Rift in the Sky (36 page)

“Wasn't these.” Enris pointed to the devices on the counter. All looked as if someone had taken a hammer to their faces—or used a body part suited to violence. There were Strangers, Aryl remembered, who could do such damage with a limb.

“Or they didn't want them used . . .” At the thought, Aryl pulled out the geoscanner and turned it on. Its glow was reassuring, though the red display wasn't. Oud below. But she knew that.

Not the “Minded.” Not decision makers. Not yet, somehow.

They had time.

She thumbed on the device. “Two. Howard. Five.”

“He answers or he doesn't.”

“How long do we wait?”

She propped the 'scanner on what had been a table. “As long as we can,” she said quietly.

“Well, then.” Enris used his arm to clear a section of counter, brushing debris to the floor. When he sat, it creaked under his weight but held. “We wait.” He smiled with a cheer she didn't believe for an instant. His shields were at their tightest; without an effort, she could only sense their connection, nothing of how he felt.

“You don't think he's coming back.”

“From beyond the world? Do you?”

Aryl found her own perch.
I must,
she admitted. Aloud, “Don't underestimate—”

Come.
A summons.

“Galen's found something.” Enris stood, his hand out to her.
Aryl.

“I'm all right.” She retrieved the 'scanner, her hand wanting to shake.

There'd been a
warning
with the sending
.
What Galen found hadn't been good.

“Let's go.”

“Oud?”

The middle building had been stripped clean, leaving only overturned tables. The far building was empty, too, but not for the same reason.

Aryl stood with the rest outside the open door. To enter meant stepping in the churned green mud that had replaced the floor.

Haxel knelt, brought a fingertip of it to her nose. “Oud,” she confirmed after a sniff, wiping her finger on her leggings as she stood. “Last 'night.”

“They collect their dead,” Galen told them, his gruff voice low as if afraid of being overheard. No need to point to the wide hole gaping in the center. “We've never seen where they take them. Somewhere deep.”

“Why would they be here at all?” Aryl asked. The wide door could accommodate an Oud, but Marcus had never let the creatures inside. Too many breakables, he'd said. “Why were they killed?”

“The artifacts.”

She looked at Enris.

“That's what this is all about,” he said, gaining confidence with every word. “Marcus told us he'd left his people here, to secure the artifacts. The Oud must have understood that much. Maybe they tried to protect them.”

As one, they all stared at the hole. The deep, black hole.

“The Strangers could be down there?” Haxel asked tensely.

Aryl understood. The hole was as appealing as the waters of the Lay. All the Yena looked uncomfortable.

“It'll lead to a normal tunnel.” Josel didn't appear to notice the dreadful ooze underfoot as she walked to the opening. “I'll go.”

Syb stared at her. “In there?”

“I'll come with you.”

Enris?
No,
Aryl protested.

YES! His friends might be alive. I owe him this. Someone waited their chance and I gave it to them when I asked Marcus to turn off his machines.
The
fury
turned gentle. “Wait here. Tunnels aren't for Yena—ask Yuhas.”

“I'd go,” that worthy protested.

Enris put his hand on Yuhas' shoulder. “Of course you would,” he said, giving the other a gentle shake. “But Aryl needs you here.”

Aryl ignored this last. “Not your fault. The trap was set first. It had to be,” she insisted when he looked doubtful. “Marcus told us there'd be extra protection soon. Whoever this was must have planned to ambush him as he left with the artifacts, before that protection was ready.” Vulnerable prey, out of its normal place, alone. “When a better chance presented itself, they sprang the trap early, that's all.” She might not understand trading and the value of things; this, she did.

“What are these Strangers?” Suen was appalled. “They kill each other. They kill Oud. Why do you want to help them?”

“Because we hope they can help us,” Haxel said grimly.

Because they were friends . . . Aryl kept the words to herself.

In too short a time, the Tuana were ready. Aryl stood where she could watch. Galen went first, eldest and most experienced—and toughest, in Haxel's estimation. Instead of trying to climb, he simply sat on the side of the hole and let himself slip down with the crumbling mud. She
reached
through the M'hir. Galen had the Power to answer.
As I thought. There's a proper tunnel in sight and a nice easy-to-follow mess where they've dragged the bodies. And there's some good wood down here.

Enris' uncle. She shouldn't be surprised, Aryl told herself, that her Chosen's family was every bit as blithely cheerful going into danger as he was.

As if he'd heard her thought, Enris laid his palm against her cheek.
Back soon.
Then, with a ridiculous “Whoop!,” he jumped and slid into the darkness.

The twins went together, holding hands. Suen last.

Don't make me come down there to save you,
Aryl sent.

We'll 'port from the merest sniff of trouble, I promise.
Despite his light tone, she knew better. Enris wouldn't leave Marcus or anyone else with the Oud. And he believed in the Strangers' superior technology.

“And now we wait,” Haxel said grimly.

“We wait,” Aryl agreed.

She went to the open door and leaned her back against the frame, taking deep breaths of air free of the stench of dead Oud. The others gave her space.

Because, she thought wearily, they believed. They believed she'd calm the Tikitik, return Om'ray where they belonged, and prevent the Oud from reshaping the world.

What she'd give to throw one of Ziba's tantrums, to scream at her elders and demand they find their own solutions. To be . . .

To be young again and home.

Self-pity. And she called herself Yena? A Sarc? Would she rather be ignorant and powerless?

Aryl's lips twisted.

She'd fall first.

Waiting was pointless. She dove into the M'hir, and
reached
.

Aryl.
Their connection locked at the instant of recognition. The Tuana appeared like lightning, an eye-burning brilliance within the storm. Not peaceful, in any sense. Naryn never would be.

It didn't help that she was furious.
Good thing you left. Rayna and Amna are arguing about the seniority of their Speakers, as if any of them could do better.

She'd love to hand the job to either, Aryl thought. She couldn't.
Listen, Naryn. My mother talked of a device in the Cloisters, called a Maker.

Yes. Anaj's been discussing it with the Adepts
. A fleeting
wonder,
supplanted by
dread. To cut an Om'ray's binding to the rest? If it weren't for Yao and the babies, I wouldn't believe it possible.

That isn't enough?
She could almost see Naryn's eyebrow lifting.

Can it remove a memory?
An idea she hadn't shared, not even with Enris. Wrong, desperate, doubtless Forbidden.

A chance.

Their connection thinned as Naryn fell silent; Aryl poured Power into it to keep their minds together.
Can anything?
she insisted.

Faint. Troubled.
You want the others to forget the M'hir.

She'd wanted too much, too soon. Now, Aryl thought bitterly, she'd settle for survival.
The Oud and Tikitik will be at peace. Sona will keep apart from the rest. Safe.

Like Vyna.
A lash of
scorn. That's good enough for your daughter?

She flinched. The grove in front of her, across the clearing, was stunted and unhealthy. Vyna was a worse blight on the world.
Then what?
Aryl demanded angrily.
What would you have me do, Naryn? Give up, like the Tikitik?

You saw what the Strangers did to each other. They could easily destroy Tikitna. They may have killed Oud already.
As Aryl hesitated, stunned, Naryn went on. Her Power reinforced their link now.
Do you want to live in fear? Enris was right and I hadn't seen it. These would be formidable partners. Last truenight, I learned the Strangers' language.
An image formed of a device Aryl had seen before: the machine Marcus had claimed taught him Om'ray words as he slept.

We learned,
a caustic mindvoice intruded. Anaj had attached herself to their thread.
Not that I had a choice, you understand.

Naryn pushed her aside.
I can talk to them now. Any of them. Ask for their help.

Though the other couldn't see it, Aryl shook her head violently; her hair lashed her shoulders.
It won't work.
Marcus had told her the Trade Pact wouldn't let the Triads interfere; he wore his costume and pretended to be Om'ray, rather than draw attention. As for those who'd attacked the Triad sites?
The Strangers won't help us.

Tuana were traders.

She hadn't realized, until now, that they could make anything a commodity.

Spread their problems across countless worlds and races. What had Marcus called it?

War.

Aryl severed their connection so violently, the M'hir slapped back at her as if she'd tossed a mountain into the ocean. Stung, she fought to
see
reality, to hold her sense of self. Finally, the waves ended and released her. She hoped Naryn and Anaj hadn't felt that. Not all of it.

Enough, Aryl thought grimly, to help them understand.

The Oud, wanting her help against the Tikitik. The Tikitik, against the Oud. Now Naryn, proposing Om'ray and the Strangers against both.

Never, Aryl vowed, while she lived.

“Anything I should know?” Haxel asked in a quiet voice.

Checking her shields, Aryl made herself relax as she turned. “We're in trouble, and the Adepts argue about my age.”

The First Scout chuckled. “They don't know you.” Her smile faded. “What does that mean?” She pointed at Aryl's hand.

Which still held the geoscanner. Startled, Aryl raised the device. A blue light pulsed beneath its clear dome. “Something new,” she admitted.

Haxel stiffened. “Dangerous?”

The blue pulse flickered faster and faster.

“Not the Oud.” She could think of only one thing to try. Aryl lifted the device near her mouth. “Marcus? Are you there?”

A loud burst of jumbled sounds answered, none understandable. The voice—was it a voice?—was shrill, higher than any she'd heard. Shrill and threatening.

Aryl turned off the 'scanner, shoved it in its pocket, and met Haxel's pale eyes. “Not a friend,” the First Scout decided. “Inside.”

The hole was, if anything, darker and scarier than ever. Aryl avoided looking at it as Haxel began to speak. “Syb, you and—” The rest was drowned out by a deep rumble, rushing toward them.

Closer . . . closer. On them!

The building shook.

Mud loosened around the hole, sliding down but not filling it.

Last time it had been Naryn, digging out the riverbed.

This? Was the mountain shaking? Should they 'port to safety? Before she could do more than consider it, the sound and vibration passed overhead and diminished.

It's leaving,
she sent, astonished.

“Find it!” Haxel ordered. “Stay out of sight!”

Be careful!
This from her Chosen, with a certain
irony.