'None of us? You mean the Red Order?'
'We do not know what might happen if we did. We dare not think what might come of it.'
'But surely someone has tried? An accident, even?'
'Nobody has tried. Accidents have occurred, but they have been dealt with.' She saw the expression on Kaiku's face, and added: 'They chose to do it. They knew that now was not the time.'
Kaiku did not like what she was hearing. Children were something that had barely even occurred to her – she assumed herself lacking in the maternal instinct – but to have the choice taken away from her was not something she would condone. Cailin sensed that, and attempted to explain.
'We are long-lived in the Red Order, Kaiku. We are few, but we are tightly knit. More so, perhaps, than any other faction in Saramyr. The nobles continue their internecine squabbling even in the face of famine and destruction. Look at what has happened to Barak Zahn. But the Red Order remains united, and that is because our highest priority is ourselves.'
'Then perhaps we are the most selfish of all, then,' Kaiku murmured.
'That is your Tkiurathi friend talking,' Cailin snapped. The warmth had fled from her now. 'Need I remind you that not even ten years ago any of us would have been killed for manifesting the abilities we possess? That most of us died through burning ourselves alive or committing suicide for shame at what we had become? This is still happening in the Weaver territories, Kaiku. Children are still manifesting kana and dying for it, and we can only get to a small fraction of them. Were it not for our selfishness, you would not be here and nor would I, and the Weavers would have had this land long ago.'
Kaiku lapsed into angry silence. She could not argue with that, but Cailin's tone made her furious. The mention of Tsata only made things worse: it reminded her of the news they had received from Zila, which told only of the destruction of the town and the fact that the Tkiurathi were there, but not whether Tsata had survived it. Beneath her carefully suppressed exterior, she was frantic.
'We are a breed apart,' Cailin went on in a softer tone. She laid a hand on Kaiku's shoulder to stop her walking. 'The first of an upward step in humanity. It is our duty to preserve ourselves, our purpose to make a world in which we can live. That is why we fight the Weavers. When that threat is gone, when this land is stable and we have found our place in it, then perhaps children will come. But until then, Kaiku, they are too uncertain.' She sighed, bowing her head, and closed her painted eyes. 'Look how dangerous we are; it is only through the Red Order that we even know how to cope with the gift we have been given. What if our offspring possess power greater than ours? What if they begin to manifest that power from birth instead of adolescence? A child who could annihilate half a town in a fit of pique? What would we do with such a creature? Kill it? Could we? And what would the mother say to that?'
Kaiku would not meet her eyes. She would not concede, though she saw the sense in the argument. But nobody would choose for her on a matter such as this, not even Cailin.
'We have enough troubles to contend with for now,' Cailin said. 'We remain focused and united, and nothing must jeopardise that.'
'Enough!' Kaiku replied tersely. 'You have made your point. I do not wish to discuss it.'
The triumphant glow of their battle had faded now and left her feeling irritable. She began to walk again, not caring whether Cailin came with her or not; but the Pre-Eminent joined her after a few steps.
'I have something to show you,' she said.
'Indeed?'
'You have earned it, I think.'
This caught Kaiku's interest. She brushed her hair back from her face and gave Cailin an expectant look.
'Not here,' she said. 'Come with me.'
They walked on a little way. The path they were taking turned and sloped upward. Kaiku knew where they were heading: a small and remote building that had presumably been some kind of temple in past ages, hidden amid the trees in a tiny dirt clearing. There was a dry stone font at the entrance to the clearing, and beyond was a mound-shaped structure with sealed doors at each point of the compass, topped with a cone of concentrically tapering discs that ended in a small gold bobble at the tip. Around its base were fashioned symbols in a dialect of High Saramyrrhic too old for Kaiku to understand.
'This?' Kaiku asked. She had often wondered what was inside. It exuded a faintly watchful emanation.
'No,' Cailin replied. 'I only wanted to be sure we were alone. I would have it that we kept what I have to show you between ourselves. Only a select few know of it.'
'More secrets?' Kaiku asked wearily. Deception did not sit easily with her; it went against her character.
'It is better to always have something with which to surprise those who might turn on you,' Cailin said. 'Look at the Weavers. They must have spent centuries developing their crafts, and still we have not the barest idea of what may yet lie unrevealed.'
'We are not the Weavers,' Kaiku replied.
'Do not be obtuse, Kaiku.' Cailin's velvety voice was frosting over again. 'I ask that you keep this matter secret. Even from Phaeca. It is a small favour, but important to me. Do we understand each other?'
'I understand,' Kaiku said, but she fell diplomatically short of agreeing.
'Watch, then.' Cailin closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath.
Kaiku felt the Weave stirring, tiny currents across the unseen realm. Her sensory powers had increased dramatically since she had applied herself to her studies, and now she was always aware of the Weave even when she was not actively Weaving. Like her Sisters, she could tell an Aberrant just by looking at them, and she could perceive the trails left by spirits and the imprints of strange places that most people could only feel as a kind of sixth-sense unease, if at all. With a little more effort, she could sense bonds between family and friends and even enemies, charting the physical and emotional response between their bodies.
Cailin had once told her, Tane, Asara and Mishani that they walked a braided path, that they were fated to be drawn back together no matter how far they were apart. Kaiku had asked her then how she knew; now she had the answer. Cailin had seen the insoluble ties: Kaiku's friendship with Mishani; Tane's love for her; the link that existed between her and Asara through sharing breath. But Cailin did not know all, it seemed. Tane had died, and none of the Sisters' vaunted powers could do a thing to predict that.
Then, before her eyes, Cailin disappeared.
She blinked. It was if a shadow had passed before the moon across the tall, thin figure of the Pre-Eminent, and when it was gone, so was she.
And yet… and yet she was not gone. Kaiku could still feel her there, her imprint on the Weave. Her eyes were just not seeing her.
She slipped into the Weave herself, and there was Cailin, contoured in innumerable strings of light.
((How?)) She was aghast with wonder.
((There is more. Touch me with your hand))
Kaiku did so, reaching slowly towards the Pre-Eminent, using her Weave-imprint to see her. She rested her hand on Cailin's shoulder: but where she should have found flesh and bone, there was nothing. She inhaled a sharp breath in surprise. Again she tried, again she failed. She passed her arm through where Cailin's body should be, and apart from a faintly glutinous drag on her fingertips, she touched only air.
((Impossible…)) Kaiku felt foolish as soon as she had transmitted the thought, but she could find no other way to express it. Cailin was in the Weave, and only in the Weave; her physical body was… gone.
((We have arts of which you have only scratched the surface, Kaiku)) Cailin's communication came without words, phrased instead in a semantic blaze. ((New techniques of manipulation that we have laboured on in secret for decades. You are ready to begin learning the inner mysteries of the Red Order))