Spinning Starlight

by R. C. Lewis

  “I don’t know. I really don’t. These things, these energies, they’re still so new to us. He could be lost in a different strand, separate from the conduits or the Khua. I don’t know. One thing I do know. You found us and freed us. Our little Liddi unlocked cosmic energies and got it done. So maybe we can still find Fabin.”

  It’s hard to be hopeful when my heart only feels the emptiness of Fabin’s absence, but Emil’s right. Maybe we can. The checked genes were a lie. I can trust my instincts, and maybe they’ll come up with something unexpected.

  “Now, why are you out here on your own, watching Khua, when every other day you’ve been so busy we hardly saw you?” Emil asks.

  “I’m waiting. Tiav said he’d come back today…if they let him come back.”

  “Is it possible they won’t?”

  Why does he have to ask me that when it’s the last thing I want to think about? “Sure, it’s possible. It depends on what happened after we left, everything I did when I was there, if they still think Tiav acted against his duties…I don’t know. I don’t know anything about Ferinne right now and that’s what kills me. They could arrest him, or they could let him come back.”

  “Tell me about this boy. Clearly not another Reb Vester.”

  Just when I thought I’d have no reason to laugh today. “As different from Reb as it gets. He trusted me without knowing anything, Emil. I mean, none of the things that everyone in the Seven Points knows. I could be anything or nothing, but what he saw was me. Then he finds out what being ‘Liddi Jantzen’ means, and he still sees me. At least, I think he does.”

  “Good. That’s important. Now we just need to make sure he can stare down your overbearing big brothers.”

  My smile grows. Tiav stared down his own government and the leaders of three alien races. He can handle Durant and the others.

  Just as quickly, the smile drops. Tiav’s been back on Ferinne for days. Facing his mother, trying to convince her that I was acting on behalf of the Khua, not against them. Trying to convince the Agnac that the Khua have more to say about the situation than they have in a long time. Keeping Quain and Yilt out of trouble for helping me.

  Because they could be in a lot of trouble. So could Tiav.

  “I should’ve gone with him to help explain,” I murmur.

  “You heard what Tiav said. You already had seven worlds to explain yourself to. He can handle the eighth.”

  More arguments wriggle through me. How the Seven Points didn’t have to put up with a strange girl who couldn’t and wouldn’t explain herself the way Ferinne did. How I gained trust and broke laws and turned allied races against each other.

  Those arguments stop because one of the Khua does. It holds steady at eye level several feet in front of us.

  It’s not like the insane maelstrom I used to leave Sampati, and it’s not quite like the Khua in their crystal spires on Ferinne. The knot of energy blossoms, then contracts with a snap. When I blink, Tiav stands there and the Khua floats away.

  I don’t have to ask how it went. He smiles. Emil isn’t leaning on me anymore, so I close the distance to Tiav. He sweeps me into his arms, and I pull myself even closer.

  “I missed you.” His breath tickles my ear.

  “How long will they let you stay? How bad were things there? The damage? Yilt? And your mother and Kalkig? Why are you laughing at me?”

  “Because I like hearing your voice.”

  Probably as much as I like using it. After so much struggling and silence, I can tell Tiav anything and everything I want. The relief blankets itself around me, even when everything else has made me so anxious.

  “I can answer everything,” he continues, “but first let’s help your brother back to the house.”

  I twist in Tiav’s arms to look back at Emil, but he’s not where I expect. He’s already started walking back toward the bridge and waves us off.

  “I made it out here on my own, I can make it back on my own. I’ll yell if I have a problem. Besides, if I stay here, I’ll give in to the irrational urge to beat Tiav with this stick.”

  Emil keeps going, and he does look strong enough, so I let him and turn back to Tiav.

  “Answers. Now.”

  “Things were pretty bad,” he admits. “After we left, the Agnac were calling in people from their home planet, possibly getting ready for war. The Haleians were divided, some of them siding with your friend Yilt—who’s been released, by the way—and no one knew what the Izim might try. And that was before we destroyed the conduits and everything fell apart. By the next Daglin, they’ll still be repairing the damage, especially from the Khua you didn’t knock loose—tidal waves flooded coastal cities, tremors leveled buildings, even some volcanic eruptions. In some ways, that was good, because it helped me convince everyone you were helping, not sabotaging. It would’ve been so much worse without you freeing a couple hundred of them in just the right places. But I can’t take credit for much of the convincing—Bright-Fade here did most of it.”

  He’s still wearing the sempu holding a Khua—the one he and I were holding when we freed my brothers, the only Khua who chose not to separate from the sempu when we were done.

  “She has a name, huh?”

  “Yes, he does.” He runs his thumb along my palm, tracing the scar matching the sempu patterns. “It…it’s going to get interesting, Liddi.”

  “How?”

  “The Izim and Crimna want to make contact with the Seven Points. We used those plans for the interlocks on the linguistic monitoring system, so my mother and Voand are going to start talking with your leaders on Neta to work it out. The Haleians are still discussing, and the Agnac are still being the Agnac. But Kalkig says he’ll be the first Agnac on Sampati to see what you ‘heathens’ are really like, because obviously he’ll have to visit.”

  I think I know what he’s saying, but I need him to say the words. “Why is that obvious?”

  “Because with the Khua resettling all the Points, everyone agrees you need an Aelo here.”

  “So you’re staying?”

  “I’m staying.”

  Those are the only words I need. I work my fingers into his dark hair, guiding his face to mine so I can kiss him. He kisses me back, tightening his arms around my waist to hold me closer. He’s not afraid of breaking me anymore.

  I’m not so afraid of being broken.

  When Tiav pulls back, he stays close, touching his forehead to mine. “What your brother said…Do I really need to worry about getting beaten?”

  “Not while they’re recovering, but once they do, yeah, you’ll have to get used to the threats. Especially from Emil, since he’s closest to me. And Durant, since he’s the oldest. Really, pretty much all of them. Except…”

  “Except Fabin,” he whispers.

  A sob wells up instantly, threatening to break free, but I refuse. I already spent a day and several nights crying. “Yes. Fabin. But I might have some ideas. I’m not giving up on him yet.”

  When I ask if it’s possible, Spin-Still doesn’t answer. She just shows me how to make a very particular sempu. The engravings are precise, intricate, complicated. Not like anything the Aelo have ever done—Tiav confirms that.

  It’s done, but Sampati isn’t the place for it. Tiav comes with me to Erkir. The Khua have become plentiful here already, but that also means more people lingering, watching, gawking once they get their own sempu, a token for travel. Khua tourism. I hope the effect fades once everyone gets used to them.

  We go to the plains, where I once flew a glider with the twins. The place I have in mind is a long hike out. It’s not as picturesque as the forests, mountains, or beaches, so no one’s here.

  No one biological. A single Khua hovers a few feet above the grass, waiting for us.

  “Are you sure you can accept the answer?” Tiav asks.

  “I need to know. The truth isn’t something to be afraid of.”

  A squeeze of my shoulder, a kiss, and he lets me take the final few steps a
lone.

  The new disk is in my pocket. From around my neck, Spin-Still pulses her encouragement. I take the disk in my hand and hold it out to the Khua. It hovers, questioning, investigating, before joining it in a flash of light and color.

  When I can see again, I’m not sure what I’m seeing. Not a Khua. Not an Izim. Both of those glow like white starlight. This small whorl of energy is a nebula spinning, colors shifting and weaving with hints of brighter lights within.

  It floats toward me as though curious, with none of the intimidating power of the Khua. I don’t need to run or back away.

  Still, I’m startled when it grazes my arm. A breeze of lightning. There are no words—not even the vague impression of my own thoughts like I get from Spin-Still. Only feelings.

  Worry. Confidence. Watchfulness.

  Guilt. Sadness.

  Something in it…it’s so familiar.

  “Fabin?” I whisper.

  No confirmation. I don’t know if this is what Fabin’s become, or an echo of what he was, or just my desperately wishful thinking.

  It doesn’t matter. Silence still traps me, because I can’t talk with him. Can’t tell him I’m sorry and he should’ve let us find another way and the Khua could’ve done it without him.

  The whorl brushes against me again, and my protests melt away, leaving the truth I haven’t wanted to face.

  Fabin is dead. I killed him when I spoke, and there’s no hope of freeing him.

  My legs threaten to give out, toppling me backward, but they can’t. My back stops against Tiav’s chest, and his hands on my waist keep me to my feet. He knew I needed him and came to me.

  Again the bundle of energy comes closer, touching my cheek, sparking against a tear. Sparking words. So few. So faint.

  Clever girl.

  Those words fill me with warmth just as they always have. Always when Fabin said them to me. Knowing he always meant them.

  The energy floats back away. It—Fabin?—whirls and snaps, rustling the grass at my feet before breaking. Disappears in an explosion that threatens to take my heart with it.

  I squeeze Tiav’s hands reassuringly so he’ll let go, then kneel to find the disk in a tangle of wildflowers. It’s shattered within its frame.

  SOME JOURNEYS CAN ONLY BE MADE ONCE. SOME PARTINGS AREN’T WHAT THEY SEEM. SOME ENDINGS MUST BE SO SOMETHING ELSE CAN BEGIN.

  Spin-Still’s saying she won’t show me how to recreate the disk. And I understand, but it hurts.

  SHE WISHES THERE WERE NO PAIN, BUT THAT COULD ONLY HAPPEN IF I DIDN’T LOVE FABIN.

  I understand that, too, so I let the pain be. “I’m making a choice, Tiav,” I say softly. “To believe my parents have been watching me. And now Fabin is, too.”

  “I know they are. They love you too much not to.” He pulls me to my feet, tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “What now?”

  “It’s time to make them proud.”

  THIS BOOK HAD SOME amazing help leaving the station. Huge thanks to Lisa Yoskowitz for getting me on the right track, Julie Moody for keeping me there, and both Kate Egan and Kieran Viola for pointing out that if I didn’t throw a switch or two, I might end up derailed.

  That’s enough train metaphor, I think.

  Thanks to Jamie Baker and everyone on the Hyperion team who work so hard to cheerlead for our books, both publicly and privately. Thanks also to the design team for making a book that’s oh-so-striking on the shelf and just as lovely to look at inside.

  Thanks to my agent Jennifer Laughran for not bailing on me when I get all mathy-sciencey on her and for keeping it real.

  I’m lucky to be friends with some fantastic writers who happily gave this a once-over. (Maybe twice, in some cases.) Mindy McGinnis, MarcyKate Connolly, Riley Redgate, and Charlee Vale all helped immeasurably in bringing this story together.

  Particular thanks go to Charlee, as well as Tess Sharpe, for showing such enthusiasm in my choice of fairy tale when I wasn’t sure. Their thoughts on the root of the tale were invaluable. Also, to everyone whose face lit up when I said “The Wild Swans” and didn’t need a summary—thank you for the motivation.

  To my family for putting up with deadline testiness.

  To my fellow teachers for supporting my non-mathematical activities.

  To my students for making sure I keep my head in the game.

  Thank you, all.

  R.C. LEWIS teaches math to teenagers—sometimes in sign language, sometimes not—so whether she’s a science geek or a bookworm depends on when you look. That may explain why her characters don’t like to be pigeonholed. Coincidentally, R.C. enjoys reading about quantum physics and the identity issues of photons. You can find her on Twitter (@RC_Lewis) and at www.rclewisbooks.com.