Esans stirred uneasily at her voice; one uttered its scream. The Tikitik at their feet grunted something at them; they stilled at once. She hid her distaste. Their way, to control beasts. Why the beasts allowed it was a mystery she’d rather not solve.
That familiar sly tilt of the head. “I would ask you the same, Little Speaker, if it mattered. I’m here to bestow a remarkable honor. You will be the first Om’ray to visit Tikitna, the Place-of-Bloodless-Meeting. There you will explain.” It pranced forward with its disturbing quickness, clawed toes snicking on pavement, then stopped. “You will explain so very many things.”
She could try to ’port. It might work this far above the still-restive rumn. All four of Thought Traveler’s eyes were fixed on her, as if daring her to do exactly that: flaunt this profound change in Om’ray in front of it. Prove everything it suspected.
End the Agreement.
“I look forward to it,” Aryl said. Enris, the Tikitik want me to leave with them.
Instantly: Not alone.
Not alone, she agreed, as though there was a choice. Vyna was no place for Enris and Naryn. Or Anaj. “There are Sona Om’ray on the lowermost level,” she informed the Tikitik. “They come with me.”
“Of course.” Thought Traveler gestured toward the mist—or was it to the encircling mountain beyond? “The Vyna, however ill-mannered, must be protected.”
“By killing them?” And she thought Oud spouted nonsense.
“A few nonbreeders.” An amused bark. “Which brought you straight to me without exposing Vyna to a more intimate intrusion.”
“I’m no threat to the Vyna.” Not if she could help it.
“Apart-from-All. You are nothing but threat to the Vyna. How I would enjoy explaining matters to you . . . but you could not comprehend.”
Aryl comprehended one thing quite well, as attendant Tikitik busied themselves for departure, attaching baskets to the legs of the esans, barking softly.
Thought Traveler had enjoyed “protecting” the Vyna.
Under other circumstances, their flight by esan would have enthralled her. In Yena, Aryl had spent fists building models of wastryl wings she’d called fiches; her triumph a shape able to glide great distances on a wind. The esan’s two pairs of wings, once opened from their fold over the back, were like those of most flitters, being clear with dark veins. They stiffened like one of her fiches as the esans flung themselves from Vyna’s walls, gliding down through the mist toward the platform below. To rise over the mountains, the stiff wings beat in powerful strokes, then began to vibrate in place, like a biter’s.
The gliding, Aryl thought with a certain satisfaction, she could do.
The basket suspended between the middle pair of legs wasn’t uncomfortable, mostly because Enris held her in his arms. They’d protested when Naryn had been put in one of her own, but the Tikitik were surprisingly gentle with her. There’d been some kind of cushioning within.
Not enough.
Anaj. Her distinct mindvoice made it easy to forget she wasn’t standing with them. An oddly familiar voice. Like, Aryl decided, unexpectedly amused, an older Haxel.
“More like my grandmother,” Enris countered, and their esan shook vigorously. His deep voice irritated the creature more than hers.
Mountains swept beneath them, their shapes muted. The sun was hidden behind cloud. She shivered in the chill and Enris rearranged his grip so his warm forearms covered hers. A Tuana’s skin must be thicker. This is much better than my first flight, he sent cheerfully. Think they’ll let us keep one?
She eyed the body above dubiously. Thin and muscular. An abundance of long bones beneath the skin when it flexed. Looks tough.
His laugh rumbled through her. Not to eat, my bloodthirsty little Yena. To carry things. Us, for one.
It wasn’t often he managed to shock her. There are machines for that, she countered, and found she quite liked the notion. Machines that weren’t Om’ray, that was the problem: the Strangers’ aircars, the Oud’s version, which required an Oud willing to fly it. Unless . . . I could ask our Oud for one, she mused, snuggling against Enris. We could take it apart, see how it was made, change it to suit us.
We’d need tools, a metal shop. She’d surprised him in turn, but his clever, bold mind took hold of the idea and began to puzzle at it.
Anything was possible, if they survived this day. On that thought, she opened her shields, let her inner sense reach. She didn’t need the Vyna’s revolting intimacy or to intrude into the other’s mind. This was her Talent, Aryl thought gratefully, and sought Naryn.
There. A solitary glow, no longer knotted to another by Joining. Aryl sighed with relief as she traced only the connections natural among Om’ray: Naryn to her, to Enris, to the rest of their kind . . .
... to Anaj.
She sleeps at last, child. Let her be.
And you? Enris sent. How does it feel in there?
Trust her Chosen to ask what she hadn’t dared, Aryl thought with an inner grin, waiting for the answer.
Suddenly, her body felt too small, too warm; the arms about her too tight; the sound of wind and breathing replaced by the POUND of a stranger’s heart. She couldn’t see, couldn’t feel, couldn’t taste or smell, could only squirm and struggle futilely against—against—
STOP! His sending was intended to sting. That’s enough!
You asked. Not contrite. If anything, the old Adept’s mindvoice sounded pleased, as might Haxel after a lesson successfully delivered.
Aryl had been imprisoned within a rastis once; had fought her own inner battle for sanity. The memory tasted like Anaj’s sharing: terrified, abandoned, alone. She’d have given anything to have help. I could try to let you see through my eyes.
Aryl!
Hush, young hothead, Anaj told him. I can hear if I wish. I don’t want to see. I don’t want to be here. Bad enough sensing where we are.
Where they were was passing over Rayna, aimed at Amna, though Aryl doubted that was their final destination. Sona was farther away every moment, a temptation easy to resist. They couldn’t abandon Naryn—or Anaj. We’ll get you to our Birth Watcher as soon as possible, she promised.
I don’t need a Birth Watcher. I need OUT!!
A blinding flash of AGONY from Naryn.
What’s happening? Anaj?
LET ME OUT!
The sac opened to the baby’s demand. They couldn’t allow Anaj’s desperation to rip it open inside Naryn. They’d both die.
Anaj, stop, please. Aryl pulled away from Enris and clenched her hands on the basket rim, trying to see under the other esan, to see Naryn. If there’s a safe way to free you, we’ll find it. But it can’t be here. You know that. Healing used Power to push the body’s growth beyond normal. Could they hurry a pregnancy?
I will be free. There was something implacable in the sending. I don’t belong here. I can’t survive here.
The Vyna’s help was like a rotted rope, Aryl thought bitterly, one that would snap if you trusted it. Wait, Anaj. Until we’re home—
Where do you think the beasts take us, child? Not even a token grants safe passage through Tikitna. Home? More likely when they’re no longer entertained by you, they’ll drop us in the Lake of Fire. Trust me, I intend to be free before dying again.