She reached again. Enris was on the move; Syb by his fire.
Time to go.
Om’ray defined their place and world by each other. It was simple to follow Enris—the effort came in moving away from the comforting sense of so many more of their kind behind. As for avoiding Syb’s well-intentioned interference?
Climb and seek, Aryl smiled to herself. Few could discern one Om’ray from two or three—she was the only Yena who could discern who. She ran on her toes to the second shelter, guided by a hand on the wall between them. Those asleep inside would hide her glow from Syb. Once past that?
Aryl felt the door curtain, then the rest of the wall. There should be a beam leaning here; Tilip planned to use it tomorrow. She crouched to pass underneath, growing more confident in her memory as a guide. Three more steps should…her outstretched hand found stone and she turned to face the road.
Her breaths were drowned out by solid footsteps, though to be fair to the Tuana, sound was exaggerated in the still air. The tiny light from his hand danced over the paving stones and his boots, as strong a beacon as the lives behind her.
Enris slowed and lifted the light, sending brightness skittering over the ruins. Aryl backed out of its reach, making her inner self as invisible as she could. She saw his face, how his eyes searched the shadows for a moment. He lowered his hand and continued walking, footsteps echoing.
The brief illumination had reflected from the metal disk Enris now wore on his coat. A token.
Aryl sank down and hugged her knees to her chest.
She should go back.
Tokens were for those on Passage. Those who were as dead to the ones left behind, on their way to a new Clan, a new name, a new life. It was Forbidden to say more than farewell to those departing, Forbidden to interfere in any way. She’d watched Bern leave her and obeyed.
Who did she have to obey now? Aryl rose to her feet. This was Sona.
She gazed down the road. A light bobbed in the distance, moving farther and farther away.
There was no Council here.
She started walking slowly, then broke into a run.
Nothing was Forbidden.
His long legs and light gave the Tuana the advantage. Aryl wasn’t able to catch up before the point where paving stones split around a heave of rock and dirt, forcing her to a cautious walk. She knew where she was. The heave marked where the roadway bent to follow the empty river, and where what had been homes were now piles of rubble and sticks. It made no sense for the Oud to strike harder at the edge of Sona than its core, unless their intention had been to prevent escape.
Not a happy thought.
Nor was how Enris kept on going, farther and farther. She’d been confident he’d stop for truenight once a few steps away from the exiles, take shelter in the ruins, make a bright, warm fire she could enjoy while they talked. He should be exhausted, having carried more per load than anyone else. Hadn’t he managed to slip out with—so he thought—only Syb aware so far?
The Tuana had his own ideas. Aryl was forced to follow, sure of her direction, if less so of her footing. At least it wasn’t the truenight of the canopy, with its utter dark. There were bright holes in the sky above—stars—the effect like the open weave of a black curtain. Not enough to show details on the ground, though she could see the tall, jagged silhouettes of the mountain ridges that walled the valley. She didn’t know why the Makers failed to rise—they would have bathed the land in light.
The only grace was the terrain between Sona and the first dried riverbed, with its tumbled bridge. She never thought she’d be glad of flat.
Flat…almost. Aryl’s step went deeper than she’d expected, turning her next into a lurch to recover her balance. Pebbles skittered and she froze in place.
The solid crunchcrunchcrunch of Enris’ boots stopped.
Aryl crouched and held her breath.
She really should call out. Was it fair to make him wonder who was here?
She grinned.
Then again, she always won climb and seek.
Crunchcrunch She began to follow again, at a comfortable distance.
Suddenly, his footsteps came faster and faster. He’d broken into that ground-eating lope of his. Aryl hurried as much as she dared, but his light slipped away.
Did he want to leave her behind? Truenight pressed at her from all sides. Leave her in the dark?
She was about to give up the chase and shout when he halted, his light held chest-high.
At last! Aryl rushed into the welcoming glow. There was the light, on a rock. The tiny flame fluttered within its metal case so the shadows around it came alive. “Enris?” She looked around wildly—reached.
There.
The Tuana stood beyond the ring of light, impossible to see. His shields were enough to almost—not quite—make him impossible to sense as well. “Aryl?” He sounded startled.
Who else? she wondered, then pushed the thought aside. Now that she’d caught up with him, she found herself fumbling. “I—we’ve—I—Come where I can see you.”
He loomed from the shadows, gave her a cryptic look, then stalked to his light. Picking it up, he held it out. “Here.”
Aryl took it.
“Now go back.”
“Wait—”
Enris pointed up. “I’ve been out in truenight by nothing more, Aryl Sarc. Many times. You need the light—take it and go. I’ve made my decision.”
By “nothing more” she guessed he meant the stars, the little bright holes in the sky. As for his implication? She replaced the light on its rock. “I know you’re on Passage,” Aryl told him stiffly. “It’s Forbidden to interfere.”
“It’s Forbidden to follow me,” with a hint of his laugh. “So why did you?”
Why had she? Aryl watched the flame, struggling to find words for what had been clear and imperative before. “Because you were wrong about me,” she said finally. “I want more for my people. For all Om’ray. Like you, I seek a new future.”
“Here. In Sona.”
“Here,” she insisted. “Where we can be what we are without fear of harming anyone or upsetting the Agreement. Use whatever Talents we possess or learn for our own good. Think about it, Enris.”
“Put aside the fact that you’re being influenced by dreams you can’t explain,” no laughter in his voice now. “Or that you don’t know what the Oud will do. You can’t start a Clan with twenty-two Om’ray. Be reasonable.”
“We’re already a Clan,” she replied. “By the next M’hir, we’re either all that remains of Yena—or something new. The name doesn’t matter. Don’t you understand? The others didn’t leave Grona to follow me. They left because deep inside we know we belong together. Now—” she took a deep breath, “—we have a place of our own.”
“This Oud-reshaped pile of broken wood and stone? It’s not possible. You can’t stay here—”
“It’s not possible Om’ray have technology like the Oud or Tikitik,” she snapped back. “It’s not possible Vyna is the only Clan who still has it. It’s not possible, Enris Mendolar, that they’ll accept you on Passage as their own, then give their wisdom to you to share with the rest of us. Is it?”
Enris burst out laughing, deep and loud enough to echo in the distance. Despite herself, Aryl’s mouth twitched up at the corners. “We’re a great pair,” he chuckled. “Come with me, Aryl. Vyna won’t stand a chance.”
He didn’t mean it.
Knowing that, Aryl had no problem finding a smile. “Make a proper fire, Tuana,” she told him, “and I’ll do better than that.”
She had a promise to keep.
They made camp where an upthrust of paving stone reflected the warmth of their small fire and protected it from the wind. Easy to scavenge dry splinters of wood here; not so once Enris left Sona. As well, Aryl decided, he’d agreed to linger here until dawn. When the Tuana, apparently always hungry, went to dig in his pack for food, she offered the rokly she’d tucked into a pocket, along with her last chunk of Grona bread. The way he ate, he’d need all his supplies and more.