Rift in the Sky

He hadn’t looked at her, Aryl realized. Not at her or Naryn. As if Enris was all he could see.

Enris spread his arms. Blame me. I won’t argue. Once we see your Council, we’ll be gone and never come again.

The young Vyna’s mouth gaped, showing too few teeth. If it was a smile, Aryl thought with a chill, it was the most horrifying one she’d ever seen on an Om’ray’s face. No other Vyna will come near you. Go! He waved his filthy hands, as if shooing biters.

They will when you tell them we’ve more of what I gave Tarerea Vyna.

The hands stopped moving. Etleka licked his lips. Give it to me. I’ll take it. Show them.

“Think we’re fools, unChosen?” Naryn snapped from her seat on the Council dais.

Etleka drew himself up and looked at her for the first time. You are lesser Om’ray, unworthy and foul. I, least of Vyna, am beyond your comprehension.

“That I agree with—”

Naryn! Aryl admonished. To the Vyna, We will stay here and wait for your Council’s decision. Then, as she’d learned from her mother, she swept her hands in the gesture of gratitude. Thank you, Etleka Vyna. Be well.

Then she turned and went to rap on the window again.

There was a flicker of astonishment, as if the scruffy unChosen couldn’t believe he was being dismissed by a “lesser Om’ray.” She kept an eye on his reflection against star-flecked black as he whirled and ran from the chamber.

“He and Daryouch looked after me. Taught me to catch denos. Fed me too many.” Enris stood beside her and reached to almost touch the window, but didn’t. “I never meant them any harm.”

Aryl dropped her hand to take his, felt his remorse and wished she could rap the hilt of her knife against heads, not the window. Peace, beloved. None of this was your fault. Aloud, “Any harm here belongs to the Vyna. And that Tikitik.” Thought Traveler, if he’d known the consequences to the Vyna as well as Enris, probably enjoyed both. Meddlers, the Vyna called them.

Never without their own motives. They’d stirred this pot. Why?

“We wait,” Aryl decided. As long as it took.

Agreed. His fingers closed around hers.

Naryn tucked her feet under the Adept’s robe and her chin into the palm of one hand. She closed her eyes. “This was your idea. Wake me when someone interesting shows up.”

Without the sky, there was no way to measure how long the Vyna kept them waiting. Enris leaned against a wall, big arms crossed and eyes closed. She might have thought he dozed, as Naryn quietly did, except for the awareness of his mind where it touched hers, making sure he knew where she was, following her steps. Not trusting, her Chosen. Not trusting at all.

She smiled to herself as she paced.

The size of the chamber was familiar. It was immense, able to accommodate all of Vyna many times over. Her inner sense felt this as the smallest Clan other than Sona, but she’d been surprised to find only ninety, and those spread out, as if few lived or worked together.

Yena’s Council Chamber had the same narrow dais in front of the wall of towering windows, the same row of tall-backed, pale green chairs for Councillors. Chairs for ceremony, not everyday business. There’d been a cluster of comfortable, mixed seating on a homely mat to one side of Yena’s, a practical clutter of tables and mugs. Sona’s had been stripped of all but the dais; they’d yet to find the ceremonial chairs among those tossed into rooms. Vyna’s?

The magnificent expanse of floor was bare of anything but polish and reflection. She might have walked on the lights above, the windows with their moving glints of white. Aryl stayed to the walls, knife in hand and reversed, tapping once in a while. In Yena, the ceremonial doors weren’t the only way in. There’d been another entrance, smaller, covered by a curtain. A convenience for those entering from within the Cloisters: Councillors, Adepts, the Lost. In Sona, an open arch, barely head high. There seemed to be none here.

The Stranger camp had taught her not to rely only on her eyes. Sona itself had hidden doorways, many of which they had yet to find despite Oran’s promotion to Keeper and Hoyon’s boasting.

Tap, tap. Didn’t matter to her if the Vyna disliked sound.

And, Aryl thought, walking another soundless few steps before stopping again, it passed the time.

There was a great deal of wall.

Tap, tap.

Almost back where she’d started, the next tap produced a more interesting clank. Metal. On a section of wall exactly like the others. She didn’t try to find the opening mechanism, satisfied to know where the Vyna would come.