Between Worlds

by Melissa Mead

  It was the Deepest Cavern—and yet it was not. The blue hieroglyphs on the wall almost made sense. The mingling orange and indigo light formed faces, half seen, always changing. Before the glowing chasm stood five glittering white figures.

  We're still in the Second World, Miska realized.

  "No, Kimo, we aren't going to throw you in the garbage.” The tallest figure chuckled.

  "Midyora!” Miska exclaimed, forgetting to use a Trading Name. All five starry figures stiffened in horror. Miska clapped a hand over her mouth. Kimo's face lit up with recognition. He ran to Lorna and threw his arms around her. Within seconds, the Elder had him looking slightly more solid. Miska sighed with relief, and then looked around the room. There was no sign of a tiny hawk anywhere. “But where's Abri?"

  "With the P'raptoi, as he should be. What have you been doing, Miska?” Avoca marched up to her. “We called all the Motes here, and along with them we got you and Kimo, and that"—Avoca waved a hand at Lindi, who was beginning to sit up and blink—"and those! What have you done?"

  Miska looked at the second place Avoca had pointed, and saw two shapes. One in gray, almost invisible in a shadowed corner—a Thorn, perhaps? Had Gerun been so clumsy as to stick himself with Impsbane?—and Lady Myringa. Her pink dress fluttered, torn and bedraggled, in the Second World wind. Sweat stained her forehead, and Impsbane streaked her chin. She stared at the Elders, then flung herself heavily to the ground in front of them.

  "Star Ladies,” she moaned. “All these years I've worked, and begged, and sacrificed..."

  "Sacrificed other people,” muttered Miska.

  "Do you know what she's talking about?” Midyora examined the groveling woman with more curiosity than fear.

  "She sent the hunters who killed Naneri and Tanrin. She made a poison that pulls Worldwalkers so deeply into the Second World that they can't get out.” Miska swallowed. “We all have her poison in our blood now."

  "That explains it,” Ilion spoke up, sounding almost happy from satisfied curiosity. “You're all pulling Motes to you like iron to northstones, so when we called them, you came too."

  "Abr ... Kestrel's been poisoned, too. Can you help him, Elders?"

  Olean nodded, his round eyes wide. “I will,” he said, and his Second World form vanished.

  "But why?” Lorna looked up from tending Kimo. “Why would that woman be hunting us?"

  "Why do they ever?” Avoca retorted.

  "Her ... betrothed has gone to the Last World.” Miska shook her head. “She thinks that Impsbane—her poison—can take her to the Last World so she can bring him back to the Solid World. She wants a Kankenni to guide her."

  "Impossible.” Ilion looked at the kowtowing woman, and snorted.

  "And this is one of her fellow killers? One of the Kankenni-hunters?” Avoca marched to the gray shape on the floor and nudged it with a toe. “Get up, you murderer!"

  The gray shape stirred, reached out a searching hand, and found a stick. A lion-headed stick. Leaning half on this, half on the wall, he pulled himself to his feet.

  Miska stared in horror. “Juliar. How...?"

  He raised his head and looked at her, his face white, his eyes enormous. He smiled shakily. A chalky stain of Impsbane traced his lips.

  "Ah. Good,” he said, his voice cracking. “Found you..."

  He took one step toward her and crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

  "Juliar!” Miska cried.

  "You know the murderer's name?” Ilion snapped.

  "He's not a murderer.” Miska looked from Juliar to the irate Elder and back. “He's..."

  Lindi came quietly up behind her.

  "He's a friend,” finished Lindi softly.

  "He's a disobedient servant with no right to be here!” Myringa recovered some of her bluster, enough to stand up and glare at Juliar—although Miska noticed that when the Elders advanced on her, she backed away from them. “He's an impudent, sneaky..."

  Miska ignored her. With Lindi following, she tiptoed past the Elders and shook Juliar by the shoulder.

  "Wake up, Juliar. This is not a good time for sleeping!"

  Nothing.

  "Let me, Miska.” Midyora came up beside her and knelt stiffly next to Juliar. “The others will argue until we all fade, while this young man could have a concussion, or worse.” She watched him silently for a moment. “He doesn't look very murderous to me."

  "Oh, he's not!” said Miska quickly. “Not at all!"

  Midyora fixed her with an intense, probing look that made her feel like she was ten again, being questioned for Mentoring. “Hm.” Midyora felt Juliar's pulse, and looked questioningly at Miska.

  "Are humans allergic to chokeweed?"

  "I don't ... Not that I know of."

  "Hm.” Midyora brought out a packet of crumbled brown leaves from her pocket. The instant she unwrapped it, a pungent odor, like rotten cabbage spiked with alcohol, assaulted their noses.

  "What is that stuff?” Lindi choked. “It stinks!"

  "It certainly does.” Miska agreed, watching anxiously as Midyora waved the packet under Juliar's nose.

  He grimaced, opened his eyes, and winced. His look of disgust changed to a smile as he recognized Miska.

  "You've got it backward,” he murmured.

  "What?"

  "The story—you've got it backward. The fair lady is supposed to be the one who was sleeping.” He wrinkled his nose. “And she's not supposed to wake up on the compost heap with a splitting headache, either. I'd almost prefer Lady Myringa's perfume to ... whatever that was."

  "The Human woman's right. You are impertinent,” said Midyora.

  "Who ... oh, I'm sorry!” He pulled himself to his feet, leaned against the rough stone wall and managed a wobbly bow. “Ladies’ Blessings, ma'am. Juliar of the Star Temple, at your service.” He rubbed his eyes and looked at Midyora, and the other Mote-spangled Elders, with a mixture of doubt and wonder. “Although perhaps you don't need the Temple's blessing?"

  "They aren't Star Ladies, Juliar.” Lindi giggled. “You're seeing Motes."

  "She's our Elder Healer.” Miska cast a nervous glance back to where Myringa still argued with the other Elders, her voice by turns pleading, demanding and cajoling. “Juliar, what are you doing in the Second World?"

  "This is your Second World?” Juliar looked around, a smile spreading over his face. He held out his hands, let the blue light ripple over them like water, and took a deep breath. “Smells like rosemary. It's beautiful."

  "It's a place for the dead, which we will all be soon unless we can understand what's happening,” Midyora said sternly, but her eyes were warm. With a quick gesture, she shaped some Motes into a smooth gray boulder. “Sit down, young man, and tell me how you got here."

  Juliar's jaw dropped. He sat.

  "I ... I followed Gerun and his gang, but by the time I caught up, they were gone, and you were all lying on the floor. Miska, Lindi, Lady Myringa, Abr ... Kestrel and ... the little boy, that is, ma'am.” He swallowed. “I thought you were all dead. But I remembered your ‘radishes', and I saw that Lady Myringa had been drinking something, so I found a bottle she'd left, and drank it.” He made a wry face. “Disgusting!"

  "Why?” said Midyora.

  "Well, I hoped it would bring me to where Miska ... where Miska and the others were."

  "Why would you follow one of the Kankenni into a world where you shouldn't even be able to survive?"

  Some of the color drained from Juliar's face, but his voice was steady as he answered Midyora's question.

  "Wouldn't you?"

  I've never seen Midyora struck speechless before, thought Miska.

  Midyora shook herself. “Come here, Miska.” She turned to Lindi with a smile. “And you too, Human Cousin. Let me see what this poison has done to the three of you."

  Miska held out her hands. Lindi opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue.

  "Lindi! That's rude!” Miska exclaimed. Juliar chuckled.

  Lindi
looked chagrined. “I'm sorry. Doctors always say ‘Stick out your tongue'..."

  A cold draft swept through the cavern. Midyora looked up in alarm, and hurried to where the rest of the Elders clustered, facing Myringa. Lorna hugged Kimo to her chest.

  Myringa no longer groveled. She towered over the ancient Kankenni. Before Miska could move, Myringa wrenched Kimo from Lorna's arms.

  "Let go of him!” The Elder grabbed for Kimo, but Myringa only shrugged her off.

  "Put me down! You're not my Mami any more—you're mean, and I hate you! Let me go!” Kimo kicked at his captor's legs, but Myringa was much the larger and more solid of the two.

  "Don't be naughty, Little One.” Myringa looked down at Kimo's tear-streaked face. “And don't make such dreadful faces! Thanli will want to see his little boy happy."

  "I'm not his little boy! I'm not your little boy. You killed my Mami! Abri ... Miska ... Help!"

  The Elders advanced on Myringa. “Put the boy down,” said Avoca. “He's too young even to Worldwalk alone. He'd be no help to you."

  "Oh yes, he would. He's learned such a lot, haven't you, Kimo, dear? He can do all kinds of pretty things with rocks. I'm better with plants, myself."

  Myringa reached into a hidden pocket, brought out a handful of pale pink dust, and flung it at the Elders. One by one, they toppled. Like an eclipse, the Second World darkened, the blue light nearly extinguished. Only the funeral chasm flared bright, like a bottomless hungry mouth. Myringa studied the fallen Kankenni, impassive.

  "Still breathing. That blend must be just a soporific. Come on, Kimo dear. Thanli's waiting."

  She dragged the boy to the edge of the pit. Miska ran at her, grabbing a handful of satin skirt.

  "Don't go near there! It's not a way to the Last World right now. It's just fire. You'll burn."

  "Liar.” Myringa dropped Kimo, and Lindi pulled him away. Myringa clutched Miska by the shoulders and shook her until her teeth rattled. “This is your fault, you ... Imp! If you'd just listened ... If you'd only obeyed, and taken me to Thanli when I first told you to..."

  Juliar grabbed Myringa's arm. “Let go of her, Lady Myringa!"

  "Who let you out of the Temple, boy?” Myringa's lip curled. “You don't belong here."

  Juliar stiffened. “Lady Myringa,” he said, his voice icy, “I've never hit a lady before, and I don't want to start now. Let go."

  With a snarl, Myringa dropped Miska and clouted Juliar across the face with one heavy, ring-studded hand. Juliar staggered backward. His head hit the wall with a sickening thump, and he slid to the floor, eyes closed. A thin trickle of blood tumbled down the side of his face. His walking stick clattered at his feet, splintered. The lion's head rolled, wobbling, across the cavern floor. For one long second, all was silent.

  Lindi screamed.

  Chapter 17

  Miska didn't scream. With cold fingers, she found the pulse in Juliar's neck and confirmed the steady beat. She gently wiped the blood from his face with a corner of her cloak. Then she unfastened the cloak, folded it, and tucked it beneath his head.

  "Watch him for me, Lindi.” Then she stood up and faced Myringa.

  "You might have killed him."

  Myringa's face went grey. She backed up a step, toward the chasm. Kimo whimpered. “I didn't."

  Miska took another step forward. “You nearly killed Lila."

  "But I didn't!"

  Another step. Miska felt the heat rising from the heart of the earth. “You're killing us all here, now. Even yourself."

  "What do you know?” Myringa began to sob. “I loved Thanli. You're only an Imp!” Tears streaked her powdered, sweating face. She let go of Kimo to scrub them away, and Kimo scrambled out of reach. “You shouldn't even exist. You can't love anyone. You have no feelings. You're just a soulless, mythological..."

  Miska held her knotted fists tight at her sides, wondering if it was some buried Human impulse that made her want to strike Myringa as Myringa had struck Juliar.

  "Your Thanli's not the only one in the Last World.” Miska's voice shook. “All the people you had your Thorns kill—they are there too."

  "All the more reason that I need to go there. I need to see him."

  "You need to see him?” Miska heard the words coming from her lungs and throat, but it didn't feel like she spoke them. She was too cold to speak. Everything was numb, except for a place deep inside herself that hurt and burned. All around her was red darkness, except for Myringa's ashen face. “Lindi, send some Motes to me."

  The Motes came. She sent them deep inside herself, into the hurting place, and stepped to the edge of the chasm. The Motes flowed into it, leaving her empty and cold. “Turn around and look, Lady Myringa."

  The woman turned, looked down, and cried out as though she'd been stabbed. Miska felt the change in the air—hot, but not burning. She looked down.

  The doorway to the Last World stood open, but the honey-colored light was stained red. Images formed, bright-eyed and wrapped in a luminous golden aura, but recognizable down to the last beauty mark and freckle. Human and Kankenni, children and adults. Myringa stared at them, her face contorted with fear.

  "Do you see them, Human?” said Miska, her voice soft but relentless “Do you realize how many people your Thorns killed?"

  "But where's Thanli?” Myringa moaned. She leaned so far over the edge of the chasm, the wispy ends of her hair began to curl from the rising energy. Miska clenched her fists until her fingernails bit into her palms, then knotted her hands into her skirt, fighting a sickening impulse to give Myringa just one, tiny push.

  And as the most recent faces became clear, her breath caught in her throat. A Kankenni woman, very tall, night-hared, like Lindi, kind eyes puzzled. She held hands with a day-haired Kankenni man. Miska could just remember the sound of his laugh.

  "Mami. Dadi.” No sound came out of her mouth. Her eyes stung and her vision blurred. Some of the red drained from the air. Her cramped muscles unlocked. She leaned forward and recognized another shape. A round-faced Elder, in that wooly brown coat that always made her look like a little bear. The Elder Historian, Savrona. Miska pressed her fists to her stinging eyes. Even then she imagined she felt soft coaxing hands on her wrists, remembered that ancient voice in its storyteller's sing-song: “Come now, Miska. Don't hide your eyes. Listen to the whole story. If you hide from the scary parts, how will you know the ending?"

  She remembered. Savrona had been teaching her about the Exile. Even now she heard her childish wail: “But I know the ending. Everybody died!"

  Miska opened her eyes and stared through the doorway of the Last World.

  "They all died."

  Miska didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until Myringa turned on her. “Bring them all back, then. I don't care. Just bring me Thanli!"

  Another face came forward, young, dazed, so new and out of place in that long-vanished throng. Nearly a boy. The last time Miska had seen that face, it had worn the awed, wondering smile of new fatherhood. Tanrin. Miska trembled, fighting to still her hands.

  "It's all wrong.” She turned away from the chasm. Lindi and Kimo approached like hesitant ghosts.

  "I don't care if it's wrong,” Myringa spat. “Bring me Thanli."

  "Lady Myringa,” said Miska, “I can't bring him to you. He belongs to the Last World now. He wouldn't be able to exist here."

  "Then take me to him.” Myringa pointed into the chasm. “Show me how to get there. Hurry up!"

  The chasm's light flickered red on Myringa's face.

  I'm the one holding the door open, Miska realized. If I let go, this would become a furnace. Myringa could back away—but it might burn her just enough, first, that she'd never, ever try to Worldwalk again.

  Images flashed past her. Humans with bright swords. Red blood on green grass. Fire. Humans falling, down and down. The Kankenni, driven down, and down...

  "No."

  "What?” Myringa looked stunned.

  "I will not take you to him. I'm taking
my friends back to the Solid World, and then I'll come back for Juliar, the Elders—and you.” She stood up—and teetered like an invalid after three weeks in bed. Lindi caught her hand.

  "I think...” Miska waited a moment for the room to stop spinning. “I think I'm going to need your help, Lindi."

  "Of course.” Lindi's fine dress was torn and covered with dust, her pink ribbon hung dejectedly in her tangled hair, but her face was calm. “What do you need me to do?"

  "I'll make a path.” Even as she spoke, Miska wove a silvery Mote-trail. “It should pull you back to the Temple. Get Vedi Sharanis, and Nurse Dannae. Tell them Juliar's hurt. Now, you'll need to keep hold of Kimo's hand, and make sure that both of you stay calm."

  "I'm calm!” Kimo protested.

  "Help Lindi and I stay calm, then.” Miska smiled. “You're the best Worldwalker ever, and I'm not very good at it, remember? We'll help each other."

  They stepped onto the path, but Miska hesitated. She returned to the side of the pit, hoping for just one more glimpse of a familiar face. Kimo and Lindi looked over her shoulder.

  Another face swam into view, no longer pale, her braid the same jet black, her expression still proud and stern.

  "Mami!” Kimo shrieked, and hurled himself at the doorway.

  "Kimo!” Miska tackled the boy around the waist. He shrieked and kicked.

  "No! Look—it was true. It's Mami!"

  "I told you,” said Myringa. Her eyes glittered in the orange light.

  "Mami! I want her back. Let go! You're hurting me, Miska. Let go! Ow! Mami!"

  "Hold him, Lindi,” Miska gasped “He ... ouch ... Get him away from the chasm ... Start along the path. It ... Ow! ... should be stable enough in the beginning. Like a kite string, remember. Hurry!"

  Even terrified, Lindi was still bigger than Kimo. She pulled the boy off Miska, pinned his arms in front of him, and half marched, half pushed him along the silver path.

  "Are you all right? Are you coming?” she called back to Miska, over Kimo's shouts.

  "I'm coming. Go!” Miska rolled over and paused a moment on her hands and knees. Her hair fell loose about her face. My ribbons ... she thought, dazed. She turned her head and looked toward the chasm.