The other slipped the robe over her head, running her fingers along the textured threads of embroidery. “I wondered for such a long time how it would feel,” she mused, straightening the front panels.
Aryl’s lips quirked to one side. “How does it?”
Naryn held her arms and turned slowly. “Heavy,” was all she said when she stopped, but there was a faint pink to her cheeks.
They were prepared, but where was . . .
“I have them.” Enris was grinning as he appeared, as if fully aware of her worry. The white crate under his arm was familiar. And not-Om’ray. “Didn’t need to wake our friend at all.”
She’d apologize to Marcus, too. As for the ease of all? It left an unpleasant taste, like a warning. “We can’t use that,” Aryl decided and grabbed a pack. “Here.” She held it open.
Her Chosen’s grin disappeared. He took the pack from her hands. “Don’t get too close to these. Either of you.” He poured the clear wafers in, tossed the empty crate aside, and slung the pack over one shoulder. Careless, no. Disrespectful, yes. “Are you ready?”
“There’s no need for you to come.” Naryn pointed to the pack. “Give me that. I have the memory of their Council Chambers.” She had more. Memories of how the Vyna had treated Enris. How they trapped and killed unChosen from other Clans who came on Passage, calling them “lesser Om’ray” unfit to Join with their Chosen.
Aryl looked forward to meeting them in person. She’d promised to behave, but if they gave her any reason . . .
But what mattered about the Vyna wasn’t their isolation or the threat they posed—it was how they managed to give birth without having Chosen at all. Like Naryn.
Who wasn’t going alone.
“Together or not at all.” Aryl took Naryn’s hand, sent reassurance and—
Before she could form another thought, Enris grabbed her free hand and the room disappeared . . .
“—Enris!” Aryl’s protest died in her throat. She threw up her shields, felt the other two do the same.
They were in Vyna.
Naryn stepped up on the dais and took a seat. “So how long do we wait?”
The show of frustration was just that, a show. Naryn was exhausted and frightened. Not, Aryl knew, that she’d reveal either.
“They’ll come,” Enris said grimly.
Aryl nodded to herself. No hiding their arrival. They would be felt, as she felt the Vyna above her. Vyna who had to be wondering how three Om’ray could suddenly appear in the heart of their Cloisters. It shouldn’t be long.
Strange, a Cloisters not only below ground but underwater. Like the buildings Marcus had shown her with his flying vid device, beneath the Lake of Fire.
The wall of arched windows that in Yena looked out on green life, and in Sona, piles of dirt, here revealed a darkness as star-filled as truenight without the Makers in the sky.
Stars that moved.
Fascinating. Aryl walked to the nearest window. Not stars, of course. They might, she judged, be eyes of some kind, if eyes varied in size and shape, and were all white. She drew her short knife, flipped it in her hand, and rapped the hilt firmly on the transparent surface.
“Did I forget to mention the rumn are attracted to noise?” Enris commented, carefully not approaching the window.
“I want to see one.” Aryl rapped again, more firmly. The “eyes” swirled in an outgoing spiral from the point of contact, then rushed back again with powerful grace. Markings on a body, she decided in triumph, peering closer. A very large body. Or several.
She’d watched water hunters eat an osst alive. Aryl shrugged and put away her knife, losing interest. Simple to avoid such a threat. Stay out of the water.
Then, they were no longer alone in this part of Vyna’s Cloisters.
The Council Chamber doors were wide open. A sparkling blue cap, sprouting a growth of twisted yellow threads knotted with tiny black beads, appeared at the left side of the door-frame, followed by a single eye as a Vyna contorted to see them while keeping as much of himself unnoticed as possible.
With that on his head? Aryl tried not to smile.
Etleka! Enris greeted cheerfully, for some reason running his hand through his thick black hair. Aryl, Naryn, meet my old friend—
The cap and eye were gone.
Friend, is it? Naryn commented.
Enris grinned. Watch this. “Etleka Vyna!” His deep voice rang from every corner of the vast room. “You know I’ll do this as long as—”
HUSH, Enris! The Vyna scuttled around the corner as if chased, coming to a panting stop. Fool!
Starvation couldn’t explain an unChosen so pitifully frail. Ill, perhaps, Aryl thought. His face wasn’t right either. Beneath the brilliant cap and tassels, his eyes were sunken pits, his jaw too long. Dirt lined the creases at his neck and forehead. He wore a simple shirt and pants held up by a rope belt, the stained yellow fabric worn through at the knees and thinned at the elbows.
He looked as out of place in the gleaming chamber as they must.
Enris no longer smiled. He gestured a grave apology. What happened, Etleka? I thought you were to—a trace of revulsion, hidden so quickly Aryl might have imagined it—serve one of your Adepts.
You happened. No effort to hide the emotion there. Anger curled around dread.
Aryl stepped closer to her Chosen, wary of threat, however unlikely the source. Enris glanced down and gave a tiny shake of his head. His problem, that meant.
She scowled at him, then at the Vyna. Her problem, if he made any move at all.
I meant you no harm, Enris sent. You or any Vyna.
No harm? Etleka’s palms slapped the front of his pants, once. Twice. Hard, furious blows. Contaminated, they call me. Fit only to clean waste. And talk to you. I don’t care how you got here this time. Go away, Enris. You aren’t welcome here. Go away!
He hadn’t looked at her, Aryl realized. Not at her or Naryn. As if Enris was all he could see.
Enris spread his arms. Blame me. I won’t argue. Once we see your Council, we’ll be gone and never come again.
The young Vyna’s mouth gaped, showing too few teeth. If it was a smile, Aryl thought with a chill, it was the most horrifying one she’d ever seen on an Om’ray’s face. No other Vyna will come near you. Go! He waved his filthy hands, as if shooing biters.
They will when you tell them we’ve more of what I gave Tarerea Vyna.
The hands stopped moving. Etleka licked his lips. Give it to me. I’ll take it. Show them.
“Think we’re fools, unChosen?” Naryn snapped from her seat on the Council dais.
Etleka drew himself up and looked at her for the first time. You are lesser Om’ray, unworthy and foul. I, least of Vyna, am beyond your comprehension.
“That I agree with—”
Naryn! Aryl admonished. To the Vyna, We will stay here and wait for your Council’s decision. Then, as she’d learned from her mother, she swept her hands in the gesture of gratitude. Thank you, Etleka Vyna. Be well.
Then she turned and went to rap on the window again.
There was a flicker of astonishment, as if the scruffy unChosen couldn’t believe he was being dismissed by a “lesser Om’ray.” She kept an eye on his reflection against star-flecked black as he whirled and ran from the chamber.