by R. C. Lewis
The routine is the same every time. Approach the Khua carefully in case it’s guarded. Yilt keeps a lookout, I set the Khua free, we go to the next one.
This time, Yilt stops me with a mammoth hand on my shoulder. “Are you certain you don’t want me to do it?”
I glare at him. We already had this conversation once—as much as I can converse with him, at least. I know it bothers him to see my hand bleed over and over, but he’s a better lookout than I could be. He’s faster, stronger, and sees better in the dark.
Besides, I didn’t tell Yilt this, but it feels like my responsibility. Even though I don’t believe what Fabin said about this being specifically his fault, my brothers and I are tangled up in the situation, so it’s our job to untangle it. Because we can. I can.
The glare is enough for Yilt to give in and nudge me along. This particular Khua is on the edge of some farmland. The field is full of plants taller than I am, and the air is thick with an earthy, green smell. I never paid much attention to the agricultural areas of Erkir—they’re mostly sentimental, with the way we produce food now—but it seems like I saw images of these plants before. Maybe in one of the boys’ research projects. I think this is how squash grows. Unless it’s beets.
While attempting to complete a vital task to help a newly discovered race, Liddi Jantzen got distracted by questions of vegetable identity.
I almost laugh at my own mental media-cast. I need to get some sleep soon.
For perhaps the hundredth time—maybe less, maybe more—I secure the sempu in my hand, say a mental hello to the Khua before me, and brace myself for the imminent pain.
And it hurts. It really does. A little worse each time, either because my hand never gets a chance to fully heal, or because I’m so tired it takes a little longer to push the Khua free.
This time hurts so bad, I’m certain I’ll see pinpricks on the back of my hand, too. So bad, my muscles override my brain and pull back. A second attempt ends the same.
“I know it hurts, Liddi. Try to hurry and get it over with.”
It’s the most sympathy I’ve ever heard in Yilt’s voice. The warmth it brings is short-lived.
“Who’s there?” That’s not Yilt. The voice comes from farther away, but not by much.
“Wait, it’s her. Stop!”
I glance over my shoulder. Maybe it’s farmers. Yilt can handle a couple of farmers.
But not when the farmers are just as big as he is. Haleian farmers seem pretty unlikely, and I catch a glimpse of a uniform as they approach. Keepers.
Yilt punches one and kicks the other. Not enough to stop them, just to keep them busy. “Liddi, go!”
Not without finishing the job. Panic gives me the adrenaline I need to shove the Khua free, even with the energy slicing into my hand.
“Now, run!”
I hesitate. I could try to help Yilt. Not sure how, exactly. The two keepers handle themselves just as well as he does. Mostly I could get myself knocked out, but it doesn’t feel right to leave him.
“I said run! Finish it!”
The Haleian’s expression has never been so clear to me. Steely eyes, set jaw. This is more important than him, than me, than even my brothers.
Yilt is right, and I run, but I hate it.
The keepers came from the direction of the streamer, so I can’t go that way. The only option is into the field.
Cornfield. Corn grows on plants like this.
Amazing how my brain comes through when it’s the most irrelevant.
I run while I can still hear the fighting, but the whip and rustle of the cornstalks soon drowns that out. The pack of supplies on my back makes moving between the plants awkward, but this situation is exactly why Yilt made me carry it every single time.
They’re going to arrest him. The government may be slow, but what if capital offense trials are fast? They can’t kill him for helping me. I can’t stand even thinking it.
I don’t know what to do.
CHANGE DIRECTION.
Sounds as good as anything. I turn directly to the right and keep moving, slower now, trying not to disturb the stalks and give away my location.
Maybe I should keep going.
I SHOULD GET ON THE GROUND AND HIDE.
The heat-blocking material is in my pack. I lie down and cover myself with it.
Maybe Spin-Still should launch me back to Quain’s ship.
HE’S ON THE FAR SIDE OF THE PLANET AND SHE NEEDS A DIRECT LINE OF SIGHT TO TARGET SOMETHING SO MUCH SMALLER THAN THE POINTS’ PLANETARY CORES.
All I can do is lie here, breathing the soil, not moving. My arms sting with cuts from the cornstalks, but it’s nothing compared to the pain in my hand. At least I’m well-acquainted with silence already. The footsteps of two approaching Haleians are hard to miss. Voices accompany them, just close enough to make out.
“Anything?”
“No. You?”
“Nothing. If it’s true she captured and enslaved a Khua, she could’ve used it to get to the other side of the planet.”
Shows what they know.
“All right, one of the flyers is going to do a sweep of the area, just in case. We should get the traitor to Chalu.”
The voices fade with the ground-jarring footsteps and scraping of the cornstalks. I stay covered, keeping my ears tuned for the telltale whirr of flyers overhead.
A traitor. That’s what they think Yilt is. Someone who just thought this world could use a little jostling, and I was the laserball that came barreling in for a bigger collision than he expected.
I say a silent apology to the Haleian for getting him into this. And a silent promise that if I can get him out of it, I will.
As usual, the workshop was noisy and chaotic, but Mr. Jantzen and the boys liked it that way. And the boys liked it best when their father had the time to spend with them.
Liddi added to the chaos by running into the room and crashing into her father’s legs.
“Whoa, slow down there,” he said, swinging her up into his arms.
“I’m sorry, Nevi,” Mrs. Jantzen said from the doorway. “She keeps slipping away.”
“Oh, let her stay, Sav. The boys don’t mind, do you?”
A chorus of “No” responded, and Emil added, “Liddi can sit with me.”
Mr. Jantzen set her down and reminded them to make sure she didn’t hurt herself before moving on to help Durant with a tricky timing mechanism.
The boys kept working, and Liddi entertained herself with various bits left out on the workbench. Some she examined and set aside; others she added to her collection, piecing them together. She even sneaked into Emil’s kit to snag a power supply. An hour later, Fabin noticed what she had in her hands.
“Um, Dad? I think Liddi made something.”
He came over to look, but before he got there, Liddi’s little fingers flipped the switch. The lights she’d cobbled together burst into life as the device flew up from her hands on its tiny hover-motor. It floated there, shining and sparkling as everyone stared at it.
“Boys, did she get that from one of you?” Mr. Jantzen asked.
Another chorus of negatives, and again Emil followed it. “I watched her make it, Daddy.”
Vic and Luko responded in one voice. “But she’s two.”
No one could make sense of it, but Liddi was too little to care. All she cared about was watching her bright little machine, the way its light played off the walls.
“Pretty spark!”
TWO NIGHTS LATER, I’ve freed several dozen more Khua, all of them around Podra. Enough that seeing an untethered Khua floating around isn’t all that rare anymore. After falling asleep for a few hours in the cornfield, I woke before sunrise and cleared out. I worried that Podra would be in the most danger, with so many anchored Khua around it, so I had to brave the more monitored areas.
Getting here involved “borrowing” an unsecured streamer, to add to my list of offenses. I don’t dare use it anymore, though. Too easy to track. So I rest du
ring the day and spend the night running across the countryside.
The Khua are more likely to be guarded here, but the guards still go on patrol, still change shifts, still wander off to relieve themselves. Half the Khua I’ve freed since Yilt’s capture were guarded when I got there, but I waited, watched, and let Spin-Still be the wind pushing me at the right moment.
It’s hide-and-seek all over again.
This one could be tricky. I lie flat on my belly at the top of a ridge overlooking a pair of Khua maybe two hundred yards apart, the closest of any I’ve seen. Around Podra, there are usually a few miles between them, and away from Podra, it’s more likely a hundred miles at least.
These two Khua are close enough to watch at the same time, but they’re each guarded by three Agnac. One in particular sticks close to the anchors, hardly moving. Maybe these Khua are extra-special in the Agnac’s weird religion.
Spin-Still appreciates their respect, but wishes they’d listen a little more. I think Agnac yell too much, and a bout of induced silence could do them a world of good.
Once in a while, one of the Agnac wanders off, but that leaves two at one Khua and three at the other, plus I have to worry about whether the wanderer will circle around and find me. They each carry small lights—their night vision must be awful, because the light of the three moons is plenty—so at least that makes it harder for them to sneak up on me.
I glance at my watch, resisting the twinge as it reminds me of Tiav. I should leave, find another Khua to free. An easier target. But every time I think about getting up, I get the urge to stay, to wait, to watch. It has to be Spin-Still, and she has to have a reason for it.
All six of the Agnac are in position when the Khua on my left draws everyone’s attention. It whirls and flashes into a larger ball of light, just for a heartbeat. When it goes back to normal, an extra person stands in front of it.
Even with just the moons and the light of the Khua, I know that build. It’s Tiav.
The Agnac recognize him, too, an instant before Tiav collapses. They’re shouting in their language before he hits the ground.
“Stop, listen to me! You don’t understand!”
His voice comes through amid the angry gargles of the Agnac language, but I don’t understand, either. He just came out of a Khua without using a sempu. Without “authorization.” He broke the Agnac’s biggest law, and he must’ve been in there since before I arrived.
Sparks.
The three Agnac on my right run to see what’s happened. Their Khua is left unattended.
Double-sparks. That can’t be what Spin-Still expects me to do.
For the first time in days, there’s no clear answer. This time, I choose.
Calculations tick away the seconds. How long it would take me to reach the Khua. The odds none of the Agnac would see me, or notice when I freed it. Those odds are okay, with the diversion Tiav’s causing.
Then the approach I’d have to take to get to Tiav. The chances of getting out alive. Slim.
Tiav hasn’t gotten up. I remember how an “unfiltered” Khua feels.
Someone has a stick. Raises it. Swings it down.
Tiav cries out.
I’m already halfway down the hill, cursing the numbers that say I won’t be able to loose another Khua, that those I’ve managed won’t be enough. It doesn’t matter—if Ferinne gets torn to pieces now, maybe it’s as much their own fault as Minali’s.
I don’t know what I’m going to do to the Agnac when I get there. All I know is I have to stop what they’re doing to Tiav.
Before I reach them, the smallest Agnac grabs the stick, tries to wrestle it away. The larger one throws him off. With the way Tiav’s defender twists, the light of the Khua illuminates his face.
Kalkig.
Something’s changed. No anger in his face. Just fear.
The other five Agnac don’t listen to him, I have no chance of stopping them, but I run anyway.
“Hey!”
“Stop!”
Those aren’t Agnac voices. They have Sampati accents.
Vic appears in front of Tiav, sending a very startled Agnac back a step. The one with the stick swings it at Vic, hitting nothing, and the momentum spins him to face Anton.
It’s not just those two. All eight of my brothers appear, disappear, reappear as the Agnac whirl and shout and fight. My brothers aren’t random, either. They appear everywhere but in my path. They’re trying to clear the way, give me a chance.
They’re in pain, they’re weak, but they’re making this effort for me. I can’t screw it up. I slip through the commotion, reach Tiav crumpled on the ground.
“That’s her!”
Tiav looks up at those words, just as I grab hold to haul him to his feet. The spark is back in his eyes, the spark that sees who I am. Light floods through me, but only sharpens my fear.
“Ignore them. Get her!” one of the Agnac shouts.
Kalkig picks up a stick of his own and swings it, but not at us—at his own people. “Liddi, get him out of here.”
The shock of hearing Kalkig use my name rather than heathen freezes me for the smallest moment. Long enough for him to look over his shoulder at me. Alien gestures vary, but our eyes all speak the same language. Kalkig isn’t sure he trusts me yet, but something changed in the days I’ve been gone. He trusts his friend again, and he’s sorry for what he’s done.
I’m sorry about all of it.
Tiav can barely stand. There’s only one way out. I hate to do it to him when he’s already hurting, but the alternative would be a lot worse.
With silent thanks to my brothers, I wrap one arm tight around Tiav’s waist, reach for the anchored Khua with my free hand, and hope Spin-Still will tell her friend to drop us off somewhere decent.
The Khua are by far my least favorite way to travel, but this time is worse than usual. Mind-ripping chaos, more pain than a person should be able to take, that’s all normal. The nauseating twist and stretch like someone’s trying to make me taller, the choking dimness surrounding us…those are new. Just when I’m certain we’ve reached the end, it starts over.
Days. Years. Microseconds.
Then we’re out. Tiav’s full weight collapses against me, and my own body is convinced its cells have imploded. I struggle to lower him to the ground without dropping him.
The pain isn’t real. It’s in my head.
Surprisingly, focusing on that thought diminishes the pain, enough that I can take stock of our surroundings.
A canyon between two wooded mountains. The rush of water reveals a river nearby. Two crystal spires anchor a Khua behind us. And it’s daylight.
So, still on Ferinne, but the other side of it. I thought we couldn’t do that.
WE TRAVELED BY TWO KHUA. THAT MOMENT I FELT LIKE IT SHOULD’VE BEEN OVER, I WAS RIGHT. WE’D REACHED ONE OF THE OTHER POINTS, BUT ANOTHER KHUA WAS WAITING RIGHT THERE TO PICK US UP AGAIN.
Tiav groans and tries to push himself up, but I push him back. Energy charges through me at being close to him again, touching him again, but I can’t think about that. I don’t know how badly the Agnac injured him. The bruises on his arms will hurt for a few days, and I tenderly check his ribs. He winces, but I don’t think anything’s broken.
“I’m fine,” he insists, even if his voice doesn’t sound fine at all. Slowly, he sits up, just partway, and scoots to lean back against a rock. Even that much effort winds him. “Liddi, I’m so sorry. I should’ve let you explain, but I didn’t understand. I felt something wrong in the Khua, like a sickness, and I saw your brothers and thought they did it. Then you had the sempu and the Khua with it. Everything, my whole life has been about the Khua, learning from them, but this…I didn’t understand, and I was scared.”
My brothers are the cause, but not on purpose. That’s the only thing Tiav misinterpreted, and I can’t blame him for that. I lay my hand on his chest, hoping to calm him, but all I can feel is how hard his heart pounds. The tension of his shallow breaths. I wonder h
ow he understands now, what happened to change his mind.
He still knows how to read my eyes. “No matter how we deployed people to guard the Khua, you seemed to go straight for the ones left open. Everyone’s saying you imprisoned that one.” His eyes move to Spin-Still briefly. “That you’re using it against its will. But I thought about what Quain said, about the Khua allowing you to come here from Sampati. Quain wouldn’t talk to me, and I started to wonder if the Khua was helping you. I knew I was missing something.”
I’m still missing something. I rap my knuckles on a nearby rock and point to my head.
“Because I’m hard-headed?”
No, not that—pretty sure I’m harder-headed than he is. I jut out my chin and lean forward on my arms like an Agnac might.
“Kal? I’m not sure if the logic sank in or if it was just seeing how miserable I was, but he agreed something was off. Especially once I explained how the Khua have been getting more and more confusing since before you arrived. He told his people he had those shrines covered and I disabled the alarms. Then I went in to ask the Khua if I was right.”
I trace a circle on his chest, where a crystal disk should lie but doesn’t.
“Without a sempu,” he confirms. “It was…I’d been told how awful communing was before we had the disks, but I had no idea what it’s really like. Hours felt like a lifetime. Too long, it gave that patrol time to show up. Some of those men, your brothers, they found me and tried to explain, but it was hard for me to focus. They’re trapped, right? Because of what someone on Sampati is doing, the one who put that thing in your throat so if you speak, they’ll die. And that’s why you wouldn’t tell me. You were afraid we might hurt them if we knew, and they’re your brothers, so you had to keep them safe.”
He knows. He understands. Not everything yet, but enough. And he’s not angry anymore.
Tiav sees my relief and takes my hand. The wrong hand. The sharp sting jerks it back.
“What’s the matter? Let me see.”
I turn my hand, and he gently holds it by my wrist. His eyes break my heart. He thinks it’s his fault.
