by Melissa Mead
Just as Miska was wondering how she could ask for enough breakfast for Abri too, without appearing greedy, she looked up to see Juliar waiting in the hallway. He bowed respectfully to Vedi Sharanis.
"Miss Salera was inquiring after Miska, Vedi Sharanis."
"Aren't you supposed to be in the scriptorium, Juliar?"
"Nurse Dannae has been very busy, Vedi Sharanis. Two scraped knees, a cough and three headaches since dawn, already. She needed someone to roll bandages."
"And I suppose that now you're offering to take time from your own busy schedule to bring the young ladies breakfast yourself."
"If the Temple is willing, Vedi Sharanis."
"You're incorrigible, Juliar. You do realize that?"
"I do my best."
Vedi Sharanis frowned. At least, Miska thought it looked like she tried to.
"I'll have to give you some errands to run, just to keep you out of trouble ... What was that? I think the first one will be to get a cat—it sounds like there are mice under the bed."
"I didn't hear any mice, Elder Sharanis,” said Miska quickly, pushing the blanket so it hung nearly to the floor.
"What mice?” said Juliar.
Vedi Sharanis heaved a long-suffering sigh. “All right, Juliar. If the ladies are willing, you may have breakfast with them. But you mustn't keep following Miska about. You have other things to do, and it's not as though Miska's going away."
Juliar looked at Miska, she looked back, and neither one said anything.
"I'll expect you in the scriptorium by Second Bells, Juliar."
"Of course.” He bowed, his face perfectly serene—until Vedi Sharanis's footsteps faded. Then his slow grin returned.
"Yes, we really must do something about those mice.” He leaned back in the hard wooden chair and watched Abri wriggle out from under the bed. “We've got some mighty big mice around here. Oh, wait. Kestrels are birds, not mice."
"Didn't your Mami teach you not to make fun of your elders?” Abri grunted, straightening up and dusting himself off. He looked over Juliar's Temple uniform. “You should hardly make fun. You look more like a gray mouse, yourself. And kestrels eat mice."
"How tasty. But I'm more than you can swallow, and the Temple cook doesn't serve mice. “'Fraid you'll have to make do with eggs, Kestrel. Just remember, breakfast would be pretty skimpy if I hadn't come along."
"We're having mice for breakfast?” Lindi wandered into the room, looking sleepy and confused.
"I think Lindi and I should send you both off somewhere, so we can have breakfast in peace,” Miska remarked.
Abri raised his hands in mock protest. “I've hidden under the bed all morning! Tell me, how can I have caused trouble?"
"Actually, I should thank you.” Juliar's eyes twinkled. “Lila's been begging Vedi Sharanis for a kitten for weeks. And Spensie's youngest sister has a little calico she wants to give away. Let's see, breakfast. I'll take care of that. Extra eggs and a side of fried mice, no problem. Oh, and good morning, Lindi. Nice to see you've stopped sneezing. Take this chair—I've got a lot to do.” He bowed, and left.
Abri paced back and forth, one hand tight on his staff, the other thrust deep into a pocket.
"How many Humans are in this building?” he asked, glancing at the closed door.
"Dozens. People who sing, and write books, and ... it's all right, love! This is a very quiet room. No one will bother us."
"And I didn't tell anyone you're here,” Lindi added.
"Thank you, cousin. But that boy..."
"Don't let Juliar hear you call him that!” Lindi laughed. “He hates that. Don't worry. You can trust him."
Abri nodded, lost in thought.
"I'm so glad you stayed, Miska,” said Lindi, after a moment.
"I did promise. But we haven't much time—we'll have to get Kimo to come home with us as quickly as we can, before the Elders close the door."
"Forever?” Lindi whispered.
"Yes. I'm sorry, Cousin."
"But I was just learning."
"I know. And doing very well, too. But as long as there are Steel Thorns about, the Kankenni aren't safe where we are now."
"Where is that? You showed me..."
"You showed her?” Abri interrupted.
"Not a place. Only a picture, in the Second World."
"Still ... ! The Elders would..."
"Who ordered the mice?” sang out Juliar from the hallway. He was pushing one of Nurse Dannae's wheeled carts, piled with silver-domed trays. Abri froze in mid-sentence. With a concerned glance at Lindi, he moved to help Juliar pass around plates. Miska beamed at his look of awe and delight as Juliar removed covers to display a veritable feast: light brown eggs steaming gently in porcelain eggcups, toast with orange marmalade, a pitcher of milk, a basket of grapefruit and lemons...
"And mice for the kestrel.” Juliar handed over a plate piled with brown meaty bits.
"That is mice?” Abri asked, sniffing. “It smells very good!"
"Don't let Juliar tease you—that's sausage.” Lindi scoffed, taking one for herself.
"Ah. I've never had sausage."
"And you have had mice, I suppose, Kestrel?” Juliar looked at him with a joking half-smile.
"When the cats don't get them first."
Silence, except for Lindi's fork and half-eaten sausage clattering onto her plate. “I think I'll just have milk for now.” She picked up her glass, and looked askance at Abri. “Um ... Do you put pepper on your lemons, too?"
"Of course! Don't you?” Abri reached for the basket.
"Oh no, you don't!” Juliar, no longer looking green, snatched it away. “I won't have you spoiling perfectly good fruit ... You'll salt them just like the rest if us."
Lindi choked on her milk. “Juliar!"
"What would the Elders say?” Abri wondered aloud, deftly peeling an egg. “Eggs, oranges, barely into Greening Season..."
Juliar looked at him, and said slowly, “They'd ask us to save some for Kimo."
Miska tensed, watching as Abri set down the egg, gently.
"You know his true name."
"Yes."
"How much do you know?"
"More than Miska's told me, so don't blame her. For people who have spent their whole lives hiding, you Kankenni really aren't very good at it. I know your name isn't really Kestrel, for one. Not that I know what it really is. Tell me something."
Struck speechless, Abri nodded.
"What's a Pra ... pur..."
"P'raptoi,” said Lindi. Both Kankenni looked at her in surprise, and she smiled. “I've been practicing."
"Much better, cousin!” Abri gave her a quick smile. “P'raptoi, yes. We—go between. Between Kankenni and Humans, to trade, so only a few of us need be seen."
"Ambassadors? Emissaries?” When both Abri and Miska looked blank, Juliar tried again. “A bridge?"
"A bridge—yes!” Abri exclaimed. “Some can go from place to place, but not all at once."
"I see. And Lindi is becoming one?"
"It seems so, yes."
"And you think I'd make a good one, do you?"
For a long minute Abri studied the young man, looking thoughtful. “No, Human,” he said at last. “I think you are one, whether you want to be or not."
"Good! Then you'll want me to help you."
"We don't need help. Your Elder will speak to this woman who's taken Kimo..."
"She'll ask if Miska can ‘come over to visit her little friend.'” Juliar rolled his eyes. “And where will you be if she does, Kestrel? Under the bed? You certainly can't stroll up to Lady Myringa and say ‘Hello, we're taking Kimo away with us now.’”
"What would you have us do, then?"
"Not wait to be announced, that's for sure,” Juliar said. “Finish your breakfast, folks. Her Beribboned Pinkness is going to have company. She just doesn't know it yet."
* * * *
"Are you certain this is necessary?” With painful contortions, Abri folded himself
inward to fit (just barely) into the lower half of the breakfast cart.
"Well, we could just walk out the front gate like civilized people, but since you're so keen on not being seen, this will at least get you as far as the kitchen door. Hold still.” Juliar stripped a sheet from the bed and draped it over the cart. “If anyone asks, that's going to the laundry. We'll just pile the dishes on top..."
"My staff, please.” Abri's hand emerged from under the sheet.
"Oh for ... that'll stick out no matter what we do!"
"A P'raptoi doesn't go anywhere without his staff, Juliar,” said Miska.
"It's not like he needs the thing."
She pointed to the silver flame pin over the young man's heart. “Leave that behind."
"But...” Juliar clapped his free hand over the Temple badge. Miska smiled. Juliar scowled.
"Point taken.” Juliar passed the staff down to Abri. “Just try not to trip anyone."
They trundled the cart through the back hallways, Juliar and Miska pushing, Lindi walking between the cart and any curious passing eyes. The only sound from Abri was a muffled “Ow!” when the kitchen door thumped against the cart in closing.
No one confronted them. Through the shouting, clanging and clattering, Miska doubted anyone even heard them. The Temple kitchen looked like a god's laboratory: stove-mouths gaping flame, steaming water gushing into the long stone sinks, iron cauldrons pouring forth the scent of bubbling broth. At each massive wooden table, an army of grey-clad Temple servants dismembered chickens by the dozen. Others chopped carrots or punched down loaves of bread dough. Juliar steered them through the chaos, deflecting comments with a nod and a wave. They passed through half the room unmolested; them someone bellowed “Juliar!"
Juliar froze. “The head cook,” he muttered. He turned. A massive aproned woman, her iron-grey hair imprisoned in a net, lumbered toward them, brandishing a ladle.
"I've told you—no mooching snacks between meals. Especially after enough breakfast for four or five people. Company or no company,” she added, noticing Lindi and Miska for the first time.
"I know. We're just returning the dishes. Sorry to bother you."
"Hmph. Let me take this, then, and get out from under foot.” The cook gripped the cart's handle.
"Oh, don't trouble yourself! We know you're busy. Happy to help."
"Vedi Sharanis wished me to help Nurse Dannae,” Miska put in. “This is her cart."
"From the Infirmary? Why ... Oh. You're that girl, are you?” The cook peered at Miska, then at Lindi, puzzled. “You look right enough in the head to me, Miss."
"I beg your pardon?” said Lindi.
Now it was the head cook who fidgeted. “Well, story has it Majestra Doria took a new orphan to be a companion for her niece-said the young lady's maid jumped ship at Millrace because the girl was so strange..."
Lindi scowled at the woman.
"It's a long story,” Juliar cut in. “Happy to tell you later, when things aren't so busy. We'll get the cart. No trouble."
"Thank you for the breakfast,” Miska added. They started pushing. A kitchen boy, carrying a tray full of stacked plates, edged past them and tripped over the end of Abri's staff. Crockery flew, shattering on the stone floor. The cook cursed. Heads turned to stare.
"Keep backing toward the outside door. Slowly!” Juliar hissed.
"Step back, please, ladies—we don't want anyone cutting themselves,” he said out loud. “You all right, Ben?” he asked the dazed kitchen boy. Still talking, still keeping the room's eyes on himself, he borrowed a nearby bucket and began filling it with shards. Soon everyone else was either cleaning up, or gone back to their own work. Juliar hefted his bucket and edged out the back door with it, to where the others waited.
"No chance of taking the cart any farther now.” Juliar leaned against the doorjamb and sighed. “We'll just have to walk.” They started off across the Temple lawn.
"Better to walk than ride under that box.” Abri stretched until his spine cracked. “But I don't like going so far in the open. We would do better to Worldwalk to where Kimo is."
"I don't think I can do that yet,” said Lindi.
"With both of us helping you, I think you can, Cousin Lindi. It can't be so very far."
"And Juliar—he can't see the Motes at all,” Miska pointed out.
"That doesn't matter.” Juliar pointed. “You can see Lady Myringa's house from here—that pink marble monstrosity. I'll just catch up with you there."
Just then, the Temple bells began to ring, clear and insistent. Juliar looked up in dismay.
"Second Bells! And I told Vedi Sharanis I'd be in the Scriptorium."
"Vedi Sharanis has let you skip chores before, to come with us,” Miska suggested.
"Not this time—not after that mess in the kitchen. And the first vigil of New Light starts at midnight—if I'm not in my place, Vedi Sharanis will turn the Temple inside out looking for me. Them she'll miss Lindi, and then you, Miska. There'll be pandemonium. Well, there will be anyway, but this way it'll be less, and later. You'll have time to ... to get away unnoticed. In fact, it would be better if Lindi came back with me now, in case her aunt and uncle come to check on her."
"No! I'm going with Miska, to ... well, as far as I can."
"Down that path I can't see ... and this time you're not coming back, are you, Miska?"
"No, Juliar. Not this time."
"You should hurry.” But he didn't move.
"You should hurry too, Juliar,” said Miska gently. “I don't want you to be scolded for our sakes."
"It would be stupid to scold him for saying goodbye to a friend,” Lindi declared. “Come with us, Juliar. And tell them you forgot. It's not like the Temple owns you or something."
"But they do, Miss Salera. Since I was six years old. Just not the way you think. It's just that—well, I never really wanted to be anywhere else—until now.” He fingered the silver flame pin on his uniform, and smiled ruefully. “I'm sorry, Miska. I lied to you. You couldn't have left when you wanted. And if I don't hurry, you won't be able to leave now.” He swallowed, and bowed, so his sandy hair hid his face. “Starlight on your path, always. Goodbye, Miska. Goodbye, Kestrel."
The P'raptoi hesitated, only for a moment.
"Abri,” he corrected, holding out his hand. Juliar took it, and Miska, watching, smiled at them both.
"Juliar?” Lindi ventured. “I'll come find you—afterward, if you'd like. To talk."
"Thank you.” Juliar straightened his shoulders and turned back toward the Temple, whistling softly to himself. Miska recognized the tune, and wondered if Juliar knew what song his mind had chosen:
Oh, the Imps of the hearth, they've all gone away...
Chapter 14
"He's up to something,” Lindi mused.
Abri turned to her. “Up? What do you mean, Cousin?"
"Juliar. I didn't think he'd really just go back to the Temple like that."
"He made a promise to his Elder. Would he not keep it?"
"Of course! But Miska..."
Miska looked at the girl, half in puzzlement, and half in dawning alarm. Lindi looked from her to Abri, and bit her lip. “Never mind."
"Mm.” Abri toyed with the P'raptoi's ribbon on his staff. “How often have you Worldwalked, cousin?"
"Um, once or twice?"
"She's never gone far from her body, Abri,” Miska added. “And calling our bodies to us—have you mastered that yet? I haven't.” She made a sour face. “Obviously, or we wouldn't be here."
"I've done it once or twice, with help."
"If I help...” Miska grimaced. “Perhaps we should just walk through the Solid World."
Abri glanced toward the street in front of the Temple. Dozens of Humans were out enjoying the warming weather: laughing, chatting, pointing at birds, budding trees, anything that caught their eye. Abri flinched almost imperceptibly every time someone glanced their way. He edged behind an ornamental shrub. Miska could see him forcib
ly calming himself.
"We would attract less attention just walking there, love,” said Miska. “We'd be like anyone else outside today."
"You're right,” he said, smiling at his own apprehension. “I'm foolish. They're not all Steel Thorns."
Lindi tensed, and pointed. “That one is."
The Kankenni looked. “Gerun,” said Miska. “And coming this way."
"Take Miska's hand, Cousin Lindi,” Abri ordered. “I'll take the other side. With you between us, we should be able to keep together."
Lindi hesitated.
"Don't be frightened, cousin. The P'raptoi brought Kimo's mother home this way, when she was ... hurt.” Abri smiled at the girl as though they were simply going for a walk. Only Miska could read the tension in his arms, in his step, poised for flight. “Trust me, cousin?"
Lindi nodded. Her hand was cold in Miska's, her crossing to the Second World a tense jolt. Yet they crossed. Miska paused a moment to savor Lindi's visible delight at finding herself in yet another strange new place. The girl turned from side to side, her mouth slightly open, her eyes bright.
Even Miska, who had walked in Abri's mindscape before, drew in a breath. Never had it looked so vivid. Frozen waves of stone curved overhead, their dark sides glowing with sunset colors. Tall evergreens stood sentinel along the path, filling the air with bracing freshness. The path beneath their feet rippled with liquid silver, flowing toward Myringa's house.
"It's beautiful!” said Lindi. “And look! Crystal statues.” She pointed. Miska turned to look behind them.
"That's you, and me, and Abri,” she explained. “Our bodies.” Lindi's expression changed to alarm. “It's all right. When we get to Lady Myringa's house, Abri and I will pull us together again.” Miska fumbled for an explanation. “Like bringing the string to the kite, instead of the kite to the string."
I hope, Miska added to herself.
"How? What if someone's watching?"
"The bush is in the way. Even if someone could see through it, it would look like we were just standing there. We would look odd, like I did in the Temple on that first day, but most people would just blink, and think they had something in their eye, and forget about it."
"I'm scared.” Lindi squeezed Miska's hand tighter.
