That seemed appropriate. Jameson wasn’t a follower of the skythane faith, but he didn’t see what harm it would do to shoot a quick prayer up to the moon for those lost in the flooding.
“It’s important that we honor the dead,” Jameson said softly. So many dead. “Where’s Quince? She’s on watch, isn’t she?”
Xander nodded. “She wouldn’t have it any other way.”
QUINCE SAT with her back against the balustrade, staring up into the starry skies of Titania. Drimm the Dragon stretched out lazily from star to star. It had been one of her brother’s favorite constellations when they’d been children. His red eye glared at her with a magnificent malevolence.
She missed Dillan fiercely. The mention of Ballifor had brought it all back for her. The flight from Errian, the bomb that had destroyed everyone she’d known growing up.
Beside her, wrapped in a sleep sack, Robyn was sound asleep. They’d chatted for hours after the refugees had left, comparing life stories from their twenty-five-year interval. Quince had talked about caring for Xander. She’d left out the bits about Rogan. Robyn was too fragile for those at the moment.
When she was done, Robyn had said that it must have been hard for Quince, all alone on an alien world.
Robyn, in turn, told her of decades with a man she didn’t love, and who didn’t love her in turn. Waiting for the time to come when Quince could return to her, not sure it ever would. And about the dark time of the occupation.
The words had come flowing out of her, like blood from a perpetual wound. In the end, the words had slowed and then stopped, and Quince had taken her in her arms, wrapping her wings around Robyn’s lithe form. Her lover seemed so much smaller, so fragile without her wings, without her confidence. Quince just held Robyn while she sobbed, her body trembling with emotions too painful to reconcile.
At last, Robyn had fallen asleep, and Quince had tucked her into a sleep sack to rest, hoping for some real healing. Robyn needed a new purpose, now that Gaelan had been taken from her. Something to live for. Quince did too.
She stiffened. She could tell that she was no longer alone.
“Thought we’d find you up here,” Xander said softly.
She relaxed. “It feels good to get back out into the fresh air.” Though with the new swamp below, this city wouldn’t smell so good after a few hot days.
Quince stood and gestured for the boys to follow her away from where Robyn was sleeping. Let her get her rest.
“Jameson had an idea,” Xander said when they’d put some distance between them and his mother.
Jameson shrugged. “Not an idea, so much as a dream or a memory. Maybe.”
“Tell me.” Quince was still unsure about where these memories came from. The gods? The nimfeach? But they’d proven accurate on more than one occasion, so she was willing to trust them. Besides, she had her own visions to tangle with.
Jameson looked at Xander, who nodded. “The keys that open the waygates, and the other keys, like the rocthane… are there many of them?”
Quince considered. Robyn had given her one of the smaller ones that allowed her to take the boys across to Oberon. “I’m sure there were others. The rocthane’s broken now—”
“I know. But the waygate keys?”
“Yes. There are others. Robyn might know more.” She glanced back at where her love still lay. “I’d rather let her sleep now.” She turned back to Jameson. “Why? We don’t need them now. Oberon’s here.”
“I… saw something. Remembered it, rather. Last night. Is it possible the keys could be used to open waygates here too? From one place on…. Erro, to another?” His wings quivered.
Quince’s mouth fell open. It was something she’d never considered. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe?” It would change everything if it were true, and if they could figure out how it worked. It could give them a decisive advantage over the landers.
“What did you see, exactly?”
Jameson described his vision, the strange beings who had used one of the keys to shift themselves halfway around the world. “They were beautiful, Quince. Three of them. Like human butterflies. Or alien butterflies. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”
Quince leaned back against the wall, staring up into the sky. What Jameson described… there were clearly forces at work here that she didn’t understand. She closed her eyes. She could feel it—something reaching out from an ancient time to ensnare them all in something they couldn’t hope to understand.
“I’ve seen them before. Or their like.”
“Where?”
“The nimfeach.”
“The creature who told you to flee?”
She nodded. “That and a lot more. They are beautiful. But they’re more like ghosts than anything. Translucent. These beings, they were real? Corporeal?”
“I think so. It was a memory. Or a dream.”
“Can I join you?” Alix appeared out of the darkness. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” He looked longingly at Xander but said nothing else.
Jameson stiffened visibly. “We were just discussing the keys that used to open the waygates between Titania and Oberon,” she said to smooth things over. “Jameson thinks they could do more.”
“Where is yours, Quince?” Jameson asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know for sure. My best guess? The waystation where Dani and her team ambushed us. If she didn’t take it.”
“It’s in the right direction, on the way to Errian. Can we stop there and look for it?” Jameson glanced up at Xander.
“I don’t see why not.” Xander yawned. “We’d better get some sleep if we’re going to depart first thing in the morning.” He looked around at the ruined city in the moonlight. “We’ll rebuild this, Quince. One day, when things are back to normal.”
Quince laughed harshly. “Whatever that is. I haven’t seen normal for twenty-five years.”
Xander nodded. “Yeah. Whatever it is.” He hugged her. “See you at first light.”
He and Jameson headed down one of the ladders to the courtyard.
Alix came to stand next to her, staring up at the cloudless sky, and they looked at the stars silently for a few moments. A cool breeze was blowing down out of the mountains. Quince shivered, then rubbed away the goose bumps.
“You sure Jameson’s memories are real?” he asked at last.
“What do you mean?”
He glanced over at her. “Quince, he’s a pith addict.”
“What?” She shivered again, this time from more than the cold. He was getting close to a truth she didn’t want him to know.
“You have to know. I saw all the signs. Hallucinations. Puppy-dog love. And his fingernails have the double moon.”
He’d guessed too much. She had to deny it. “I don’t know what you mean. He and Xander are in love. No puppy-dog about it. And the things he’s remembered… they’ve been right, every time.”
“As far as you know.”
“As far as I know.”
“And the fingernails?”
She shook her head. “Probably a side effect of the shift.” It sounded lame, even to her.
Surprisingly, he nodded. “Maybe so. You’d certainly know more about it than I.” He kissed her cheek, reminding her of the times the three of them had spent together when he’d been with Xander.
Maybe his intentions for Xander were questionable. But he’d always seemed like a good guy, if she’d read him right. That didn’t make lying to him any easier.
“Get some sleep, Quince. I’ll see you in the morning.” Then he was gone.
She shivered. She had a bad feeling about what the new day would bring.
She returned to sit with Robyn, pulling her own sleep sack up over her shoulders and staring out at the darkness.
After a long while, she closed her eyes.
Snow, everywhere. The air crisp, searing her lungs as she breathed it in. She and Robyn landed on the broken peak, alighting like two imprean to receive their messages.
“Not without you.”
“It’s too late. They are coming—”
“Who?”
“Ithani.” He pointed at the split in the mountain.
The golden glow rose from the pit, and an alien music spilled out to melt the snow.
Quince awoke with a start. She was startled to find herself back in Gaelan.
It had felt so real, holding Morgan in her arms again. The boy had been scared to death of something.
The Ithani.
What the hell was an Ithani?
JAMESON PULLED Xander aside in the darkness of the courtyard. “I’m not really tired.”
Xander’s eyes twinkled. “What did you have in mind?”
“We have a few more hours before daylight, right?”
Xander nodded.
“I’d like to spend them with you.”
Xander kissed him and led him back to the tiny room they shared.
Jameson was a good bit more tired by the time the sun finally rose over Gaelan.
Chapter Eight: Departures
JESSA SAT in the OberCorp waiting room for a second time, tapping her white leather boot on the industrial carpeting impatiently.
The OberCorp folks had kept her waiting all day and then sent her packing with the promise of an appointment “tomorrow.” So here she was once again. They’d figure out soon enough that she wasn’t going away. Her time as a reporter had taught her how to be resourceful, tenacious, and creative to get her story.
She’d tried the bars again the night before. Someone there had offered to take her “to the Outland,” an offer she firmly rejected. But she had managed to get some information out of him about the stars.
The constellations were different.
She’d laughed at that at first. How was it even possible?
But the man had been adamant and had shared some stills he’d taken on his various tours.
She was no astrophysicist, but they looked different to her, and that scared the hell out of her. What had happened on her shuttle ride down to the planet? Where the hell was she now?
She’d heard from someone else that the space station was gone too. There were no shuttles coming down or going up anymore. That much she was able to verify from the grid.
“Ms. Simpson?” The man peering out at her from the doorway to the corporate suites was thin as a scarecrow, dressed in a suit that looked two sizes too big for him.
She stood and pulled her carry sack up onto her shoulder. “Jessa Smithson, from GSN.” She extended her hand. She’d practiced the alias over and over until it slipped off her tongue as easily as Althorpe, her real name.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He took it, and she squeezed hard, making his eyeballs bulge out. “I’m Mattis Vinder. This way, please. Our publicist Tamara Fine is ready to see you.”
“Thanks.” She had no idea who Ms. Fine was, but she had asked for someone in their PR department. OberCorp practically ran the planet, so they had to know something about Jamie.
“Follow me, please.”
The hallway behind the door was total corporate. White translucent walls hung with oversized photos of Oberon—the Split, Oberon City, the arcos, the Gildensea. All the parts of the planet she was sure the company was busy raping and pillaging. On Beta Tau, all corporations were under church control. She crossed herself as inconspicuously as she was able.
The floor was carpeted in a color so inoffensively beige that it bugged the shit out of her.
They reached a hover tube, and he palmed open the door. “She’s on the twenty-seventh floor. I’ll send you up. First door on the right.” He gestured for her to enter the translucent tube.
She balked, concerned about trusting her person to it on a planet like this. They didn’t have many hover tubes on Beta Tau. Most of the buildings were only two or three stories tall. Still, she was supposed to be a well-traveled, confident, take-charge journalist.
“Sorry, I’m just a little worried about power outages, given all that’s going on….”
“Understandable. But we have two backup generator systems here at the Tower. It’s quite safe.”
“Gotcha. Thank you for your help.” She stepped into the tube and was whisked gently upward. It was actually a pleasurable experience, like being lifted by an invisible hand. There was no wind, just the walls of the tube passing by her, each floor marked by a colored ring.
She counted at least forty floors on the way up. Was this thing malfunctioning? She began to get nervous.
As she rapidly approached the top of the tube, she ducked, afraid her head was going to smash into it.
Instead, just past the last ring—purple—she came to a gentle halt, and the doors opened before her.
She stepped forward, and it was like she was standing on a circle of clear glass. Still, she was relieved when she put her feet on solid ground once again.
There was only one doorway in the small room she found herself in. The doors were twice as tall as she was, and they were made from a shiny, liquid-seeming substance she recognized instantly as amalite. The surface swirled and changed, combining and recombining into near-infinite patterns.
On Beta Tau, that much amalite would have cost as much as a small planet’s annual economy.
Who had she been sent to see?
She looked for a doorknob or palm reader—some way to announce her presence.
She needn’t have bothered. The doors swung silently open on their own.
“Please come in, Ms. Althorpe.”
ALIX WOKE before dawn, lying alone in a cot in an otherwise empty room that Mylin had found for him, with a small window looking out on the black cliffs behind the castle. Not the Galaxion Hotel view, but better than another night spent sleeping on the ground.
Actually, he preferred it this way. The sparse room suited his military training, as well as his need to punish himself for being a part of the ill-fated occupation that had torn him away from Xander. That seemed newly relevant now.
Alix slipped off the bed, dropping to the floor to do his morning push-ups. As his body moved mechanically through the exercise, his mind drifted back to his skythane man. He closed his eyes, remembering the last time they’d been together. The night before his mission had taken him away to another world.
Xander on his back, his golden chest heaving as Alix worked him over, bringing him to the edge before making him wait once again. Running his hands up and down Xander’s smooth thighs. Making it last for hours.
Skythane were human in all the ways that mattered.
But more than the sex, more than the memories of Xander’s beautiful form, he missed the aftermath, the long nights in Xander’s arms. The musky smell of him after sex. The tender look in his eyes at being treated as a someone, not a something. The years of making up for what Rogan had done to him.
Alix pushed himself harder, faster, hoping to obliterate that sweet gaze from his mind, his muscles pumping, the stress mounting in his arms.
When he was done, he found his way to the closest washroom, using the cold water and soap there to clean himself up as best as he was able.
He was getting scraggly. He hadn’t been able to shave in days, since they’d evacuated the work camp. He scratched the beginnings of his red beard.
He was no longer a ranger, and there were more important things to worry about at the moment. Like what his mother was up to on the other side of the world.
Xander was right to evacuate the city, if past history was any guide.
Alix wondered, too, how Jameson was doing. He wanted to hate the man who had taken his place, but it was hard when he’d seen the skythane in such a vulnerable place, when they’d shared such an intimate connection. Jameson’s hand had been warm against his chest, and Alix had felt… something. Desire. Connection. Trust? He wasn’t sure.
He still wasn’t
convinced Jameson’s “memories” weren’t the result of a pith addiction. The drug could make you believe strange things, among other side effects. He’d seen it in the rangers. More than one of his fellow soldiers had succumbed to the addiction, here where the stuff was made and was readily available.
He strode back down the hallway in his underwear, nodding to the skythane he passed on the way to his room. He had no body shame.
They’d apparently been instructed to be civil to him. At least this time, no one spat on him.
He reached his room and pulled his new clothes off the windowsill. Mylin had found some skythane clothing that fit him well enough, though it left his shoulders and arms mostly bare. It was a relief to have something better than prison clothes to wear. He pulled on the pants and laced up the shirt, as he’d seen the skythane do many times. The morning air was cool on the wing-holes over his shoulders.
Satisfied that he was as presentable and ready as possible, he headed down to the mess hall, intent on getting something to eat before they departed for Errian.
JAMESON TOOK a hunk of bread, some cheese, and a mug of keff and sought out his nemesis in the huge dining hall. The ceilings were at least eight meters high, and large iron chandeliers hung from huge wooden beams, lit with candles.
Jameson always felt like he’d stepped into a King Arthur tri-dee when he entered this place.
The place was half-full, skythane coming to get their last meal before abandoning their city. A sense of unease filled the room, with hundreds of low conversations being held between both friends and strangers.
Alix sat all alone in one corner, his back to the wall, concentrating on eating his morning repast. He looked rough around the edges. It suited him.
“Mind if I sit?” Jameson asked, trying not to notice how good-looking Alix really was, even when he was a mess.
Alix shook his head. “Suit yourself.”
The man was handsome in that rugged space marine kind of way. Jameson could see how Xander had been attracted to him. Alix was ostracized here because of his lack of wings, and his part in the occupation of Gaelan. Did you do things here you regret?
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