. Stubborn, that was her Chosen.

He'd never let her leave alone.

He and Naryn were busier than they looked. Anaj was full of questions. Who were the Sona now? What did they mean, the river had been emptied? Which buildings were rebuilt? Why hadn't they trimmed the
nipet
vines to encourage more blossoms? As for rokly, everyone knew it started underground each new season.

And the purple plant was a weed. Naryn laughed out loud at this.

Harder questions; Adept questions. What was the M'hir? How had Om'ray come to use it? How did Yao manage, blind to her own? What were the Lost?

They didn't tell Anaj about the Strangers or Marcus; they couldn't help it, Aryl thought. A Speaker, an Adept, an elder—she'd read the awkward gaps, understand there was more to know. Perhaps she waited for a time Aryl wasn't preoccupied.

Preoccupied. She was that. Tikitna told her there was more to know about the Tikitik than she'd imagined. Their control over beasts was nothing compared to what they could do with plants. The wood here grew as the Tikitik required. It explained the pieces they used to build Yena's homes, shaped rather than cut.

That was only the beginning. The buildings here, for they were true buildings, were a blend of many different plants somehow convinced to grow together without choking. She'd seen sweetberry vines growing in polite rows, recognized flowers that opened to glow through truenight, but here arranged to form symbols, even small round balls of tasty
plethis
—a scarce find in the canopy—in easy-to-harvest clusters.

Costa would have loved this place.

As for the life that ran, crawled, or scurried everywhere? This was more than a bargain to carry a rider or provide blood. This was technology, every bit as impressive as the Strangers', if not more so. The plants were meticulously cared for, not by Tikitik but by a host of crawlers and biters. Some were familiar, normally fond of Om'ray flesh. Some were rare, in her experience, or ate one another. Here they worked together, gathered to a purpose other than their own survival.

For all Thought Traveler's talk of will, here theirs was imposed on everything else.

What did that mean for Om'ray?

The world moved around them, the world as she could
feel
it. An unChosen made the journey from Rayna to Amna. She wondered what he thought, sensing Om'ray where no Om'ray should be, and wished him a safe Passage.

Shadows crept over the esasks, dulled the reflections in two of Thought Traveler's eyes. No chill yet, as there would be in the mountains. Anaj slept. Naryn and Enris argued silently about how best to improve their dam. At some point, this involved building small dams in the mud to make some point.

Before today, she'd accepted there'd be no more than cold courtesy between the two closest to her heart, for Naryn was that. Oh, she loved her family, had close friendships within the Sona, but Naryn . . . ? They were of a kind. If things had been different, they'd be heart-kin. If her Chosen hadn't good reason to despise her friend . . .

At this rate, maybe they'd all eat at the same table one day.

One day.

Aryl hid her amusement and watched Thought Traveler.

Had it shifted?

She braced herself, knowing the not-Om'ray quickness of its kind. Stiff, she'd be slower than usual, though she'd tried to flex what muscles she could.

But Thought Traveler merely swiveled its eyes to the esask, took a leisurely step as if it hadn't stood motionless for the better part of an afternoon, and smacked the first leg. The tall creature shuddered awake, then bent all six knees until its belly touched the muddy water. The Tikitik gracefully stepped on a knee, grabbed a handful of hair, and swung itself astride. A smack on the neck and the esask thrust itself up and began to walk upstream after its fellows.

The remaining three esask, now awake and seeing themselves left behind, pounded the water to a froth. But when Aryl smacked the leg of the nearest, it crouched quickly and waited, as if relieved she'd come to her senses. “See that?” she asked Enris.

He laughed. “I thought everyone knew that trick.”

The game's not over.
Aryl stepped on the esask's knee and lifted her leg over its back, settling on the hair.

Anaj's reply chilled her to the bone.

Unlike the lumbering osst she remembered all too well, the esask glided along the stream, the lift of its legs barely perceptible to a rider. Easy to see why they were effective predators, Aryl thought. The head was in constant motion. This close, she could see the short stiff hairs on its neck were as well. If they were hairs. Every so often, they went still for a moment, then rippled in perfect order from snout to body, like the many small limbs of an Oud.