The Gate to Futures Past (23 page)

“The border of the Ribbon Lands.” The Tikitik rose to its feet. “There will be authority. What kind I don't know, but you will no longer be in our way and we can do our work.”

I decided not to thank it again.

I waited until the Tikitik squatted on its mount—having disrupted Oud-loads of Clan on its way back—before eyeing my Human warily. “‘Authority,' it said. Is that wise?”

“No choice. If it was just you and I, yes, we'd keep low, scout the situation before attracting attention. As it is?” Morgan spun a finger. “No hiding this lot. Better we show up on our terms than have those in charge find us.”

“So our plan's to hope for the best?” I grimaced.

“It does happen,” with an easy complacency I didn't for an instant believe, especially since he'd the lightest of shields in place—a request for distance and privacy.

Plotting, he was. My Human left nothing to chance, “know your exits” being one of many lessons he'd taught me.

Another? Rest when you could, which went hand-in-hand with eat when you could, drink, wash, use an accommodation, and so forth. We were saving our rations till nightfall—however long that might take here—and washing? Out of the question. Of the containers and bags filled with water, few had made it into the pods.

Might not be a problem. After all, I'd tasted rain this morning. Hadn't turned so much as mauve.

My hair played with the wind of this new world, and I felt my mood lighten at last. “What should we call it? This planet.”

Morgan laughed. “I'm sure it has a name, Witchling.”

“Until we know it,” I pointed out, “there's no reason we can't give it our own.” I pulled a leg free of the cloak to face him. The wind played with his hair also, and the sun found russet in his beard. My Chosen gazed back at me, blue eyes full of emotion he wasn't sharing mind-to-mind. “You pick.”

“Hope.” His lips quirked at whatever he read from my expression. “Too much?”

“No,” I said huskily. “Hope, it is.”

K
EEPER EMELEN DIS knelt as if to pray; upon feeling the warmth of the soil, he did, under his breath. Others used instruments, demarcating the affected area with little green flags in the sod. He stifled the impulse to stop them; they cared, too. Here, in their lifetime, proof.

It wasn't only the lingering, unseasonal heat. He rose to his feet, examining the dark flakes on his palms and, yes, on both knees. Only one mode of travel left such remains, and it hadn't been used since the Fall.

“Well over a hundred, Keeper.” Oncara Su shaded nes eyes. “The Oud riders must be those we seek. My regrets.”

Emelen brushed aside nes apology. “The sect needs this evidence. Your decision to make all speed to the blessed landing site was the right one.”

Room for the Twelve here, the land originally scoured flat and left sterile, but as memories faded and belief eroded, nature had returned. The presence of Field Oud meant the sacred plain was to be sliced and plowed. To grow tea, or some such. All it would take was water, and the tunnel to bring that through from the Ribbon Lands had been built. He'd done his utmost to slow its progress.

No longer a concern. “When the work here is complete, return me to the Sanctum.”

Ne dared frown. “Should we not go from here to the project site? Shall we not be first to greet them?”

“Our role is not to put ourselves forward, Oncara,” Emelen said sternly, “but to prepare for the Rebirth. If a new Founder has come, all must be told and everything put in place. There has been negligence. Neglect. No longer.”

It was time. Cersi-So, he chanted to himself, well pleased. Cersi-So.

A
S IF MOCKING our choice of name, Hope's flat plain deceived, promising the hills long before the terrain finally lifted under the Ouds' scurrying feet. None too soon. The tiny hooks of the cloaks not only held clothing tight—and those wearing it—but soon produced a burning rash on any bare skin left in contact. My people endured without complaint, outwardly calm and determined.

They wearied, as did I, huddled together; a few tried to sleep.

The area appeared barren, other than the turf, but every so often great flocks came into view, their shadows flickering across the ground. They were made up of thousands of small birds—or their equivalent—wheeling and spinning, forming tight balls then rivers through the air. To our disappointment, the beautiful flocks didn't linger, busy heading north. If we were in that hemisphere, pleasing thought, this could be spring.

If we weren't? Morgan had shrugged.

So when another shadow crossed our path, I didn't pay attention until I saw the Om'ray rising to their feet, staring up. Doing the same, I glimpsed a dot, higher than the birds, heading east.
Someone's there,
Aryl informed me.
Someone like us.
A pause.
Like Om'ray
.

A distinction I hadn't heard from her before, Om'ray sensing
the presence of M'hiray as instinctively as they did each other.
Do they sense you?

I don't know.

Morgan had pulled out his lens. “Definitely a machine,” he informed me. “Can't make out much else.”

“Aryl says there's—” about to say Clan, I changed to “—Hoveny on board. The Om'ray sense them.”

“Reassuring.” Absently.

Well, yes, to have the first real proof we'd come to the right world—our world—but still. “It's not coming this way.” I sat again, deflated.

“Doesn't mean we're not on scans—or those Hoveny didn't sense you in return.” My Human remained standing, surveying what was ahead with the lens. “Huh.”

I stood again. “What's ‘huh?'”

He handed me the lens. “That.”

I summoned Barac. Though he disliked ladders, let alone large living things, he leaped from Oud to Oud to reach us as quickly as a Tikitik.

Ours appeared to be taking a nap.

Having arrived, my cousin frowned thoughtfully at the long stony rise ahead of us. “Doesn't look like much.”

Morgan offered his lens. “Five degrees left.”

I knew why my cousin stiffened. Through the lens, the hill jumped closer. While most of the rise was bare tumbled rock, my Human had found what had to be our destination: a narrow archway leading into the hill.

There was nothing natural about it. An assortment of wheeled vehicles bustled around the opening, some going inside, for the interior was brightly lit. A plume of gray dust rose behind the hill like a stain in the sky, and rubble stretched to either side of the arch. Most heartening, there were figures, with two arms and two legs. People.

“Think it's a mine?” Barac handed back the lens.

“Maybe.” My Human tapped the Oud with his boot. “But if they put these to work above ground, why not below?”

Who cared? People, as far as I was concerned, promised all that went with them, from shelter to showers. Restaurants. My stomach growled, and I blurted, “It's civilization.”

“Remember Norx, chit.”

“I try not to.” I scowled. The planet was the latest source of a key ingredient of ysa-smoke, the Trade Pact's most popular addiction and one Captain Morgan had used to explain my wearing a helmet my first time on Plexis. A stuffy, smelly helmet.

Barac raised an eyebrow. “‘Norx'? I don't know the name.”

“A world uninhabited till the syndicates sent recruited miners to do their dirty work. Point being appearances can't be trusted. Until we know who we're dealing with, we should avoid unnecessary risks.”

My cousin rolled his shoulders. “My turn—”

“No. It is not anyone's ‘turn.'” Their identical expressions of dismay would have been amusing had I not been waiting for exactly this. “No more heroics. We do this together. Besides, we're a giant mass of Oud covered in people. If we can see them, they already see us.” I paused then went on heavily, “We'll need the children.”

“The—?” I'd shocked Barac. “For what?”

“A test.” The corner of Morgan's mouth deepened as he nodded approval. “We put our children in plain sight. Prove we've families. How these strangers react will tell us what we need to know.”

“No deceptions.” I felt Aryl's silent agreement. “We show them who we are. Roll the dice.” There was nothing to add; these two understood the odds. “Agreed?”

Barac bowed, offering the gesture of respect. “I'll spread the word.”

“As will we,” Morgan announced, bowing too.
Well, Witchling?

If my cousin could jump along the backs of monsters— “You first,” I dared
him.

O
F ALL THE IMPOSSIBLE, implausible futures, jumping on Oud backs, while they ran, no less, was one he hadn't come close to imagining. An experience the First Scout planned to forget as soon as he was on the ground, along with how they'd arrived here in the first place.

Alive. That's what counted. Even if he never got that stink out of his clothing. Alive and with his Chosen.

Although he'd be happier once Ruti stopped being furious. “They'll come to no harm.” Had he said that twice or three times?

Ruti sat on the back of an Oud, arms around a bundle, regarding him with as much warmth as she'd give a Scat. Her shields tightened, and her face creased with unfamiliar distrust. “What if these strangers are child-stealers? Did Sira think of that?”

“We can't hide them, Ruti.” Jacqui tucked her hands under her arms to keep from rubbing the rash on both palms, pain tightening the corners of her mouth. “Just think. There could be parents—maybe a Birth Watcher—who'll see our children and want to help.”

“Strangers won't help us.” Ruti's chin trembled. “We need our families. That's where we belong. With our families.”

“You've said that before.” Jacqui gave Barac a meaningful look, as though he was supposed to hear something more in the words.

Words were hollow, empty things. He'd have
reached
for the Chooser's mind and demanded answers if not for Ruti. She'd locked away her thoughts, but not her mood.
Fear
was part of it.
Suspicion.

There. A disquieting bone-deep
weariness.
Of course. She was exhausted, between the baby growing inside and caring for everyone else.

So where he might have pressed or argued, Barac chose to bow his head in acquiescence. “I'll make sure families are together and assign scouts, with weapons, to stay near each child. We'll keep them safe.”

But Ruti hunched her shoulders and turned from him, and there was nothing he could do but go.

When had the acrid
taste
of change become normal?

A
S ENTRANCES WENT, ours would be memorable, not that we'd a choice.

We'd rearranged ourselves according to plan: families and children to the front of our island of Oud. The Tikitik watched for a moment, then resumed its nap, squatting with eyes almost closed. Just as well. I doubted it would appreciate seeing our armed scouts take their posts near those families.

I stood with Gurutz behind the sud Prendolats, to be close to Andi. Morgan had donned his pack and stood alone on the outermost Oud to my right. He was our most potent weapon. It made sense to leave him free to act.

My role? To ensure weapons of any kind weren't necessary.

The miners, or whatever they were, had indeed seen us coming. They'd moved their vehicles inside the tunnel, taking shelter there themselves. A few heads peered out. I empathized. It couldn't be pleasant having a massive clot of giant Oud run straight for you.

Hopefully, we'd stop first.

They'll stop,
Aryl assured me.
Tikitik enjoy drama, but they don't risk themselves.

What about us?

I don't know. This one lacks the arrogance of Cersi's. I suspect it will do as it said and be glad to leave us behind.

My assessment of the creature as well.

Andi twisted to smile up at me. Nik drew her daughter back on her lap,
disapproval
radiating like heat. Whatever trust the parents had in me, they trusted Ruti di Bowart more.

They were welcome to, so long as they cooperated with our plan. I'd greater concerns than the protests of a Chosen a quarter my age, even one I considered family, and kept my focus ahead as the Ouds continued their breakneck speed.

Establishing a rapport wasn't going to be easy when our origins were, to put it mildly, hard to explain. While we should be able to slip by without bringing up the Trade Pact or Assemblers, Cersi was another matter.
Sona
had transmitted and been heard. What it transmitted, we'd no idea, but Morgan cautioned there could be those on this world, or this system, fully aware of who and what we were.

What they'd think of us? Anyone's guess.

As was when our Ouds planned to stop. We were close enough to cast an ominous shadow over the vehicle parking area on the hill before the great body beneath me gave a promising shudder. I fought to keep balanced rather than put my unwelcome hand on Nik's shoulder, sharing the
relief
from all sides as a second collective shudder was followed by, at last, deceleration.

Suddenly, our island began to break apart! The Oud on the outer rim peeled away. Those in the midst of others struggled to be free, slamming impatiently into those too slow to move out of the way.

Ours joined in, throwing itself sideways into its neighbor, the result like an earthquake. I found myself staring into terrified faces, all of us toppling—I heard screams—

Chit!

Here.
I clung to the sud Prendolats and they clung to me. We'd have to 'port. There was no other way
—

<>> Words
tasting
of ash. Words grinding deep inside, with impossible intimacy. How? Where had that—I froze amid all else, afraid I'd hear that hollow voice again—

<>> The world around me faded to
darkness
, opened on a balcony, beneath a sky I knew, with mountains—

And
she
was there—

Somehow, I wrenched free, terrified I'd recognize— “No!”

“Yes.” Andi's sweet face appeared over her mother's shoulder. The child's peaceful smile was something from a nightmare.
Families should be together. You should go, Sira. You can.

NO!
I prepared to 'port all of us—to safety, not to that voice—

Hold!
Morgan, a lifeline.

The Tikitik was standing on its mount. It let out a sharp wail and the Oud stopped where they were, then sank to the ground.

“Get down! Hurry!” I shouted, reinforcing that with Power. The gaps between the beasts would last only as long as they obeyed. The tiny hooks of their cloaks, once a help to stay in place, fought our desperate movements, tearing clothing and skin. “Get away from them!”

If I ran from anything else, that was something I wasn't prepared to admit even to myself.

Gurutz helped Nik with their belongings. I passed Andi to Josa, then dropped down myself. We gasped as one, half smothered by the reek. “Keep moving toward the others. Hurry.” I watched them go, trusting the scout as much as the child's Talent, then turned,
reaching
with my own sense.

Anxiety. Fear.
Nothing with clear direction. We were too close together, trapped in this maze of overheated flesh. The Hoveny could make of us what they chose, I thought bitterly. We had to get out first.

I can find them.
Aryl, with confidence.
Let me use your eyes, Sira.

So I did.

For the second time, I staggered into the fresh, cool air, this time following Gricel and her baby, her Chosen and son leading; a path found only because the Om'ray, including Aryl, were drawn by the growing concentration of our people.

Sira, hurry!

I swung back, only to find the opening gone, the Oud rising—moving! But the di Eathems weren't the only ones still trapped—

“Sira, no!” Arms like metal bands clamped around me.

YES!
Aryl, with fury.
Hap and her Chosen—I can take us—
then, her mindvoice ragged with grief—
we're too late.

My sense of her vanished, swamped by
darkness.
The M'hir bled everywhere, colored everything, filled with the dreadful howls of Watchers.

Witchling.
The naming spread around and through me, bringing with it all that was sane and good and didn't belong in the M'hir.
Beloved. This way.

This voice I followed without doubt or hesitation. Back, I permitted myself a heartbeat inside Morgan's arms, then gave the tiniest resistance. He let go, and I opened my eyes.

Reality wasn't an improvement. What had been the fronts of the giant Oud became their rears as the creatures humped away, leaving the groups gathered on either side to stare at one another through a cloud of dust.

Dust that settled over mangled husks and ownerless belongings. Whether the Tikitik had been careless or cruel, this ride had cost more than the di Annks. I didn't try to count. Didn't dare try to see who wasn't there but was no longer here—

Had they
heard
a voice, too?

I shook myself. We'd the living, our injured to care for—

“Company.” Morgan, low and urgent. His hand dropped to his side, flexed.

Coughing dust, I looked toward the archway. Company, it was. Their vehicles barely stopped, people poured out, rushing toward us.

With blankets.

Some had small cases that implied medical supplies and others were empty-handed, but all ran to reach us, and all had faces shaped like ours, full of determined concern and kindness.

As an entrance, I thought numbly, leaning against Morgan, they couldn't have done better.