“Oh, yes.”
“And when the Strangers look at their vids? See Om’ray moving rocks the size of buildings through the air?” When they see her ’porting out of a hole, Aryl added to herself with an inward wince. “What then?”
Under worry for Naryn, a definite flavor of smug. “They won’t see a thing till firstlight. And then? It’s the work of our helpful Oud neighbors, of course. What else could it be?”
Meaning Marcus was involved. She would never, Aryl vowed, leave Enris alone with the Human again. Ever. Then the enormity of what he’d done—what they’d done—sank in. “You’ve stopped the river.”
“With Naryn’s help.”
“She almost killed herself.”
Just to her, as grimly as she’d ever felt him.
I’m sure that was the idea.
If staring could move water, Aryl thought, amused, then the ditch would already be full. They’d all taken turns here, beside where the wide pebble-filled ditch scooped out the riverbank. It had been a curiosity before: easy to see from the exposed side, if less to imagine how it might work.
Firstlight and, at last, water lipped the bottom line of white pebbles, turned them dark, covered them. Rose to the next. Gurgled along. All down the bank, Om’ray—who’d laid on their bellies to lean over and watch, cheered and patted one another. Warmth and affection surged from mind to mind. A tinge of awe.
As if Enris needed any encouragement. Aryl leaned against him. “It worked,” she commented, gazing out at the rippled surface of what was, undeniably, becoming a lake. Only firstlight, but water filled the former riverbed from bank to bank, lapping gently against the wall of stone and dirt. “If it overflows into the courseways, the Oud will complain.” She wouldn’t. The courseways flowed first through the dead grove of nekis. Watered, perhaps they’d grow again.
“It won’t. The ditches from Sona drain back into the river below the dam and before the courseways.” Brimming with content, Enris wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her into his lap. The sun was warm on her skin. The lake made the air softer, somehow.
The lake was deep. A new worry. She’d been in water over her head before. “We’ll have to warn the young ones.”
His deep laugh vibrated through her spine and he nuzzled her hair. “Tai can teach everyone to swim.”
“Not me,” Aryl countered, then had to smile. His joy was impossible not to share. “If he can convince Husni—I suppose I’ll have to.”
Husni. The other elders. She needed to talk to them all today, find some answers about the Cloisters, resolve what to do with Oran. She shifted, loath to move, no longer at peace.
Or was it something—someone? With very poor—make that no shields. Aryl frowned. WORRY . . . WORRY!
“Hello, Aryl. Enris.” With a bright smile that fooled no one, Seru dropped down beside her. Ezgi didn’t even try to smile. He sat, crossed his legs, and began digging morose little holes in the dirt.
“Cousin,” Enris greeted him with that “why are you bothering me?” tone he usually saved for his little brother.
There’s a problem, Aryl sent privately.
We were enjoying a moment alone. Of course there’s a problem.
She elbowed his ribs, gently. “Seru, what is it?”
She didn’t expect Seru’s green eyes to fill with tears, or for her cousin to wail, loudly: “Naryn’s b-baby—!!” WOEFEARGRIEF!
HUSH! Aryl sent without thinking.
Seru covered her face with her hands, and Ezgi abandoned his digging to cradle her in his arms, giving Aryl a reproachful look. “She’s upset.”
“Which the entire world knows,” Enris informed him, but kindly. “Help her!”
Ezgi blinked, as if the notion hadn’t occurred to him. The handsome young Chosen might have more Power than his beloved Seru, Aryl reminded herself, but he had a fair bit to learn about using it. “Strengthen her shields,” she advised, grateful as the pressure of Seru’s emotions against her own subsided. “Much better.” She touched Seru’s arm. What about the baby?
Seru worked her face free of Ezgi’s shirt. “What she did—what Naryn did—it took strength from them both. Naryn’s recovering, but her baby isn’t. I don’t know how long—the baby’s dying, Aryl. I can’t help either of them!” This with an outburst of DISTRESSDESPAIRGUILT not even Ezgi could contain.
It didn’t matter, they all felt it. Aryl sighed, looking out at the sparkling water. “It was going to happen,” she heard herself say in a strange voice. “This is sooner, that’s all.”
Neither Tuana were prepared for the Yena swiftness with which Seru threw herself from Ezgi to pounce on Aryl, taking her by one leg to yank her from Enris’ lap, grabbing her shoulders to give her a hard shake. “Don’t say that!”
“Don’t be a fool!” Aryl shoved free. The two sat on the dirt and glared at one another.
Seru didn’t back down. “We have to do something!”
“Aryl. Seru’s right. We have to help Naryn.”
She twisted to look at Enris though, to her inner sense, he held no shield against her. His concern was real. As was his determination.
He’d stopped a river, but there were some things no one could fix. Aryl’s own despair welled up. If only Oran had been in control of her dreaming, could access the knowledge of So na’s Cloisters—even that, she admitted, was grasping for too small a branch. Tuana’s Adepts couldn’t do anything for her.
Her Chosen spoke aloud, his eyes glittering like sunlight on water. “I know who could.”
Of tasks not to envy, Aryl decided, she’d pick Seru’s and Ezgi’s. The two would explain to the rest of Sona—at the last possible moment—why three of their number, including their Speaker, would leave in the midst of, well, of everything. Those with the most pressing concerns were Haxel, Bern, and Oran. All three would be looking for her. A discussion and problem that could wait, in her opinion, so long as Oran wasn’t in the Dream Chamber. Naryn couldn’t.
Maybe she should suggest Ezgi let Seru’s shields fail again. Their Birth Watcher’s passion for what they hoped to accomplish would send the others running. Especially Haxel, Bern, and Oran.
An unworthy thought, however appealing.
“Explain to me again why I have to wear this?” “This” being Oran’s Adept robe. Naryn held it up to herself. It would fit.
“Because it might help.” Because Enris tried to anticipate everything that might sway Vyna’s Council in Naryn’s favor. Borrowing the robe had been Aryl’s task.
What they would take to trade was his. She was careful not to reach for him; he’d sense her impatience, her not-unreasonable worry he’d linger with the Human to relate every detail of the new dam and the lake growing behind it.
They’d no time to spare. She didn’t need to be a Birth Watcher to know that. Naryn’s skin was an unhealthy color; the feel of her was wrong. “Will you hurry?” she suggested.
Naryn raised a brow. “You didn’t ask Oran for it, did you?”
Had Oran been with the robe at the time, she might have. “I’ll apologize later. It’s not as if she needs it right now. Please, Naryn,” Aryl said, more gently. “Enris will be back at any moment. We have to go before—” Before the baby died, taking Naryn with her. They weren’t to tell her; Seru had insisted. “—before we’re missed.”