Rift in the Sky

“Aryl,” the Human pleaded. “Not safe!”

Her grin faded. “Did you think we were friends only when it was?”

Marcus stared desperately at the screens. A muscle jumped along his jaw. She waited.

“Promise to stay in aircar, no matter what,” he said finally, not looking at her. “ ’Port away if I say so. Promise.”

She’d do no such thing.

When she didn’t answer, a glance assessed her expression, then the Human sighed. He dug into a pocket, brought out a small disk she’d seen it before, the one that held images of his family. He handed it to her. “Keep this safe for me. Promise that?”

As a trick, it wasn’t up to his usual standard. Aryl took the image disk and put it in a pocket. “What I promise is to give it back when we’re all safe.”

“Stubborn,” he commented, but almost smiled.

Behind them, Enris chuckled.

The Lake of Fire took its name from strange clouds, like curls of smoke, that often rose from its still surface. Aryl pressed her nose to the now-transparent side of the aircar but could see only one. She’d meant to ask Marcus if the Strangers knew what caused the smoke, if it was something to do with the structures beneath the surface.

Today wasn’t the time for curiosity.

Marcus wouldn’t talk to her, busy with the controls when he wasn’t staring at the small screens as if their flow of color and symbol offered some final hope. She’d seen him afraid for his life, but this was different.

Odd. The solitary curl of smoke was taller and darker than those she remembered. “Marcus?”

He lifted his head and looked out. “Site One,” Marcus announced grimly, his face set in unfamiliar lines.

Meaning the smoke was from the Strangers’ platform over the underwater ruins, where Marcus and his Triad had been working when she’d first met them. The aircar veered toward the nearer shore.

If the buildings were still on fire, why was he heading away? For their safety? “Don’t worry about us,” Aryl said quickly. “We’ll help. Go back!”

Marcus tapped the small screen. “No one to help,” he said. “No lifesign.”

Enris got to his feet, loomed between Marcus and Aryl. “Who did this?”

The Human looked up. “No proof who. Could be accident, malfunction. Artrul—her Triad. Evacuationprotocol. Means they go to Site Two. Damaged tower. Local coms down, that’s all. Confusion.” A too-casual shrug. “See? Take you home now.”

He tried to get rid of them again. “Site Two,” she insisted. It lay a ridge beyond Grona.

“Not safe.”

Now the truth, or some of it. “What is?” Aryl said gently. “You waste time arguing, Marcus.”

At last, the hint of a smile in his eyes. “I should know better by now.” He slumped in his seat. “Stubborn Om’ray.” One finger pushed a button and the aircar shot forward, faster than Aryl had known it could go. “Sit.” This to Enris, who put his hand on the Human’s shoulder and squeezed gently before returning to the bench.

Naryn closed her eyes and put her head back, hair fretting across her shoulders. This flight wasn’t going to improve her opinion of Marcus Bowman or his kind.

Aryl checked her longknife.

For all the good it might do against what could bring fire down in the midst of a lake.

They flew over the canopy. Over Yena, her inner sense told her. Aryl kept her shields tight and felt the others do the same. Taisal could have reached through the M’hir, demanded an explanation; that her mother ignored their passing overhead was one less worry.

Eyes fixed to his screens, Marcus ignored the view. They were higher this time. Higher than wastryls flew or wings could rise on the M’hir. Higher and faster. Without her inner sense to give her perspective, she wouldn’t have recognized the Sarc grove, or spotted the ring of old rastis that surrounded the Cloisters.

How high could they go, she wondered, before they reached the end of the sky?

Site Two was carved into the side of a mountain ridge. Though Aryl had only seen it in truenight, the Strangers had stuck glows everywhere, turning the darkness to day. Easy to remember the long sharp ledge where they landed their machines—she trusted Marcus was capable of landing this one there—then the short walk up a slope to a second, higher ledge where the Strangers had set up camp using the same plain white constructions as at Sona. Why? Because here they’d dug into the mountain itself. They’d freed a series of massive structures, exposing them once more to light and air. She’d had the barest glimpse at the time, busy planning to escape with Enris, but the buildings had been like those under the Lake of Fire, smooth curves and unfamiliar angles. Perfect, undamaged. Not like the ruins of Sona.

The Hoveny Concentrix.

The Strangers had made a discovery. Something important enough to draw Marcus and his Triad—and her—here.

“Marcus, what did they find? At Site Two.”

He gave her a bemused look, as if this was the last thing he’d expected. For a moment she thought he’d evade the question, as he most often did when it concerned his work, then he replied, “A door.”