by Melissa Mead
"Wait!” Miska called, but the doors were already shut. The chevrals leapt away as if stung. Gerun and a knot of his fellows thudded down the street after it.
Without Gerun and the other agitators to stir them up, the rest of the crowd broke up. Men and women who had been purple-faced and screaming moments ago wandered about like a pack of dogs that have chased off their prey and haven't yet scented a new target.
"There's no way Gerun's crowd will catch that carriage,” said Juliar, his jaw tight. “And we stand even less of a chance. Come on—this way, before people remember what they were yelling about."
Miska looked at him, then at Lindi, still wobbly. Her own ankle smarted. She almost laughed.
"No,” she agreed. “We'd be slower than bats at noon.” She edged toward the side door. “Let's go."
"Go where?” Lindi asked.
"Back to ... well, my room, for now. For a moment. Then I'll Worldwalk. If the P'raptoi are nearby, all together we should be able to make our way home."
"What?” said Lindi and Juliar, in unison.
"I've found Kimo, haven't I? He's just where he's always wanted to be."
"In the lap of luxury,” said Lindi.
"The pink, frilly, perfumed lap of ... oh, for Star's sake, Miska!” Juliar burst out. “You can't just leave!"
"Why not? I have a home. I have friends waiting. I have a betrothed."
"A what?” In the moonlight, Juliar's face looked very, very white.
"A betrothed. A ... oh, your word is fiancé."
"I know what the word means.” He dug the end of his stick into the dirt and stood up with a grunt of pain.
"Are you all right? Shall I see if I can fix your leg again?"
"Don't touch me!” Then, more softly, “I'm fine."
Miska, Lindi and Juliar reached the stone-walled room unmolested. Lindi wandered about, touching the rough walls, glancing out the window. Miska dropped onto the bed, exhausted, and ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. Juliar vanished for several minutes, and came back looking grimly satisfied.
"That takes care of that. Vedi Sharanis will have plenty of questions for you both in the morning, but I convinced her you both need a good night's rest first. So you won't be bothered tonight. And tomorrow, well...” He leaned against the doorframe, staring fixedly into the hallway. Miska looked up at him.
"Is someone coming, Juliar?"
"No."
"Are you certain you're all right?"
"Yes."
"I don't want you to leave.” Lindi frowned, looking very much like Kimo. “It's not fair. “You're my teacher! I thought you'd stay for a long time, and teach me to Worldwalk. You're my friend!"
"You're my friend also, Lindi.” To her surprise, Miska realized that she was sorry she'd never sit in Lindi's green room again, playing Mote-games with the girl. “But I was foolish. Look at what those people nearly did to Kimo. The Elders are right. The Kankenni have to stay out of sight of Humans. I have to go home, so the others will be safe."
Her eyes lit up with a sudden thought. “Take me with you! I'll study with your Elders! They'll teach me to Worldwalk, and I'll ask Mother and Father to send them ... oh, everything! Chocolate and oranges and lemons ... even pepper to put on them, if you'd like."
Miska laughed—a laugh with tears in it.
Is this what you're afraid of, Avoca, Ilion? she thought. People like this? After all, all Humans are the same to you, aren't they?
"What would your Mami and Dadi say, if I did that? If I took their child away from them? ‘Imps steal children'—you've heard it said many times, yes?"
"I'm not a child!"
"But what would they do?” Miska pressed on, and Lindi squirmed. “And your aunt and uncle—they are kind, but they think I'm mad. You've seen it."
"No they don't!” Lindi held up her hands and shook her head. “They ... well ... They like you!"
"And I like them. And they think it's sweet, that you have a friend who can soothe your headaches and amuse you with ‘magic tricks'.” The expression left a sour taste in Miska's mouth. “But what do you think they'd do if I told them I wanted you to follow me on a path they can't see, to where ‘Cantrips’ live? And Lady Myringa can protect Kimo now, but I'd only draw the Steel Thorns to you."
Lindi didn't answer. Miska waited, in sad resignation, as Lindi's expression sobered, and her shoulders drooped.
"What about New Light? Won't you stay for the festival?"
"'I'll bring it to the Citadel'...” Juliar muttered, as though to himself. He rapped the end of his staff against the floor in unconscious rhythm. “What did they mean...?"
Somewhere inside the Temple, a door thudded shut. Muted voices were talking, calling. Little footsteps pattered toward them.
"Juliar? Vedi Sharanis is looking for you.” Lila, back in her gray Temple dress, came around the corner. “Aha! I knew I could find you. Oh, hi, Miska.” She caught sight of Lindi and dropped a quick curtsy. “Hello, Miss Salera. Nurse Dannae's looking for you. You should both come back with me."
"But...” said Lindi.
"Nurse Dannae will be very upset if you don't come, Miss Salera. She's already upset about you going off like that. And Lady Doria and your Uncle—they heard all the noise. They're here, and they're awfully worried. Please."
"Show me where they are. I'll explain everything, and bring them back here. I won't be long, Miska."
"I'll be there in a bit, Runt,” Juliar added. He smiled at the girl, who stuck her tongue out at him. “Tell Vedi Sharanis that I'm on my way back to the Prayer Room. All right?"
Lila nodded, and scurried off, with Lindi in tow.
Juliar watched her go.
"Almost her old self again.” He swallowed. “Thank you, Miska."
"What else would I do?” She smiled at her Human friend.
"They won't believe her, you know. Lindi's aunt and uncle. They'll never believe you just ... went home. They'll think Lindi's had too much excitement, and take her home."
"I know."
"You're being cruel. To Lindi. She'll come back, and you'll be gone."
Miska returned his gaze levelly. “Kimo will tell Lady Myringa that I'm Kankenni. Gossip will spread. That Elders Doria and Aldinan have a Cantrip in their home. That Lindi's having ‘lessons’ that no one can truly explain. Her ‘spells'. How she comes often to the Temple—sometimes in hysterics. The sooner I leave, the better. Because I am her friend."
"I'd follow you, you know.” Juliar looked down at the lion's head on his staff. “On that path, to where the Cantrips live. I know it sounds like a granny's tale, but I believe you."
Miska looked hard at him. A granny's tale. Had Doddi Jakki talked to her grandmother like this, before he followed her to a life underground, away from all his own people? Had he expected to see jeweled palaces?
"You can't do it, Juliar. It's not allowed."
Juliar looked at her, his eyes grave. “If I don't hurry, Vedi Sharanis will send someone for me, and they'll ask us all too many questions.” He paused. “Will you still be here when I come back?"
She shook her head. “I don't know. Wondermaker's Blessings on you, Juliar."
He stood still a long moment. Then he pointed at the forgotten packet on the desk. “Take that with you. Cherry tart. From the kitchen. Not as good as Spensie's, but...” He shrugged. “It should still be good. ‘Bye."
He turned his back on her, and walked away.
Something about the Second World felt familiar—but it didn't feel right. Miska stood in a valley, smooth and rounded at the bottom, with high curved sides. It was like being an insect trapped in a bowl. High above, she could see a circle of blue sky. Wisps of white cloud drifted around the edges of the circle, but none crossed its face. Far away, she heard footsteps crunching through bracken, twigs snapping, and snuffling sounds. Above it all she heard the ki-ki-ki call of a kestrel.
"Abri?” she called.
"Miska!” His voice sounded hawklike, a raptor's shr
ill cry. But if he was wearing the form of a kestrel, why didn't he just fly to her? She could see him now, just the tip of a wing veering toward her, then away, as though he were circling a barrier he didn't know was there.
"I'm down here!"
"Down where, love? There's nothing but grass!"
"Can't you see the hole?” Miska touched the sides. Glass-smooth. Nothing to grab, climb or shimmy up. Not so much as a single rough spot. “It's as big as a storage cavern, but I've never seen stone like this."
"There's nothing but an empty field.” She could hear the frustration in his voice, and her own grew as she watched his wingtip invisibly deflected again and again.
"I can almost see you, love,” she called. “You must be close."
"But there's nothing there!"
It made no sense. The Second World could be unpredictable, but there was always a logic to it.
"That Human girl ... Lindi...” Abri's voice hesitated. “She wouldn't be keeping you from leaving ... would she?"
For just a moment, Miska hesitated. “I don't think she would. She doesn't want me to leave, but I don't think ... even if she wanted to, I don't think she could.” She shook off the thought. “Are the P'raptoi truly in the city?"
"Only me, now. Marki, Ama, Jen-li and Van barely got into the city before the Elders ... stopped them.” He hesitated a moment, as though he'd started to say something and changed him mind. “Well, Ilion and Avoca stopped them. Midyora was helping us. She'll guide the three of us home when we're ready. If the others don't stop her, that is. Lindi has them all shaken. They're furious."
"Stopped them! How?"
"It's easy for them. They can do more than call back their own bodies—they called us back to ours! They changed the paths of the Second World so the others simply walked back home. They forgot that I was flying.” The satisfaction in his voice gave way to weariness. “I'm sorry, love. I can't stay much longer. Have you found Kimo?"
"Yes! But...” Miska thought frantically. “Where are you, in the Solid World?"
He laughed, rueful and amused. “Who can tell? I spent most of the day in an empty shed that smelled like fish. There's a striped tent nearby. It was full of Humans all day. So much noise and glare. How have you borne it?"
"I'm used to it. Abri, I have an idea. Find some old clothes, or ... or sacks, or something. Dress as wretchedly as you can. Take the ribbons off your staff, and from your hair."
"My ribbons? Miska!"
"Just for now. Hide them. Cover your face. Hold the staff like a climbing stick. Sit near the front of the tent, and wait."
"But..."
"Please, trust me! I'll be there soon."
"Miska...” But she was already crossing the boundary, and his voice faded.
Night silence filled the Temple from spire to cellars. Miska pattered through the empty hallways, trying to remember which corridor led to the stables. Instead, she blundered into the kitchen—and stopped short.
Bundles of herbs and dangling sausages cast eerie shadows over the walls and stone-flagged floor. Most of the light was moonlight, from a window over the rows of sinks. The rest came from a guttering candle on the scrubbed pine table. The light flickered over the chairs, a pitcher and cup, and the darker shape of someone hunched over the table with his head in his hands.
Juliar. She backed up slowly, not wanting to disturb him, but she bumped lightly against the door. Instantly, he sat bolt upright, staring.
Miska stared back. He looked wretched. His uniform was rumpled, his eyes fever-bright. He saw her, and for just an instant Miska thought of Kimo, of the look on his face after his mother dropped into the bottomless chasm.
"I'd thought you were gone."
One heartbeat, two, and the pained expression was smoothed over, the mask of the Temple Servant firmly in place.
"Did you want something?” He gestured toward the pitcher. “Warm milk? I've heard it's helpful if you're disturbed by ... bad dreams."
"No, thank you.” She hesitated, uncomfortable. “I wanted ... I need to get to the Market. I wanted to find a cart."
"Do you know how to harness the chevrals?"
"No."
"How to drive them?"
"No. I rode on the back of one, once."
"And how did you expect Star and Dove to get home again?"
"I ... I thought they knew their own way."
He snorted. “The Market's empty at night."
"I know that."
Curiosity broke through the mask. “What do you need chevrals for? I thought you could just snap your fingers and vanish."
"It's not so simple as that. And now my betrothed is here."
Juliar studied the moonlight on the opposite wall. “If he got here, can't he get you both back where you came from?"
"No. Not unless one of the Elders helps him. And they need me, because I'm familiar with this place. And I think there's something wrong. Ab ... my betrothed didn't say, but I can tell when something's wrong. I need to find him. Without Worldwalking. I feel like someone's ... watching."
"I don't like it.” Juliar drummed his fingers on the table. “Didn't you say that your Elders don't like to have the Kankenni leaving No Man's Land?"
"Ye ... No Man's Land?"
"You're still too easy to read, Miska.” Juliar's smile still didn't reach his eyes. “You look that direction every time you're near a window."
"Juliar, I..."
"I've always wondered what it looks like. There are all kinds of stories—that there's an invisible palace there, with a Queen in an enchanted sleep—that there's a pit of demons—that there's nothing but a fog, and anyone who steps into it vanishes forever. What is there, really?"
"My home,” said Miska simply.
"I'd love to see it."
"I told Lindi the same—you can't. The only Human who's come to live with us since the Exile was my grandfather—and that was only after my mother was born."
"Your grandmother married a human man?” Juliar looked as though he was going to say more, but instead he asked, “Who exiled you? From where? This city?"
"From everywhere. We exiled ourselves.” And she told him the story; the men and their swords, the children running and crying. Juliar's face went stony, his lips thin, his eyes dark and glittering.
"That's an army,” he said at last. “How did any of you escape at all?"
This was forbidden. Miska knew it. But Juliar already had his guess about “No Man's Land.” And she was a Historian. What good was knowing the histories, if she couldn't tell them when it mattered?
"There were ... caves nearby. In those days, the Kankenni lived in the forests. We used the caves for storing things, winter shelter, stables. Some of the Kankenni led the Humans deep inside, where it was dark. Humans don't see so well in the dark. There are pits, chasms ... it's slippery...” She stopped short, not meeting his eyes.
"I see."
"No one wanted to! But they were bigger—I'm very tall for a Kankenni. And there were many of them, and they had swords..."
"What about your other world? Couldn't you have stayed there?"
"The Second World's not the same. You can't live there, any more than you can live in a dream. But you can walk through it, to other places. If I can get to Abri, we can walk home."
Juliar looked at her sharply. “And what then?"
"What do you mean?” She looked at him in sudden alarm. “You wouldn't tell anyone where we are, would you, Juliar? You wouldn't make the Temple send anyone after us!” He pulled away from her, and she mistook his look for contempt. “The Exile was generations ago! We never meant to hurt anyone ... It was the only way we knew!"
Now it was Juliar who looked dismayed, almost angry.
"Send the Temple—what are you thinking? Even if it wasn't however many years ago, they were trying to massacre you. No, I meant, what about the Steel Thorns?"
"They won't find us this time."
"You sound pretty sure.” Juliar swallowed the last gulp of
milk and carried the cup to the sink. “What about Kimo?"
"Lady Myringa will protect him."
"She might,” he admitted. “What about Lindi?"
"She's not Kankenni."
"That won't matter when she starts getting ‘headaches’ that make her fall over her feet in public places, and—what was it you said?—'hearing colors and seeing sounds.’ And haven't you wondered something?"
"What?” Miska looked at him, miserable. He had his ‘thinking look,’ the same as he'd had the very first day, when she blundered into revealing that she was other than human."
"Why your Elders haven't brought you home sooner."
"They didn't know how to get from here to there."
"Maybe. But they do now. I'd bet you a dozen of Spensie's best cakes, they know exactly how to get here and back. Unless your ... betrothed came here on his own."
"No, but the Elders made the others come back."
"But not him?"
"They missed him."
Juliar's frown deepened. “I doubt it. If Vedi Sharanis ever lost any of the Temple kids, you can bet she wouldn't let up until she had every single one back again. Your Elders don't even like to reveal their names; they'd never leave one of you unaccounted for. Something isn't right."
"Still, I have to go. My betrothed is ... easy to spot. Will you show me how to harness the chevrals?"
It wasn't quite a laugh, the sound Juliar made. “No."
Before Miska could protest, he held up a warning hand. “I'll take you to the Market myself."
He stood up, stretched, and blew out the candle. In the watery moonlight, his face looked decades older.
They left the Temple and drove through the streets in silence. Miska looked back once, to see the crystal flame of the Temple rising above the High City like a swirl of moonlit ice.
"Isn't it beautiful, Juliar?” she said.
There was no answer, no sound but the soft clopping of hooves. Other voices floated to Miska's ears from far away, but Juliar sat silent and straight, with his gray-cloaked back to her. Even when he stopped to unlatch the gate, he didn't say a word.
"Thank you, Juliar,” she said.
He paused, dipped his head in formal acknowledgement, and climbed back into the driver's seat.
Neither of them spoke again until they reached the Market.
