And what about the Human…did he leave a taste? Her mind shied away from that disaster.
Though so much for all the warnings about using Power near the Oud. Unless the M’hir was something different…
“Aryl. We have to talk about this. Before others come.”
She turned from the window, brushing dust from her clothes.
His eyes were fever bright. “Can all Om’ray do it? ’Port yourselves?”
Haxel would slit his throat.
She should.
Instead, Aryl sat beside the Human on his pulled-out bed, both of them filthy and shedding half-frozen grit, and sighed. “Just me. I don’t know if anyone else can learn how. I’ve only done it three times. No one else knows. Except you and Enris.” And Haxel, a name she wasn’t going to mention.
“And the Grona.” Anger deepened his voice. “That was what I saw. They tried to make you show them.”
She almost smiled. Never underestimate him. “That’s why they came,” she admitted. “Don’t worry,” she said with a companionable lean into his shoulder, “they can’t make me do anything. I’m stronger.”
“And telepath. All Om’ray telepathic.” With total conviction.
“Yes.”
“I thought so. Geoscanner. Om’ray don’t say enough words out loud, not like Human.” When concerned about her reaction to something, Marcus had a way of ducking his head, then turning it to gaze up at her. “A feeling, too. I feel I know you always. Been friends always. Did you do this to me, Aryl Sarc? Make me feel your friend? Use influence?”
She stared at him, realized her mouth was open and closed it. Myris could affect the emotion of a moment, but not the underlying feeling. Not for long. The mere idea was sickening. Tamper with another’s mind? Violate who and what they were? From childhood, Om’ray were taught to protect the privacy of their innermost thoughts, not from fear of those being controlled by someone else, but to be an individual within the whole.
If this “influence” was something telepaths in the Trade Pact did to those unable to shield their minds, how could they be trusted? How could anyone?
Her stunned silence apparently reassured him. “Had to ask,” he said cryptically, then patted her knee. “Now. We must hurry.” He drew in a deep breath, then let it out, rising to his feet. “Listen to me, Aryl. No one else in the Trade Pact can know what you do. No one. I’ll take care of the vid record. You be careful. Don’t show this to anyone else. Don’t do it where ‘eyes’ could record. I’ll never tell. Promise!”
“What about Kelly, your Chosen?” Her own nightmare. Choice couldn’t be denied—and her selection of eligible unChosen included Kran Caraat. If he learned about Marcus now…
His head gave an emphatic shake. “Never. She can’t know. Too dangerous. Interrogation. Mindcrawlers.” This last with a troubled look. “Are my thoughts easy to see? Can you see them? Any Om’ray?”
“You aren’t real—” Before he took that as reassurance, Aryl went on, owing him the truth. “You don’t send beyond yourself. Your thoughts don’t leave your mind,” she explained. “Some Om’ray are like that. To talk mind to mind, they must touch.” Only the less powerful, but she didn’t think he needed to know that.
“If you touch me?” he asked quickly, perhaps remembering how she’d taken his hand. “Then you see my thoughts?”
“I can sense how you feel. That’s how I knew you meant me no harm the first time you wanted to use the bioscanner.” As he considered that, from the rosy glow on his cheeks wondering what else she might have detected, she smiled. “But you think in your words, Marcus. None of us understand those.”
If she went into his memories, there were images she could understand. That was the danger. She’d sensed his growing discomfort at her search and stopped at once. But if Haxel or another with Power wanted his secrets?
They wouldn’t hesitate, no matter the damage it caused him or pain.
Unaware of the dark turn of her thoughts, the Human looked relieved. “That’s good,” he replied. “Offworld problem for later. For now, Om’ray safe.”
“Safe from what?” Why was he was more worried about keeping her ability secret than she was? “What are you talking about? I hope more Om’ray will learn how to ’port.” She liked the short, strange word. “One day, all of us.” Then let the Oud try to dig the ground from under their feet.
“Aryl—” Marcus went to his knees in front of her, putting his somber gaze level with hers. “Listen to me. If we discover the best possible Hoveny find…a functional installation…Cersi would be safe. Om’ray would be safe. Seekers would come, but careful. Respectful. If anyone discovers what you can do?” Despite knowing she could sense his emotions—or because of it—he touched her cheek. Through the contact, she felt sorrow and dread. As well as determination. “Aryl. Every government, criminalorganization, every species in Trade Pact would come here. No respect. No protection. They would take you away. They would destroy your Clans, your life. For this power, they could gotowar. Worlds fighting worlds.”
The taste of change.
What could she tell the others? If she taught them, if she now should, what could she say to keep them cautious? That there were mysterious invisible watchers?
It would be true.
She should use the knife, Aryl thought numbly. Not on the Human’s throat…
On her own. End this.
The lights flashed red, then blue…
“The Oud!” she warned, following Marcus as he lunged for the console.
It wasn’t.
A lone Tikitik stood at the edge of the grove, feet pointedly not on the churned dirt. It was shouting something. The Human hit a control and a voice filled the room.
“Little Speaker. Come out and talk to me.”
Thought Traveler.
It should have been familiar, Aryl decided, being unable to trust her footing. But what the Oud had done wasn’t like a rain-slicked branch or ice-coated stone. They upset all expectation. They made the ground itself unsafe.
A power never to be discounted, she thought.
Neither were the Tikitik. Thought Traveler squatted comfortably near where its kind had died moments before, its small eyes riveted on Marcus, larger ones on her. “Greetings, little Speaker. And who might this be, this ally of the precipitous Oud? What is your name, stranger?”
“Stranger will do,” she told it before Marcus could reply. This Tikitik was an entirely different problem from those before. Give it information and there’d be no stopping its spread.
As if to confirm her fears, it barked its laugh. “An Om’ray who stands with a stranger. That gives me your name, little Speaker. ‘Apart-from-All.’ Aryl Sarc, discard of Yena Clan. I knew you would be entertaining.”
The Oud Speaker, subdued to this point, reared. “Decided other!” Its limbs clattered against one another. “Sona Oud. Goodgoodgoodgood. Tikitik go.”
“Oh, I will,” Thought Traveler said easily. Its eyes fixed on her. “Entertaining indeed,” it murmured. “Remember this day, Apart-from-All. Remember how you triumphed.”
Triumphed? “We only want to live in peace—”
“Under the Agreement, of course.”
Something wasn’t right. Aryl found herself afraid to say another word. What was going on?
Thought Traveler stood and looked at the Oud. “Unlike the fools you dispossessed here, I don’t care what you do. Dig up the past. Haul it to your pits. Trade it to strangers. But by the Agreement, you must address the balance.”
The Oud waved its pendant. “Balance, yes. Comply. GoodGoodGoodGood.”