Spinning Starlight (34 page)

Meanwhile, I contemplate how strange it feels not to be holding Spin-Still anymore. Not lonely, because I’m with Tiav. But like silence has closed in again, wrapping itself tighter around
me. It brings an ache of isolation I’d almost forgotten.

Tiav opens his eyes, and everything in them is more complex. Sad, overwhelmed, anxious, happy, and hopeful. I don’t know how he can feel all those things at once and not explode. Then he
takes off the sempu and tries to put it back on me, and I definitely only feel one thing.

No. Absolutely not.

“Liddi, yes. She belongs with you. I didn’t even know they have names—we never thought to ask. Didn’t know they don’t need the shrines—the
anchors—anymore, haven’t for a long time. Didn’t know their connection to us, to biological beings, was helping them evolve and grow, rather than already being at the apex of
their own existence.”

See, he already knows more than I do. He’s an Aelo. I’m not.

“I’ll only hold on to it if we’re going to release the Khua over there, because I’m not letting you do that again.”

I’m not letting him do it, either, but neither of us is doing it right now. I point at the sun nearly straight overhead.

“You’ve never released one during the day. That’s on purpose?”

A nod, and I push the sempu toward him. He pushes back.

“Please.”

It’s too hard to argue when he says please, when he looks at me like that…when he smoothes his hands over my hair and neck as he settles Spin-Still in place. I let it go, but I
don’t like it. Even if having her back dulls the ache of silence again.

We need time to decide what to do next, to make a plan, but I can’t just sit here. My pack has a small medical kit in it, but I don’t know what anything does. I pull it out and hand
it to Tiav, hoping he’ll find something to help him with the pain. While he looks, I go down to the river and refill the water flask. Yilt assured me it had a built-in purifier, so I
don’t need to worry about anything nasty in the water. If we’re going to stay here, we can’t sit in the sun all day. The mountains present several possibilities for shelter.
We’ll work on that when Tiav feels up to moving.

He’s fished a pill of some kind out of the kit when I get back and gratefully accepts the offered water. I point to the sun again, but before I can point to the mountains, I freeze.

Vid-cams. I’m being watched.

No, that’s not it. Not the same buzz. More of a hum with a grating edge, making my bones itch.

“What is that?” Tiav asks.

The anchored Khua draws my eye, several feet away. Even with the anchors locking them in, the Khua usually float and hover loosely, like a buoy on a wave. Not now. This one is perfectly still,
as frozen as I feel.

I hurry over and put my hand to one of the spires. It vibrates. A lot.

This might mean it’s too late. That the Khua have been fully locked down and they’re fighting a losing battle not to tear everything apart.

Spin-Still’s assurances mean there’s only one thing to do. I take her from my neck, wrap the cord tight, and start pushing.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Worse than before, worse than any of them, and it won’t move, I can’t. Tears flow down my cheeks, the only release when I can’t cry out.

“Liddi, stop!”

I can’t do that either. The vibrations run through me, ready to shatter my bones, but I have to keep pushing. I can’t stop Tiav from getting to his feet. He’s unsteady but
makes it to me without falling.

No matter how I push, how I throw all my weight into it, the Khua won’t budge. I’m not strong enough to break the bond in daylight. My feet skid on the rocky ground, not giving me
enough purchase.

Tiav reaches around and puts his hands on mine, leaning against me. We both push.

It works. The Khua breaks free. Tiav and I stumble forward before he grabs my waist to pull me upright.

Spin-Still’s urgency shakes me. I don’t know what’s happening, why she’s telling me to leave. What about the other anchored Khua?

But the Khua still anchored on Ferinne—

“Your hand,” Tiav says.

Yes, it’s bleeding again, nothing new, and we don’t have time. I leave his arms, grab my pack, and point to the Khua, still hovering nearby.

“Leaving? Where are we going?”

His hesitance is unmistakable, and I understand. He’s been taught all his life that using the Khua to travel is the wrongest of the wrong. And it’s not going to be a pleasant
trip.

There’s also no time to explain. I pull Tiav close and reach for the Khua.

It’s time for me to go home.

The Sentinel and the Wraith were once friends, equals who together created the realm of Ferri as a home for the spirits of the Seven Points after they died. As they worked,
the pair found they had very different ideas of what Ferri should be. The Sentinel thought it should be soft and smooth, a place for the spirits to forget the trials of their lives. The Wraith
thought it should be sharp and powerful, a place of labor to remind the spirits they were unworthy of the protection they were given. Without Ferri, the spirits would be lost.

The two friends discussed, and then they argued, and then they fought. One began to shape Ferri to his liking, and the other tore it down, insisting it must not be so. Destruction and ruin
were the only results.

Finally they decided they could work together no more. They drew a line through the foundations of Ferri, the Divide that could never be crossed. The Sentinel created Idyll, full of
tranquility and beauty. The Wraith created the Abyss, where the toil and torment would never end. When men and women of the Seven Points died, they would be claimed by the one they most
deserved.

Even knowing it wasn’t real, young Liddi didn’t like the story. If the Sentinel and the Wraith were so powerful, they should’ve been smart enough to find a better
way.

THIS TRIP THROUGH THE KHUA
is one too many in too short a space for Tiav. I have to catch him again when we arrive, my own legs barely holding, and
he’s breathing too fast.

“Please—can we—not do that—again, Liddi?”

I look to the sky. The angle of the sun has changed, and beyond that, so has the sun itself. A little smaller, a little whiter than Ferinne’s sun. More important, I know these woods.
We’re on Sampati, not far from the house. Keeping one arm around him without aggravating my injured hand, I pat Tiav’s chest to ask if he’s okay.

He nods, forcing himself to take slower, deeper breaths. It doesn’t stop his shaking—or mine—but he keeps to his feet. When I urge him to take a step forward, he starts
walking. Neither of us is very steady, half from the aftereffects of the Khua and half the protest from our equilibriums about the subtle change in gravity.

“We’ve left Ferinne, haven’t we? I’ve never been on another planet before. Plenty of people visit Crimna or Agnac or Halei, but my mother was always too busy. What is
this? Erkir?”

His nerves show in his rambling, and I can’t blame him. I remember how I felt when I unexpectedly landed on Ferinne. Looking up at him, I shake my head and mouth one word.
Home.

Tiav’s eyes go wide. “Sampati? It’s not how I pictured it.”

Of course not. It’s one of the few parts of Sampati that’s not like Sampati at all. He’ll probably see that soon, but first we need to get to the house. It’s close enough
that I still haven’t walked off all the Khua-aches by the time we get there. I stop at the edge of the woods, and Tiav waits with me, silent.

Everything looks the same. The garden needs a little weeding, that’s all. I can imagine the Triad bursting out the back door any minute. My gut twists with the knowledge that they’re
not going to.

I’ve been gone a long time. Long enough for Minali to notice. And possibly long enough for her to set a guard here. Or long enough for her not to expect me to come back somewhere so
obvious.

We wait, and we watch, and Tiav doesn’t ask any questions. He just takes the medical kit from my pack and treats my hand without a word. Finally, I decide we’ll have to go in and see
what—if anything—awaits us.

“Welcome home, Liddi.”

I almost cry at the sound of Dom’s voice.

“That was a rather lengthy absence,” he continues, “and not reflected on your schedule. Ms. Blake seemed quite upset not to find you here when she stopped by. I take it you are
still not speaking?”

That’s obvious, particularly when I pull up the drawing screen and do a rough sketch.

“A vid-cam? No, Liddi, as you’re aware, vid-cams cannot function on the property, aside from those installed in the house. Those remain secure.”

“Smart computer,” Tiav murmurs.

“I’m not a computer, sir, I’m a subroutine running
on
a computer. I am the Domestic Engineer and Itinerary Keeper. You may call me Domenik, or Dom if you
prefer.”

Despite clear bewilderment at having a computer program introduce itself, Tiav responds. “Nice to meet you. Tiav’elo, call me Tiav. Um, Liddi, that woman who trapped your
brothers…could she have tampered with Dom while you were away?”

“Absolutely not!” Dom answers for himself. “The Jantzen family knows better than to use simple passcodes like birth dates, sir. My system has quadruple-layered encryption and
triple-redundant backups.”

It’s true, my brothers are beyond diligent about keeping their tech secure, so I move on. For Dom
and
Tiav to be able to help me, I’ll need them to speak the same language.
I draw again, this time the Eight Points, arranged in their ring. A few simple lines in red connect the Seven, then a few more in blue for connections including Ferinne. I point at it and wait for
Dom to make his guess.

“Are those the portals and conduits again? You appear to have included an extra Point.”

I look to Tiav and shake my head. He gets it. “No, the blue ones are called the Khua. The extra Point is Ferinne—that’s where I’m from.”

“Intriguing. I shall update my database.”

Okay, we’re getting there. I point to the red lines again and nudge Tiav.

“Domenik, what did you call the red lines?”

“The conduits. More reliable than the ancient portals for interplanetary travel.”

“Your brothers told me something about false Khua. That’s what you call them?” Tiav checks. “Conduits?”

Exactly. I pull up one of the larger news-vid feeds on the wallscreen and point to it and my sketch of the conduits at the same time.