“Eva-lee.” His greeting hands on my shoulders were cold through my robe and the unfamiliar chilly wind whipped my hems around my bare ankles. “Is Lytha home?”
“Lytha?” The unexpectedness of the question snatched the last web of sleepiness out of my mind. “Of course. Why?”
“I don’t think she is,” said Neil. “Timmy’s gone with all our camping gear and I think she’s gone with him.”
My mind flashed back into the house, Questing. Before my hurried feet could get there, I knew Lytha was gone. But I had to touch the undented pillow and lift the smooth spread before I could convince myself. Back in the garden that flickered black and gold as swollen clouds raced across the distorted full moon, Neil and I exchanged concerned looks.
“Where could they have gone?” he asked. “Poor kids. I’ve already Quested the whole neighborhood and I sent Rosh up to the hillplace to get something-he thought. He brought it back but said nothing about the kids.”
I could see the tightening of the muscles in his jaws as he tilted his chin in the old familiar way, peering at me in the moonlight.
“Did Timmy say anything to you about-about anything?” I stumbled.
“Nothing-the only thing that could remotely-well, you know both of them were upset about being in different ships and Timmy-well, he got all worked up and said he didn’t believe anything was going to happen to the Home, that it was only a late spring and he thought we were silly to go rushing off into Space-“
“Lytha’s words Timmyized,” I said. “We’ve got to find them.”
“Carla’s frantic.” Neil shuffled his feet and put his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders as the wind freshened. “If only we had some idea. If we don’t find them tonight we’ll have to alert the Group tomorrow. Timmy’d never live down the humiliation-“
“I know-‘Touch a teener-touch a tender spot.’” I quoted absently, my mind chewing on something long forgotten or hardly noticed. “Clearance,” I murmured. And Neil closed his mouth on whatever he was going to say as I waited patiently for the vague drifting and isolated flashes in my mind to reproduce the thought I sought.
-Like white lace around their bare brown ankles-
“I have it,” I said. “At least I have an idea. Go tell Carla I’ve gone for them. Tell her not to worry.”
“Blessings,” said Neil, his hands quick and heavy on my shoulders. “You and Thann have always been our cloak against the wind, our hand up the hill-” And he was gone toward Tangle-meadows and Carla.
You and Thann-you and Thann. I was lifting through the darkness, my personal shield activated against the acceleration of my going. Even Neil forgets sometimes that Thann is gone on ahead, I thought, my heart lifting to the memory of Thann’s aliveness. And suddenly the night was full of Thann-of Thann and me-laughing in the skies, climbing the hills, dreaming in the moonlight. Four-ing with Carla and Neil. Two-ing after Gathering Day. The bittersweet memories came so fast that I almost crashed into the piny sighings of a hillside. I lifted above it barely in time. One treetop drew its uppermost twig across the curling of the bare sole of my foot.
Maybe Timmy’s right! I thought suddenly. Maybe Simon and the Oldest are all wrong. How can I possibly leave the Home with Thann still here-waiting. Then I shook myself, quite literally, somersaulting briskly in mid-air. Foolish thoughts, trying to cram Thann back into the limitations of an existence he had outgrown!
I slanted down into the cup of the hills toward the tiny lake I had recognized from Lytha’s thought. This troubled night it had no glitter or gleam. Its waves were much too turbulent for walking or dancing or even for daring. I landed on a pale strip of sand at its edge and shivered as a wave dissolved the sand under my feet into a shaken quiver and then withdrew to let it solidify again.
“Lytha!” I called softly, Questing ahead of my words.
“Lytha!” There was no response in the wind-filled darkness, I lifted to the next pale crescent of sand, feeling like a driven cloud myself. “Lytha! Lytha!” Calling on the family band so it would be perceptible to her alone and Timmy wouldn’t have to know until she told him. “Lytha!”
“Gramma!” Astonishment had squeezed out the answer.
“Gramma!” The indignation was twice as heavy to make up for the first involuntary response.
“May I come to you?” I asked, taking refuge from my own emotion in ritual questions that would leave Lytha at least the shreds of her pride. There was no immediate reply.
“May I come to you? ” I repeated.
“You may come.” Her thoughts were remote and cold as she guided me in to the curve of hillside and beach.
She and Timmy were snug and secure and very unhappily restless in the small camp cubicle. They had even found some Glowers somewhere. Most of them had died of the lack of summer, but this small cluster clung with their fragile-looking legs to the roof of the cubicle and shed a warm golden light over the small area. My heart contracted with pity and my eyes stung a little as I saw how like a child’s playhouse they had set up the cubicle, complete with the two sleeping mats carefully the cubicle’s small width apart with a curtain hiding them from each other.
They had risen ceremoniously as I entered, their faces carefully respectful to an Old One-no Gramma-look in the face of either. I folded up on the floor and they sat again, their hands clasping each other for comfort.
“There is scarcely time left for an outing,” I said casually, holding up one finger to the Glowers. One loosed itself and glided down to clasp its wiry feet around my finger. Its glowing paled and flared and hid any of our betraying expressions. Under my idle talk I could feel the cry of the two youngsters-wanting some way in honor to get out of this impasse. Could I find the way or would they stubbornly have to-
“We have our lives before us.” Timmy’s voice was carefully expressionless.
“A brief span if it’s to be on the Home,” I said. “We must be out before the week ends.”
“We do not choose to believe that.” Lytha’s voice trembled a little.
“I respect your belief,” I said formally, “but fear you have insufficient evidence to support it.”
“Even so,” her voice was just short of a sob. “Even so, however short, we will have it together-“
“Yes, without your mothers or fathers or any of us,” I said placidly. “And then finally, soon, without the Home. Still it has its points. It isn’t given to everyone to be-in-at the death of a world. It’s a shame that you’ll have no one to tell it to. That’s the best part of anything, you know, telling it-sharing it.”
Lytha’s face crumpled and she turned it away from me.
“And if the Home doesn’t die,” I went on, “that will truly be a joke on us. We won’t even get to laugh about it because we won’t be able to come back, being so many days gone, not knowing. So you will have the whole Home to yourself. Just think! A whole Home! A new world to begin all over again-alone-” I saw the two kids’ hands convulse together and Timmy’s throat worked painfully. So did mine. I knew the aching of having to start a new world over-alone. After Thann was Called. “But such space! An emptiness from horizon to horizon-from pole to pole-for you two! Nobody else anywhere-anywhere. If the Home doesn’t die-“
Lytha’s slender shoulders were shaking now, and they both turned their so-young faces to me. I nearly staggered under the avalanche of their crying out-all without a word. They poured out all their longing and uncertainty and protest and rebellion. Only the young could build up such a burden and have the strength to bear it. Finally Timmy came to words.
“We only want a chance. Is that too much to ask? Why should this happen, now, to us?”
“Who are we,” I asked sternly, “to presume to ask why of the Power? For all our lives we have been taking happiness and comfort and delight and never asking why, but now that sorrow and separation, pain and discomfort are coming to us from the same Power, we are crying why. We have taken unthinkingly all that has been given to us unasked, but now that we must take sorrow for a while, you want to refuse to take, like silly babies whose milk is cold!”