Spinning Starlight (14 page)

Not an option. I have him and I won’t let go. Then I’ll come back for them one by one until all eight are free.

The cord moves, tugging me. More than tugging. Like the great mouth of the universe has decided to devour me and draws me in. The barrier to Ferinne looms closer, but we don’t stop. It
shatters under the force pulling me, and the pressure in my throat is barely enough reminder to keep me from crying out.

The same pain but worse. The same crash to the ground but different. Different because I’m not alone. I look up to see if Marek is all right, but it’s not Marek.

It’s Tiav. And Kalkig. And a woman and two men I don’t recognize—one a Haleian. Night’s fallen, and I have no idea how long I was in the portal. About ten feet beyond the
others, I see my brother reach out to me before fading from this reality.

Someone’s talking, but I don’t care. The Seven Points media has never caught me crying, not once, but I burst into tears in front of these strangers. Partly from the pain—my
arm is a slashed, bloody mess—but mostly they’re tears of failure. Of course it wouldn’t be as easy as brute-forcing my brothers out, but if that won’t work, what will?
Something brilliant and complicated. Something that only someone smarter than Minali could figure out.

I’m the wrong Jantzen to get the job done. But I’m the only one there is.

Just like every other spring, once the snow melted and the ground dried so it wasn’t too muddy, one of the Jantzens made the suggestion. The year Liddi turned twelve,
it was Fabin’s idea.

“Okay, guys, time for some stickball.”

The twins had come by the house, which meant they had everyone except Durant. That was enough for a pretty good round, so everyone trekked out to a meadow across the river where there was
enough space to play.

Liddi’s brothers had the advantage in most of the games they played, being bigger, stronger, and more experienced. They always let her play, and she usually found an advantage of her
own. With hide-and-seek, she was small enough to fit in hiding spots the boys might not think of. With tag, being small and quick helped her evade her larger brothers.

Stickball, however, was a hard game. She had to develop the coordination to hit the ball with the heavy stick, and she just wasn’t strong enough to hit it as far as the boys did. It
was the one game where they went a little easy on her. Slower pitches, less effort to field the ball, pretty much always letting her get on base. As Anton pitched to her for some warm-up hits, she
saw it was going to be the same.

“Stop it,” she said, lowering the stick.

“Stop what?” Anton asked.

“Going easy. I’m twelve, not two. Let me play. If I’m out, I’m out.”

Anton nodded and easily caught the ball Ciro tossed back to him. “If you say so. Let’s try a few more.”

He
really
pitched it, fast enough that Liddi’s swing of the stick whiffed through empty air.

“Again,” she insisted.

He did, and again she missed. And a third time.

It’s not that difficult,
she thought.
Just anticipate more. React faster.

On the fourth try, stick and ball connected, jarring her all the way up to her shoulders. The ball glided in a clean arc, past where Emil stood so he had to chase it. Farther than
Ciro’s practice hits had gone.

“That’ll teach us,” Luko said.

Liddi put down the stick. “Teach you what?”

“To think our little sister needs to take the easy version of anything.”

I’M UNDER ARREST.

Those are the words I hear when I finally stop crying enough to listen. The three strangers are Ferinne’s version of police—“keepers,” Tiav calls them. Kalkig is furious
again. That’s nothing new, but Tiav isn’t far behind. His eyes burn and his posture is rigid, but I think my tears make it more difficult for him.

“Liddi, you can’t do things like this,” he says as the keepers guide me to the streamers. “Your people may have no respect for the Khua, but when you’re here, you
will
respect our laws.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, so I give no response, and he falls silent. The aftereffects of the portal make it hard to walk, let alone focus. My arm is wrapped but
hasn’t been treated yet. The keepers said a doctor would see me at the detention facility. I have only a few minutes to wonder what the facility will be like before we arrive. It’s a
low, wide building with glass doors leading to a simple but comfortable lobby. A standing desk with a single attendant, several chairs—none occupied—arranged artfully on the other side
of the room, and even a green-and-yellow potted plant by the door.

An image pops into my head of the media-cast that would go with this.

The Jantzen girl strayed one step too far from her brothers’ path today, offending several cultures and getting arrested by an alien police officer with muscles so solid, she doubts he
needs bones. While Ferinne fashion leaves something to be desired, Liddi made do with the basics—functional brown pants and a blue shirt…nice color on that one. In related news, white arm
wraps splashed with red will be available from the following designers by morning.

The female keeper speaks to the attendant at the desk. “Found her right where the alarm said but tricky business getting her out. Definitely not the usual wayward toddler. A doctor should
be on the way. They can meet us at her cell.”

From there it’s a quick walking tour of the facility. Through a set of double-doors, down one long door-lined hallway and around a corner, then down another hall that looks just the same.
Tiav and Kalkig trail behind every step without a word, until finally the Haleian keeper takes a glass chip from his pocket and slides it into a slot next to one of the cell doors. The door opens,
and I’m ushered in.

The room is tiny, just enough space for a bed on one side. There’s a closet-sized lavatory on the other side, and a small window on the wall opposite the entrance. My weary legs gratefully
lower me to sit on the bed. There’s no point in putting up a fuss. The sooner they leave me alone, the sooner I can start thinking through this mess. Besides, sitting on the soft surface
feels better on my aching body.

“Someone said she was injured, yes?” says a voice from the hallway. It has a musical lilt that hints strangely at mischief.

“Right, but it’s beneath your concern, Jahmari,” someone replies—maybe the non-alien male keeper.

“And what precisely do you know of my concerns, Luo? Out of my way. Ah, there she is.”

The newcomer—Jahmari—is a Crimna. Old, judging by the small crinkles around his eyes, but young by the light and life in them. He’s small, shorter than I am, but with a willowy
grace that makes him seem tall like the gallery dancers on Yishu. Juxtaposing that grace is a sharpness and precision of movement that echoes in his eyes. He sets a case next to me on the bed and
opens it. Sleek equipment of some kind, probably medical devices.

“I hear from dear Tiav that I shouldn’t expect a pip or whistle from you,” he says. “No matter, no matter. The injury is clear enough. May I see your arm?”

I hold it out to him, and he carefully unwraps the temporary bandage, revealing the cuts. “A bit nasty, aren’t they? Not to worry, mended easily.”

And he does, but in the strangest way. He holds two small metal rods to either side of my forearm and nudges a switch to activate. An energy field bridges the space between them, glittering more
than the clothes from Pinnacle’s fashion district on a sunny day. Jahmari lowers his hands so the field rests lightly on my arm, and it sparks more than glitters. It tingles and tickles and
itches and hurts but just a little bit compared to how it already felt.

My skin is stitching itself back together, all on its own. No binders or sealants, just the energy from the field accelerating the healing process. It’s simple and obvious and brilliant.
Effective, too. When he turns off the device, my arm is perfect, with just the itchiness left behind.

“Anything else need tending to?” Jahmari asks.

I shake my head. The pain of having my body torn apart must be mostly in my mind, not physical. That’s how it was when I first came through the portal to Ferinne. I’ll sleep it
off.

He touches my face, an unexpectedly kind gesture from an unexpectedly smooth, soft hand. I can’t help meeting his eyes. They’re dark violet, startling against the glow of his pale
skin.

“Communicate, my friend,” he says softly. “You can’t speak? Fine. There are other ways, but they will take time. I see that something is important to you. Whatever it is,
you do it a disservice if you succumb to mere recklessness, I think. Informed action will serve you better.”

A variation on what Tiav tried to tell me. Marek told me to be patient, too. Everyone keeps telling me to take my time when I just want my brothers safe
now
.

But they want
me
safe, and my null-skull ideas haven’t helped them any.

Jahmari pats my cheek, stands, and leaves. The door doesn’t close behind him. It closes behind Tiav and Kalkig after they come in. I swing my legs up to occupy the space where Jahmari sat.
They can stand. Tiav is glaring at his friend, who’s glaring at me.

“If I had my way, heathen, you’d be back on your twisted world right now,” Kalkig says. It’s getting easier to understand him through the heavy accent. I don’t have
to watch his lips this time.

“Kal, quiet,” Tiav says. “I told you, you should be waiting outside.”

Kalkig slips into his native language. I may not know a word of Agnacki, but I strongly suspect some expletives are involved.

Tiav huffs and shakes his head, clenching one hand into a fist. “Fine, then we’re both leaving. Just one thing, Liddi. Is there any way you can tell us what you were trying to do out
there?”

Not right now there isn’t. I stare at the wall, refusing to meet his eyes.

As quickly as they came, they leave again. I get the feeling Tiav would have said more if Kalkig hadn’t insisted on coming along. Maybe he would’ve explained why what I did is so
terrible.

The lights dim, implying someone wants me to get some sleep. My body says yes but my mind says no. My mind is locked on what Jahmari said.

Communicate. Don’t succumb to mere recklessness.

Be strong, Liddi.

Emil’s words. I didn’t listen to them carefully enough before. In this case, being strong means being more patient.

If I learn how to write, I can explain what I need. If I’m patient enough to sift through the symbols to say something so complicated. Someone here might be able to help. No matter what my
brothers say, I’m the one out here. I have to help, and it
will
be worth the time.

Just not too much time.

And that’s assuming a girl who can’t speak can still convince the authorities not to keep her locked up.