“I’ll be back soon.” Lighting her oillight, Aryl took the road toward the empty river and the Oud. Within a few steps, the snow surrounded her in its dance of white and gray.
It made her alone, set her apart. She wasn’t sure why that felt a relief.
Short of the river, Aryl stepped off the road and made her way into the mass of tossed and half-buried beams that marked Sona’s original hall. There, she ducked beneath a lean of stone, out of the snow, and pulled out the geoscanner. Nothing new showed on its screen. The green symbol when she pointed it toward the tunnel mouth meant all quiet.
Her thumb found the control on the side and pressed. He could hear her now, she thought, or rather his machines could pick up words and sort them into his database.
The Human claimed not to listen. Still, she mused, shifting her feet under her long coat, he was curious. That above all.
“I know what happened to the first Oud Speaker,” she told it. Talking to a machine was very un-Om’ray. Naughty. Something her mother would scold her for…
…Taisal hadn’t wanted Mele?
Aryl jerked her thoughts back where they belonged. “There was a hunter hidden beneath the dirt—it strikes at whatever touches it. It might have been there by its own will, or a surprise left by the Tikitik. They use living things—make them.”
She leaned forward, her hood drooping, her eyes locked on the device in her hand. “There are Om’ray coming to Sona. The Oud are bringing them here through their tunnels. I don’t know why. I don’t understand them. I don’t trust them. You should be more careful.” This with a snap of worry.
Aryl listened for a moment, hearing nothing but the kiss and slip of fresh snow on drifts, the frustrated hiss and snarl of the wind beyond the shards overhead.
“I wish you were real,” she said at last. “Then I’d know you were alive—where you were. That the Oud hadn’t hurt you or taken you with them. How can you exist like that—not being able to sense one another?” The images of his Chosen, their children, his sister…if the Oud had buried Marcus in the ground, how would they ever know?
She could go there, find out. Her hand clenched on the device. Should she? Was it wise, to continue a friendship that could lead nowhere, that could be dangerous to both of them?
Or was it too late? The Oud and Tikitik had seen them together. Her people had Marcus’ image in their minds—she’d given it to them, so they wouldn’t fear him or his help. Now, it exposed him. She gestured a futile apology with her free hand.
“Aryl?”
She looked up, startled, then realized the quiet voice had come from the device.
Curious and prone to surprises, her Human.
“Aryl, it’s me.”
She almost smiled. Who else on Cersi would refer to himself as “me?” “I can hear you,” she said. “How—” No, that didn’t matter. “Are you all right?”
“Tired. Once they decided to show me what they’d found, they kept at it all day. I recorded all I could, but I’ll need more archivalbags. Some will have to be shipped offworld, there need to be tests—I’ll stop now.”
He’d have that abashed expression on his face, she knew. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your work.” More than glad. Her hands trembled. Moisture chilled on her cheeks. Had she been so afraid for him—or was it the relief of having someone to talk to who couldn’t comment on her “condition?”
“How about you? You don’t sound right.”
Now she did smile. “I’m fine. Just cold.”
“You’re outside?” A note of alarm. “There’s a bad lowpressurecell on the way. The forecast’s heavy snow—colder. You shouldn’t be out tonight.”
The Human knew the weather? Aryl was torn between amusement and annoyance. She’d never thought to ask him something so ordinary. Of course, here was yet another reason Haxel would want access to stranger knowledge and technology. “I’ll go inside soon—”
Something caught the attention of her inner sense, a disorientation. The other Om’ray were more than close, they were below! Others were on the move.
“I have to go. The Oud might be—” As if listening to her, the symbol on the geoscanner’s screen flashed red. She finished, “The Oud are here. Good-bye, Marcus.” The path of the Oud underground, their speed, had surprised her—had surprised them all. She had to get to the tunnel’s mouth.
“Be careful, Aryl.” Quickly, as if he knew she had her thumb on the controclass="underline" “Leave comlink active. If you need me, need bioscanner, need big help, say: ‘Two. Howard. Five.’ I program to listen for those words. ‘Two. Howard. Five.’ Promise! Say now, I set program your voice.”
Numbers. His son’s name. Even as Aryl hesitated, she remembered how she’d felt when Marcus and his aircar had arrived, when Marcus had agreed to save the exiles. He was her ally, powerful and wise, in his way.
“Two. Howard. Five,” she repeated carefully, committing the words to memory. “You promise me—don’t speak from this device unless I talk first and say I’m alone.”
“Understood.”
Then silence.
Aryl tucked the device back in its pocket, making sure it was safe. Why had she cautioned him? This was his technology. He’d know its weaknesses.
She pulled the Speaker’s Pendant free of her coat and scarf, made sure it was lying flat, and prepared to greet who—and what—was about to arrive.
Not alone. A solitary figure already stood on the bank, staring into the dark across the empty river, hair loose on the wind.
Seru Parth.
“Cousin,” Aryl greeted warily as she approached. “What are you doing here?”
“Same as you.”
Somehow, she doubted that. “You don’t think—I’m not—I mean…” Aryl fumbled and fell silent, thoroughly embarrassed.
Fingers on her sleeve. Two are pregnant. Their unborn are frightened. They may need me. An undertone of amusement then contrition. “About before. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just…We used to laugh about Choosers and their chancy tempers, remember? I never thought I’d be like that. And never with you.”
Aryl took her in a one-armed hug, careful of the oillight. You’re my dear silly Seru. Nothing can change that. “Let’s greet our new arrivals.” As they began to climb down the bank, “You’re sure about the babies?”
Seru laughed. “Trust me. I hear them. Juo’s daughter will have playmates.”
She’d have to take her cousin’s word for it.
All Aryl felt was change.
Thought Traveler had said the Oud didn’t appreciate how fragile Om’ray were. Aryl’s first glimpse of the vehicles hurtling from the tunnel did nothing to disprove that claim.
Each vehicle—there were three—pulled another behind. Glows girdled each flat platform, spilling light in overlapping, moving circles. An Oud reclined on the leading machine, five Om’ray clung desperately to the one that followed. There were no whirr/clicks. Maybe they didn’t like snow driven by a bitter wind.
The Oud didn’t slow as they left the smooth ramp of the tunnel mouth for the damaged pavement of Sona’s road. They headed for the village, vehicles bouncing and tipping violently. The Oud didn’t appear to notice; the Om’ray cried out, sliding from side to side, holding on to one another.
Aryl ran through the snow, trying to intercept the first. Seru followed. Haxel and others were on their way, but there was no time. If the stupid Oud drove their vehicles down the rocky riverbank, they could kill their passengers.
She slipped but didn’t fall. “Stop!”
Hard to know if they could hear her above the racket of their machines and the crunch of tread through the hardening drifts, the screams of the terrified Om’ray, but she kept shouting. “Stop! Stop!”