Rift in the Sky

The esasks had brought them out of Tikitna to the sand; they’d refused to step on it. From this vantage point, the Tikitik village—she could use a word for something much more imposing—looked like any dense, wild growth. Another name she needed, Aryl pondered, was for the plants they used for their construction. Not nekis. Not rastis. Something that willingly grew strong, thick, and twisted, with roots drowned in bitter water. She’d learned so much today.

Not least, that rock hunters were Oud young. Haxel would love it, Aryl grinned to herself. The canopy crawled with creatures whose offspring looked nothing like them, as well as parents who abandoned the next generation to fend for themselves. To be fair, the Oud did do something for their young. The adults had done their best to dry out Sona’s valley and argued with her to keep it that way.

Though since their young killed Om’ray without concern, well, Om’ray would continue to return the favor.

Aryl squinted at the sky toward Sona, a more comforting direction than out over the limitless ocean, the direction that mattered. Two tenths until firstnight, she estimated. Three at most. Had they left for Vyna only this morning? It felt, she decided with another stretch, more like a fist.

“It won’t be much longer,” she assured Enris. “He’ll answer.” And he would. The sun rose every morning; the Human wouldn’t fail her. His gift, the geoscanner, was on her lap. Silent as yet. She’d pressed the control as Marcus had shown her, said the special words he’d given her if she needed his help: “Two. Howard. Five

.” Howard was his son. She’d seen a recording of him, tall for a child, as well as images of the rest of the Human’s family: a daughter, Karina, little more than a baby. Kelly of the long red hair. His Chosen. Cindy, his sister, with a pleasant smile. Family he’d left to work here; kept close using his clever devices.

Devices that included an aircar. Much better, Aryl thought cheerfully, than walking across most of Cersi and around the Lake of Fire.

“At least we shouldn’t have to worry about Anaj’s reaction. Since her view is of the inside of Naryn’s belly.”

Aryl poked a finger into his ribs, unerringly finding the spot to make him squirm. “A little respect for the Old One, if you please.”

Enris peered at her over his arm. “You know I’m right. The best way to cope with our not-Om’ray friend is not see him in the first place.” Inwardly. Relax. You know the instant we’re back, Haxel will have us in the fields. After, this with a glee

that burst through her very bones, we can play ’port and seek all we want without breaking the Agreement. I may not walk anywhere again.

He lifted his arm; she came close but instead of curling at his side, Aryl propped herself with elbows on his broad chest and stared down at him. “This doesn’t mean we can be careless. The Strangers—”

A sandy finger crossed her lips. “I insist. Celebrate. You’ve accomplished a greater understanding of our world than any Om’ray before you. You’ve made us safe! Can you never just enjoy a triumph?”

They never came this easy, Aryl thought, but only to herself. Her Chosen was right; this was a moment for joy, not worry. “Of course I can—”

“Aryl? Aryl? Aryl?” Her name erupted from the device now resting in the sand.

They both lunged for it, ending in a tangle that otherwise Aryl would have relished. “I’ll answer,” she told her overeager Chosen firmly, and sat up. Grinning, Enris leaned on his bent arm to watch.

There was another button to be pressed, so. “Yes. It’s Aryl, Marcus,” she said. Awkward, giving her name to the device. “We need your help to get home. We—”

“Where—Never mind, I’ve locked your coordinates.” He was distracted; she could hear it in his voice. “Turn off the ’scanner and stay where you are. I’m almost there.”

He was?

The device’s clear dome covered its array of tiny glowing parts. Staring at it did nothing to ease her disquiet.

“Almost here?” she echoed. “Why?”

“Turn off the ’scanner. Bowman out.”

Aryl did as he demanded; the lights faded, the device lifeless in her hand. She tucked it away carefully. Some Om’ray could taste change about to happen. She could. And did. A thoroughly unreliable sense, giving little more than a vague sense of dread. But she paid attention to any warning in the canopy. And here.

Enris chuckled. “I thought we’d get to laze about till supper at least. Who’d have guessed . . .” His smile faded as he looked at her. He sat up. “What’s wrong?”

The taste of change.