Spinning Starlight

by R. C. Lewis

  “If all you want is to flirt with my brother, live-comm him, not me.”

  “Oh, come on, Liddi, you know it isn’t like that.”

  Joon’s mouth said one thing, but her eyes said another, and Liddi didn’t miss it this time. “Find someone else to leech off of, Joon. Good-bye.”

  The end of the live-comm signaled the end of the so-called friendship.

  Two days later, the media-casts started. The Insecurities of Liddi Jantzen. Things only Joon knew, because Liddi hadn’t told anyone else. Things that made the Triad worry because even they hadn’t known. Her infatuations and fixations, her anxieties and fears…the fact that she still dreamed about her parents sometimes and woke up crying.

  It was clear what Joon had gotten from the friendship. Her profile was at an all-time high.

  All Liddi got was a vow never to trust anyone outside of her family again.

  I LOSE TRACK OF the conversation at that point, because all four leaders talk at the same time. Technically, I think that makes it not a conversation anymore. Oxurg shouts over everyone, half his words in Agnacki, something about Quain’s assertion being “blasphemic,” whatever that means. Voand’s and Ymana’s words are lost under his, and I can barely make out Quain’s calm voice at all.

  This is certainly government productivity at its best.

  Tiav must have a similar thought, because he taps something on his com-tablet. The mouths on the screen keep moving—other than Quain’s—but no sound comes out. The muting must affect everyone, because after a moment, true silence extends its arms to all of them. No more talking.

  “It’s bad enough Liddi can’t speak for herself,” Tiav says. “We don’t need to argue as if she isn’t standing right here. Personally, as an Aelo, I think Quain’s theory sounds possible. Liddi, do you remember anything about your passage that might mean the Khua let you through?”

  I remember the barrier, how we pushed through it. All the pain and effort it took. If anything, it felt like we broke it down through force of will. If the Khua really were some kind of self-aware entity that could say, “Sure, come on in, can I get you something to drink?” then what it offered me seems less than hospitable.

  That’s not the answer Tiav wants, though. It’s the answer giving credence to the Agnac argument, that I somehow tampered with the Khua. It’s what Kalkig’s been saying all along. And maybe what I felt was because I was trying to bring my brothers through with me. Maybe. Maybe not.

  So I tell half a lie with an uncertain shrug.

  The leaders have calmed enough for Tiav to un-mute them, and Voand has something to offer.

  “I don’t know if Quain is correct, but I do believe something complicated is at work here. Shiin’alo has inquired of the Khua several times, trying to find answers about Liddi. She’s been unable to make any sense of what they tell her. If they allowed Liddi through, they’ve not made that apparent, nor have they indicated she somehow overpowered them. Not clearly, at any rate.”

  Tiav’s posture shifts and his eyes falter for just a moment. I remember what he said about the Khua being extra confusing lately; I get the impression his mother doesn’t fail to make sense of them very often.

  “The Aelo told us you are keeping Liddi under ‘house arrest,’” Quain says. “If we are correct that the Khua have a purpose for her, she should not be confined.”

  Ymana nods. “This will take time to unravel, and we cannot treat her like a prisoner without cause. Jahmari?”

  The physician has been silently attentive through all of this. “Yes, yes, I quite agree. Once Liddi was informed of the law, there have been no further problems. Nothing warranting this type of treatment at all.”

  “Then I’m taking her back to Podra,” Tiav says. “You can contact us just as easily there.”

  Oxurg grunts. “I still say it is a foolish theory, and we will watch closely. If she violates the law again, we will demand action.”

  It strikes me—I’m not like Minali, knowing a particular truth that others won’t listen to or understand. The Agnac are. Single-minded, blind, and obsessed when new information threatens to change what they thought was truth.

  I’m not sure whether that makes me more angry at both Minali and the Agnac or just sad for anyone who lives like that.

  The screen goes black, and the tension drains from Tiav’s body. “The Izim, Jahmari, really? I don’t like them having this much interest in Liddi.”

  “You’re welcome to talk to Quain again and say so. See what kind of response you get.”

  Tiav groans and collapses onto a couch. “No, thank you.”

  He looks exhausted and I don’t understand why. I get his attention, gesture to the part of the screen Quain appeared on, and point to Jahmari while imitating the way he gasped earlier.

  “Ah, yes,” Jahmari says. “My apologies for not controlling myself better. You see, Quain said it was ‘an honor’ to meet you. I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve never heard the Izim use the word ‘honor’ except when referring to the Khua. It startled an old man, that’s all. Given the theory that the Khua granted you passage, it makes some sense.”

  That’s one question down, but there’s still another. I cross to where Tiav sits and clamp my hand onto his wrist the way he did mine, raising my eyebrows to convey the question.

  He shifts my grip to hold my hand instead, pulling me down onto the couch next to him. “The Izim, Liddi…they’re not like us or the other races. They’re older, more advanced, and communication…They’ll discuss things, but in the end, they do what they want. And we can’t stop them. So when they suggested you go aboard their ship, it worried me. If they decided you’re better off on Izima than here, they’d just leave.”

  Heiress Liddi Jantzen fell into the worst cliché of heiresses throughout history, getting herself kidnapped.

  Well, no, that’s not an option. I need to stay where I can get to my brothers.

  Jahmari shakes his head, mostly to himself. “I need to have a few more conversations. Maybe an hour, then we’ll return to Podra.”

  The Crimna leaves, and I take Tiav’s com-tablet so I can write something. His arm curves naturally around my shoulders as he waits. I like Podra better than Chalu except for one thing, and as much as I hate to bring it up with Tiav, I have to.

  “Kal-kigg and Ag-nak?”

  Sure enough, that brings all the tension back to Tiav’s body. “They won’t hurt you again. Kal’s in the detention facility, and any who aren’t…they won’t. The keepers are on alert, and with the Izim in orbit, Oxurg will warn his people not to interfere.”

  That’s good, but I realize my own discomfort goes deeper than that. “Kal-kigg had see-kret wye tell now?”

  His fingers trace small circles on my shoulder. “Because I’m not very smart. The night before the attack, I told him how I feel about you. He’s been my friend for a long time, he knows me, so I hoped he’d see I couldn’t feel this way about someone who’s as terrible as he thinks you are. Stupid. Instead, he decided I’d betrayed my people and the Khua both.”

  I feel the ache extending from his own heart to mine. He trusted his friend, and his friend repaid that trust with fire. I know a little of how that feels. And now I know how it feels for it to be my fault.

  As usual, Tiav sees what I’m thinking, and he gently lifts my chin to face him. “Hey, I wouldn’t change it. It’s not easy, but my mother taught me anything worth doing takes work. Kal’s my friend, and I told you how he’s been on my side. But I think sometimes being a real friend means knowing when to be against him. I hope he stops being so blind, but even if he doesn’t, I don’t regret my choices.”

  When I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight, I hope he knows that despite it all, I don’t regret mine, either.

  There’s a familiarity in returning to Podra, almost like coming home despite the shortness of my time here. But it’s also like returning to a home that’s changed entirely in my absence. Wariness cloaks every eye that meets
mine, and Agnac go out of their way to keep their distance. We hardly see Shiin, she’s so busy meeting with citizens who have questions about the Khua and me…questions that don’t have answers.

  The wariness and suspicion of the city begin to press on me as much as my silence. It makes me jumpy and tense, and it doesn’t help that every time I look at the streets, I remember what it was like to be under the crushing feet of a mob. I barely hold back further panic attacks, and only because we’re never out on the streets for very long.

  I don’t say anything, but Tiav knows. So one night, he takes me out of the city.

  It’s not quite the observatory, but the view of the stars is still beautiful from the top of the hill. Admittedly, I’m not spending much time looking at them. Tiav has me too distracted. His lips in particular. And his arms as they keep me close.

  You don’t have time for this, Liddi. Kissing a boy does less than nothing to help get your brothers back.

  But that’s a lie, because even my brothers say our brains can’t do anything decent if they don’t stop and recharge a little. Besides, this is about more than kissing a boy. This boy has stood up for me against leaders of different worlds, against his own people. He cares about me and I can’t imagine why when he knows so little about me. Except he says he knows me, and when he says it, I believe him. He’s a good person, good in a way I’ve rarely seen, and besides wanting him, I need good people to help me free my brothers. If I can ever find a way to help, and a way to tell Tiav.

  When he pulls away, one hand continues to stroke my hair. “Liddi, we’re going to do something we should’ve done a long time ago, even if it gets me in trouble.”

  I shake my head. I’ve been in enough trouble myself—I don’t need him getting into any. But he takes my chin in his hand to stop the movement, and his touch melts thoughts of protest from me.

  “You don’t get to stop me. The risk is my choice.”

  Arguing is pointless, so I give him my “what” face.

  “You’ll see. Come on.”

  He pulls me to my feet and leads me down one hill and up another. From the top I can see where we’re going; one of the Khua sparkles ahead. I tug on his hand and give him a repeat of what-face.

  “The Khua aren’t answering the Aelo’s questions, and I think it’s because we’re not the ones they want to talk to. So I’m going to ask again, but I want to bring you with me. Technically, it’s allowed, but it’ll be my responsibility if the Agnac want to complain.”

  My last two experiences in the portals flash through my mind, especially the pain. More pain than should be physically possible. I don’t want to do it again.

  But going with him, seeing the Aelo way of handling a Khua and the chaos inside, maybe even figuring out what interaction convinces Tiav and others that the energy phenomenon is alive…that’s the kind of information I’ve been looking for all along. Like Emil once told me, it’s not just that mimics aren’t as good as originals—secondhand reports aren’t as good as firsthand experience, either.

  Even if that firsthand experience feels like getting trampled by a mob of Agnac ten times over.

  I sigh and keep walking, silently agreeing to Tiav’s request.

  Like the others, this Khua sends off waves of dormant power, shrinking me to nothing by comparison. Only it’s different this time. Tiav makes it different, because his stride doesn’t hesitate. I wonder how it feels to him. Welcoming instead of intimidating? Is it a matter of upbringing, his Aelo training, or is it a perspective he chooses?

  I wish I could ask him.

  When we reach the crystal spires, Tiav doesn’t immediately step between them or reach for the mote of energy. Instead, he uses his free hand to pull something from under his collar—a flat crystal disk with a complex design of curves and flares etched onto it, surrounded by a ring of platinum that hangs from a black cord around his neck. Similar to the one Shiin wears, but I never noticed Tiav’s. I assumed it was either a mark of her rank as primary Aelo or just a piece of jewelry.

  “This is how the Aelo do it,” he says, pulling the cord over his head. “As long as we use this, the Agnac consider it ‘authorized.’” He dangles the disk near the spark of light, and it gravitates toward the crystal. Tiav releases the cord just as the two meet.

  The collision is the most breathtaking sight of my life. The Khua explodes like a supernova, showering the countryside with the light of midday. When I can see again, it’s formed a coherent energy field suspended between the two spires, rippling like fabric spun from starlight. Every time the field moves, the colors shift, sparkling and shimmering with red, then violet, then yellow, spreading from the spot where the disk is suspended.

  Tiav releases my hand only to put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me tight against him. The warmth radiating from his body seeps into mine, and that’s when I realize how cold I am. As beautiful as the Khua is right now, I’m still afraid to go inside.

  But when he steps forward, so do I.

  The expected maelstrom of chaos doesn’t come. No rending of my neurons, no shattering of my bones, no pain. Just piercing heat from all around and pure light, like we’re inside the little spark of energy. Everything here is too clear, too sharp, too strong. It’s hard to make sense of it.

  I hear Tiav ask a question, or maybe I feel it. Asking the Khua if they have answers, and if they’re willing to share. Focusing on me as the subject of his questions. Tiav is so calm, so relaxed here. He’s used to it, knows how to pay attention to the right things. It’s what his family does.

  The family business, and he’s good at it. Not like me with mine.

  It may not be the swirling insanity of my previous portal adventures, but images and thoughts and feelings crash into me. I’m pretty sure it’s in my head, clear as a memory but with a skewing twist. It’s everything I’m afraid to tell Tiav but desperate for him to know and understand. The scene from the clearing back home plays out, with the raging violent portal—nothing like the Khua here—and my brothers surrounding it until I ran in.

  Next is something that’s definitely not a memory, at least not mine, because I never saw it. My brothers in different places, but always at a conduit terminal, working on the mechanism with tools I don’t recognize. Each of them disappearing in the midst of their work with a snap of light—the moment Minali trapped them, however she did it.

  I have the sensation of opening my eyes, except I don’t think I ever closed them. If what I saw before was in my head, what I see now is real…or as real as anything in the Khua is. My brothers approach, but not too close. They stand in an arc in front of us, speaking words I can’t hear. Emil reaches toward me, but something blocks him, forcing him back like an invisible wall. Still, their presence curves my lips into a smile. I look up to Tiav to see if he understands now, if it’s all right.

  There’s no understanding in his eyes. There’s only horror.

  Either Tiav pulls or the Khua pushes. Whichever it is, the bright, perfect fire surrounding us snaps and breaks, leaving us under the moons of Ferinne. No sign of my brothers.

  Tiav isn’t looking at me. He presses his palms against his eyes, his muscles so tight they’re shaking. When I touch his shoulder, he shrugs me off and steps away, leaving me behind him.

  “Kalkig was right,” he mutters.

  I freeze. Not good.

  “Liddi, how can you do this? I don’t care about the not talking, but all this time being my friend, being…and the whole time Kalkig was right. You and your brothers, you’ve done something to the Khua. Is it some kind of attack on us? Trying to destroy the Khua or use them because you don’t believe they’re alive? What is it?”

  No, not us! He saw something different than I did, or he misinterpreted it. I grab his arm and force him around. He has to look at me, look in my eyes. I have to make him understand, because what he’s thinking is much worse than Agnac ideas of defilement.

  His eyes meet mine for half a breath. For that half-breath, I see the famil
iar spark. The spark that made me trust him, the spark that gives me hope. Then his eyes dart down several inches.

  “How did you get that?”

  I follow his gaze. The crystal disk hangs from my neck. I have no idea how it got there. A spark of light glows in the center—a familiar spark of light—and I instinctively turn toward the crystal spires.

  The Khua isn’t there. Tiav sees it at the same time I do. Fear and fury vie for domination, contorting his face.

  “What have you done? Give that to me, now!”

  His anger at Kalkig was nothing compared to this. It’s nothing I’ve seen in him yet, and it scares me. I reach for the cord—of course he can have it back, I didn’t take it, I don’t know why I have it—but my hand freezes halfway.

  DO NOT TAKE IT OFF.

  It doesn’t come in words—it comes in feelings. But that’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t I? It’s not mine.

  DO NOT GIVE IT BACK. DO NOT TAKE ME OFF.

  Even without words, I get the clear sense of a “me” in there. I feel it, a sense of self emanating from the disk, as strong as my own awareness and individuality. Any remaining doubts that the Khua are alive are eradicated in that moment.

  Instead of taking off the disk, I take two steps back from Tiav. He takes one step to close the distance again, grabbing my arm. No tenderness with a light touch, no answering tingle across my skin. Just pressure clamping down.

  I break his grip and knock his arm away. Between the media-grubs and guys like Reb Vester, my brothers made sure I wasn’t defenseless.

  “It’s not a game, Liddi. Stop this.”

  No, it’s not a game, but I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what’s happening; I only know my heart is pounding, throbbing through my head. And I know I hate how Tiav is looking at me.

  RUN.

  He takes out his com-tablet, taps something on it. “The keepers are coming. They’ll have to sort it out.”