by Melissa Mead
"He'll never come out for Humans,” said Miska. “And he's very good at hiding, even from people who know him."
"Just for a few weeks,” said Doria.
* * * *
After three days of restraint, her patience came to an end. “I can't just give up,” she complained to Lindi. She lay on the mossy green carpet of “her” bedroom, kicking impatiently, while Lindi sat on the bed. “Elder Doria means well, I know. But I have a responsibility to Kimo."
"Vedi Sharanis would send word, if the Temple found him,” Lindi offered.
"They won't find him. No human can find a Kankenni who doesn't wish to be found."
"We'll have a chance to look for him soon. New Light's in a few weeks. Everyone comes to that. They ring the Temple bells, and there are fireworks, and a feast—he'll never be able to resist that!"
"A few weeks is too long!” Miska snapped. “If the Steel Thorns haven't already found him, they will soon.” She twisted her pale yellow ribbon tight around her finger. “An Elder could simply Worldwalk to look for him. But I'm not an Elder.” She smiled wryly. “I'm not even really good at it."
"Can't we find him with magic? Real magic, not just tricks. I'll help you. Teach me real magic. Please,” Lindi begged.
"Magic. That's another of those words that Doddi Jakki used that I never understood. He tried to explain it once, but it sounded like it meant being able to do something impossible."
"Well, yes."
"If it was impossible, we couldn't do it. Worldwalking isn't magic, any more than swimming, or flying if you're a bird, or seeing in the dark if you're a cat. Humans can't do it because they can't see Motes, or the place they come from."
"I'm human, and I can see them. I can't ‘Worldwalk’ because I don't know how. And I don't know how,” Lindi persisted with deliberate emphasis, “because you won't teach me anything!” She stood with fists on her hips, pouting.
"You look like Kimo, now."
"Good! I'll be more likely to recognize him."
Despite herself, Miska laughed.
"If you really want me to teach you, there's much you'll have to learn."
"I'm a fast learner,” Lindi said.
* * * *
She was a fast learner. Every day Miska taught Lindi a little more of what she knew of Motes and Worldwalking. How to draw Mote-pictures in the air, how to shape the fire into dancing nymphs. Children's games, still. Every lesson made Miska more aware of her own limitations. Lindi begged and pleaded to enter the Second World itself, but Miska shrank from the thought. She remembered falling away from Naneri's body ... Kimo's hand slipping from hers...
"No,” she said, again and again. “I don't know how long a Human can Worldwalk without getting lost. You might stay too long."
But Lindi was not to be put off.
"New Light's coming,” she urged. “And Kimo's still missing."
Miska tried to imagine Kimo in this house. She imagined him sliding down the curving banisters of the front staircase, and laughed. Then she envisioned the boy in the Market, stealing, offering nothing in trade, stirring up the old stories of “thieving Imps,” leading the Steel Thorns back to the Caverns. If she didn't find him first ... Two Worldwalkers could find Kimo much more quickly than one.
So the serious lessons began. How to use Motes to sharpen one's own senses. How to change the appearance of a thing. How to recognize paths within the Second World. Everything but how to cross the border.
* * * *
"So what does happen if you stay in the Second World too long?"
They sprawled on the library rug, staring into the glowing fireplace. Outside, a bitter early spring rain, still half sleet, spattered against the windows.
Miska shrugged. “No one really knows. Your solid body disappears. Sometimes, in the Second World, you can hear voices. Maybe those are the voices of Kankenni who stayed too long. Our Elder who studies Motes thinks that, because all the Second World is made of thoughts and feelings, and Motes, that maybe you become part of somebody else's images.” She shifted position, and glanced out the window. “I hope Kimo is someplace with a fire."
Lindi looked thoughtful. “My Family Record says that I had a great, great—well, I forget how many ‘great's—grandmother who always heard singing, even when she was alone.” Lindi looked at the floor. “The Majestra's Council disbarred her, and she locked herself in her house. One day she just disappeared. It doesn't say where. Do you suppose she Worldwalked?"
"It would explain much,” Miska agreed.
"I wouldn't stay too long.” Lindi nodded, positive.
Miska felt again the sickening wrench that tore Kimo's hand from hers, said nothing.
Doria marched into the room, looking exasperated. “I was right. Elle Foster can never leave well enough alone. Those dresses have been finished for days, but she wants to know how soon Miska can come in for a ‘proper’ fitting. Perfectionism is all very well, but at this rate by the time you get those dresses...” She shrugged. “I've been telling her you've been ill and can't travel, but that excuse is wearing thin."
"But I'm not!” Miska exclaimed. Doria looked startled. “The Kankenni do not lie.” She caught Doria's alarmed expression, and softened her tone. “Oh ... We may tell half-truths. Quarter-truths, if necessary. But Humans are telling too many wrong stories already. Look at what they said about Gerun and ‘Imps'! The Kankenni are not ‘Imps'. And I'm not truly your niece, either."
Doria was not to be put off. “Is this boy you're looking for literally your cousin?"
"I'm his father's fourth cousin of the sixth generation, by Secondary Custom,” Miska retorted promptly.
Doria looked baffled, but only hesitated for a moment. “Secondary Custom? Well, it's my custom to make guests feel at home. So you are hereby part of our family for as long as you stay in our home. And so is this boy."
Did this Human woman realize what she was offering? Miska didn't think so.
"He's a very ... difficult boy,” she protested.
Doria smiled. “I'm sure he can't be that impossible."
Miska, remembering the boy's furious face in the orange-blue light of the Deepest Cavern, shook her head. Lindi looked grim.
Doria watched them both thoughtfully. “You can't keep wearing hand-me-downs, Miska."
"I always have, Elder Doria,” she returned with a smile.
Doria shook her head. “I'll talk to Miss Foster myself, right now. She'll take some convincing. I may be a while. Keep Aldinan out of trouble, girls.” Aldinan, already comfortably ensconced in a plush wing chair and with a book on his knee, looked up and winked. Doria exchanged smiles with her husband and left.
The sky outside the window loomed as gray as a Steel Thorn's cloak. For a few minutes, Miska watched branches scratch at the window, as though trying to claw their way into the warm, fire-lit room. Aldinan looked quizzically at her.
"Homesick, Miska?” he asked gently.
"No! Well, not mostly.” She took a deep breath. “Lindi, shall we show your uncle what you've been learning?"
"Now? Really?” Lindi jumped up. “Watch, Uncle Aldi!"
Despite her worries, Miska had to smile. Lindi's Mote-pictures had shape, but no color. When she tried to draw on an egg, it shattered. Still, the Elders would never have believed that a Human could do such things at all. And when Miska added her own color to Lindi's Mote-picture of the Harbor seen from their favorite park, she had to admit that the result was better than either of them could have done alone.
Aldinan applauded. “Very nice, girls!"
Miska hesitated a moment. “Lindi, I think it's time for another lesson."
She reached into a pocket and brought out the cloth that had wrapped the tiny arm of Illyana's baby. Its pale green color had faded to the shade of old paper, but it still sparkled with a dusting of Motes. “We'll need this."
"How pretty!” exclaimed Lindi.
"It's just a rag,” Aldinan protested, squinting.
"Not to Lindi
and I!” Miska laughed. “Perhaps we're closer cousins than any of us realized.” She shook the cloth until it turned a suitable charcoal color.
"I liked it better the other way—but it's still sparkly.” Lindi practically shook with anticipation. “What are you going to do with it now?"
"Rip it into little pieces.” Gripping the edges of the cloth, she tore it into long, thin strips while the humans watched, aghast.
"What did you do that for?” Lindi demanded.
Miska drew the soft cloth through her hands until the ragged edges smoothed themselves.
"If you're going to learn to Worldwalk, you should have a ribbon, the same as any child who's just learning."
"Child! I should be sitting in on the Majestra's Council by now. Only I kept seeing double, because of the Motes, and then I had a spell in the middle of the Mercantile Pavilion, so everyone thought I was ... tipsy.” Lindi turned her face away.
"Don't your people have Historians any more?” Miska frowned. “Doddi Jakki knew stories of the Kankenni. Even if most of them were wrong, he knew a little. He knew that any Kankenni is considered a child until she can Worldwalk alone. He recognized the look of someone watching Motes, even though he couldn't see them himself."
"'Imp-shot', my uncle called that look,” Aldinan put in. Miska frowned.
"That's an insult, Elder Aldinan,” she scolded him gently.
"I'm going to walk into another world? By myself?” Lindi squeaked.
"Not by yourself! Today you'll do the first thing a child would do, once they got beyond games."
"Oh, I know! Fire! In all the Fey-stories, the first thing the apprentice learns is how to call forth ‘mystic flames from the ether'. Is that how you cooked the eggs?"
"Hey now, I don't want you and Lindi starting fires on the carpet,” Aldinan warned. “What eggs? And where are you walking to? Don't go running off, now."
Miska stared, incredulous. “Fire? We'd have five-year-old children toddling about setting each other alight. No, remember what I did with the Temple dress? How it turned blue? I'll show you how to do something like that."
"Oh."
"Sounds like fun.” Aldinan leaned back in his chair.
"First, Lindi, say the list of rules one more time."
It was a very long list. Halfway through, Aldinan fell asleep with his book open on his knee.
"Now can we do real magic?” Lindi complained at last. “I've said this list so many times, I'm getting a headache."
"There is no such...” Miska shrugged. “No matter. Now that the Motes have gotten your attention, it's your turn to catch theirs.” She grinned. “This is just like one of the very, very old Histories, when the Kankenni taught all their arts to Humans."
"What arts? In all the stories the sailors told, when I came North, Imps just played tricks on people, and stole ... oh, I didn't mean you!"
"I never thought about it before,” said Miska, thin-lipped, “but the stories don't say why the Ancestors bothered trying to teach Humans anything. Unless it was for the same reason you teach a cat not to jump up on a lit hearth—so it doesn't set you afire too because it's too foolish not to burn itself."
"I'm sorry. Really."
Miska shook her head, hiding a half smile. It really was hard to remember, sometimes, that this tall, prideful girl was nearly as much of a child as Kimo.
"Remember, if you aren't careful in the Second World, you could lose yourself. It's not like the Solid World, where things stay the same from one moment to the next. It's a reflection of your mind—yours and that of anyone else who's nearby."
"I know my own mind,” Lindi scoffed.
"Having a mind of your own isn't the same thing. In some ways, that makes it harder. Shall we try?"
"Yes! Let me wake Uncle Aldi."
"It might be better if you don't. Doddi Jakki was always a little frightened when I Worldwalked, because he couldn't see the Motes. Elder Aldinan might be too."
Lindi, too excited to protest, only pouted a little.
"Let me braid the ribbon into your hair. You'll have to take the flowers out first."
Lindi removed her elegant headdress, and let Miska replace it with the dark, Mote-studded cloth.
"You'll change the color of that ribbon. It's the first thing a Kankenni child learns. There are different colors, and the more you learn, the brighter they get, and the more you can wear. It's bragging to wear more than three at once, though. Unless you're an Elder."
"I'd like a purple one,” said Lindi.
"You don't get to choose. The first one almost always comes up yellow—that's the color for Motes, and Worldwalking in general. The second and third ... Most often the second's the color of your Mentor's specialty—the Elder who teaches you after you turn ten. I wanted to wear red like the P'raptoi.” Miska sighed.
'What's a P-ha ... what you said?” Lindi asked.
"P'raptoi. That means ‘Door-hawks'—the ones who guard our home and go between the Kankenni and Humans. My Doddi Jakki was Human. Everyone thought, with all he taught me, I'd naturally wear red.” Miska flipped the tasseled end of her braid over her shoulder, showing the ribbons to Lindi. “My first ribbon was yellow. The brown was for our Master Historian. She starved a few Barren Seasons ago.” Miska stroked the ribbon gently. “She never did finish teaching me."
Lindi's eyes grew wide with shock. Miska shook herself out of her reverie and pointed to the green ribbon. “This is the color of our Master Healer. I wish she'd been there for Lila. And Juliar."
"So who has red?” Lindi wanted to know. “Why didn't you study with them?"
"There is no Elder P'raptoi. Seven of the Elders have died, and no one's wise enough to take their place. Most died of hunger, recently—each Barren Season strikes a little harder.” Miska hesitated. “The last Elder P'raptoi disappeared when I was young. He went away, with my grandfather. No one talks about it, but Sav ... my first Mentor taught me that he came here, to this city, hoping to trade for more food. The little villages had none to spare, you see. Some of the other Elders believe that my ... that a Human killed him."
"Who? Why? That's horrible!"
"No one knows. She said the Elders saw something in the Mirror—oh, you wouldn't understand the Mirror, yet—but the other Elders were watching him the whole time. They know he arrived—they saw tables and things like Humans have. They saw Humans approach him. Then he just ... vanished. No one ever saw him again."
"How can anyone ‘just vanish'? Was he Worldwalking?” Lindi protested.
Miska shook her head. “I don't know. The Elders—most of them—thought it was my Doddi Jakki's fault somehow—because he was the last one to see ... ‘Bobcat,’ we called him. The Elders wouldn't let any of my family become P'raptoi afterward."
"Well, you're one now. You're here. That makes you a go-between, right?"
Miska smiled. “It's not the same thing. But I thank you. Let's see if you can get the Motes to give you a yellow ribbon."
Aldinan shifted in his chair, snoring a little. Miska looked at him for a moment, wondering uneasily if she really ought to take his niece between worlds. She could see clearly, despite what Lindi said, that they thought her slightly, harmlessly mad. Her “magic tricks” amused Lindi, and if they didn't understand quite how she did them, well, that was all part of the fun. But Worldwalking...
"Show me again what Kimo looks like, so I'll know if I see him in the Second World,” Lindi prompted.
"We'll change your ribbon from here, like I did the rock,” Miska decided. “I'd never heard of anyone trying that before, but it did work."
"But I wanted..."
"It's because I lost Kimo that I ended up here,” Miska reminded her. “I can't lose you too. Perhaps later."
"But...” Lindi bit her lip.
"Will you try?"
Lindi sighed. “All right."
Unconsciously mimicking Midyora's teaching pose, Miska clasped her hands behind her back and paced. “Remember, ribbon-changing has to be
done alone. I can tell you what to do, but you have to do it yourself. First, call as many Motes as you can, without whistling.” Miska watched with growing pride as Lindi stood on the hearth-rug and called a nimbus of Motes around her head.
"I see them! Look at them all!” Lindi called in a breathless whisper.
"Well done! Now, call them to change, the way I told you before."
She tried. Miska could see that. Her face contorted with effort. But nothing happened. The Motes drifted aimlessly, and began to dissipate.
"What am I doing wrong?” Lindi wailed.
"Nothing that I can see. Maybe humans can see Motes, but nothing more.” Or maybe, she thought miserably, Lindi could learn if she had “someone really good at it” to teach her, instead of me.
"I'll bet it's because we aren't in your Second World, where the Motes live.” Lindi nodded positively. “Take me there. I'll bet I can do it there."
It made sense, Miska had to admit. “But, your aunt and uncle..."
"They brought you here to help me learn about the Motes. If we don't try this, you won't be helping. And you promised to help."
"But they..."
"They'll send you back to the Temple.” Lindi did not quite meet her eyes. “They won't help you find Kimo, either."
Miska shook with anger. “Kimo's a boy, a child. You'd abandon him? You'd let those Steel Thorns take him?"
"I've never met him. Maybe he doesn't even exist. You probably made him up, you and Juliar, just so you could get out of Temple service."
Too furious to speak, Miska grabbed Lindi's hand and dragged her from one world to the next.
As soon as they crossed the border, Miska felt her anger drain away, replaced with shame. Earth and sky alike were stained crimson, punctuated with violent lightning. Lindi stood crouched and shivering with shock. Miska felt as though she'd plunged a kitten into a bucket of ice water.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Come back, and we'll try again."
Even back safely, before the crackling fire, it was a few moments before Lindi calmed down. Aldinan still dozed in his chair.
"I'm scared,” Lindi whispered.
