Enris was already halfway to the shelter. Checking on his brother or abandoning her?
Both, Aryl decided.
“Aryl!”
“I’m fine, Marcus. The Oud—” None of the words he’d given her fit what she’d sensed from the creatures. “They did something we could feel. Not telepathy. Not words or communication. Their presence. It was—unpleasant.”
“Better now?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” A dismissal; the Human, unaffected, had no idea how devastating the moment had been for the Om’ray. Something to remember, Aryl thought. “Listen to me. The reshaping. The Oud aren’t talking about bodies. Not flesh. The Oud talk about—” he waved his gloved hands around his head, “—telepathy, parts of mind, what we not see/touch, what you feel. They believe all connected. Om’ray. Tikitik. Oud. Same inside. Continuum. I need more words. Spirit. Reincarnation. Soul. Religiousbeliefs.” He sputtered along, frustrated. “Important to understand—”
Reading her expression, or guessing, Marcus squeezed her shoulders and gave her another, very gentle, shake. “Not important. Sorry, Aryl. What matters is what it means. The Oud need you. Value you. It’s a place to start. Let me try again. Please. I want to help you. Help Enris. Help Sona.”
She still held the pendant. Aryl stared down at it, then, slowly, put it back around her neck. “You’ve already helped, Marcus, more than you know. Stay with Naryn.” She walked around him. “Speaker!”
The centermost Oud reared ever so slightly, then swayed in place. Had the disturbance affected them, too? “What is? Water want?”
Consistent creature.
Om’ray more, Oud more. She didn’t understand why or how; she didn’t care. Her heart began to pound. Why would it negotiate for the future of Sona, unless it needed one, too?
“We want water in the river,” Aryl said firmly. “Can you do that?”
“Can. Not all. Oud some.”
“Sona to have more than Oud.” That, for its ability to calculate. In case it thought she didn’t know about the second emptied river.
The Oud rose a little more. “Yesyesyesyes. Oud some. Sona more than.”
Now for what was important. Aryl brought out the Human’s geoscanner, the device that carried voices, too. The Oud stilled. “Sona is not like other Clans,” she told it. “We have friends who see into your tunnels. Friends who will warn us if you start to reshape beneath our feet.” Not that she knew Marcus could, but neither did the Oud. They had to respect the Strangers’ more advanced technology. “If you do, we will leave.”
“Not go! Not go!” The Speaker flailed its pendant. “Agreement stands. Oud not reshape village. Oud not reshape fields. Om’ray grow. Om’ray more than. Oud more than. Goodgoodgoodgood!”
Not good enough. “You will not tunnel under us,” Aryl insisted. “You’ll remove the tunnels you put there. Without—” she added hastily, “—damaging the surface.”
A considering pause. “Oud stay. Fix bridge.”
It was negotiating.
Keeping her voice calm, Aryl made her own offer. “We don’t need the bridge. You can stay here. Hunt for the Hoveny. The Makers.” She gestured toward the cliff excavation, then to her feet. “You will not tunnel under us.”
“Oud stay here. Sona Speaker stay here.”
About to object, forcefully, Aryl swallowed. By the Agreement, the two Speakers had to meet and talk.
She smiled her mother’s smile. “I stay with my people.” She held up the geoscanner. “The Triad First can contact me for you. I’ll come here.”
“Goodgoodgoodgood.” The Oud dropped flat. The three vehicles backed and bounced away, retracing the scar they’d left in the snow.
Aryl held her breath until they were out of sight, then let it out in a ragged sigh. “No bridge.” But so much more, if she was right. Safety. The Oud out from underneath. A chance to recover. Water.
Life.
Marcus patted her shoulder. “Did your best. Fine job. I’ll check on the child. Get warm.” His exaggerated shiver turned into a real one.
She watched him stagger through the snow, trying to use Enris’ deeper footprints though his stride wasn’t long enough. “You should go inside, Naryn,” she suggested, turning to the other. She wasn’t ready to join the rest. Her hands trembled as she tucked the pendant inside her coat, but it wasn’t the cold.
Now we know. The sending was emotionless; Naryn’s hair lay flat, like ribbons of blood. The Oud killed the Tuana Om’ray because you wanted to stay here. They will let the rest of us live because you’ve promised we’ll stay.
Aryl accepted the guilt, drew it deep inside. Yes.
When the others know, they’ll hate you more than Enris hates me. Are you prepared for that? Are you prepared for his hate?
“My people will understand—” she whispered. As for Enris…
“Understand what? Your ability to push yourself and others through space? How you’ve included that—that thing in dealings between Speakers? Why you took it on yourself to set the terms for all our lives?” The words were harsh, but Naryn’s eyes swam with compassion. “I understand, Aryl. I do. We’re the same. I know what it is to be set apart by my Power, by what I’ve done. And you’ve done what’s right. I believe in you. Those of greater Power must care for those of less. We must use our abilities to lead. But there’s a price.”
“I don’t want to lead—I never have.”
I have always been drawn to Power. An undertone of deep affection. I’ve always known who possessed strength. You are the most powerful Om’ray I have ever sensed, Aryl Sarc, heart-kin. Let me help with your burden. With your Choice. Only the most powerful Candidate is fit for your Choice. Enris must be yours.
“No!” To what, Aryl didn’t know. Confusion warred with desire. She had to think, to know what was right, to know what to say to her people. Enris…his family had just died. How could she feel…how could she want…“No,” this more calmly. “There’s time—time for any of that. We have to meet. Explain. Help.”
“It won’t be an easy Choice. He could refuse you.”
Something Naryn knew from experience. His refusal had cost her everything, including her life and that of her unborn, if they couldn’t find a way to sever that link.
“No.”
“He’s the only one you want. The one you trust.” Soft. Implacable. “The one who knows you. Who better?”
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. How she was supposed to be. Cold. Alone. Afraid.
Her people loved her. They wouldn’t hate her. They couldn’t. They’d understand.
Enris was her friend. He couldn’t hurt her. When he was healed, happy again, he’d…
She could wait…she had to wait…
A wisp of hair slipped across her forehead, every strand a separate sensation. The chill of her toes and fingertips burned with sudden fire. Her next breath carved a channel through her throat and body, intricate and deep.
Not here. Not now. Aryl, wait! The dark centers of Naryn’s eyes reflected the snow. He won’t accept you now. We have to prepare, be ready. You could both fail. Hold on.
“I’m trying…” A hoarse, futile whisper. Aryl dropped to her knees, her hands buried in the cold, cold unable to stop the heat rising inside her. The DESIRE!
“Aryl?”
His voice.
NO! She threw herself away from him, from everything, launching herself into the M’hir, seeking safety, seeking control. Aryl pushed…
…and found herself on a wide branch, gazing out over the canopy.
Chapter 18
THE CANOPY’S GREEN AND BROWN made a living carpet, flowing to the mighty rastis of the Sarc grove. Flocks of flitters wheeled below; lingering clouds covered the sun. Slapping a biter, Aryl drew a deep breath of air that was as air should be: moist and warm and full of fragrance. The last time she’d been here, it had been with young Joyn, sailing fiches. Before running from the strangers.