Present-day seekers? Aryl deliberately avoided looking overhead, sure she’d glimpsed something that didn’t belong, hovering as no flitter could. She suspected the strangers had sent one of their spies; maybe the tower of smoke drifting up through the canopy had made them curious.
They suffered from an affliction of it.
At the end of the bridge, where it met the first ladder, Haxel turned. “Aryl, do we have everyone?”
The First Scout’s expression was studiously neutral; asking a question she could answer for herself was not. “Yes,” Aryl answered, aware of Enris’ attention. He, she concluded, was overly curious, too.
“Good. Has Ael reached the Cloisters with the first group yet? Come, Aryl.” This with precise impatience, as if the other had planned exactly how and when to insist on her Talent’s use. To make her expose her secret.
Aryl scowled, but reached outward, touching and moving past each small glow of Om’ray until she identified her uncle. Then she drew back into herself. “He’s at the Cloisters or close to it. That’s the best,” she added dryly, “I can do.”
“Good enough. Let’s catch up to him, shall we?” Haxel jumped to the third rung of the ladder and disappeared behind a whorl of fronds.
“Show off.”
Aryl glared at Enris. “I didn’t want—”
He grinned and nodded at the ladder. “I meant her.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t look so worried,” he added, and flexed one big arm. “I can do ladders. Better than bridges, if you ask me.”
“Go ahead,” she told him, and stood back to watch, reassured when he didn’t attempt to copy Haxel’s leap, even more when he tested each step—not too slowly, but careful, particularly of his weaker side. He’d taken her advice, in part, hanging his sturdy, too-stiff boots around his neck. They’d proved to have a softer inner lining which wouldn’t hold up for long, but gave his feet some protection.
Biters, Aryl thought, gazing back at the smoldering husk that had been her home, were the least of their worries now.
The climb to bypass the fallen bridges wasn’t much, by Yena standards. A spool and a half up, two rastis and a nekis over, down five Om’ray-heights from that. Aryl’s experience with the Human made her see it with new eyes, however, and she made no assumptions about the Tuana’s ability or perception. She climbed beside him, taking riskier holds to show him the better ones.
When the rain started its faint drumming overhead, Enris froze in place. “What’s that?”
“What?” At first fearing a threat, Aryl paused to look around, her hand seeking the longknife that wasn’t in her belt.
“That sound.” By this point, the first heavy drops were making their way through the canopy.
“Ah,” she relaxed. “That would be rain.” As if to prove she told him the truth, the showers began in earnest, though luckily not with the drowning power of later in the day. Aryl lifted her face to it, rubbing the soot from her skin.
“Where do we go now?” His hair was a dripping fringe over his forehead. She was surprised to see he looked anxious.
“To the Cloisters. Let get moving.” They’d fall farther behind, now, she worried.
“Not to shelter?”
“From this?” she laughed. “This is refreshing. Wait till you feel real rain, Tuana.”
They climbed to the next spool in silence, Enris proving a quick learner. When it came to the physical aspect of climbing, Aryl corrected herself. He had no idea what he climbed, so she kept a wary eye out for them both.
“This ability you have,” he began abruptly. “Knowing who someone is—”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Try that hold. No!” to stop his reach for a tempting hole, doubtless with an irritable occupant.
“There.”
He pulled with more strength than needful. A Yena would have relied on that good foothold to push, saving his arms for later. “There are Tuana with that Talent,” Enris revealed and Aryl gave him a startled look. “It’s true. Our Council doesn’t forbid its use. In fact,” another grunt of effort, “some charge for the service.”
“Charge?”
“Trade. Ask something of value in return. Don’t you?”
Aryl stopped. Now she frowned. “With Tikitik. Not each other. What Yena have, we share.”
“No one goes hungry in Tuana,” Enris retorted, clearly offended. “Our lives—” he glanced down, then closed his eyes for an instant as if to erase the view. “Our lives—” this more slowly, seriously, “—are easier than yours. Maybe too easy, in a way. There are no threats. We have time to spare. Some of us make things. My family . . . I worked in metal. Others hardly work at all. So we trade.”
Aryl couldn’t imagine it. And right now, she thought, wasn’t the time to try. “Enough rest. Keep climbing.”
“That was a rest?” He laughed when she least expected it. She wasn’t sure whether to join in or scowl; she settled for showing him the next hold for his fingers.
His hand stopped in midreach. Aryl! Above!
Aryl’s eyes flashed up to find a too-familiar face peering down through the next whorl of fronds. With all four eyes on her.
A long-fingered hand beckoned.
Don’t move from this spot, she sent to Enris.
Without him, she could climb the rastis stalk at full speed, and pulled herself to an easy balance atop the frond. The Tikitik looked equally at home, rainwater polishing its knobby skin. “Apart-from-All,” it greeted.
Her eyes flicked to the symbols on its wristband, though she didn’t doubt who this was. “Thought Traveler. Are you responsible for the attack on Yena?”
Its mouth protuberances writhed a moment. “There was no attack.”
Aryl wanted to strangle it. She forced herself to think like a Speaker. “Are you responsible for the decision to take—” as it hissed, “—to reclaim the glows?”
“No. You are.”
“I—what do you mean?”
The front eyes wandered. “Your actions have been a provocation. There is dispute among the factions who view themselves as interested in Yena Om’ray. Disagreements. Last night should be viewed in that light. Things have grown more serious.”
“More?”
“Now you have used Forbidden technology. Fire—”
“We defended ourselves from the swarm,” she snapped. “You can’t have expected us to die without a struggle.”
The eyes came back to her. “Can you so quickly explain how you arrived here from the mountainside? With fire and this strange Om’ray who bears no token of Passage? Without being seen?”
“Your scouts aren’t as good as you think,” she replied, feeling cold.
“I think you had the strangers’ help. I think they continue to help you and the Yena. Does their device not follow you like a pet-thing? I think together you plan to ravage the graves of the Makers and steal their secrets!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Shall we push this stranger Om’ray? Shall we throw him to our pets?” The fronds on every side rustled as more Tikitik made their presence known.
“No!” Aryl held up her hands. “Leave him alone!”
Aryl? with alarm.
They’d been shouting, she realized. Hush, Enris. Stay still.
“You’re right,” she said to the waiting Tikitik. She thought quickly. Suggesting the Oud were involved could only make it worse. “We flew here in the stranger-aircar. If they’re curious about us, I can’t stop them. I know nothing of graves or Makers. I only want my people safe. Our life back.”
“I give you one thing, Apart-from-All. Advice. Good advice. You can take it, or not.” Its head lowered so its eyes looked up at her balefully. “Do not be here for another truenight.”
Then it was gone, moving more quickly through the rastis than anything she’d seen before. Rain filled where it had stood.