How could Bern’s mother believe that? Aryl felt the words like a blow. How could anyone? She tried not to hear the sendings speeding through the halclass="underline" thief . . . violator . . . how dare she! . . . Forbidden.
Haxel sketched a gesture of appeasement, the movement of her hand brusque and almost impolite. “Control yourselves,” she ordered. “Aryl,” almost gently. “The truth, now. How did you get this net? Did you find Bern’s body?”
Evra gasped and whirled to press her face against Barit’s chest. He glared at the First Scout, his arms around his Chosen. “Our son isn’t dead! Ask her!”
Haxel turned to Aryl. “Well?” Pursing her lips whitened the scar.
There were over thirty now-silent Om’ray standing or sitting in the meeting hall. None were working, too intent on the unaccustomed scene. Anything she said would be heard by everyone here; shortly after, by everyone else. The only choice was the truth.
Her heart hurt.
“I picked Teerac grove to search for pods. I did find two there, but that’s not the only reason I—I went,” she confessed. Barit and Evra glared at her and Aryl shook her head. “Not to stop him,” she protested. “I knew Bern would travel through his family grove one last time. He—I—I just wanted to spend time where he’d been, that’s all. Bern must have known I would. I believe he left the pods for me to find. Yena needed them, and he trusted me.” The thought made her smile.
“Nonsense,” Evra snorted, pulling free of her Chosen. “Bern’s on Passage to his Chooser. Why would he think about you?”
“I’m sorry you’ve never approved of me or our friendship,” Aryl said, weary beyond caution, “but we were friends. Dear friends. I would have gladly been more. I would follow Bern Teerac across the world, if I believed it could be. But it can’t. My place is here, helping Yena survive. I don’t know what else I can say.”
Haxel nodded, as if this confirmed something she knew. She faced the Teeracs and gestured gratitude. “Yena thanks your son for his gift.” The gesture was repeated by everyone present, including Aryl. Then the First Scout fixed her difficult-to-meet gaze on Barit and Evra. “Without Aryl, his gift would have fed flitters instead of Om’ray. Remember that, if you ever again think less of their friendship, or her skills as an adult.”
Glows vanquished truenight’s terrors, or at least held them at a forgettable distance. Aryl walked the bridge to her home, that safety lulling her into a pleasant numbness. The day’s triumph, the Teeracs’ accusation, Haxel’s unexpected intervention—she let it all fade to a blur. None of it mattered as much as rest.
When other footsteps matched hers from behind, she reached to sense the First Scout and hoped it was coincidence. Haxel could be on her nightly rounds. There wouldn’t be anything further asked of her now, especially conversation. She’d be lucky to make it to her bed without falling face first on the floor. Finding something to eat? Taking off her filthy arm and leg wraps? She couldn’t imagine that effort.
Once at her door, she unlatched and turned the panel, hand almost trembling.
“Aryl Sarc.”
Groaning inside, she looked around. “Yes, First Scout?”
“Could we talk?” Haxel walked through the opening without waiting for an answer.
Holding in a sigh, Aryl followed and closed the door.
Haxel stopped by the long Sarc table, her eyes sweeping her surroundings as if she checked for an escape route. “You’re here on your own.” Her shields were impeccable; her voice revealed even less.
With an arm that protested the motion, Aryl pulled down a sling chair. She motioned to another. “For now,” she nodded. “My mother’s sister and her Chosen may join me soon.” She eased her body into the chair; the relief of sitting made her close her eyes for an instant.
“This won’t take long.” Haxel had her hand on the chair rope, but didn’t pull it. Instead, she studied Aryl. “Few Om’ray climb with your skill.”
“Then why wasn’t I selected for the Harvest?” The accusation—for that’s how it sounded even to Aryl’s ears, startled them both. She gestured apology at once. It had to be the exhaustion. “Forgive me, First Scout. I meant no disrespect.”
“You know your strengths. That’s good.” Haxel frowned slightly, the scar twisting her brow. “I did select you. Council overruled me.”
“What?” Aryl leaned forward, holding the chair still with her toes on the floor. “Why?”
Haxel pulled down her chair at last, sitting with care as if she distrusted the sling. Or, Aryl thought, was more used to branches than civilized furniture. “I believe they chose not to risk your special Talent,” the First Scout said. “I find I agree.”
“What Talent?” Aryl asked in her best “who me?” voice, the one that had worked, most of the time, to shift blame to her brother. With luck, her face was too dirty and swollen with bites to show her dismay.
“You played with my nephews.” Haxel gave a thin smile. “I’m curious, Aryl. Do you always know who an Om’ray is? Or does it take conscious use of your Power to identify someone?”
That was why she’d been passed over? Her outrage faded as Aryl thought of Taisal and the sweetberries. Another small and harmless—even useful—Talent; her mother, afraid to be caught using it outside the Cloisters.
Was Haxel one of the careless Yena her mother and other Adepts feared?
“I cheated at seek,” Aryl said calmly. “Better than some of the others. That’s all.”
Haxel raised one eyebrow, the scar resisting. “Then why did Council overrule me?”
Easy to sound petulant. “Taisal didn’t want me to go. Maybe they listened to her. She said I was too young, the Harvest too dangerous. Mothers are like that.” Not hers—Taisal had alternately encouraged and ignored her adventures—but Haxel wasn’t to know.
She wasn’t someone to underestimate either. First Scout was a position of merit. No Om’ray climbed with Haxel Vendan’s skill, none approached her ability as a tracker and hunter. Yena slept well at night because of the rigor with which she trained those she chose for scout duty. No fool studied Aryl through those narrowed eyes.
She checked her shields and smiled back. “Was there anything else, First Scout?”
“Yes. I want you to join us.”
“Me?” Aryl echoed, her voice cracking on the word. For a moment, she actually considered it. Scouts were the most disciplined of Om’ray, responsible for the protection and defense of Yena. Superb climbers all, they built and maintained the bridges and ladders that made movement through the canopy safe for every Om’ray.
Only a child thought it a glamorous life, she thought. The reality was mapped in scars like those on Haxel’s face. When a scout did his or her job well, no one noticed. That part, Aryl found unexpectedly appealing.
What did it say about her?
“I’m not old enough,” she evaded desperately. “I don’t know how to track or build.” Aryl frowned to herself, unhappy with that list. What was she to do? Be the Speaker’s daughter until Choice? Become an Adept and leave freedom behind?
She hadn’t expected to need those answers so soon.
Haxel’s lips quirked to the side. It wasn’t a smile. “Scouts were lost in the Harvest. Most of those training with me left on Passage. Council will allow me any recruit I can find, believe me. Your ability—to cheat at seek, that is—could be useful.” She hadn’t fooled the older Om’ray for an instant, Aryl realized with a shiver. Suddenly they were playing an adult game, where you used words because you didn’t dare share thoughts and the truth.