Rift in the Sky

Games. With a resigned disgust that made Enris smile. I hate games. Aloud, “These are esask.” As she might have said “rastis” or “dresel” or any other word that meant more to Yena than anyone else on Cersi. “Young ones. I think.”

Young? Something as tall as two Om’ray?

Like the esan, these had six legs and narrow bodies, with heads carried low on a curved neck. The head boasted the same four large eyes, but the nostrils were wide and open and there were two curves in the neck, the first lumpy.

Fed, he hoped.

Only the upper half of the body was covered in hair: thick, shaggy, and pale brown; the rest, including the legs, bore heavy black scales. A short brush of stiff hair followed the neck, to end at the snout. One esask yawned, displaying twin rows of needle teeth.

The heads of those waiting moved restlessly from side to side. Others passed, going upstream, disappearing around more branches and foliage. They had riders.

Thought Travelers.

The Tikitik sat astride, their thin legs dangling. They paid no overt attention to the three Om’ray, though they hissed at one another. If it was conversation, one guess, Enris decided, about the topic.

“His” Thought Traveler appeared perfectly content to stand on the shore and be passed by.

As was Aryl. All she said to it was: “I will wait for you.” I’m sorry, Enris, Naryn. Anaj. Patience. I ask your patience. This could—a hint of irony

—take a while.

What’s she up to? Anaj, a hint of frantic in her voice.

She didn’t know them, Enris reminded himself. She had nothing to trust. Aryl is Sona’s Speaker, but she’s of Yena. She’s dealt with both Oud and Tikitik before. She won’t let us come to harm.

He eyed the tall, narrow esask and sighed inwardly.

Of course, insisting on the uncomfortable and terrifying wouldn’t bother Aryl di Sarc at all.

Chapter 7

THE ESASK POUNDED ITS FOOT into the water, splashing the backs of her legs. They could move silently; this was a display, of temper or warning. Or both. Aryl didn’t react, her eyes on the Thought Traveler who’d brought them to “lunch” and then followed them here. She was gaining a feel for this place and its rules, enough to test it. The Tikitik wouldn’t impede her movements; they wouldn’t direct them. As usual, they waited to see what others would do.

To some consequence. That, she didn’t doubt. It had goaded Enris, possibly to discover the extent of Om’ray self-control. Had that sparked his dispute with Naryn? UnChosen Yena who clung to anger were put on a branch to resolve their differences. Maybe this was the Tuana version. She’d kept her distance. They weren’t shouting anymore, at least.

The impatient esask was part of the Tikitik’s game, there to take them wherever they must go next. She could easily scale its side; so could Thought Traveler, his kind being marvelous climbers. Naryn, unlikely. Enris, with his greater bulk? He’d likely pull the poor creature’s hair out trying.

The esask she’d seen before knew to crouch for a rider to dismount or mount. What signaled this convenient cooperation was a Tikitik secret. So. Wait. Watch. Without looking away from Thought Traveler, not even to feast her eyes on Enris or check on Naryn, already weary. If it wanted a contest of will, Aryl smiled to herself, she was ready.

Child, do you know what you’re doing?

No.

That set the Old Adept back for an instant, but only an instant. Are you a fool?

Sometimes. Not this time, she sent, keeping it private as the other did. Power granted such fine touch. It waits for me to break the rule here, to ask a question. Or to abandon you. It tests my resolve. The Tikitik were Sona when you were its Speaker, Anaj. You know them. Can I afford to appear weaker?