“When.” He left it at that as they reached the first of the other exiles.
They’d caught up? Enris looked toward the end of the bridge, wondering why those farthest ahead were sitting among their small bundles of belongings. Wasn’t daylight crucial? He couldn’t believe the bells had done anything but stir their anger, as it had his.
A Chosen beckoned to them. “What’s the delay, Aryl?”
Enris smiled politely. This was the family who’d greeted him in the village, parents and two older children. Too late to wish he’d paid attention to names this morning.
“I’ll go and see,” Aryl assured the Yena, then gestured an apology to Enris. “My manners. Enris Mendolar, Syb sud Uruus,” she introduced, seeming embarrassed. He refused to feel guilt. “Taen,” the mother. “Kayd and Ziba.” The children. Kayd showed the promise of height already, his arms and legs gangly though well muscled, as all Yena; Ziba was smaller, but sturdy, her hair pale gold under its net. She gripped her brother’s hand, something Enris guessed she hadn’t done for a long time.
The bridge protected them from the rain. Enris noticed that only made it easier to see the tracks of tears.
“We’ve met,” he said with a small bow.
“To your detriment.” Syb’s gesture was more fury than apology. “Their treatment of you shames us all, Enris. To condemn someone who—”
“Aryl!! Aryl!!!” Haxel, sharp and urgent. From the end of the bridge.
With an apology of his own to Syb, Enris went with Aryl as she sped off in answer. He tried, anyway. At a plodding jog, his legs protested the recent climb and his side ached. He promised his body rest if it wouldn’t embarrass him in front of all these Yena. Fortunately, the First Scout came to meet them at a run, her steps echoing within the enclosure. The exiles parted to let her through.
The instant she spotted Aryl coming her way, however, Haxel spun about to rush back the other way. “Quickly!” she shouted over her shoulder. To the rest, “Let us by, all of you. Wait here. Stay inside the bridge!”
“This can’t be good,” Enris panted to himself.
It wasn’t good at all, Enris decided, when the three of them met where the Cloisters bridge opened on the rain-swept wooden platform.
The great rastis that supported the platform was empty. An invitation, of sorts.
Tikitik were everywhere else. They didn’t bother to hide behind fronds or stalks. They stood exposed to the downpour, as if prepared to wait forever, their four eyes locked on the Om’ray. There wasn’t a path from the platform or the upper spools that wouldn’t mean having to push one aside.
Somehow, Enris didn’t think they’d let themselves be pushed. If they could be—he hadn’t forgotten the wiry strength of the Tikitik on the bridge before it decided not to struggle.
“Witnesses. They expected this,” Aryl decided. “Or something like it.”
“How?” Haxel looked more annoyed than convinced.
“When Tikitik fail, their fellows toss them into the Lake of Fire to die. This is no different. Yena has failed. They understand the bells. We’re—we’re being tossed.”
“And they plan to help.” Enris set his shoulders against the bridge’s thick support, inside enough to avoid the heaviest rain. “Wonderful.”
“They won’t touch us,” Aryl disagreed. “They’ll watch.”
Haxel, ignoring the rain, laid on the platform to look over the side. “Oh, I’d say they’re helping,” she said as she rose up again. “There’s easily ten esask tied to this stalk.”
A round of smug-sounding hisses greeted this discovery.
Enris had to ask—he wasn’t about to look down. “What’s an esask?”
“Appetite with legs,” Aryl informed him absently, busy taking a look herself. These Yena, Enris decided, had a callous attitude to being eaten he truly didn’t share. “They might have other surprises in mind.”
“We’ll post a watch on the platform.” Haxel ran her hand along a rail. “The glows were stripped before I got here. Tikitiks or our fine Adepts?”
“Does it matter?” Aryl replied wearily.
He’d been here before, Enris realized. With one difference. He wasn’t alone. He closed his eyes, reaching for the others. The glow of nearby Om’ray was steady and strong, giving him his place. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the companionship of his kind.
Then he felt a chill. He’d been in this kind of situation before—and some of his kind had waited in ambush.
Eyes still shut, Enris blew out a heavy sigh. “Post a watch at the other end of the bridge.”
“They won’t let us back in—” Aryl began.
“That’s not what he means,” observed Haxel grimly. “Is it, Tuana?”
He grunted. “Let’s say I’ve had enough surprises.”
“Aryl, there it is again. What’s it doing here?”
Enris cracked open an eye. The flexible metal mesh of the bridge side made a surprisingly comfortable back rest, not to mention the slats of its floor were dry. He’d only meant to rest while they sorted out the watches, to be ready for his turn. Not that they’d asked.
Haxel, ever alert. This time she wasn’t pointing to any of the Tikitik, who were still, Enris noted glumly, lurking on all sides. Instead, her outstretched finger targeted a shape hovering overhead, its rounded, transparent surface close enough that Enris could see how raindrops beaded and ran off.
A device of the strangers.
It gained the Tikitik’s attention, too. There was hissing and more pointing.
Haxel looked wonderstruck; Aryl’s glare should have melted it. “You’ve seen one before,” Enris guessed, creaking to his feet.
“The strangers use them to spy on us,” Aryl said bitterly. “I suppose our deaths will be entertaining.”
“A machine to watch from a distance . . .” From her tone, Haxel wanted one of her own. Trust a scout, Enris thought, to see the possibilities.
He took a step toward the oddly cooperative machine, blinking raindrops, and scrutinized the varied shapes exposed by its clear underside. Some looked like eyes, which made sense. Some, he judged. “I think it hears, too,” he concluded, pointing at something that could be a voice holder.
Aryl didn’t look surprised. “He heard the Watchers,” she murmured, almost to herself.
“Then he can hear you.”
“Who?” Haxel demanded, looking from one to the other. “Hear who?”
“Long story.” Enris grinned. “Seems to me time for a trade,” he added, looking at Aryl. “You did save his life.”
She stared up at the device, her lips twisted to one side. Rain drummed on the platform, collected and dripped from every leaf tip and frond.
It soaked his hair and slid like chill fingers down the neck of his tunic. “What have we to lose?” he coaxed.
“Nothing,” Haxel said flatly, an unexpected ally. “We’ve no retreat. The bridge can’t be defended against the swarm. We’re trapped. If there’s anything this machine can do for us—” she gave it a dubious look.
“I think Aryl knows exactly what it could do.” His heartbeat sounded loud in his ears as he waited.
Save them again, he sent then, with all the urgency he felt. Save us.
Aryl looked at him; her eyes were wide and wild. “What if the Tikitik then go after the others?” What if saving us makes it worse?
“The others,” he pointed out dryly, “are behind nice big doors. We’re the swarm-bait. Which I might add you’ve tried for yourself and didn’t like.” Underneath, he sent, Too much conscience and you think too much. “It’s better than doing nothing while we wait to die a horrible death. Probably won’t even work. Feel better?”
Her lips quirked at one corner. “I think you need more sleep.”
That made him laugh.
Then Enris held his breath as Aryl walked under the hovering machine and looked up at it.