Pauvan looked dumbfounded. “What? I—I don’t understand—the Twelve left Brightfall to find other civilizations. To restore the Concentrix.”
“A lie. The Twelve went to Cersi. One ship made it back, with us. You have proof,” Morgan pointed at the tent. “The Oud measured us. I’m sure it told you the Clan have more haisin than any Hoveny and believe me, they know how to use it in ways you can’t imagine. They have no neuter, only male and female. Before they can mature, their females must form a permanent bond—”
The Hoveny drew himself up. Thrust a hand between them, making a sharp wiping motion. Not for discussion, that said.
Too bad. “—A bond with a male, their Chosen.” Morgan touched the side of his head. “As Sira Joined with me. We aren’t heart-kin, my friend. We are one for life and will die together.”
“Only a mother and child may have such a bond.” Red stained Pauvan’s cheekbones and his hand flashed again. “Between adults is unacceptable! Dangerous to both—rightly discouraged! Don’t say this to anyone else.”
The protest felt personal. “You know how it feels to be Chosen, don’t you? Sira said your link with Alisi was—”
A hand shot out, gripped his arm. “Do not speak of this,” in an urgent whisper. “I beg—”
The sun went out.
Lights snapped on to compensate, unseen engines giving a deep whine.
Pauvan looked over Morgan’s head, his eyes widening. “We must go back inside, with the others.” The grip became a pull. “They’re here.”
Morgan glanced over his shoulder. The tunnel entrance was now blocked by a transport as similar to the vehicles around him as a starship was to a groundcar. Its massive rear door dropped open with a clank that echoed in the tunnel.
“Then we’re out of time.” Morgan pressed his free hand to the other’s forehead.
And entered Pauvan’s mind.
Chapter 24
ALISI SURGED to her feet. “What’s he doing?!”
Being reckless? Not that either of the pair had the ability to touch Morgan’s thoughts or mind, but, like Aryl, I reserved judgment about the Oud-Key. “Morgan has things to say to your Chosen,” I used the word to shock her into paying attention.
It worked, though her nostrils flared and there was emotion aplenty on her face now. “And this is how? By forcing himself into Pauvan’s mind?”
“Morgan’s decided to trust you. Someone’s come for us. From what you’ve just told me—both of you—that may not be a good thing.”
Nor was the news about Ruti—I pushed it back to simmer with the rest of my nightmares. No one was going to die today. Not if I could help it.
“You arrive on our world, you abide by our rules,” Alisi said frigidly. “What’s coming is authority, System authority, and what happens next is up to them, not us and not you.”
Such appalling innocence. I could snatch her memories of any place she’d been and ’port there. Could seize control of her mind—have her say or do whatever was to our benefit. Could— My hair whipped around my shoulders, and I watched the Hoveny’s scorn turn to something else.
Fear.
Sira. Have a care.
Great-grandmother. I clenched my fists, fought for control, and was startled by a light drumming on my ankle. I looked down at the Oud.
“This is not why you’ve come, Founder.”
“No,” I agreed, and sighed. “Sit, Alisi.” My hair subsided, ends moving in slow, sullen waves. I was no happier, but Alisi wasn’t an enemy.
She could be a friend.
“Morgan’s sharing who and what we are with your Chosen,” I said, fully aware of one side of that forced conversation. “That information is yours, too. Digest it, quickly. We don’t have much time.”
Alisi remained standing, her hands together as if to deny me, but I sensed the inner concentration signifying her reach to her Chosen, Pauvan. I waited.
Her face remained set, but emotions flooded from her in waves: Revulsion. Horror. Indignation.
Curiosity.
Finally, as her eyes refocused on me, astonishment. “You.” With awe.
Morgan—
I only told them what they needed to know, chit. Unrepentant, that was.
We’d talk later.
I didn’t doubt his decision: before we asked for help, they needed to know about Cersi and the experiment. My ever-cautious Chosen had provided enough, I hoped, to enlist this pair on our side. “You know what we are,” I began, though I continued to wonder myself. Were we heroes, returning home with treasure?
Or monsters, carrying our dead.
“I know what your Morgan cared to tell us.” Alisi’s gaze sharpened. “You want us to believe the null-grid has something to do with haisin.”
“It does! It does. The sect knows,” Tap Tap insisted, limbs churning. “Sira must go to them. You, Seesor, must go. Prove my claim. Brightfall will have Founder, best is! Brightfall again Hoveny Prime. Best best best!”
We’d moments, if lucky, before those who’d arrived in a machine able to impress even Morgan took charge. No question they’d move us. We’d lose what we’d found here. I looked at Alisi. “This is your world. What do you want?”
“Ne is clever,” she admitted. “A seesor’s right to assess information pertinent to a claim supersedes all others. No matter who the government has sent, I can insist you be tested by the sect. As Seesor, my responsibility is to the truth.” Rainbow eyes studied me. “It is not my place to withhold it.”
“You think others might?” We’d no markers yet, no guides other than these Hoveny. And one Oud.
A shoulder rose and fell. “I don’t know why they would. If you are a Founder, it will be remarkable, stunning news, certain to arouse controversy as much as excitement. But Brightfall won’t change all at once. How can it? Restoring the null-grid as a power source only matters if there’s something to use it—and there’s precious little left pre-Fall. Scholars and collectors compete for intact pieces. I assume the sect has some.”
As did we. Morgan’s foresight never ceased to amaze me.
What’s the plan, chit?
An instant before, I’d felt how easy it might be to go over that line, to push these people in a direction of my choosing, for my reasons. Up to them, I told my Chosen. As it must be. Feeling Aryl’s agreement, I stood. “We are in your hands, Seesor Alisi Di.”
The tiny Oud dropped to its myriad feet and began to dance in dizzying circles.
Alisi came close to smiling. “Come with me, Sira, quickly.”
I followed her from her office, Tap Tap speeding ahead. Instead of leaving the tent, we turned left, going to the door the child had picked. I’d an instant to realize we’d entered their personal quarters before Alisi threw open a cupboard. “If I’m taking you to the Sanctum, you’ll need clothes.”
I was shorter than Alisi; wider at breast and hip. A belt helped the roomy pants stay put; fortunately, the hems rolled. The under shirt felt like being hugged by a Carasian but the tuniclike jacket, Alisi’s, fit as though made for me. I put my well-traveled bracelet over the cuff and admired my new boots: Milly’s. My toes hardly bent at all.
Hopefully, there’d be no long walks ahead. As for Milly, she didn’t appear to notice either boots or my presence. When we’d arrived, she’d been sitting on the floor, staring into a tank empty except for a few nondescript pebbles the size of my thumbtip. She hadn’t budged. Tap Tap crouched beside her, occasionally touching a limb to the glass as though making sure it was intact.
“Your communicator,” Alisi told me. The device slipped into a holster strapped to my left thigh. “I can show you how to use it later. Not that you need it, Sira Di.” She winked at me conspiratorially. While it was nice to see we’d winking in common, the reason disturbed me.
Were those with enough “haisin” to speak mind-to-mind so rare in her life? A
question—and potential problem—for much later.
“I know how.” Milly looked up. “I can show Sira.”
“There’s no time, my sweet. Finish what you’re doing.”
I couldn’t help myself. “What are you doing, Milly?” But she’d resumed staring into the tank and didn’t answer.
“Our daughter exposes Tap Tap’s progeny to her haisin,” Alisi explained, her pride evident. “It is quite an honor, for one so young. Don’t forget to feed them.”
The child held up a small box and shook it. The ensuing high-pitched squeaks made me sorry I’d asked, especially when the little pebbles began rolling toward the glass of their own volition.
“For Tap Tap.” Alisi dumped out the contents of a leather satchel and handed it to me. “Hurry.”
Having seen its offspring, I balked. “Why?”
The tiny Oud rose, fluttering limbs at me. “I’m Oud-Key! Best is!”
As if that was a reason to carry it with me. I looked at Alisi.
She pointed to the bag. “Ne is drawn to greatest haisin. They won’t believe you could be the Founder without ner.”
“Milly, exceptional,” Tap Tap proclaimed with what seemed touching delicacy, then and louder, “Sira, better. Best is.”
Save me from aliens. I took the bag, putting my head through the shoulder strap, then knelt, holding the flap open. “Don’t make me regret this.”
Tap Tap zipped inside before I could change my mind. I noticed “ne” made no promises.
Alisi changed, too, putting on a white knee-length, high-collared coat, the fabric stiff with white embroidery. There, any similarity to a Clan, or Om’ray Council robe ended, for complex symbols in black and red spilled over the shoulders and back. Noticing my attention, she laid her palm over the symbols. “These are my designations, marking me as Tikitik and Oud, as well as Hoveny. A seesor must hear from all, and speak to all.”
The proclamation would have sounded more imposing if this particular seesor wasn’t broadcasting anxiety to the point where I’d tightened my shields, but to Alisi’s credit, none of her feelings showed.
Waiting at the door, chit. These new folks aren’t the patient sort.
I passed that along. Alisi pressed her lips together, then held out her hand. With contact, came words—faint, as though shouted across a distance, but clear. The haisin that binds can be severed, Sira, even ours. Do not give them cause.
Between heart-kin, I told myself. Between the feeble bonds I’d felt among these people, threads to the mighty rivers coursing the M’hir between Clan Chosen and even those binding all Clan together.
Yet, even as I stared at Alisi in disbelief, something rose in me I wanted to deny but couldn’t. A terrible hope. If the Hoveny could sever a Joining, should Ruti fall? We could save Barac.
Right behind that thought, the truth. My cousin wouldn’t want to live, not alone.
Who would?
Morgan’s “waiting at the door” hadn’t prepared me to step into the midst of six tall, silent Hoveny in shiny red armor. Alisi Di ignored them and kept walking, so I took her cue and did the same. Without a word, the six Hoveny formed around us and kept pace.
It didn’t feel like a welcome. Might have been the weapons—the large weapons—they carried. I’d used enough creative approximations in the past to recognize what could put significant holes in things. Pointy ends. Nasty little sights and dials. Huido would have loved these.
Then again, in my new clothes, maybe they’d take me for a member of Alisi’s staff. On the short side, admittedly, and there was the hair, but it was behaving. I’d a feeling it didn’t like weapons any more than I did.
I peered between elbows and bodies, rewarded by glimpses of the monstrous craft that had brought our escort and more. Most of the end facing into the tunnel had opened, like a great mouth. Inside was darkness.
Conserving power, maybe. Concealing resources—likely. If that was our ride to wherever we went next, I told myself, I wanted proof of proper facilities. This looked like a low-class freighter.
Or a warship.
Freighter.
Dithering kept me from worrying about anything else, so I was honestly startled when we reached the tent full of Clan and our escort peeled away to remain outside.
Morgan stood near the door, between two of the armored strangers. His pack wasn’t on his back or in sight. He might have had time to hide it. Or they’d taken it. Neither of us risked a sending, but I saw his index finger draw a small circle.
He wanted me to take notes? I frowned at him. He raised a judgmental eyebrow at me, then repeated the gesture.
Meaning I should know this—oh. One to watch.
Not helpful. It didn’t tell me who to watch and the room that had offered us such a cheerful expanse was now claustrophobic, its open space consumed by strangers. My people, well aware of a new threat, had taken refuge on couches, stools, and chairs.
Silence greeted me—outward silence. Having noticed me, my people expressed themselves with such force I missed a step, struck by a barrage of sendings: Who are they? What do they want? Are we safe? Where are they taking us? Words overlapped, rode each other. Trust/Who/What/Them/Danger! Beneath, understandable fear.
Less explicable, an overwhelming weariness. Not of the body, but of the mind, as though everyone here was burdened.
Safely in Alisi’s shadow, I sent back: I’m here. Peace. Patience. We’ll have answers soon. A place. Rest.
Then, because I was afraid: Stay with me. Please. Don’t leave.
No matter who calls you.
It was then I spotted the Tikitik.
Interlude
A THOUGHT TRAVELER. Of course they’d be here, too.
This Tikitik was closer to the Cersi variety, tall and black and formidable. It wore a red-and-black robe that flowed around its thin body and the bands of cloth on its wrists bore the familiar symbol. Round metal beads hung from gold threads along those bands, giving a disarming tinkle of bells with every movement of its long clawed hands.
Not that anything was disarming about the creature. Its four eyes were in ceaseless motion, and it kept what seemed a wary distance from both the Clan and the other new arrivals: Hoveny of a different ilk.
Security. Guards. Soldiers. Dressed for combat and unpleasantly suspicious. They’d taken his gear, going straight for his pack—handling it with a respect that told him they knew what it contained—then asked in no-argument tones for his vest.
Morgan had nodded politely and cooperated. If they thought him disarmed, they were welcome to that opinion.
If they thought the Clan cowed and harmless, they were welcome to that, too. He’d felt Sira’s wince at the bedlam greeting her. Saw how those seated visibly relaxed at her calming response. Unreasonable, how they leaned on her, but they weren’t wrong to trust her strength.
Though Sira would, he promised himself, be reviewing their hand signals.
The new arrivals had been smart, he granted, entering in such numbers they’d daunted even the Om’ray scouts, going straight to the physical threats and dealing with each without fuss or intrusive search. Barac was without his force blade. The Om’ray had lost their knives. They’d taken the packs of the M’hiray scientists as well as any loose belongings, so this wasn’t just caution. Someone here was after information.
And that someone stood by the cots, talking to the senior edican, making the rest wait on nes pleasure. The neuter—his guess—was ordinary height, for a Hoveny, with shoulder-length straight hair, white, matched by pale skin and eyes. Ne was dressed in a well-cut beige business suit that could have come off a rack on Plexis. The boots, though. Those were, he’d bet on it, designed for use where gravity could fail. Meaning no time to change before coming down here, but enough clout to bring a small army. A decision-maker.
Even the Thought Traveler kept an eye
bent in ner direction.
One to watch, he’d signaled his Chosen.
Morgan didn’t need the taste of change to be sure of that.
Chapter 25
“MY NAME is Lemuel Dis. SysComPrime for the System Cooperative. Director will suffice. Or Lemuel.”
My Human was right, as usual. Lemuel was neuter, though how he’d guessed was a mystery and how I knew? I ascribed my certainty to some Hoveny instinct, at last of use, for ne could pass for a mature unChosen or older Chooser, nes features and build little different from mine in the latter state.
What mattered was the “dis” attached to nes name, denoting a solitary life and secured thoughts. Like Aracel’s, the Director’s mind was locked away. If ne had Power—haisin—and wanted to use it, there’d have to be a door. Somehow, I didn’t expect any vulnerability.
“Sira Di,” I replied, inclining my head politely as ne hadn’t done. I looked over nes shoulder. “Thought Traveler.” I ignored Aryl’s grumble.
Its head bobbed up, mouth cilia flexing. “Sira. Hoveny, however unique your—appearance.” Lemuel gave it a look. The Tikitik spread its arms, bells chiming. “I offer confirmation, Director.”
“Thank you,” ne said flatly, turning back to me. “I’m sure my esteemed colleague would also confirm that this—” nes hand lifted toward Morgan, then dropped, “—is proof of a ship come from outside our system, without notice or permission.”
My hair writhed over my shoulders. “‘This,’” I countered, “is Captain Jason Morgan and my Chosen.”
The writhing hair probably made more of an impact than my snarl, but Lemuel stared at me, then finally inclined nes head. “I meant no disrespect, Sira. The arrival of a new intelligent species after so long is a marvel.” Even tone, no change in expression. Either ne had a different opinion or was by far the best Hoveny we’d encountered at concealing emotion. “Welcome, Captain Jason Morgan, to the System Cooperative.”
Not Brightfall. Notice, chit?
I did. Lemuel wasn’t local authority. What had ne said? “SysComPrime.” We faced the equivalent of a Trade Pact Board Member, I judged. Or higher.
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