Rift in the Sky

No. Immediate and sure. Never back down from them. Never allow them to ridicule or offend you. They respect determination, when used to a purpose. Something eased between them. I knew a Yena, once. Fierce, like you. Strong. I remember he made a room smaller by being in it. Her sending expanded to the others, became light. You wouldn’t be from Pana, would you, giant Chosen of Sarc? My cousin’s son took Passage there. Big, too. Bit of a dreamer. Good at making things, but always eating.

Sounds right, this from Naryn, bravely trying to keep the conversation going. Her shields were tight.

But Enris and I came from Tuana.

Thought Traveler’s smaller eye cones had begun to track the esasks and riders moving down the river. Aryl didn’t need to look to know they were now fewer, with longer intervals between. The sun beat down on her head. Nice to be warm for a change.

I had a great uncle from Pana, Enris added cheerfully. Chosen by my grandmother’s sister. Dama claimed he ate so much they had to make a new door to the metal shop.

Aryl made a point of shaking her head. To joke about food—sometimes she didn’t understand these Om’ray.

Images, then, from Enris. A very large door, wide to allow a cart full of fragments of green metal scavenged from the Oud, a short ramp into a vat that burned with fuelless flame. The metal, melting, flowing, becoming what was new and useful. The images abruptly stopped. It was a good door.

Despite shields, his grief tolled through her mind.

No more Tuanas, Aryl vowed, no more Clans destroyed. If it took staring at this Tikitik until her legs collapsed under her, so be it. She’d know every bump and knob of its skin soon. Blue-black skin, white spines and cones. Bold, unique coloring. Why? Not for Om’ray benefit. What did it mean to other Tikitik? Importance? Age? Or was it their neutrality, for Thought Travelers insisted they belonged to no faction and spread their news to all. To help Tikitik decide what to avoid, she remembered. To stay away from any course likely to be wrong. A Thought Traveler had told her that.

This one was scarred. Fractures crossed several of the hard knobs. Perhaps old, for its kind. A survivor. The wristbands were of the finest weavings she’d ever seen, as was the sash across its shoulder. Important. Or particular.

There were tiny hairs on the protuberances that obscured its mouth, hairs like those on the backs of her fingers. Sensitive. She’d had such thrust into her mouth to suffocate her into unconsciousness; she’d had them feed her dresel.

Of course, the Tikitik stared back. The large hindmost eyes never left hers. Without eyelids, it didn’t blink, but the eyes themselves rolled back and forth in their sockets, replenishing their moist coating.

Remind me to tell you how beautiful you are.

Aryl smiled, shared it inwardly.

Chosen could do that.

At some point, no more esasks traveled by; their own waiting mounts were sound asleep, lips loose and backs sagged in two places. Enris made a nest of sorts of sticks to keep Naryn out of the mud and took turns sitting with her or pacing where the ground was firmer, careful not to cross Aryl’s line of sight. If there was a will stronger than hers, she thought fondly, it was his. Stubborn, that was her Chosen.

He’d never let her leave alone.

He and Naryn were busier than they looked. Anaj was full of questions. Who were the Sona now? What did they mean, the river had been emptied? Which buildings were rebuilt? Why hadn’t they trimmed the nipet vines to encourage more blossoms? As for rokly, everyone knew it started underground each new season.

And the purple plant was a weed. Naryn laughed out loud at this.

Harder questions; Adept questions. What was the M’hir? How had Om’ray come to use it? How did Yao manage, blind to her own? What were the Lost?

They didn’t tell Anaj about the Strangers or Marcus; they couldn’t help it, Aryl thought. A Speaker, an Adept, an elder—she’d read the awkward gaps, understand there was more to know. Perhaps she waited for a time Aryl wasn’t preoccupied.

Preoccupied. She was that. Tikitna told her there was more to know about the Tikitik than she’d imagined. Their control over beasts was nothing compared to what they could do with plants. The wood here grew as the Tikitik required. It explained the pieces they used to build Yena’s homes, shaped rather than cut.