Between Worlds

by Melissa Mead

  Chapter 13

  The Market was a different place at night, full of shadows and dark, looming shapes. The wraithlike forms of stray cats wove in and out of stacks of crates, nosing about for discarded tidbits. Nothing else moved.

  "Let me down,” Miska whispered.

  Juliar scanned the darkened marketplace. “I'll wait here."

  "I'll be all right.” Miska dropped to the pavement. The chevrals turned and nuzzled at her hands, and she stroked each one lightly. She looked up. “I'll miss you, Juliar."

  "I'll miss you too,” he mumbled. The reins seemed to have suddenly worked themselves into a knot, judging from how absorbed he was in untangling them. “Go on."

  The cats scattered at first, then flowed back to insinuate themselves around her feet. Miska stepped around them without thinking, searching for anything else alive in that empty square. She sat nothing but cat's eyes, gold and green in the moonlight.

  "Abri?” she called softly.

  "Are you losing your night-sight, love?” One pair of eyes blinked. Like a cloud floating apart from the night sky, Abri stepped out from a corner. He was covered from head to foot in a length of sacking. Miska ran to hug him, ignoring the scratchy fabric and the scent of earth and onions. This time he was solid and warm and real, and hugged her back until they both laughed.

  "Enough, enough!” Abri panted finally. “One moment.” He shucked off the sacking, pulled his ribbons from a pocket, and began rewrapping the shaggy dark mane of his hair. Miska watched him, elated, relieved, and suddenly bewildered. He seemed ... smaller, somehow—and frightened.

  "You were right, love.” Abri knotted his ribbons in place and turned to look her over. “That was terribly uncomfortable, but no one looked at me twice. But you!” He held up his hands in admiration and astonishment. “You look beautiful. Such finery! What did you trade for it?"

  Startled, Miska looked down at herself. She was wearing the golden-brown velvet dress, and embroidered slippers like Lindi always wore. For the first time, she saw how many times Abri's clothes had been patched, how thin they were at the elbows and knees. How thin Abri himself was, his gold eyes large in his fine-boned face.

  "I traded..."

  What had she traded? Her name. Kimo's name, to Lindi and Juliar. More than she'd ever intended to Juliar, who now knew what “No Man's Land” truly was.

  "I..."

  "You're beautiful.” His smile broadened. “It's so good to see you again. Let's get Kimo and go, quickly.” Abri looked around the empty marketplace. “He didn't come with you?"

  Miska shuddered. “No."

  "He's all right, isn't he? He's not hurt?"

  "No, but ... he won't come home."

  "What? Where is he?"

  Quickly, Miska told him. How they'd gotten separated. About Lindi, and Doria and Aldinan. And Juliar. And last of all, Lady Myringa, Kimo's “new Mami."

  "He can't stay here.” Abri shook his head. “The Elders will never allow it. And Kimo, of all people! He can't be trusted. He's just as likely to bring his ‘new Mami’ to the Caverns, just so he can show her off. Goodness knows what he's told her."

  Miska wondered uncomfortably whether Kimo could possibly have told Humans more about the Kankenni than she had.

  "But what if this is what he truly wants? He would be well cared for,” she ventured.

  "By a Human?"

  "Doddi Jakki was human."

  "And he stayed with us. He never came back to this place again."

  "He did once."

  "And we lost him, and Braddon.” Something rustled, and Abri froze in a defensive half-crouch. A lanky orange tomcat slunk past, and he breathed again.

  "Abri, love, we can't stand here all night.” Miska laid a gentle hand on his arm. “It's cold, and we're bound to attract attention soon. Once we're safely home, the Elders can decide what to do about Kimo. We can always come back.” She looked at him hopefully, realizing how much she wanted that to be true. “We can always come back,” she repeated.

  "No.” She heard regret in his voice, but no doubt. “The Elders ... Tanrin's death proved everything that Avoca and Ilion have been saying to them. Humans are violent, unpredictable, cruel. Ilion and Avoca reminded everyone how Braddon set out to trade with the Humans, and never came back. Olean and Lorna are listening to them now."

  Miska's mouth was dry. “And Midyora?"

  "She's the reason I'm here now. The others...” He hesitated. “The others wanted to seal off the Caverns."

  "We'd all die!"

  "We'd live long enough for them to search the Second World, they said. Long enough for all the Kankenni to Worldwalk somewhere else.” Abri looked like he was tasting something bitter.

  "And Midyora convinced them not to?” Miska allowed herself to smile. Midyora would never allow such nonsense.

  "No.” A longer pause. “She convinced them to wait.” Abri swallowed. “The other Elders wanted to leave you and Kimo here."

  "They'd abandon a child?” Miska trembled with anger.

  "They said that, this time, taking a risk for one put us all at risk. But...” A spark of admiration lit Abri's eyes. “You should have seen Midyora! She never shouted—oh no, she was very quiet. She asked them if they'd all grown as blind as the Steel Thorns, that they couldn't tell one Human from another, couldn't tell vipers from harmless tunnel snakes.” He sat on a box, looking tired, and rubbed his temples. “But in the end, all she could get from them was three days. If you, I, and Kimo aren't all home by the day after tomorrow, they'll Worldwalk without us."

  "The little devils!” said a new voice.

  Abri leapt up, eyes blazing, holding his staff ready to strike. Miska stared, agape, at the approaching figure.

  "All right, I didn't understand everything, but I heard enough to..."

  "Juliar!” Miska shouted, just as Abri sprang. In seconds, the P'raptoi had swept Juliar's walking stick out from under him, forced the scribe to his hands and knees, and stood over him with his P'raptoi's staff across Juliar's neck. Juliar twisted his head sideways to look at him.

  "Pleased to meet you, too,” he choked out. “Um, Miska, if you could tell the gentleman that I'm not one of our friends with a thing for poisoned needles ... cobblestones are pretty hard on the knees."

  "How does he know your name?” Abri hissed.

  "That's right, introductions. I'm Juliar, and I could shake hands properly if you'd get your quarterstaff off the back of my neck. And you are...?"

  "Kestrel.” Abri didn't move.

  "He's a friend,” Miska interrupted. “Let him up, love.” Juliar winced. “There's no reason to hurt him."

  "I'm being very gentle,” Abri protested. He raised his staff and backed away slowly, keeping himself between Juliar and Miska. He watched intently as Juliar groped for his walking stick and braced himself with it. “Are you a P'raptoi, Human boy?"

  "Whatever that is, you're wrong on all counts.” Juliar started to rise, slipped on the worn stones, and fell back to his knees with a smothered grunt and a grimace. Miska started forward, and he waved her away. “Except for the human part, that is."

  Abri studied him gravely for a moment, and then offered his arm.

  Juliar started to turn away. Then his look of disgust changed to a feral grin. He shifted his weight, laid a hand on Abri's arm...

  ...and shoved downward and out, pushing himself to his feet and sending Abri sprawling backward. He hobbled two steps forward and tapped the P'raptoi over the heart with his stick.

  "I am not a boy, Imp."

  Miska gasped. Abri stared up at Juliar in disbelief—and began to laugh.

  "If you're not a P'raptoi, Human, you should be. By the Wondermaker, Miska, you've made some strange friends."

  Juliar backed off slowly, then sat down on another stack of crates and began trying to wipe the mud off his Temple Uniform.

  "Where is the other one—the little girl?” asked Abri.

  "What, the little girl who's half a foot taller than yo
u?” Juliar commented—but mildly. “Lindi?"

  "I'd assume she's home with her aunt and uncle, sleeping,” said Miska.

  "You'd assume incorrectly, my friend,” said Juliar, grinning anew at her startled expression. “Did you really think Miss Salera would just let you vanish, without even trying to say goodbye?"

  "But Elders Aldinan and Doria came to take her home!"

  "They did. But alas"—Juliar spread his hands in an expression of resigned disappointment—"just as they were leaving, Miss Salera was seized with a horrible fit of sneezing, and had to be taken back to the infirmary."

  "Poor Lindi!” Miska exclaimed. “I hope it isn't anything very serious. I wish I knew what caused it."

  "Probably the pepper Lindi and I put in her handkerchief,” said Juliar innocently. “Of course, I had to take the handkerchief away and burn it—it would never do to have strange diseases spreading through the Temple—so we'll never know for sure."

  "Juliar!” Miska choked. Abri, who had been concentrating intently on the scribe's words, chuckled. Juliar fixed them both with an affronted glare.

  "Well, I thought you'd be a little kinder than to laugh at the misfortunes of a sick friend. Apparently I was wrong. Good evening to you both, then.” He turned on his heel—not as gracefully as Miska suspected he would have liked—and began to stalk off.

  "He's very strange,” Abri murmured.

  "He's very full of mischief,” said Miska. “But not foolish. Will you trust him?"

  Abri looked doubtful, but replied “If you do, then so do I."

  Miska nodded. “Juliar!” she called, as loudly as she dared.

  He turned toward them, one eyebrow raised. “Yes?"

  "May we come back to the Temple with you?"

  "Of course. Tell Screech-Owl there..."

  "Kestrel. My betrothed."

  "Mm. Tell him to watch his step getting in."

  It was much warmer going back, with Abri beside her, gazing and marveling. Juliar seemed less tense—at least Miska caught him stealing glances back at them now and again. Miska thought she knew what he was waiting for.

  "Watch!” she whispered to Abri.

  It was better than she'd hoped. Just as the frosty curve of the Temple flame rose into sight, the bells chimed—a cascade of clear, ringing notes. Abri listened with an expression of pure delight. Juliar listened with his head tipped to one side, counting.

  "Only midnight? Seems later,” he said.

  He led the Kankenni through the back halls and the abandoned study, and knocked on the inside of the wardrobe. The door opened a crack. Juliar stepped through, opened the door wide, and bowed. Lindi hauled Miska out by the arm and hugged her vigorously.

  "I knew you'd come back! I knew you wouldn't just Worldwalk without saying goodbye. I knew it!"

  "Shh!” Juliar gestured toward the door. “Nurse Dannae sleeps with one ear open."

  "I told Juliar you wouldn't leave,” she went on, more softly.

  For once, Miska wished that Kankenni could lie. “I meant to,” she confessed, looking away from the sudden hurt on Lindi's face. “I thought it would be better. Safer. I didn't want other Humans to think you were mad, or, or led astray by an ‘Imp'."

  "No one would believe that!” Lindi tossed her head, started to turn away. Then she paused. “Then why didn't you leave?"

  "The Elders won't let us come back without Kimo."

  "Us?” For the first time Lindi noticed Abri, waiting in the shadows of the wardrobe. Instinctively, she took a step backward and raised her hands protectively. “Oh!"

  Abri laid his staff on the floor.

  "Cousin Lindi.” He smiled. “Do you still see the Motes?"

  "Y-yes."

  "You've given our Elders plenty to talk about, Cousin! They've never known a Human who could Worldwalk before."

  "I can't really, not without Miska.” She hesitated. “Were ... Were the Elders angry?"

  Abri hesitated in his turn. “Yes."

  Tears welled up in the girl's eyes. “Then it's all my fault. Miska can't go home, and now neither can you or Kimo, and it's all because of my stupid ‘spells'. At least at home all I did was embarrass Mother and Father."

  "It's not your fault!” said Miska fiercely. “It's the fault of those Steel Thorns. They killed Kimo's mother. They killed a new baby's father.” She turned away, drawing a deep breath. “And the Elders can't tell the difference between you and them. They just want to hide from all Humans—hide and hide, until we're all gone.” Her fists clenched, and she trembled.

  They stared at her: Abri knowingly, Lindi with bewildered alarm, and Juliar with slowly dawning comprehension.

  "This is your last chance, isn't it?” he said. “That's where the Kankenni have been since—whenever. Hiding."

  "For a hundred and fifty years.” Miska nodded. “This time, I don't think there are enough of us to survive."

  "It's not fair!” Lindi protested. “There used to be Cantrips, in all the stories, and they never hurt anybody."

  "Except once,” said Abri. “And the Humans have never forgiven us. Our Elder P'raptoi tried to Worldwalk to this city, and he never came back."

  "Which Humans?” Juliar demanded. “Us? Have you asked? The Steel Thorns are not like all Humans. If I have to track down every Steel Thorn in the city to prove it to your Elders, fine."

  "And I'll help!” added Lindi.

  "This Human woman, who is Fostering Kimo,” Abri frowned. “Does she know he already has a home?"

  "I doubt Lady Myringa would think to ask,” said Juliar.

  "Then we'll have to tell her."

  "That may not help. How good are you at holding your breath, by the way? Make sure you don't meet Lady Myringa in a small room. I hear her last tea party passed out after fifteen minutes, from the cloud of perfume.” He yawned. “'Scuse me. I don't know about you folks, but I need at least a few hours sleep if we're going to visit Her Perfumed Pinkness tomorrow. And if Nurse Dannae goes on one of her midnight prowls, and finds Lindi missing..."

  "I forgot!” Lindi jumped up. “And there's a little boy in the next room with a fever. If he cries in his sleep ... Excuse me. Goodnight, Miska. Goodnight, Kestrel.” She paused. “You will still be here in the morning?"

  Miska smiled. “This time I promise. I will be here in the morning. Goodnight, Lindi. Goodnight, Juliar ... Are you all right?"

  He was staring at them. Not quite seeing them, though. Seeing something else, maybe something only in his own imagination.

  He shook himself. “What? Oh, I'm fine. Just tired. Pleasure to meet you, Kestrel. Did I leave those candles for you, Miska? Yes? Good. If you still need them, that is. Goodbye ... I mean, goodnight, then."

  Abri studied him gravely.

  "Thank you,” he said.

  Juliar looked back at him, coolly. “What for?"

  "I'm glad that, when Miska found herself among Humans, you were one of them."

  "Temple duty. I'm a Temple servant.” He shrugged. Then he caught Miska's look of chagrin. “But I was glad to do it."

  Abri nodded, briefly. “You would make a fine P'raptoi."

  Juliar paused a moment. “Thank you,” he said, and left.

  * * * *

  Once Abri had devoured the forgotten cherry tart, he and Miska lay back on the pillows, looking out the window at the moonlit sky. In the sudden silence, Miska realized how very late it was, and how exhausted she was. She leaned contentedly against Abri's shoulder, and he put his arm around her.

  "You were right, Miska. Humans aren't so very unlike Kankenni."

  "Not these Humans, at least,” she agreed. “I know how Savrona must have felt now, teaching me. Lindi has so many questions!” She laughed. “Is this what it would be like if we had a daughter?"

  He smiled back. “Perhaps—but one that grew up very quickly!"

  "Yes.” Miska stopped smiling and closed her eyes. She'd tried to forget her grandmother's worried looks as Doddi Jakki's red curls turned grayer every year
, even though he'd only been middle-aged in Kankenni terms. She forced the memory to the back of her mind, and joked, “Is Juliar our son, then?"

  Now it was Abri's turn to look sober. “A grown son. How old is he?"

  "Twenty, I think someone said—but that can't be right!"

  Abri laughed. “Younger than Kimo? I thought ... Humans are very strange!"

  "Still, I've gotten fond of him. And Lindi, both."

  "They'll miss you, I'm certain.” Abri squeezed her hand a bit tighter. Miska squeezed back. She was still holding his hand when she fell asleep.

  After Morningsong the next day, Miska spent the worse part of a tense hour being questioned by Vedi Sharanis while Abri crouched in the little room's only good hiding place—under the bed.

  "That was your cousin? Unusual little boy. He spoke a very strange dialect—I couldn't understand one word in ten."

  "Yes'm. We're from ... south of here, originally. His accent comes forward when he's upset."

  "It must be very far south, indeed. My family comes from Kivinan, and the local dialect is nothing like that."

  "We've never been to Kivinan, Vedi Sharanis. Though Lindi says it's beautiful.” She held herself so tensely her left foot began to twitch, but Vedi Sharanis didn't press further.

  Instead she said, “I understand Lady Myringa plans to adopt him."

  "Some of our family won't be pleased about that, Vedi Sharanis."

  "I can see this will be complicated.” Vedi Sharanis looked out the window, thinking. “Meanwhile, perhaps Lady Myringa would be willing to let you come to her home and visit your cousin ... What did you say his name was?"

  "It ... He...” Kimo was too young to have a Trading name. Miska struggled for an answer that wasn't an outright lie. Under the bed, Abri sneezed, and the priestess turned around.

  "Bless you. Are you feeling well? Lindilora Salera was also sneezing. She's still in the Infirmary, in fact."

  "Is Lindi all right?” That wasn't quite a lie, but Miska didn't meet the Vedi's eyes. It wasn't as though she didn't already know that Lindi was perfectly well.

  "She's doing much better this morning. In fact, I'll send her over to have breakfast with you, before I call on Lady Myringa."