Ruin. Rebuilding. Ruin again. Regrowth. Kira followed the scenes with her hand as larger and greater cities appeared and larger, greater destruction took place. The cycle was so regular that its pattern took on a clear form: an up-and-down movement, wavelike. From the tiny corner where it began, where the first ruin came, it enlarged upon itself. The fires grew as the villages grew. All of them were still tiny, created from the smallest stitches and combinations of stitches, but she could see their pattern of growth and how each time the ruin was worse and the rebuilding more difficult.
But the sections of serenity were exquisite. Miniature flowers of countless hues flourished in meadows streaked with golden-threaded sunlight. Human figures embraced. The pattern of the peaceful times felt immensely tranquil compared to the tortured chaos of the others.
Tracing with her finger the white and pink-tinged clouds against pale skies of gray or green, Kira wished again for blue. The color of calm. What was it Annabella had said? That they had blue yonder? What did that mean? Who were they? And where was yonder?
More unanswered questions.
Great sheets of rain spattered against the window, distracting her. Kira sighed and watched the trees bend and sway in the wind. Thunder muttered in the distance.
She wondered where Matt was, what he was doing in this weather. She knew that ordinary people — those who lived near the place where she and her mother had shared their cott — would be indoors today, the men sullen and edgy, the women complaining loudly because weather kept them from their usual chores. Tykes, confined, would be fighting and then wailing in response to swift backhanded slaps from their mothers.
Her own life with her soft-spoken widowed mother had been different. But it had set her apart too and made others, like Vandara, hostile.
"Kira?" She heard Thomas’s voice and his knock at her door.
"Come in."
He came and stood by her window, eyeing the rain. "I was just wondering what Matt’s up to in this weather," Kira said.
Thomas began to laugh. "Well, I can answer that. He’s up to finishing my breakfast. He arrived early this morning, dripping wet. He said his mother threw him out because he was noisy and troublesome. I think he just wanted breakfast though."
"Branch too?"
"Branch too. Of course."
As if in response, they heard the tap-tapping of the dog’s feet in the corridor; then Branch appeared in the doorway, his head cocked, ears up, bent tail wagging exuberantly. Kira knelt and scratched behind his ear.
"Kira?" Thomas was still staring through the window at the rain.
"Hmmm?" She looked up from the dog.
"I heard it again in the night. I’m certain of it this time. The sound of a child crying. It seemed to come from the floor below."
She looked at him and saw that he was concerned. "I wonder, Kira," he said hesitantly, "would you go with me? To explore a bit? I suppose it could be just the sound of wind."
It was true that outside the wind was relentless. Tree branches lashed the side of the building and torn leaves whirled away. The sound of the storm, however, was nothing like the sound of a crying child.
"Maybe an animal?" Kira suggested. "I’ve heard cats yowling so that they sound like babies with colicky bellies."
"Cats?" Thomas repeated dubiously. "Well, maybe."
"Or a young goat? They make a crying sound."
Thomas shook his head. "It wasn’t a goat."
"Well, no one ever said we couldn’t explore," Kira commented. "Not to me, anyway."
"Nor me."
"All right, then, I’ll go with you. The light’s not good for working this morning anyway." She stood. Branch wriggled with anticipation. "What about Matt? I suppose we should take him along."
"Take me where?" Matt appeared in the doorway, damp-haired and barefoot with crumbs on his chin, jam on the edges of his mouth, and wearing a too-large woven shirt belonging to Thomas. "Shall we be having an adventure?"
"Matt?" Kira remembered her intention to ask him. "Have you ever seen a beast? A real one?"
Matt’s face lighted. "Billions and billions." He made a beast face, teeth exposed. He roared and his dog jumped away from him in alarm.
Kira rolled her eyes and looked at Thomas.
"Here, Branchie." Matt, his beast disguise abandoned, squatted beside the dog, who came forward and sniffed him. "Some smearies for you." He grinned as the dog licked breakfast remains from his face.
"Yes, we’ll have ourselves an adventure," Kira told him. She laid the protective cover over the robe. "We thought we’d explore a bit. We’ve never been on the floor below this one."
Matt eyes widened in delight at the idea of an exploration.
"I heard a noise last night," Thomas explained. "Probably nothing, but we thought we’d go take a look."
"Noise don’t never be nothing," Matt pointed out. Quite rightly, Kira thought.
"Well, it’s probably nothing important," Thomas amended.
"But maybe it be interesting!" Matt said eagerly.
Together, followed by the dog, the three started down the corridor toward the stairs.
13
Usually Branch scampered eagerly back and forth, leading the way, then circling back. This morning he was more cautious and followed behind. The thunder was still grumbling outside, and the hallway was dimly lighted. Thomas led the way. The dog’s toenails clicked on the tiles. Matt’s bare feet moved silently beside him, and the only other sounds were Kira’s walking stick, which made a muted thump with each step, and the dragging of her twisted leg.
Like the floor above, where they lived, this was simply an empty corridor lined with closed wooden doors.
Thomas turned a corner. Then he jumped back as if he had been startled by something. The others, even the dog, froze.
"Shhhh." Thomas gestured for silence with his finger to his mouth.
Ahead, around the corner, they heard footsteps. Then a knock, the opening of a door, and a voice. The voice and the inflection of the words — though the words themselves were not clear — sounded familiar to Kira.
"It’s Jamison," she mouthed silently to Thomas. He nodded, agreeing, and peered around the corner.
It occurred to Kira that Jamison had been her defender, had been the one responsible for her being here at all in this new life. So there was really no reason to huddle here in the dim hallway, hiding from him. Yet she was oddly fearful.
She tiptoed forward and leaned beside Thomas. They could see that one of the doors was open. An indistinct murmur of voices came from within. One voice was Jamison’s. The other was that of a child.
The child cried briefly.
Jamison spoke.
Then the child, surprisingly, began to sing.
Its clear, high voice soared. No words. Just the voice, almost instrumentlike in its clarity. It rose, leveled at a high note, and hovered there for a long moment.
Kira felt something tug at her clothing. She looked down and saw Matt beside her, wide-eyed, pulling at her skirt. She motioned to him to stay silent.
Then the singing broke off abruptly, and the child cried again.
They heard Jamison’s voice. It was harsh now. Kira had never heard him speak in that way.
The door slammed shut, and the voices were muted.
Matt was still tugging at her, and Kira leaned down so that he could whisper what he had to say.