Rift in the Sky

by Julie E. Czerneda

  His deep laugh vibrated through her spine and he nuzzled her hair. “Tai can teach everyone to swim.”

  “Not me,” Aryl countered, then had to smile. His joy was impossible not to share. “If he can convince Husni—I suppose I’ll have to.”

  Husni. The other elders. She needed to talk to them all today, find some answers about the Cloisters, resolve what to do with Oran. She shifted, loath to move, no longer at peace.

  Or was it something—someone? With very poor—make that no shields. Aryl frowned. WORRY . . . WORRY!

  “Hello, Aryl. Enris.” With a bright smile that fooled no one, Seru dropped down beside her. Ezgi didn’t even try to smile. He sat, crossed his legs, and began digging morose little holes in the dirt.

  “Cousin,” Enris greeted him with that “why are you bothering me?” tone he usually saved for his little brother.

  There’s a problem, Aryl sent privately.

  We were enjoying a moment alone. Of course there’s a problem.

  She elbowed his ribs, gently. “Seru, what is it?”

  She didn’t expect Seru’s green eyes to fill with tears, or for her cousin to wail, loudly: “Naryn’s b-baby—!!” WOEFEARGRIEF!

  HUSH! Aryl sent without thinking.

  Seru covered her face with her hands, and Ezgi abandoned his digging to cradle her in his arms, giving Aryl a reproachful look. “She’s upset.”

  “Which the entire world knows,” Enris informed him, but kindly. “Help her!”

  Ezgi blinked, as if the notion hadn’t occurred to him. The handsome young Chosen might have more Power than his beloved Seru, Aryl reminded herself, but he had a fair bit to learn about using it. “Strengthen her shields,” she advised, grateful as the pressure of Seru’s emotions against her own subsided. “Much better.” She touched Seru’s arm. What about the baby?

  Seru worked her face free of Ezgi’s shirt. “What she did—what Naryn did—it took strength from them both. Naryn’s recovering, but her baby isn’t. I don’t know how long—the baby’s dying, Aryl. I can’t help either of them!” This with an outburst of DISTRESSDESPAIRGUILT not even Ezgi could contain.

  It didn’t matter, they all felt it. Aryl sighed, looking out at the sparkling water. “It was going to happen,” she heard herself say in a strange voice. “This is sooner, that’s all.”

  Neither Tuana were prepared for the Yena swiftness with which Seru threw herself from Ezgi to pounce on Aryl, taking her by one leg to yank her from Enris’ lap, grabbing her shoulders to give her a hard shake. “Don’t say that!”

  “Don’t be a fool!” Aryl shoved free. The two sat on the dirt and glared at one another.

  Seru didn’t back down. “We have to do something!”

  “Aryl. Seru’s right. We have to help Naryn.”

  She twisted to look at Enris though, to her inner sense, he held no shield against her. His concern was real. As was his determination.

  He’d stopped a river, but there were some things no one could fix. Aryl’s own despair welled up. If only Oran had been in control of her dreaming, could access the knowledge of So na’s Cloisters—even that, she admitted, was grasping for too small a branch. Tuana’s Adepts couldn’t do anything for her.

  Her Chosen spoke aloud, his eyes glittering like sunlight on water. “I know who could.”

  Of tasks not to envy, Aryl decided, she’d pick Seru’s and Ezgi’s. The two would explain to the rest of Sona—at the last possible moment—why three of their number, including their Speaker, would leave in the midst of, well, of everything. Those with the most pressing concerns were Haxel, Bern, and Oran. All three would be looking for her. A discussion and problem that could wait, in her opinion, so long as Oran wasn’t in the Dream Chamber. Naryn couldn’t.

  Maybe she should suggest Ezgi let Seru’s shields fail again. Their Birth Watcher’s passion for what they hoped to accomplish would send the others running. Especially Haxel, Bern, and Oran.

  An unworthy thought, however appealing.

  “Explain to me again why I have to wear this?” “This” being Oran’s Adept robe. Naryn held it up to herself. It would fit.

  “Because it might help.” Because Enris tried to anticipate everything that might sway Vyna’s Council in Naryn’s favor. Borrowing the robe had been Aryl’s task.

  What they would take to trade was his. She was careful not to reach for him; he’d sense her impatience, her not-unreasonable worry he’d linger with the Human to relate every detail of the new dam and the lake growing behind it.

  They’d no time to spare. She didn’t need to be a Birth Watcher to know that. Naryn’s skin was an unhealthy color; the feel of her was wrong. “Will you hurry?” she suggested.

  Naryn raised a brow. “You didn’t ask Oran for it, did you?”

  Had Oran been with the robe at the time, she might have. “I’ll apologize later. It’s not as if she needs it right now. Please, Naryn,” Aryl said, more gently. “Enris will be back at any moment. We have to go before—” Before the baby died, taking Naryn with her. They weren’t to tell her; Seru had insisted. “—before we’re missed.”

  The other slipped the robe over her head, running her fingers along the textured threads of embroidery. “I wondered for such a long time how it would feel,” she mused, straightening the front panels.

  Aryl’s lips quirked to one side. “How does it?”

  Naryn held her arms and turned slowly. “Heavy,” was all she said when she stopped, but there was a faint pink to her cheeks.

  They were prepared, but where was . . .

  “I have them.” Enris was grinning as he appeared, as if fully aware of her worry. The white crate under his arm was familiar. And not-Om’ray. “Didn’t need to wake our friend at all.”

  She’d apologize to Marcus, too. As for the ease of all? It left an unpleasant taste, like a warning. “We can’t use that,” Aryl decided and grabbed a pack. “Here.” She held it open.

  Her Chosen’s grin disappeared. He took the pack from her hands. “Don’t get too close to these. Either of you.” He poured the clear wafers in, tossed the empty crate aside, and slung the pack over one shoulder. Careless, no. Disrespectful, yes. “Are you ready?”

  “There’s no need for you to come.” Naryn pointed to the pack. “Give me that. I have the memory of their Council Chambers.” She had more. Memories of how the Vyna had treated Enris. How they trapped and killed unChosen from other Clans who came on Passage, calling them “lesser Om’ray” unfit to Join with their Chosen.

  Aryl looked forward to meeting them in person. She’d promised to behave, but if they gave her any reason . . .

  But what mattered about the Vyna wasn’t their isolation or the threat they posed—it was how they managed to give birth without having Chosen at all. Like Naryn.

  Who wasn’t going alone.

  “Together or not at all.” Aryl took Naryn’s hand, sent reassurance and—

  Before she could form another thought, Enris grabbed her free hand and the room disappeared . . .

  “—Enris!” Aryl’s protest died in her throat. She threw up her shields, felt the other two do the same.

  They were in Vyna.

  Naryn stepped up on the dais and took a seat. “So how long do we wait?”

  The show of frustration was just that, a show. Naryn was exhausted and frightened. Not, Aryl knew, that she’d reveal either.

  “They’ll come,” Enris said grimly.

  Aryl nodded to herself. No hiding their arrival. They would be felt, as she felt the Vyna above her. Vyna who had to be wondering how three Om’ray could suddenly appear in the heart of their Cloisters. It shouldn’t be long.

  Strange, a Cloisters not only below ground but underwater. Like the buildings Marcus had shown her with his flying vid device, beneath the Lake of Fire.

  The wall of arched windows that in Yena looked out on green life, and in Sona, piles of dirt, here revealed a darkness as star-filled as truenight without the Makers in the sky.

&nb
sp; Stars that moved.

  Fascinating. Aryl walked to the nearest window. Not stars, of course. They might, she judged, be eyes of some kind, if eyes varied in size and shape, and were all white. She drew her short knife, flipped it in her hand, and rapped the hilt firmly on the transparent surface.

  “Did I forget to mention the rumn are attracted to noise?” Enris commented, carefully not approaching the window.

  “I want to see one.” Aryl rapped again, more firmly. The “eyes” swirled in an outgoing spiral from the point of contact, then rushed back again with powerful grace. Markings on a body, she decided in triumph, peering closer. A very large body. Or several.

  She’d watched water hunters eat an osst alive. Aryl shrugged and put away her knife, losing interest. Simple to avoid such a threat. Stay out of the water.

  Then, they were no longer alone in this part of Vyna’s Cloisters.

  The Council Chamber doors were wide open. A sparkling blue cap, sprouting a growth of twisted yellow threads knotted with tiny black beads, appeared at the left side of the door-frame, followed by a single eye as a Vyna contorted to see them while keeping as much of himself unnoticed as possible.

  With that on his head? Aryl tried not to smile.

  Etleka! Enris greeted cheerfully, for some reason running his hand through his thick black hair. Aryl, Naryn, meet my old friend—

  The cap and eye were gone.

  Friend, is it? Naryn commented.

  Enris grinned. Watch this. “Etleka Vyna!” His deep voice rang from every corner of the vast room. “You know I’ll do this as long as—”

  HUSH, Enris! The Vyna scuttled around the corner as if chased, coming to a panting stop. Fool!

  Starvation couldn’t explain an unChosen so pitifully frail. Ill, perhaps, Aryl thought. His face wasn’t right either. Beneath the brilliant cap and tassels, his eyes were sunken pits, his jaw too long. Dirt lined the creases at his neck and forehead. He wore a simple shirt and pants held up by a rope belt, the stained yellow fabric worn through at the knees and thinned at the elbows.

  He looked as out of place in the gleaming chamber as they must.

  Enris no longer smiled. He gestured a grave apology. What happened, Etleka? I thought you were to—a trace of revulsion, hidden so quickly Aryl might have imagined it—serve one of your Adepts.

  You happened. No effort to hide the emotion there. Anger curled around dread.

  Aryl stepped closer to her Chosen, wary of threat, however unlikely the source. Enris glanced down and gave a tiny shake of his head. His problem, that meant.

  She scowled at him, then at the Vyna. Her problem, if he made any move at all.

  I meant you no harm, Enris sent. You or any Vyna.

  No harm? Etleka’s palms slapped the front of his pants, once. Twice. Hard, furious blows. Contaminated, they call me. Fit only to clean waste. And talk to you. I don’t care how you got here this time. Go away, Enris. You aren’t welcome here. Go away!

  He hadn’t looked at her, Aryl realized. Not at her or Naryn. As if Enris was all he could see.

  Enris spread his arms. Blame me. I won’t argue. Once we see your Council, we’ll be gone and never come again.

  The young Vyna’s mouth gaped, showing too few teeth. If it was a smile, Aryl thought with a chill, it was the most horrifying one she’d ever seen on an Om’ray’s face. No other Vyna will come near you. Go! He waved his filthy hands, as if shooing biters.

  They will when you tell them we’ve more of what I gave Tarerea Vyna.

  The hands stopped moving. Etleka licked his lips. Give it to me. I’ll take it. Show them.

  “Think we’re fools, unChosen?” Naryn snapped from her seat on the Council dais.

  Etleka drew himself up and looked at her for the first time. You are lesser Om’ray, unworthy and foul. I, least of Vyna, am beyond your comprehension.

  “That I agree with—”

  Naryn! Aryl admonished. To the Vyna, We will stay here and wait for your Council’s decision. Then, as she’d learned from her mother, she swept her hands in the gesture of gratitude. Thank you, Etleka Vyna. Be well.

  Then she turned and went to rap on the window again.

  There was a flicker of astonishment, as if the scruffy unChosen couldn’t believe he was being dismissed by a “lesser Om’ray.” She kept an eye on his reflection against star-flecked black as he whirled and ran from the chamber.

  “He and Daryouch looked after me. Taught me to catch denos. Fed me too many.” Enris stood beside her and reached to almost touch the window, but didn’t. “I never meant them any harm.”

  Aryl dropped her hand to take his, felt his remorse and wished she could rap the hilt of her knife against heads, not the window. Peace, beloved. None of this was your fault. Aloud, “Any harm here belongs to the Vyna. And that Tikitik.” Thought Traveler, if he’d known the consequences to the Vyna as well as Enris, probably enjoyed both. Meddlers, the Vyna called them.

  Never without their own motives. They’d stirred this pot. Why?

  “We wait,” Aryl decided. As long as it took.

  Agreed. His fingers closed around hers.

  Naryn tucked her feet under the Adept’s robe and her chin into the palm of one hand. She closed her eyes. “This was your idea. Wake me when someone interesting shows up.”

  Without the sky, there was no way to measure how long the Vyna kept them waiting. Enris leaned against a wall, big arms crossed and eyes closed. She might have thought he dozed, as Naryn quietly did, except for the awareness of his mind where it touched hers, making sure he knew where she was, following her steps. Not trusting, her Chosen. Not trusting at all.

  She smiled to herself as she paced.

  The size of the chamber was familiar. It was immense, able to accommodate all of Vyna many times over. Her inner sense felt this as the smallest Clan other than Sona, but she’d been surprised to find only ninety, and those spread out, as if few lived or worked together.

  Yena’s Council Chamber had the same narrow dais in front of the wall of towering windows, the same row of tall-backed, pale green chairs for Councillors. Chairs for ceremony, not everyday business. There’d been a cluster of comfortable, mixed seating on a homely mat to one side of Yena’s, a practical clutter of tables and mugs. Sona’s had been stripped of all but the dais; they’d yet to find the ceremonial chairs among those tossed into rooms. Vyna’s?

  The magnificent expanse of floor was bare of anything but polish and reflection. She might have walked on the lights above, the windows with their moving glints of white. Aryl stayed to the walls, knife in hand and reversed, tapping once in a while. In Yena, the ceremonial doors weren’t the only way in. There’d been another entrance, smaller, covered by a curtain. A convenience for those entering from within the Cloisters: Councillors, Adepts, the Lost. In Sona, an open arch, barely head high. There seemed to be none here.

  The Stranger camp had taught her not to rely only on her eyes. Sona itself had hidden doorways, many of which they had yet to find despite Oran’s promotion to Keeper and Hoyon’s boasting.

  Tap, tap. Didn’t matter to her if the Vyna disliked sound.

  And, Aryl thought, walking another soundless few steps before stopping again, it passed the time.

  There was a great deal of wall.

  Tap, tap.

  Almost back where she’d started, the next tap produced a more interesting clank. Metal. On a section of wall exactly like the others. She didn’t try to find the opening mechanism, satisfied to know where the Vyna would come.

  Aryl went to wait by the ceremonial doors, her eyes fixed on the hollow portion of wall.

  Her stomach suggested it was after the midday meal before any Vyna came toward them. At last. She’d begun to fear Etleka had gone back to cleaning pipes instead of taking their message. “Someone’s coming.”

  Several someones.

  “The Council,” Enris guessed.

  Naryn unfolded and rose to her feet, smoothing the panels of her robe. Aryl
resisted the impulse to do the same. Thanks to her impulsive Chosen, she hadn’t had time to grab a flask of water, let alone change into anything remotely impressive. She wore her favorite, thus well mended, blue tunic, of a loose comfortable fabric from Sona’s storerooms and deep pockets. A belt held her knives. Her feet were in a tough pair of the light Sona footwear she found didn’t interfere with climbing. At least the tunic was clean and her hair was inside its metal net. Most of it. What expressed itself behind her back she couldn’t worry about.

  The Speaker’s Pendant—she’d meant to leave it behind. Aryl started to tuck it inside her clothes. Clans didn’t talk to one another through delegates. Unless it would help the Vyna deal with her. On that thought, she left it out.

  Be careful. From Enris to both of them.

  Your idea, Naryn snapped back. Then added, For which I thank you, Enris d’sud Sarc, in case there’s no chance later, with the faintest possible touch of hope.

  Enris looked at her and gave his slow smile.

  Aryl resisted the impulse to drop her hand to the hilt of her longknife as the section of wall cracked along four lines and silently turned open. These were Om’ray, she told herself firmly.

  But shared memory hadn’t prepared her for who came through the doors.

  First came six Chosen, all in transparent robes that showed the swell of pregnancy on their too thin bodies, their hair shaved or absent, replaced by caps that sprouted colorful threads and beads. Vyna’s Council. None matched Enris’ memories.

  As they took their seats, sparing not a word or look for the three Sona, another group entered. Aryl hid her astonishment. Nine chairs, each floating a hand’s breadth above the floor, their occupants the oldest Om’ray she’d ever seen. Vyna’s Adepts. They were wrapped in white blankets and attended by unChosen males, ready to give them strength. The future Etleka had wanted so badly.

  Yorl sud Sarc, her mother’s uncle, had taken her strength to heal himself. Had Vyna begun thus? Aryl shuddered.

  Like the Councillors, Vyna’s Adepts paid no attention to them, though Aryl guessed this had something to do with the concentration needed for such Power. For Power was here. She could feel it, knew from the stiffness of Naryn’s body beside her that she did, too. Enris, on the other hand, looked relaxed and welcoming. From his shields, he was neither.