“What I had to,” I replied evenly. “The existence of the Clan in this reality is a threat—”
“They’re your people—”
“They deserved to go home.”
His mouth worked without sound, a flood of anguish filling our link. They’re gone? Our friends. Our family. Without telling me—without—
I’d caused this: his pain, his loss. “I couldn’t tell you. There was no time. The voices tried to keep us from getting here, from harm, but I was” beyond irony, “too strong for them. I had to do it, before it’s too late. Return the Clan where they belong. Where they’ll be—” Singers. Where they’ll fly through space and dance with planets. “—happy,” I finished. “What’s done, is done, Jason.”
<
A measure of my Human, that he straightened, his jaw working, and then bowed his head. Accepting. “Barac? Ruti.”
“They’re still here.” That much, I thought with a pang, for now.
As I am, Human. Aryl, sure and sharp. We’ve work to do, and—
The room suddenly darkened. As one, Morgan and I turned to stare out the window.
Where there’d been sky and a building was now obscured by plumes of rising dust. Lumps began striking the window. Some stuck. Mud, I realized, watching the thick stuff slide over the transparency. Harder lumps—stone.
The Great Ones. We were out of time. “It’s starting,” I said, numb inside.
“We have to get to the bridge.” Morgan shook me. “Sira. We need to know what’s happening!”
I’d failed. We were scattered. The world was ending—
He crushed me against him, his mouth on mine, the kiss half passion, half desperation. Witchling. We aren’t done. Not yet!
I had to find the rest of us. Mine was the greater Power. I needed—Aryl.
Yes. Here they are.
Our minds linked. I reached, finding Barac, finding Ruti, finding Degal di Sawnda’at and the others, knowing where to start.
And how to end this.
I concentrated . . .
. . . it wasn’t a proper bridge, but this wasn’t a starship. We were lucky Lemuel’s guards hadn’t shot us. Or unlucky, dire thought, for wasn’t that a way to be done?
But the guards were preoccupied, staring, with everyone else, at a single tech, a female Hoveny with beads in her hair, hunched over a piece of apparatus. “—confirmed,” she was saying.
“What is?” Morgan demanded.
Lemuel straightened and turned. “You tell me.” Nes eyes went to me, cold and hard. “Tell me how the Sanctum in Goesen can be stripped bare from the inside. Tell me how buildings are pulled from underground like splinters, leaving the land above them to collapse.” Ne took a step toward me. “Tell me, Founder, how a moon and everyone living on it disappear, all in the blink of an eye. Was this your doing?”
A moon? It wasn’t hostility. It was terror and I shared it. If the Great Ones could do this— “I was the cause,” I told ner. “What powers the null-grid is alive. It’s defending itself, as it did before.”
“The Fall! It’s the Fall again.”
I didn’t catch who said it, busy watching comprehension fill Lemuel’s face. “Can you stop it?”
“No, but I can end it. That’s why I’m here.” I looked at Destin. “It’s time to go home.”
Her scarred face relaxed into a smile. “Elnu’s been waiting.” Sona’s First Scout dropped her knives to the deck, gave a graceful bow—
And disappeared.
I turned to Teris and Degal. The latter drew himself up proudly, Signy sheltering behind him. “You’re wrong, Sira, as you’ve been from the start,” he declared in his Councilor’s tone, eyes glazed with emotion. “Your father knew the truth. The Clan were meant to be gods. Now, we will—”
Without hesitation, I dropped Degal di Sawnda’at into the M’hir, knowing his Chosen would follow.
Let him rule his own little box.
“So that’s it?” Teris’ dark eyes glistened with tears. “You’ve intended our destruction all along, Sira Morgan. You and your Human. I’ve known it since you came—”
“Hush.” Her Chosen, Vael, stirred. “Have you not heard our little one call? We can hold her again, beloved.” He smiled at me. What do we do?
Listen to your daughter, I told him. Enter the M’hir. She’ll be your guide.
He nodded, taking Teris’ hand in his. As the pair vanished, her despairing “Nooo!” echoed in the room.
A room full of stunned Hoveny. A legend, I’d no doubt, was in the making.
I bowed to Lemuel Dis. What could I say? What should I?
Then, I knew. “What binds us together,” for Morgan was beside me, “is the better part of us all. Mother and child. Family. Heart-kin. Love. Friendship.”
The Founder, remembering his fondness for the Oud and even the meddling Tikitik.
Rael, calling to me.
Enris, staying close to Aryl the only way he could.
Taisal, above all, who’d refused to free herself from the past, to help us now.
“Today, Director, that’s saved you from extinction. Cherish it.” Without looking, I held out my hand to Morgan, felt him take it in a firm grip. Barac’s with Ruti. “You will not see us again.”
“Wait.” Lemuel looked at my Human. “I don’t pretend to understand all of this—or most—” with an exasperation that made me appreciate the Director even more, “—but I know you’re not one of them. You’re welcome to stay, Jason. I’ll find you a place, anywhere in the system.”
They had starships—
Morgan’s fingers tightened around mine. “I’ve made my choice.”
Not if I’d any say in it.
“Well enough.” Expression filled Lemuel’s so-controlled features. It was respect. “Farewell.”
Interlude
THEY FLINCHED from him; why, he didn’t know. Ran, when they could, leaving inconveniently locked doors behind. It was maddening and Barac shouted after the Hoveny, using words you couldn’t help but learn in any shipcity in the Trade Pact.
Words they wouldn’t know. Even that satisfaction was missing. Everything was missing.
Everyone was gone. Almost everyone. To make things worse, it wasn’t Ruti in his head now but—
<
He cursed Kurr, too, for dying in the first place, for not staying properly dead, for haunting him now, when he’d a mission. Take the ship.
In a way, he had. At least these lower decks, now abandoned. Not what the redoubtable Human would expect, but a start.
<
Barac slammed his forehead against a wall. Once. Again. Anything to get that foul evil thing out of his mind. He’d a duty. “A duty,” he muttered, sliding limp to the floor.
“Gods, Morgan, what’s he done?” Hands touched him, lifted him.
Strength followed, raw and familiar. “I’m on a mission,” Barac said, very clearly.
“We’re done here.” And it was the Human’s living voice that convinced the Clansman to open his eyes and look.
“Sira?”
She was here, and alive, which was a good thing. Dirty, but they all were.
But she was different. Older. Unsmiling.
Barac tasted change. He climbed to his feet with Morgan’s help, then staggered, his hand going to his abused forehead. “What’s going on?”
The Human did the strangest thing. Twisting a button from his shirt, he tossed it up, flickering white over white, then caught it in a fist. “Tracker,” he explained. “Can’t leave my pack here to cause more trouble. Then?” He looked at Sira, his face open and vulnerable.
But she was looking at the floor and didn’t see.
Chapter 35
WE SAT together in Barac and Ruti’s pitiful cabin. I’d have ’ported us anywhere with an open sky, if I could.
Brightfall was a ruin. Better here, than that.
Morgan had his trusty pack. He took out the Hoveny artifacts and sent them into the M’hir himself, while Ruti exclaimed over Barac’s bruised head and held her Chosen close.
This wasn’t how—or where I’d imagined our farewell. Not that I’d imagined one at all.
Ruti’s dark eyes met mine. “Sira—”
She wanted to warn me against delay. That the Great Ones didn’t know mercy or patience. That no delay would make this easier.
I nodded. “You can go.”
Barac looked up. “No.”
The corner of my Human’s lips quirked up. “This place you belong. It sounds perfect.”
It wasn’t. It couldn’t have him.
My cousin shook his head. “It’s not that.” Wonder crossed his face. “Now that I’m listening, I can’t understand why I was so afraid. This is right. For us.” The wonder left, replaced by concern. “But what about you?” A frown. “What about you both?”
Be strong, Aryl sent.
I tried, swallowing hard. “Morgan can stay here—”
NO. Flat and implacable.
You’ll die if you follow me.
We’d come to our feet. My hair lashed my shoulders. His eyes were pits of despair. Then I die. I won’t live without you.
You’d make me live without you? “I can’t let you die.”
Morgan shook his head. “It’s what happens, chit, at least to beings like me. Think what you’re asking. Even if the Hoveny can sever—even if, how long would I last, half of myself, alone here?”
“I know what I’m asking.” Ruti and Barac stood. I felt Aryl’s presence. Sensed their agreement. What we planned—was it possible? I refused to allow doubt.
I took Morgan’s hand, rubbed my thumb over calluses I knew better than my own. On impulse, I pulled the bracelet from my arm and pushed it on his. “Not here,” I said, uncaring that my voice shook. “We’re going to send you home.”
You’re my home.
Stubborn as always. Precious as—Tears ran down my face, but I wasn’t alone in that. “Do this for me, Jason. Let me go, knowing what we’ve had together. Let me go, knowing you’ll live. Promise. As you love me.”
Unfair.
As I love you.
He coughed. Gave a pained shrug. “Should never have taught you to be a trader, chit.”
You have taught me all I’ve needed to know, or be.
I took Morgan in my arms and he took me. We’d no need of the Hoveny. Aryl, a last gift, if you please.
My hair flowed around us, soft and warm. And as our hearts beat together, as our lips met, I accepted the knowledge of my great-grandmother, who’d taken this dreadful road before me, and cut.
Through love. Through layers of Power and desires and dreams. Through to the bottom of what I was and we’d been.
Until I was alone . . . alone . . . ALONE.
Before the grief overwhelmed me, I stepped back.
Morgan shouldered his pack, getting ready to go. He looked—how could he look the same? But that was good, I told myself as I bled inside. That was—
Then I saw his face.
Now! Aryl gave it a snap.
With that, the others poured their lives into me, holding back nothing, for this was our agreement: if we were to dissolve in the M’hir, these bodies to die?
We’d use our strength, all we had, first.
I formed the locate, looked into blue anguished eyes, and concentrated . . .
—Barac and Ruti fell away . . . going home . . .
—Aryl spun into the darkness, finding Enris . . .
—heedless of anything but Morgan, I spent myself. Lost, fraying apart, the final moment I had of that life . . .
—held his voice.
Forget me, Witchling.
Forget us.
Let go and live.
Interlude
“UP TO ME,” Lemuel Dis stated, raising nes glass to the dour shadow that was the Tikitik Thought Traveler, “you’d be up on charges of endangering the system.”
“Bah.” The insufferable creature gestured disdain, bells tinkling. “The system survived.”
“Despite us. Despite me.” Emelen Dis held his glass with both hands. The fourth in the Director’s private office, Koleor Su, sat hunched in a corner, scribbling notes. The former Keeper glanced at him. “What you write, historian? Who will understand it, once we’re gone? Who will remember this?”
Those being evacuated from Brightfall, a birthplace now unlivable. Those beginning the rehabilitation of Hilip, Yont, and Oger, for gaping wounds marked where those worlds had had their buried ruins, too. Coordinated through the Hub, of course. Ne needed more staff, critically.
Tomorrow. Lemuel shrugged. “Maybe it’s better to forget,” ne mused. “When we rebuilt after the Fall, we couldn’t move without stepping on the past, one too many wanted back again. Now we’ve a fresh start.”
“There’s no such thing.” Thought Traveler barked its laugh. “We are our past, Director. Every cell of your body holds it.”
Emelen put down his glass. “You can change that. Change us. Make us—”
“Better?” The Tikitik’s eyes bent to stare at Lemuel. “Is this a formal request, Director? How delightful.”
They would, too. For all ne knew, the Makers of Tikitna were planning their next “question” to ask of the Hoveny and the Oud, willing to wait generations for the answer.
Not this time. Ne leaned back, swirling the amber liquid in nes glass, and smiled. Cherish the bonds between, Sira’d said. As dis, most assumed Lemuel had none of nes own. Far from it.
Being SysComPrime meant having bonds to everyone—everything—that orbited this star.
And protecting them. “Your kind will be too busy, Thought Traveler,” ne said, experiencing a rush of freedom as ne let nerself chuckle. “I’ve authorized the reversion of Tikitna to the Oud.”
Aghast silence.
“Just need to pack,” Lemuel assured it. “The Oud are willing to reshape their world. We’ll supply transport.”
The Tikitik rose to its feet. “And where shall we live?” it roared.
Smiling felt good. “There’s an empty world suited to your skills.” So did losing that smile to glare. “Or you’re welcome to leave the system.”
They wouldn’t. Together, as the Cooperative, they were more than any of their species alone. The Tikitik, no less than the Oud, were harmless if occupied. As were the Hoveny.
And this time?
Ne’d be watching.
Chapter 36
Morgan
JASON MORGAN set down his pack, ordering on the lights. He was vaguely surprised they worked.
Even more surprised he was alive. The M’hir hadn’t been a beach, with waves. It had been a river, wild and infuriated. He might have been part of why.
A river that carried him here, nonetheless. A river of light, illuminated by Power. By love. That, too.
Sira. He’d seen it, felt it, the moment she’d flared like a sun—then gone dark.
Where she belonged was cold and empty. He’d never be warm again.
As you love me. She’d made him promise, Morgan thought wearily. To live, for her sake, when he wouldn’t for his own.
Together, they’d given him a chance. Barac’s idea, at a guess, sending him here. Ettler’s Planet. His hideaway—inside the hangar, to be exact, redolent of oil and sand. No one would find him here.
Good. He didn’t want to be found. Not yet. Maybe never. He hadn’t decided.
What he did want was simple. Why not? “Should be some beer,” he said aloud.
> Something rattled in a shadowed corner of the hangar.
The Human twisted his wrist, felt the small handle hit his palm, and threw in one swift motion.
The knife clattered against the something and fell harmlessly to the floor, the sound immediately dwarfed by louder rattles and clangs as part of the shadow heaved and rose.
Dozens of black eyes caught the light, dust and sand sliding to the floor.
“There’s no beer,” Huido Maarmatoo’kk informed him, waving the stub where a great claw had been. “I got thirsty waiting for you.” His eyes bent this way and that. “Where’s Sira?”
“Sira’s where she belongs. Happy.”
Then, Morgan folded without grace to the floor, buried his head in his arms, and wept.
Interlude
PAUVAN DI slipped his arm around the other half of his heart, tipping his head to touch hers. “We’ll be docking soon.”
He felt Alisi’s smile, as he felt her strength and resolve. “That’s good. Isn’t it, sweetling?”
Milly didn’t look up from her tank of Oud. “I thought we were going home. You promised. I want my room and my things.”
A room and things—and home—dropped into one of the thousands of craters scarring Yont and the other Hoveny worlds.
Among the casualties—Alisi stiffened, fighting grief.
Understanding, sharing it, Pauvan let her go. He went to sit on the floor by their daughter. Pebbles in the tank edged his way, ever-hopeful. “Not yet. We’ll live on a station for now.”
Milly looked sideways at him, lower lip caught between her teeth, then pulled the little trowel from her belt. “Will there be an excavation?”
“Not—for a while.” When there was, he thought with determination, it wouldn’t be to find the past, but to recover from it.
“Milly not bored. Milly has Tap Tap! Best is!” The Oud-Key spun in a dizzying circle until nes ends touched and ne toppled on nes side.
The display made the child giggle, as usual.
The strangers had brought their children. He could see their faces when he tried to sleep. Pauvan sighed. “They came with such hope. Wanted what we have: home. Family.”
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