Until she realized Enris had watched this small exchange, watched and judged it, and now frowned at her.
Aryl found she liked that frown. UnChosen should pay attention. Should notice—
A hand brushed hers. Control, Naryn stressed. Remember what I showed you. Now’s not the time—unless you want to risk him refusing you, too.
Startled, she concentrated and strengthened the guard she’d learned, suppressing the desire she hadn’t felt rising closer to her surface thoughts. Too close. The last thing she needed right now was to lose herself, be a Chooser.
It was, Aryl decided firmly, the very last thing Enris would want.
Three Oud on their vehicles. Three Om’ray.
One Human.
And a great deal of snow.
The storm was over, its clouds shredded by the mountain ridges. The sun, though low, transformed the landscape. Drifts pillowed every rise; glittering white blanketed the clearing. Unlikely rounds topped nekis stalks and the towering cliff might have been hung with gauze. At any other time, or company, the sight would have taken her breath away.
At least it covered where the Oud had killed the Tikitik. Enris didn’t need to see it.
The snow, however, was its own challenge. The door opened easily enough, sliding to one side, but Aryl’s first step sank until snow covered her knee. She sighed inwardly and thrust her other foot into the stuff, lurching ahead to take the next step.
So much for a bold, confident stride.
The Oud vehicles, predictably, had forced their way through, leaving dark trails of exposed ground behind them. Their fabric coverings bore a thick layer of white, as if they’d sat outside during the storm, though the clear domes over their front ends had been wiped clean.
Preparing for company?
Don’t trust them.
Hearing Enris again she quite liked. Thinking her a fool? Surely he remembered better than that. I’m the Speaker.
And would have fallen face first in the next instant if he hadn’t grabbed her belt. She pulled her foot free—it had broken through some icy crust beneath the snow—and freed herself from his grip.
Annoying Tuana.
She shouldn’t think of him as Tuana any more. She shouldn’t think of herself as Yena. Those places, those Clans and families, their homes and shops, glows and tables and carpets and silly bits of nothing that filled cupboards and drawers until you tidied them only to find a reason to keep some of them still—all were gone from the world; to be forgotten, once no living memories remained.
As Sona would be, if she failed.
Tired of fighting the snow and her emotions, Aryl stopped short. “We see you,” she said, her voice carrying in the cold.
The centermost Oud reared up, creating a plume of snow, and produced its pendant. “Sona Speaker. Here is.”
The other two Oud lifted on their platforms and began tossing objects from beneath their bodies at them. Packs. Bulky Tuana-style packs. Nine large ones, well used. A small one, torn along a side. A hail of blades and tools followed, most burying themselves in the snow. The gear taken from Naryn and the others?
As if it mattered.
“That’s not why I want to talk to you.”
“What is? Water want? Other?”
The Oud being reasonable. The Oud being considerate, if a little late. Did these not know what had happened less than a tenth ago? Dare she ask?
Enris shifted beside her, snow creaking under his big feet. Like thunder from the sky, building to an explosion of light and fire.
She’d ask. “What happened at Tuana today?”
“Why did you destroy it and kill everyone?” Enris roared, stepping forward.
The Oud reared higher. “Whowhowho?”
Aryl drove her shoulder into him, hard enough to throw him off-balance. Stop! she sent desperately. Give me a chance. Please, Enris, more softly. Trust me.
He subsided. Slightly.
“Tuana was—” she stumbled over their term, “—reshaped. Why?”
Naryn stood with Marcus. Aryl waited for the Oud to answer, hoping for a reason that wouldn’t crush her new friend with the kind of guilt she carried. Hoping for a reason they could understand.
Cold. She was always cold these days. Could see the clouds from her breath meet and mingle with Enris’. The Oud spoke without breath, its limbs rubbing together to produce words. It didn’t matter, Aryl told herself. They were still words.
“Balance,” the Oud said finally. “Balance goodgoodgoodgood. Peace.”
A child without a mother lay broken in Marcus’ bed. Enris stood beside her, so consumed by rage and grief it felt like her own. An entire Clan, lost. “It’s not good!” she denied, her voice rising. “Oud killed Tuana’s Om’ray. What could that possibly balance? It’s not good. Not good!”
It hesitated, as if surprised by her anger. “Decided other. Sona Oud.”
What did it mean?
“Exactly.” The snow shifted as the Tikitik stood, its skin as white as its surroundings, save for the short black barbs on the outside of its arms and gleaming black orbs that were its four eyes. “I see you didn’t die, Enris Mendolar.”
“Day’s not over,” that worthy replied.
They knew one another?
Aryl glared at it. Thought Traveler was attracted to trouble like a biter to blood. “Do you know why the Oud destroyed Tuana?”
“We were in their tunnels.” Naryn was at Aryl’s shoulder, hair a wild cloud. “Was that why? Was it my fault?”
Thought Traveler barked his laugh. “Tuana has been re-born because of you, Apart-from-All. Did you not realize the Agreement holds the lands of Oud and Tikitik in balance? That when you resettled Sona and welcomed the Oud—who, it must be said, had pushed rudely into these mountains before your time, but still—that the Tikitik were owed a replacement?”
It toyed with her—with them all. Like Mauro, it took pleasure from their pain and suffering. “You’re lying. Why would the Oud kill so many Om’ray because a few of us came here?”
The Tikitik dipped its head, like a sly child. “Why do you think they like lists? They can’t count.”
The Oud Speaker flung itself from side to side, crashing into its companions. With each movement, it spoke, loudly. “Oud calculate.” Thud! “More than.” An Oud was tumbled from its vehicle and humped back on top, crouching low. “Less than. Extrapolate.” A final thud, then it settled. “Tikitik stupid!”
“I meant no insult, Esteemed Speaker,” Thought Traveler said smoothly. Its larger pair of eyes never left Aryl. “I merely educate your counterpart.”
“Don’t listen to it,” Enris urged.
She didn’t want to.
She had to.
Was it her doing?
“How did killing the Tuana—” the words were slivers of wood in her mouth, “—restore the balance?”
Thought Traveler’s long toes lifted it on the snow. It pranced, more than walked, toward her. “Tuana is again Tikitik. The Lay Swamp already spreads. We have begun our planting. There will be rastis once more on the plains, homes for our mothers. Dresel for our dear Om’ray.”
“What Om’ray?” Enris said harshly.
“The strongest.” That sly head tilt. “The best.”
Hush, she sent to Enris. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”
It came close to her, fingers scooping the air. She could smell it: stale dresel, old clothes. “Did you think this the first time, Apart-from-All, that Oud and Tikitik have exchanged Clans for the sake of balance? Do you think it the last?”
“Balance good!” the Oud agreed.
Aryl’s hand clenched over the pendant.
It had been her fault. All of it.
She’d stepped on a branch that couldn’t hold her, led her people there, gathered the innocent Grona and Tuana to her folly. Believed she was a Speaker, a leader, that she could save everyone.