Rift in the Sky полностью

Enris laid his hand over the swelling below her waist, spread his fingers as if to hold the small life within safe from the future, but neither of them could.

What would be the shape of their daughter’s world?

They wanted her in the Council Chamber. Haxel could have used her at Sona, gathering supplies. Husni, Aryl thought with wry amusement, would probably let her help with the interminable parches.

This was where she belonged. Aryl unhooked the blanket from the opening, letting in the warm midday sun. Only good sense, she’d told Enris, to find a quiet task that would let her body finish the recovery started by Oran.

He’d agreed without any remark about Yena durability or Yena pride. Meaning she hadn’t fooled him at all.

Asleep, the Human wasn’t peaceful. His mouth worked silently. His head rolled from side to side so she had to replace his pillows often. As for the tremble in his legs?

Understandable, for a broken mind to dream of danger and flight, Sian had told her. He’d relinquished his bedside place with reluctance. Her mother’s former heart-kin, like Yao, saw not a Stranger or a not-Om’ray, but someone in pain he couldn’t help.

She’d gestured gratitude with a sincerity the Yena Adept appeared to find startling. She should have trusted Taisal’s judgment, Aryl thought, embarrassed by her younger self.

Sian hadn’t left her much to do. Aryl rearranged the Human’s belongings on the crate-table: the sum of his possessions. A couple of small devices of unknown function, an ordinary-enough comb, a handful of the Human’s dreadful rations.

She pulled his image disk from her pocket. “I promised,” she whispered. Not that any of them were safe.

“What’s that?” Yao’s chin lifted from her knees. She sat on a pillow in a shadowed corner, so quiet and still Aryl had almost forgotten her presence.

“It holds images of his family.” Not knowing how to make it work, Aryl set it carefully by the comb. “His sister. His Chosen. Their young son and daughter.” His Chosen, being Human, wouldn’t die or be Lost when Marcus was gone. She’d have to live with her grief, and raise their children alone.

“Karina and Howard,” Yao said promptly. “Marcus told me. Howard gets into mischief all the time, like Ziba. Karina behaves. Like me.”

How well a baby could behave was an open question, Aryl thought, smiling to herself, but didn’t doubt the affection between Human and child. Or why Yao stayed by Marcus tenth after tenth, instead of playing with her friends.

Healers were rare among Om’ray. That important Talent showed itself first as an ability to sense who was injured or ill, a need to be near them. Costa’s Chosen, Leri, had been drawn to an injured scout, when only a child herself. Even if distressed their daughter was drawn to a Human, Yao’s parents should be glad for her future.

If Hoyon looked beyond his hooked nose, Aryl grumbled to herself. “You missed lunch,” she commented.

“Lunch?” Yao leaped to her feet, then looked at Marcus. “I’m not hungry,” she said bravely, sinking back down.

Unlikely. “Go.” Aryl made a shooing motion with her hands. “I’ll be here.”

The child disappeared with a grin.

Going back to the crate-table, Aryl laid out the scraps of fabric Enris had given her, the ones with words in Comspeak on them: Archivist Second Class Tomas Vogt, Archivist Second Class An Tsessas. She agreed with her Chosen; Marcus would want to know about them. She added the geoscanner. It was his, too.

“Don’t turn . . . on here, Aryl.” An urgent whisper. Brown eyes watched her. Had he been asleep at all?

Anxious eyes. “You’re safe,” she soothed. Something made her collect the fabric scraps before she sat beside him. “Those who took you are dead, Marcus. All of them. Their machine exploded like the vidbot.” If louder.

“Good,” with venom. “Thieves . . . killers.” Marcus made an effort to calm himself. “The machine is . . . called a starship. Aircar that . . . flies between . . . worlds.”

“Starship.” He’d used the word before. Aryl wasn’t sure she liked the sound of it, stars being among the untouchable confusions the Human so casually added to her life. “It wasn’t the starship you expected—the one to take you home?”

Definite offense. “No! Not mine!” A terrible cough. “Pirates!”

His language might sound right to her ears now. That didn’t, Aryl thought with some frustration, give her every meaning. She left the topic of “pirates,” sure it was a word to give Haxel later, and put the ’scanner on the bed. “Can you use this to call for help?”

“No one . . . to call. All dead . . . Artrul. Tyler. Their Triads. P’tr sit ’Nix . . . He tried for . . . Site Three . . . shotdown.” He strained to get the words out. “Site Three . . . attacked first, Aryl. First . . . to stop . . . offworld alarm . . . should have known . . . I found . . . They died in their beds, Aryl! . . . Josen and Meen . . . my—my new Triad . . . Harmless! Helpless! . . . No need to kill—” He began to cough.