Another jump, and now Matthew was sitting in an examining room, holding his mother’s thin hand. He looked down at the hand and thought about how dry and cold and frail it felt, wondering if it would shatter to pieces in his if he squeezed it too hard. Sophie on the other side, propping their mother up, sniffling.
The technician on the other side of the room, busying himself at a metal table, then turning, holding a syringe aloft, tapping at the shaft with his latexed fingernail. The cryochamber waiting behind him.
Matthew squeezed his mother’s hand.
“We’ll get you out,” he said. “I promise. I don’t know how yet, but we’ll get you out.”
All the while, as these memories played through Matthew’s mind in a never-ending loop, his body lay in a cryochamber, sleeping beneath layers of blue ice. To either side, two more cryochambers lay horizontal, like coffins in a crypt—Dunne and Sam sleeping inside and dreaming their own dreams, perhaps, of the lives they’d left behind on Earth.
And meanwhile, just beyond the thin membrane of the hull, stars and nebulae and clouds of luminous space dust flew by in a blur as the ship’s lightspeed drive propelled them across the galaxy and toward their destination.
16
kiva
With straightened fingers Kiva eased aside one half of the split cloth that hung in the doorway of the Vagra’s hut and peered outside. The Sisters had gathered, the oldest of the women sitting cross-legged in front, with the younger women and girls behind them, standing on tiptoes and straining to see. One exception was Kyne, who sat in the front of the crowd with the older women and stared straight toward the door, where Kiva was standing.
Kiva drew in her breath sharply and stepped back into the darkness of the hut. Had Kyne seen her?
Kiva shook her head and forced herself to laugh. It shouldn’t have mattered whether Kyne had seen her or not—it wasn’t like she was hiding in the Vagra’s hut. The old woman’s hut was where Kiva had lived for the past four seasons, ever since her vision past the edge of the village. Everyone knew that she and the old woman were inside; the Sisters were waiting for them, after all. Besides, wasn’t she next in line to lead the village? Why should she care what Kyne saw, what she thought?
Kiva turned to face the Vagra, who sat on the cot in the middle of the room. The old woman was hunched over, barely able to sit straight, but her eyes were alert, looking at Kiva expectantly.
“Have they gathered?” she asked in a quavering voice.
Kiva nodded. “They have, Vagra. Are you ready?”
The Vagra nodded and held out her hand. Kiva crossed the room to take it, then helped the old woman stand. She wobbled on her feet. Fearful she might fall, Kiva quickly propped her shoulder up under the Vagra’s armpit and looped her own arm around the Vagra’s back.
The Vagra glanced at Kiva as they made their way slowly to the door.
“I should be making you lead these meetings,” she said. “I’m too frail for this.”
Kiva’s stomach fluttered at the thought of facing the Sisters all alone. She shook her head.
“But you’re still the Vagra,” she said. “As long as you’re alive, the Sisters look to you to lead them.”
The old woman chuckled.
“Don’t worry, child. I won’t be alive much longer. You’ll get your chance soon enough.”
Kiva sighed and put her eyes forward.
That’s not what I’m worried about.
The thought came to Kiva’s mind before she could think to suppress it. She held her breath as she waited for the Vagra to say something. But they walked a few more steps, and still the Vagra kept her tongue.
Kiva let her breath out.
The Vagra’s powers had been diminishing along with her health. It seemed that the old woman could no longer hear what Kiva was thinking—not consistently, anyway. This was in part a comfort, since it meant that the Vagra no longer surprised Kiva by picking up on something she hadn’t even realized that she’d been thinking. But it was also a source of worry—a constant reminder that the Vagra’s days as the leader of the village were numbered, and that Kiva would soon be forced to take her place as the new Vagra.
Hang on just a little bit longer, Vagra, Kiva thought, confident now that the old woman wouldn’t hear her. I’m not ready yet.
Eventually Kiva and the Vagra reached the door. The chatter of the Sisters quieted when they walked through the door into the light of day. Under a heavy silence in which Kiva felt the Sisters’ eyes on her, she helped the Vagra take a seat on the ground, then knelt in the dirt a couple paces behind her.
“Sisters,” the Vagra said. “We gather today in the presence of the Ancestors.”
“The Ancestors are the ones who have gone before, the ones who have passed on,” the Sisters replied. Kiva chanted with them, thoughts and voices moving together in unison. “They went to a place both beyond and within this place. They walk alongside us. They bind us to one another. They heal us. And they speak to us. They show us things we must see.”
The monthly Sisters’ council meeting had begun.
First came a report on the crop yields from the men’s gardens in the village. An older Sister named Mira had been placed in charge of the village’s food supply; she reported that this month’s yield was higher than expected, and the Vagri now had more food than they needed.
“Commend the men on their hard work,” the Vagra said. “Tell them to take a week’s rest from working in their gardens.” A knowing smile came across the old woman’s face. “And perhaps, Sisters, this would be a good time to visit your men in their huts. For such a bountiful yield they deserve to be … rewarded.”
A murmur of laughter rippled across the crowd; in the back, the younger Sisters, the ones who hadn’t been mated yet, tittered.
Next was a time for the blessing of new babies before they went to live with their fathers in the village, or the welcoming of girls who’d had their first visitation by the Ancestors and were ready to join the Sisters in the center of the village. Often, the Vagra simply skipped over this part of the meeting—there weren’t always new babies to bless, or new Sisters to welcome. Today there were no babies (“Another reason for you to visit your men, Sisters,” the Vagra said with a wry smile, to more laughter), but there were two new Sisters: Thruss and Rehal.
Kiva caught their eyes as they were brought forward and the two girls grinned nervously.
“Come here, Sisters,” the Vagra said. “Don’t be afraid.”
Over the past two weeks, both Thruss and Rehal had been brought separately by their mothers to the Vagra’s hut. Kiva had looked on as the Vagra performed the blood ceremony on them, mixing the thick fluid of their veins with the dust of dead Gle’an grass and throwing the mixture into the fire to see the flames change color. For both girls, the ceremony had confirmed it: the Ancestors were with them.
Now, Kiva listened as her old friends described their first visitation from the Ancestors to the gathered Sisters. Kiva had done the same thing at the first council meeting she’d attended, describing her vision of the Strangers to the silent crowd. Neither Thruss nor Rehal had anything quite so interesting to recount: both had merely caught small snatches of someone else’s thoughts, nothing more. Even among the Sisters, visions were rare—only the women who were strongest with the Ancestors received them.
Not that Kiva had been seeing many visions lately.
She sighed and tried to put it out of her mind.
After Thruss and Rehal had been welcomed by the Vagra, they returned to the crowd of Sisters.
Then, the main part of the monthly council meeting began: a time when the Sisters could bring their requests, disagreements, and grievances to the Vagra for resolution. This was where Kiva’s power to hear the thoughts of anyone in the village was most useful. Since living with the Vagra, Kiva had learned how to block the flood of thoughts coming into her mind at every moment and pick out only one voice at a time. She and the Vagra spoke often about what Kiva heard
—thoughts of disagreements and resentments between the Sisters, problems among the men, children misbehaving. Usually she and the Vagra were able to guess at the problems that existed in the village and devise a solution long before one of the Sisters brought it before them at a meeting.
Not always, though. Some of the Sisters, and even some of the men, were harder to read than others, seeming to keep their thoughts and feelings so deep inside them that not even Kiva could hear them. One such person was Kyne, who rose now from her seated position at the front of the crowd and cleared her throat to speak.
“Vagra,” Kyne said. “Kiva. Sisters. I want to speak today about the Strangers. About Kiva’s vision.”
A cluster of nerves fluttered up from the pit of Kiva’s stomach. Her vision. When she’d told it to the Sisters at her first council meeting, a hush had come over the crowd and many of the women lifted their hands to their mouths in fear. Moments later, the women burst out speaking all at once, in a panic. The Vagra had calmed them by reassuring them that the Ancestors would tell Kiva more when the time came. That silenced the Sisters’ voices, but it didn’t silence their fears, didn’t stop them from rising at later council meetings to ask questions about the Strangers: what they wanted, whether they meant the Vagri harm, when they might come—questions Kiva didn’t know the answers to.
“So speak,” the Vagra said now. “What about the Strangers?”
“It’s been four seasons since Kiva foresaw their coming, Vagra. And still no preparations have been made. No precautions taken.”
The Vagra bowed her head in silent acknowledgment of Kyne’s complaint.
“That’s true,” the old woman said. “We await instruction from the Ancestors. We know that the Strangers are coming—that much was clear from Kiva’s vision. But we don’t know who they are. We don’t know why they’re coming to this place. And we don’t know whether they’re a threat to us.”
Kiva felt her face grow hot. The Vagra’s words were an acknowledgment of Kiva’s failure—that’s not how the old woman meant them, but that’s how the Sisters would take them. Echoes from their minds flooded into Kiva’s brain, confirming her fears.
But how?
How could Kiva not know more about the Strangers by now?
Aren’t the Ancestors with her?
Maybe the Vagra was wrong. Maybe Kiva’s not the one we’ve been waiting for.
“I understand, Vagra,” Kyne said. “But we can’t wait any longer. The Strangers could be here any day now. And if they are a threat …”
Kyne trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken, to be finished by each of the Sisters in their minds:
… they could destroy us all.
“We must go to the Forsaken,” Kyne said. “They’ve helped the Vagri fight off enemies before. They have weapons. They can protect us.”
“I see,” the Vagra said. She put a finger to her lips and thought for a few moments. “And who would we send to the Forsaken? What would we say?”
Kyne stood up straight, thrust her chest out proudly. “I will go to them,” she said. “I will ask them to send some of their men to the village, to stand guard in case the Strangers come.”
The Vagra shook her head. “No. I will not allow it.”
“But Vagra—”
“Enough,” the Vagra said, a hand lifted in the air to silence Kyne. “Most of you are too young to remember the last time the Vagri had to enlist the help of the Forsaken to fight off an enemy. I am not. Sisters, making contact with the Forsaken is no simple matter. It should not be taken lightly. Asking the Forsaken to come here to fight for us is easy. Making them return to the wilderness after the fight is over is not.”
“The Forsaken are only men, men who used to live in our village,” Kyne said. “We can control them. They’ll listen to us, just like our own men listen to us—because they know we have the wisdom of the Ancestors on our side.”
“No,” the Vagra said, shaking her head. “A man with a weapon cannot be controlled. A whole group of them even less so. Anyone who says they believe otherwise is either a liar or a fool.”
Kyne colored.
“It’s true the Forsaken are men who used to live among us,” the Vagra continued. “But remember why they left, Sisters: because they could not live in this village in peace, as we do. Something happens to the men when they join the Forsaken, when they take up weapons. They become wild, violent—they live to fight, to kill. The Forsaken are an energy that cannot be contained, cannot be controlled. As long as that energy is directed outward, the Forsaken serve us by driving our enemies away. But beware of turning that energy inward, toward this village. If the Forsaken come here, they may serve us for a time. But what happens then? What happens after they’ve driven the Strangers away, after they start to get restless? What happens if they begin to turn their attention to us and lust after our power over the Vagri? No. I won’t allow it. We’re a peaceful people, Sisters—we have been ever since the days when First Mother heard the voice of the Ancestors, calling her to begin a new kind of tribe, one that doesn’t live by killing. I’m not going to risk changing that by bringing weapons into this village, simply because you’re afraid.”
Kyne’s blush deepened, but by the way the Vagra’s head swiveled from side to side as she spoke, Kiva knew that the old woman’s scolding wasn’t meant for Kyne alone—she meant for all the Sisters to hear her warning about the Forsaken.
“But what about the Strangers?” Kyne demanded. “If we won’t ask the Forsaken to protect us, then what will we do?”
There were nods and murmurs in the crowd.
“You leave that to Kiva and me,” the Vagra said. “The Ancestors will tell us what we must do soon enough.”
There was a long moment of silence. Kiva could tell by the looks on the faces of the Sisters—especially Kyne—that though the Vagra’s words had put an end to the debate for now, the Sisters still weren’t satisfied. Their fears, their doubts, their dissatisfaction with Kiva: all these were things that would rear their heads again and again and again.
“Anything else?” the Vagra asked.
The silence stretched out.
“Very well,” the Vagra said. “The meeting is over. Return to your huts, Sisters.”
17
After Kiva helped the Vagra back into the hut, the old woman turned toward her, eyes blazing with sudden urgency.
“You should have spoken up in the meeting,” she said. “The Sisters won’t respect you if you’re always so timid.”
Kiva bit her lower lip, chastened. “But it’s not my time yet. You’re Vagra still.”
“That’s true,” the Vagra said as she lowered herself carefully to sit on the cot, the wood creaking as the stretched fabric strained to hold the old woman’s weight. “But you will be Vagra after I’m gone. You need to start acting like it now. Being Vagra isn’t just about communing with the Ancestors. You actually have to lead.”
Kiva’s eyes stung. She blinked, willed herself not to cry under the Vagra’s scolding.
“I know I should have said something to put Kyne in her place,” she said. “But I didn’t know what to say. She’s right. I don’t know what to do about the Strangers. No more than I knew four seasons ago. The Ancestors show me the same vision every time: the blinding flash of light, the stone bird flying between the stars, the three figures on the horizon. That’s it. I don’t know. Maybe …” She trailed off, shook her head. “Maybe Kyne is right. Maybe we should go to the Forsaken for protection.”
“No,” the Vagra said, her voice firm. “We can’t. Not unless you’re sure.”
“Sure of what?” Kiva asked.
“Sure that letting the Strangers come would be worse.”
Kiva studied the Vagra’s face closely. The old woman had taught her much—taught her how to push away the constant din of the Vagri’s thoughts in her mind and listen to one voice at a time, taught her how to lead, when the time came—but Kiva couldn’t shake the sense that there were th
ings she still kept secret. Things the Vagra would rather take to her grave than talk about. Things Kiva needed to know.
“What happened?” she asked, finally. “The last time you went to the Forsaken for help.”
The Vagra shook her head. “It didn’t end well.”
“I need to know,” Kiva said. “If I’m going to lead the Vagri, then I need to know everything.”
The Vagra was silent for a few moments. Then she sighed. A hardness in her seemed to break as she let out her breath.
“Sit,” she said, nodding at the ground in front of her.
Kiva lowered herself to the ground, crossed her legs beneath her, and looked up at the Vagra’s face.
“How much do you already know?” the Vagra asked.
Kiva hesitated to admit what she’d heard. The hatred of violence was so deeply ingrained in the village that the Sisters forbade the children from even telling stories that featured it.
“Come, child,” the Vagra said. “Don’t play dumb. I’m no fool. I know the men still talk about it, late at night when their women aren’t around.”
The Vagra was right. Kiva’d heard the tale as a girl from Grath, when Liana was away in the Sisters’ camp.
“Marauders came and captured the village,” Kiva said. “They tried to kill you so they could rule the village in your place. But you escaped. Went to the Forsaken. Together, you came back and took the village back from the marauders. The leader of the Forsaken died in battle, but there was a boy—a brave boy named Xendr Chathe, who killed many enemy fighters. He became the new leader of the Forsaken, and led them into the prairie to get rid of our enemies as far as the foot of the mountains.”
The Vagra nodded. “That’s right, as far as it goes—but it’s only half the story.”
The old woman’s eyes drifted up toward the ceiling of the hut. A silence drew out, but Kiva didn’t prod the Vagra to go on. She sensed that the old woman was only trying to decide where to begin.
“It was almost fifty seasons ago,” she said. “I was a younger woman then—around the age your mother is now. We hadn’t seen a single enemy in all the time I’d been Vagra. I thought that maybe they’d decided to leave us alone. But I was wrong. They were only gathering their strength. When they came for us, it was with greater numbers than ever before. I can still see them thundering into the village, killing the men and children. The blood of my people running black in the lanes between the huts.”
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