Rift in the Sky

That was only the beginning. The buildings here, for they were true buildings, were a blend of many different plants somehow convinced to grow together without choking. She’d seen sweetberry vines growing in polite rows, recognized flowers that opened to glow through truenight, but here arranged to form symbols, even small round balls of tasty plethis—a scarce find in the canopy—in easy-to-harvest clusters.

Costa would have loved this place.

As for the life that ran, crawled, or scurried everywhere? This was more than a bargain to carry a rider or provide blood. This was technology, every bit as impressive as the Strangers’, if not more so. The plants were meticulously cared for, not by Tikitik but by a host of crawlers and biters. Some were familiar, normally fond of Om’ray flesh. Some were rare, in her experience, or ate one another. Here they worked together, gathered to a purpose other than their own survival.

For all Thought Traveler’s talk of will, here theirs was imposed on everything else.

What did that mean for Om’ray?

The world moved around them, the world as she could feel

it. An unChosen made the journey from Rayna to Amna. She wondered what he thought, sensing Om’ray where no Om’ray should be, and wished him a safe Passage.

Shadows crept over the esasks, dulled the reflections in two of Thought Traveler’s eyes. No chill yet, as there would be in the mountains. Anaj slept. Naryn and Enris argued silently about how best to improve their dam. At some point, this involved building small dams in the mud to make some point.

Before today, she’d accepted there’d be no more than cold courtesy between the two closest to her heart, for Naryn was that. Oh, she loved her family, had close friendships within the Sona, but Naryn . . . ? They were of a kind. If things had been different, they’d be heart-kin. If her Chosen hadn’t good reason to despise her friend . . .

At this rate, maybe they’d all eat at the same table one day.

Fool! You wouldn’t know a good idea if it cracked your thick skull!

One day.

Aryl hid her amusement and watched Thought Traveler.

Had it shifted?

She braced herself, knowing the not-Om’ray quickness of its kind. Stiff, she’d be slower than usual, though she’d tried to flex what muscles she could.

But Thought Traveler merely swiveled its eyes to the esask, took a leisurely step as if it hadn’t stood motionless for the better part of an afternoon, and smacked the first leg. The tall creature shuddered awake, then bent all six knees until its belly touched the muddy water. The Tikitik gracefully stepped on a knee, grabbed a handful of hair, and swung itself astride. A smack on the neck and the esask thrust itself up and began to walk upstream after its fellows.

The remaining three esask, now awake and seeing themselves left behind, pounded the water to a froth. But when Aryl smacked the leg of the nearest, it crouched quickly and waited, as if relieved she’d come to her senses. “See that?” she asked Enris.

He laughed. “I thought everyone knew that trick.”

Congratulations, Speaker.

The game’s not over. Aryl stepped on the esask’s knee and lifted her leg over its back, settling on the hair.

Anaj’s reply chilled her to the bone.

It could have been.

Unlike the lumbering osst she remembered all too well, the esask glided along the stream, the lift of its legs barely perceptible to a rider. Easy to see why they were effective predators, Aryl thought. The head was in constant motion. This close, she could see the short stiff hairs on its neck were as well. If they were hairs. Every so often, they went still for a moment, then rippled in perfect order from snout to body, like the many small limbs of an Oud.

Curious, she wanted to touch them; she didn’t, and warned the others. These were somehow sensitive to something other than light, making the esask a predator of truenight as well.

As if truenight needed more.

The esasks set their order. Hers quickly caught up to Thought Traveler’s and persisted in staying alongside. Enris followed, Naryn’s trailing behind his where she couldn’t see her. Naryn felt confident. The substantial body hair, however uncomfortable against bare skin, did offer a good grip; the creatures moved smoothly. The water in the stream’s midst came no higher than their scaled bellies.

Nonetheless, a fall from even this low height—

You call this “low?!”

I call this prying. But she smiled to herself. Do you think she’s all right?