This Gulf of Time and Stars (41 page)

I
LOOKED UPON THE VYNA
and grieved. Choosers Commenced without Choice, bearing empty offspring to host the dead. Adepts, prolonging their lives at the cost of others', until they died and were reborn. It was as if what was new mustn't be tolerated. As if Vyna must never change.

The disturbing thought kept me silent when I might have spoken, busy rethinking so many things. Why were they different? Was it because they lived with such strange neighbors?

Could this one Clan have soured the Hoveny's hope, trapping Om'ray, Oud, and Tikitik in an endless experiment? Why hadn't the Makers restarted the world, if that were possible?

Or had they? Molten rock surrounded Vyna, lay at the heart of what had been Tikitna. How—

The leftmost Adept lifted a gnarled finger at Morgan.
NOT-REAL!

Yet
you
hear me.
His sending, in their language, was strong enough to echo in the M'hir.

Sleepteach. Vastly clever, my Human.

He caused a stir among the ancients. Thin lips worked, some drooling. One summoned her unChosen, taking his strength with the touch of a feeble hand. Another chittered, then covered her mouth in haste to mute the sound.

Vyna's Councilors remained still, observing. They were the key, I decided. Jealous of their Talents, unwilling—perhaps unable—to share Power. These would be the Vyna who 'ported from Clan to Clan, taking what they felt they deserved. The ones to stop.

Are you sure?
Aryl asked.

I've known their kind all my life,
I assured her. Their selfishness was their vulnerability.

I made the gesture of greeting between peers who were not equals.
I am Sira Morgan.
I let them test their Power against mine, for once glad to
dominate
.

It seemed I'd made the right decision. Heads nodded. Thin lips smiled.
We glory in your Power.
From the one at the far right.

We do not acquiesce to it!
From the middle.

From the rest: WE
are superior.

I smiled my father's smile.
You are welcome to think so. I truly don't care. What I do care about are those you stole from me. Return them, and we'll leave.

You are not Vyna, to give orders here.
The middle one rose, holding out a languid hand.
Yet you bear within you a Glorious Dead, who may be.
Paired green rings glinted between the first and second knuckle of fingers and thumbs as they closed and opened. Beckoning me closer, I thought with a chill.
Let me greet Her properly.

I didn't turn at the menacing
snick
from behind me, well aware of Morgan's growing distrust.

I need no
proper
greeting from you,
Aryl sent, her mind voice like the sounding of horns.
The last time we met, Tarerea Vyna, I promised to drop you in the M'hir.

Yet left us a magnificent gift, Aryl di Sarc. Sona's Adepts.
The hand lowered.
How else could we save so many?
As if we should be grateful for their theft.

Save them?
Aryl began, her
rage
beating through me.

Though I shared it, I sent,
Wait.

Something tried for my /
attention
/. Something regrettably familiar.
/here/attention!/

I looked past the Vyna to the window. More rumn/Rugherans had arrived—or a larger one—pressing themselves/itself against the transparent barrier. Unlike before, it didn't move, the stars
patterning what I assumed was a body as still as if I gazed at a night's sky.

Now it wanted to communicate? I wasn't about to dip into the M'hir with it.
Excuse me, but I'll have to talk out loud,
I informed the Vyna, then walked to the window. “What do you want?”

/
attention/~urgent~/

Gasps, good and loud, from behind me. I assumed the Vyna hadn't heard from their neighbors before.

“Not the best time,” I replied. Morgan's reflection appeared beside mine. How he'd hidden a blaster that size in his coat was a question for another time. I did find it a comfort, though unlikely of use. “Do you know who I am?”

/
attention
/
trouble~anomaly~trouble/leave/

That'd be yes. “We'll be leaving.”

/
leave/determination/leave/determination/
It retreated and I breathed a sigh of relief. Leave we planned to do, just as soon as—

BANG!

Apparently it had retreated in order to have room to ram the window. A Vyna shrieked, likely for the first time in her life.

/
leave/~!~leave/ BANG!

Morgan shouldered his blaster. “I'd say we've outstayed our welcome, chit.”

I agreed. I sent a call outward, knowing the minds I had to
reach.
WAKE!
Waited until groggy minds turned to frightened, then determined ones.

We're here, Sira,
from Asdny. From others. Sparks of warmth in the dark.
Where's here?

It doesn't matter,
I assured them.
Go home—take Noil with you. Your families are waiting.

Some with weapons they'd hoped to use, all no doubt furious I'd left them behind—especially Sona's First Scout—but this had never been about fighting a battle.

It was about finding peace.

BANG! /leave~anomaly~leave/determination/

Don't forget the part about getting clear ourselves, if we can't resolve this,
my Chosen reminded me.

Together we turned to face the Vyna.

The Adepts were in full flight, chairs speeding toward the door, servants running to catch up. The Vyna Council were on their feet, but stayed, either of sterner stuff or too afraid to move. No, I decided cheerfully, it was fear.

How is this possible?
Tarerea Vyna demanded.
The rumn—how have you made them speak?

Questions I couldn't answer, so I didn't try. What I could do was seize the opportunity like a true trader.
We are the M'hiray. As you can
sense
, you can't steal from us. We will no longer tolerate—

They're gone! Fury
shredded my shields, burst into my mind.
What have you done!?

I recovered, pushed back.
I saved them from you—

From us? Vyna is the final sanctuary, you fool. We were saving what little's left.
Tarerea Vyna covered her face with her hands.

Can you not hear the screams of the world?

S
AVE
THOSE YOU CAN.

The order came with a locate and an
urgency
that numbed Barac even as he obeyed, gathering those he wanted with a quick
summons.

What's going on?
Ruti hadn't wanted to stay behind. Now she crowded close, Jacqui hovering behind. There were other groups forming. Other questions.

A figure formed in their midst, spun with a curse, then stopped, hands at his sides. Morgan.

Alone.

“The Oud have attacked the remaining Clans,” he told them, his voice unrecognizable, eyes blazing. “We'll save those we can.”

Sira's words, Barac thought, even as he nodded with the rest.

“Go.”

Barac formed the locate and
pushed . . .

. . . finding himself in a long wooden building. The floor was tilted, tables and benches having slid to one end, and he braced himself against the nearest wall, seeing the other M'hiray do the same. Lamps—glows—illuminated shocked faces, haunted eyes. Om'ray.

And the glint of metal. An ax. A pot. “You can't have our children!”

“We're not Vyna,” the First Scout said quickly. “We're here to save everyone.” The building moaned, a sound Barac sincerely hoped he never heard again. Dirt began pouring in, through the windows, through what had been doors. “Trust us or die here.”

“We can get you to Sona,” Destin urged.

They came forward, coughing, choking. Three held children. Another an armful of—coats? Barac didn't care what they carried, he wanted to be out of here. “Take them.”

Tle nodded, put her hand on the nearest and
disappeared.
She was back for the next before Degal left with his, this time taking two.

Power she had.

Barac turned. “Where are the rest?”

Destin held out an empty hand. “Amna's gone.”

The floor cracked beneath their feet. Barac lunged for the Sona Scout, concentrating with desperate speed even as the floor opened . . .

. . . and Oud burst through.

T
HIS
WAY.

Holding a child's hand, I walked through a nightmare. This—this had been a grove, like Sona's.

Until the Oud had sucked it dry, then plowed it under. What had been rastis lay shattered, so many sticks caught and tossed. The air was thick with dust and acrid, burning my lungs, and everywhere, hands or feet or the faint shine of hair—

Don't be sad,
Andi told me, her mind voice
peaceful
.
They aren't gone. I still hear them.

Try not to listen, little one,
Aryl advised.

Advice I did my best to take. The M'hir was a cacophony of horror, the Watchers howling names, ghosts trying to reclaim them, the fading echoes of lives. How Andi could bear the
sound
was beyond my understanding.

How she remained untouched? I could only be grateful. I needed her Talent. Those left—

There are,
she assured me.
This way.

Had the ground been soft, we couldn't have moved. As it was, we were forced to walk between mounds twice my height and horrifying in their regularity. How anyone could have survived—

Here.

She'd stopped, so I did, though I saw nothing.
Where?

Here
. Andi pulled free, dropping to her knees, and began to dig. She paused and looked up at me, her eyes somber.
You'll have to help. They're a long way down.

Because, I realized with a lurch under my heart, the Oud had buried the Cloisters.

I'll help.
Picking up the child, I opened my awareness—

Then
reached.

Hoping to find more than the dead.

T
HE
STENCH OF DEATH
masked all other scents, but it was the silence Morgan noticed most. Not a whisper of air stirred the leaves or cooled his face. Whatever could fly had already left. What lived in the trees was hiding or gone. He gripped the railing with both hands, knuckles white, and wondered how long a forest took to die.

The water had gone first, stolen before dawn. The black muck left behind had squirmed with the desperate and dying for hours. Nothing moved now.

He supposed he should be comforted that the Tikitiks' Makers hadn't rained fire upon the planet. Yet.

Other, smaller, hands appeared, gripping the rail beside his, and the Human closed his eyes in relief. “You're back.”

“Twenty from Tuana, thanks to Andi.” Sira's voice had a ragged edge. Rage, that was, not exhaustion. He didn't know if the Vyna had given her the locates for the remaining Clans or if she'd ripped them from their minds.

She'd sent him back first. Ripped, then.

“Barac brought nine from Amna,” he told her. “And some coats.”

Coats?!

His sense of Aryl faded after that outburst. “Is she all right?”

Sira sighed and leaned into him. “As right as anyone. The Vyna didn't exaggerate. The Oud have devastated every Clan but theirs.”

“And Sona's next.” The rastis had folded their fronds to preserve moisture; so doing only served to let the sun through to evaporate what water remained and bake the mud-coated corpses. He nudged her gently. “Look.”

A solitary esans stood at a distance, striped in sun and shadow, its rider sitting astride. Morgan couldn't see who it was.

He didn't need to. On impulse, he raised his hand.

As if in answer, the beast gave its shuddering shriek, then turned and walked away.

“Thought Traveler has the right idea,” he said after a moment. “This is no place to be, Sira.” They'd saved all they could of those willing to be saved, the Vyna confident in their sanctuary. A sanctuary too small and rumn-infested to offer hope to anyone who didn't want to be a “servant.” “So, chit. Here we go again. Where do we 'port?”

Her pause had a little too much
thinking
in it for his comfort. Morgan turned, taking Sira's hands in his. “You did hear me. We might as well leave sooner than later.”

She looked up, an unexpected gleam in her eyes. “It's a starship.”

“You can't be—” serious, but he didn't finish. Of course she was, so he made himself think out loud. “A starship half buried in muck and dead swarm bits. A starship with no power source. A starship older than the Trade Pact. Need I go on?”

“You
pushed
the
Fox
through the M'hir.”

To save her life, at the cost of—taking that determined chin in his fingers, he tilted her face to look up. “This is bigger. And yes, in this case, that matters.”

She kept looking up, her nose wrinkled. “Came here, so it's flown before.”

“Not necessarily. Could have been dropped from orbit like lifepods.” Morgan shook his head. “Sira, I'm the first to believe you can do the impossible, but we don't even have a manual for the thing.”

She lowered her gaze to meet his. “Say that again.”

“We don't know how it works—”

“That's not what you said.” The gleam in her eyes had become a glow. “You said a manual. I know who—what to ask. The ship!”

He shouldn't encourage her. Any delay—still. Morgan looked up. The petalled walls, the shaping. A beautiful design.

Once. “Lifepods aren't intended to go back into space on their own.”

“The ship told me the Om'ray were supposed to go home. What if that's the conclusion to the experiment—the finale to all of this? We just go home.”

“In this.”

“Why not this? It's tech.” She glanced up again, making a face. “Okay, it's big, but it's still a machine. What we've seen of it so far works. Maybe all it needs is—us!” Her hair lifted in a cloud.

“Promise me—” what? To consult, to waste time, to—“I'm coming with you.”

That smile he loved, then the dying jungle disappeared . . .

Replaced by the Dream Chamber.