Rift in the Sky

Hush, Enris sent hastily. He’d prefer not to have the rest of Sona—and Aryl—arrive until this worked. The Yena couldn’t move a pebble with Power; on the other hand, nothing would move nearby he wouldn’t notice. Go be our scout.

To the rest: “Line them up on this side of the—” A loud chink! “—lights.” Enris turned with the rest to see a second chunk of stone, big as a home, sitting where one of the oil lamps had been.

“Sorry,” Fon said.

“Try to save some of the lights,” Enris suggested. “Husni will count them tomorrow.”

They moved the largest chunks and boulders first. Josel was steady and controlled; Netta’s rocks tended to swoop from side to side, prompting the others to dodge out of the way. Kran, silent and determined, worked as hard as anyone, but Deran’s control was worse than Netta’s. For the sake of everyone’s toes, Enris soon moved him to the far bank.

As he should have known, it quickly became a contest between Fon and Worin. Cader and Kayd, without this Talent but there because Fon was, busied themselves running through the dark to find the biggest possible hunk of bridge for him. Worin, Enris noticed with an inward grin, wisely picked smaller ones, so he moved more. There was laughter and a good amount of teasing. Kran edged closer while this went on, something wistful about him. Enris, between his own efforts, told himself he should speak to Worin and Fon, help the young Grona find a place.

His sister wasn’t his fault.

All the while, water found its way between the chunks, as if to mock them.

When they ran out of broken bridge, they began pushing smaller boulders into line. Many were still half the size of an Om’ray. Not so many laughs now. Enris wiped sweat from his face with his sleeve, wondering at Fon. The slight young Yena stood in the circle of light from one lamp, face composed and peaceful, while rock floated toward him from the darkness.

From where Naryn watched. He could almost feel her eyes burning the back of his neck. Why she was here was beyond him; it wasn’t her habit to seek him out, knowing he tolerated her solely because of Aryl. The Oud were easier to bear, despite what his Chosen might think. The not-real were beyond understanding or trust or blame, like bad weather. Naryn . . .

Suddenly furious, Enris almost released the boulder he was pushing too soon. He made himself focus and placed it with extra care.

This was why he avoided her, he thought bitterly. Naryn undermined his self control. Just standing there, in the dark, alone . . .

Always alone.

How did she bear it?

If it weren’t for the warmth of his link to Aryl . . . today’s loss, Ael and Myris . . . it had felt like losing Tuana all over again, his mother and father, all of them. If it weren’t for Aryl, he couldn’t imagine existing with that terrifying emptiness. That pain. His next heavy breath was closer to a sob. He reached for the link that held him to the calm clarity of Aryl di Sarc’s mind, and steadied.

Naryn had to feel the same. But she endured it alone.

Because she’d offered him Choice.

If he hadn’t been able to reject her, they’d be Joined now.

Enris stood very still. That was it, wasn’t it? The reason Naryn so thoroughly unsettled him. She’d never blamed him. Not for the baby, not for her fate. She’d accepted responsibility for what had happened to her, because of him. She’d done nothing since arriving but help his Chosen and their new Clan. The one Om’ray he’d considered utterly selfish proved herself otherwise day after day.

No unChosen should have been able to reject her Choice, as he did. How could she have been prepared for that? Could she have stopped herself? Was it even possible for a Chooser, once committed to Join?

Questions he’d never thought to ask, until feeling the irresistible Power of Aryl di Sarc, until being Joined himself.

Until now.

“Enris?”

“I’ll be right back, Worin,” he said, turning away. “More rocks.”

Naryn waited as he approached, invisible to his inner sense, a silhouette against the lights of the village. He halted a few steps away, finding himself in the unfamiliar situation of not knowing what to say.

She drew her own conclusion from his silence. “I’ll leave.”

“No. Wait. What do you think?”

Glints marked her eyes, as if she’d tilted her head. “Of a dam? Clever. If it held enough water, some would overflow into the ditches to the fields. But it won’t work.”

“Why?”

“See for yourself.”

Enris looked over his shoulder at what was now a wide wall of stone and rubble, taller than two Om’ray, and growing. He was impressed. The water, however, was not. It still escaped easily through the gaps between stones. “We need more rocks,” he said stubbornly. “Smaller ones.”

“You could add them for the next fist and it wouldn’t stop the flow.” Before he could protest, Naryn added thoughtfully, “Or you could try something else.”

Enris gestured toward the useless dam. “I’d appreciate your help.”

“My help?”