Rift in the Sky

HUSH! Aryl sent without thinking.

Seru covered her face with her hands, and Ezgi abandoned his digging to cradle her in his arms, giving Aryl a reproachful look. “She’s upset.”

“Which the entire world knows,” Enris informed him, but kindly. “Help her!”

Ezgi blinked, as if the notion hadn’t occurred to him. The handsome young Chosen might have more Power than his beloved Seru, Aryl reminded herself, but he had a fair bit to learn about using it. “Strengthen her shields,” she advised, grateful as the pressure of Seru’s emotions against her own subsided. “Much better.” She touched Seru’s arm. What about the baby?

Seru worked her face free of Ezgi’s shirt. “What she did—what Naryn did—it took strength from them both. Naryn’s recovering, but her baby isn’t. I don’t know how long—the baby’s dying, Aryl. I can’t help either of them!” This with an outburst of DISTRESSDESPAIRGUILT not even Ezgi could contain.

It didn’t matter, they all felt it. Aryl sighed, looking out at the sparkling water. “It was going to happen,” she heard herself say in a strange voice. “This is sooner, that’s all.”

Neither Tuana were prepared for the Yena swiftness with which Seru threw herself from Ezgi to pounce on Aryl, taking her by one leg to yank her from Enris’ lap, grabbing her shoulders to give her a hard shake. “Don’t say that!”

“Don’t be a fool!” Aryl shoved free. The two sat on the dirt and glared at one another.

Seru didn’t back down. “We have to do something!”

“Aryl. Seru’s right. We have to help Naryn.”

She twisted to look at Enris though, to her inner sense, he held no shield against her. His concern was real. As was his determination.

He’d stopped a river, but there were some things no one could fix. Aryl’s own despair welled up. If only Oran had been in control of her dreaming, could access the knowledge of So na’s Cloisters—even that, she admitted, was grasping for too small a branch. Tuana’s Adepts couldn’t do anything for her.

Her Chosen spoke aloud, his eyes glittering like sunlight on water. “I know who could.”

Of tasks not to envy, Aryl decided, she’d pick Seru’s and Ezgi’s. The two would explain to the rest of Sona—at the last possible moment—why three of their number, including their Speaker, would leave in the midst of, well, of everything. Those with the most pressing concerns were Haxel, Bern, and Oran. All three would be looking for her. A discussion and problem that could wait, in her opinion, so long as Oran wasn’t in the Dream Chamber. Naryn couldn’t.

Maybe she should suggest Ezgi let Seru’s shields fail again. Their Birth Watcher’s passion for what they hoped to accomplish would send the others running. Especially Haxel, Bern, and Oran.

An unworthy thought, however appealing.

“Explain to me again why I have to wear this?” “This” being Oran’s Adept robe. Naryn held it up to herself. It would fit.

“Because it might help.” Because Enris tried to anticipate everything that might sway Vyna’s Council in Naryn’s favor. Borrowing the robe had been Aryl’s task.

What they would take to trade was his. She was careful not to reach for him; he’d sense her impatience, her not-unreasonable worry he’d linger with the Human to relate every detail of the new dam and the lake growing behind it.

They’d no time to spare. She didn’t need to be a Birth Watcher to know that. Naryn’s skin was an unhealthy color; the feel of her was wrong. “Will you hurry?” she suggested.

Naryn raised a brow. “You didn’t ask Oran for it, did you?”

Had Oran been with the robe at the time, she might have. “I’ll apologize later. It’s not as if she needs it right now. Please, Naryn,” Aryl said, more gently. “Enris will be back at any moment. We have to go before—” Before the baby died, taking Naryn with her. They weren’t to tell her; Seru had insisted. “—before we’re missed.”

The other slipped the robe over her head, running her fingers along the textured threads of embroidery. “I wondered for such a long time how it would feel,” she mused, straightening the front panels.

Aryl’s lips quirked to one side. “How does it?”

Naryn held her arms and turned slowly. “Heavy,” was all she said when she stopped, but there was a faint pink to her cheeks.

They were prepared, but where was . . .

“I have them.” Enris was grinning as he appeared, as if fully aware of her worry. The white crate under his arm was familiar. And not-Om’ray. “Didn’t need to wake our friend at all.”

She’d apologize to Marcus, too. As for the ease of all? It left an unpleasant taste, like a warning. “We can’t use that,” Aryl decided and grabbed a pack. “Here.” She held it open.

Her Chosen’s grin disappeared. He took the pack from her hands. “Don’t get too close to these. Either of you.” He poured the clear wafers in, tossed the empty crate aside, and slung the pack over one shoulder. Careless, no. Disrespectful, yes. “Are you ready?”