“We have to—No!” A door had briefly turned, spilling light from the meeting hall. Someone knew what they were trying to do, came to help. NO! she sent.
There was too much darkness between. Darkness that moved . . .
The screams went on and on. When Enris tried to go, she held him back, tears on her hot cheeks. “It’s too late. We have to save the rest. The swarm hunts until just before dawn. Only light will keep them back.”
“That will help, then.”
“That” was her home, now burning on the outside. The light flickered all the way to the main bridge. “We have to burn them all,” she said.
“Not at once. Fire’s a hunter, too,” he cautioned. “It’s going to be close.”
Aryl felt strangely calm as she gazed at his face, a mask of soot and red. “I’ll burn the canopy itself, if that’s what it takes. Show me how.”
A flash of white teeth. “Let’s start with that place over there.”
They burned the lowest homes first, buying time by keeping the swarms below. All the while, Aryl fought the ceaseless hammering against her shields—Yena desperate to communicate with her, to know what was happening, fear—enough to overwhelm her if she let it. She assumed Enris struggled, too, despite his powerful shields.
The bridges were too wet to burn, but they could fall. Each time they torched an outlying building, the braids of rope connecting it to a bridge would burn, then snap. Throughout Yena, bridges that had been roads for Aryl and all her kin faltered and dropped, leaving fewer and fewer. They were already less, Aryl thought, remembering like a dream how Sarc had outlasted so many others.
She focused. Enris relied on her to know which to spare. They could, if they weren’t careful, burn their last escape.
The Tikitik were gone, or had retreated too far to be a threat. For now. While they waited to start the next blazes, Aryl leaned against Enris—or he leaned against her—to watch the outer ring of Yena spark and smolder. The wavering light was losing; they’d have to fire the remaining homes next, then move to the warehouses, closest to the meeting hall. She didn’t know what they could do after that. Though the rastis fronds curled and blackened above each of the burning roofs, they refused to catch fire. The stalks so far seemed impervious, not that it was easy to see them through the smoke. The Tikitik chose their chambers well.
“Aryl Sarc.” Enris said her name as if it surprised him. “That’s where I saw you.” He was pointing at the main bridge, before the meeting hall. It was free of the swarm now. Bones still bound by flesh hung from a rope rail.
“How did you manage that, Enris of Tuana?” Her voice sounded unfamiliar, hoarse with smoke.
“Yuhas Parth shared the memory. Now sud S’udlaat.” A pause to cough, something they were both doing. “Handy with a broom.”
Aryl didn’t laugh, but only because her throat was sore already. “Good. He’s—Thank you. That’s good news.”
“S’long as he never finds out I helped burn his home.” Enris left her to choose another wrapped stick, setting it beside a burning one to ignite. “Speaking of which—”
Aryl pointed to his next target, walking away to her own. How could he make jokes? she asked herself. What kept him limping from home to home, saving those he didn’t know?
She glanced back at him as she opened the next door, then turned and entered, forgetting to put her fire first to scare away any of the swarm that might be hiding inside. She knew her mistake when the first small jaws locked on her ankle, her shin. She made it worse—frantic to brush the foul things off, she dropped her burning stick. As it bounced and fell from the bridge, they were climbing her body, their jaws seeking her flesh.
Enris!
Here! Light blazed into her eyes, light and heat and help. He reached past her to set the nearest curtains afire—more light— only then coming back to help pull off the ones too intent on chewing to scurry away. Aryl sobbed in silence, furious with herself, at how close she’d come—
“That’s all of them,” Enris said, brushing the hair back from her face with one hand. “You all right?”
With a final angry hiccup, Aryl ran her hands quickly over her body, assessing the damage. The swarm killed by the number of mouthfuls they could take in a hurry; her attackers had been mercifully few. She’d lost chunks of skin from her shins and ankles, had holes in her stranger-pants and shirt. The small wounds would ooze blood until cleansed, there was no help for that. The pain was no worse than when she’d fallen into a stinger nest. “I should know bet-better,” she said at last.
He didn’t comment, but when they left that home to fire the next, he wouldn’t let her go alone. “We’re both too tired for this,” he said when she protested. “We’ll stay together.”
Aryl stepped from the bridge to the outer deck of the meeting hall. The Tikitik had done their work. There was no light through the windows; holes rent the fabrics and roof, easy entry for the swarm. The sendings from within were subdued, now. From the feel, everyone was huddled in the center of the great room. Unless they dared look outside, her people couldn’t know who was keeping the swarm at bay. At least they would know two Om’ray lived, where nothing should.
From the smell, someone—she guessed Haxel and her scouts—had doused the deck and walls of the hall with somgelt. She hoped not to find out if it would work.
Day-bright out here, while the empty warehouses burned. Fires’ light was different from glows, she thought. Fierce and full of color.
She hoped, with a deep abiding anger, the Tikitik could see it, too.
“You could go in,” Enris said, joining her. “I’ll stay.”
She’d give anything to believe she could walk in there and wait with the rest to be saved. She’d give anything to believe it would happen without her standing here, breathing smoke, surrounded by ruins and flame. Anything, Aryl realized with a faint pride, but those inside. She was responsible for them now.
“Too crowded for me. I think you should go,” she said with an attempt to laugh that turned into a long, painful cough. When she could breathe again, she sputtered, “—only just—occurred to me, Enris.”
“What?”
“You’re on Passage—which Chooser called you—we’ve three, you know. I can tell you—” she coughed, “—all about her.”
A home burned through its supports and broke apart, flames and wood raining down through the canopy. Aryl was sure she could hear scrambling as the swarm fled its light, then again, when that light was extinguished by the Lay and they returned, to wait. Her bites, the three she could touch, were slick with blood. She’d had worse. She grimaced and pulled soot from her eyelashes. They would have been worse, had Enris not come to her aid. That was the thing about the swarm. They kept eating.
He didn’t take up her offer; she didn’t press the point. UnChosen were sensitive. It was unlikely, though, to be her cousin Seru, Aryl decided. No reason, just what she thought. Her brain was wandering. Not a good sign. “You hungry?”
Enris looked at her. “Passed hungry yesterday.”
Aryl reached inside her stranger-shirt. She’d lost or dropped everything but the small piece of blanket with her breakfast. “No promises on the taste,” she warned, using her teeth to loosen the knot. It smelled like sweat.
Once loose, she unrolled it, pleased to see the paste from the bowl had formed a stick she could break in half. “Here.” She didn’t bother with a taste, ramming hers into her mouth. If it was at all edible, her stomach deserved it. Enris seemed of the same opinion. It was an unexpectedly peaceful moment, despite the fires burning on all sides.
So when done, Aryl licked her lips and made herself say what she must. “Enris. Before you meet other Yena, I need you—I ask you—to promise not to tell how I brought us here.” From her experience with such things, he’d reveal it to his Chosen; she’d deal with her later. Whoever she was. “No one should ask, but—” she thought of her mother, “—if anyone does, tell them we came in an Oud flying machine.” Something of Cersi. “Just not the truth. Please.”