The Children of the Sky

Some of the Children had accepted all this too readily, forgetting civilization. Some others couldn’t make any accommodation with their fall from heaven. It was the ones like Jo that gave Ravna faith that—given time—they might survive the fate coming down upon them all.

They had left the merchants behind, were walking toward the part of town where in recent years public houses had been established. Johanna didn’t seem to notice; she was still far away, smiling that small wondering smile. “Things were tough, and then we unmasked Vendacious and won against Lord Steel. And since then…” surprise rose in her voice “… why, now I’m generally having a great time. There’s so much to do, with the Fragmentarium, with the Children’s Academy, and—”

“You’re wrapped up in making the new world,” said Ravna.

“I know. But now things are even better. Ever since I started dating Nevil, lots of things are more fun. Human-type people seem much more interesting than before. Lately, Nevil and I have been even, um, closer. I want this birthday to be special for him, Ravna.”

Hah! Ravna reached out, touched Johanna’s arm. “So when…”

Johanna laughed. “Ah, Nevil is so traditional. I really think he’s waiting for me to propose.” She looked at Ravna, and now her smile was both merry and sneaky. “Don’t you tell, Ravna, but after the birthday party, that’s exactly what I’m going to do!”

“That’s wonderful! What a wedding that will be!” They stopped and just grinned at each other. “You can be sure Woodcarver will invent new ceremonies for this,” said Ravna.

“Yeah, she uses my reputation unmercifully.”

“Good for her. In fact, this means even more to us than to the Tines. You and Nevil are so popular, he with the Children, you with the Tines. Maybe—” Maybe this is the time.

“What?”

Ravna drew Jo toward the middle of the street as they continued along their way—she didn’t want to be snooped upon by passing packs. “Well, it’s just that I am so tired of being co-Queen.”

“Ravna! It’s worked great for almost ten years now. Woodcarver herself suggested it. There’s precedent in Tinish history and even in ours.”

“Yes,” said Ravna, “on Nyjora.” In the Age of Princesses, there had been the Elder Princess and the Younger, the Techie. The Age of Princesses was the most recent rediscovery of civilization in any known human history—and that civilization was also the ancestor of Ravna’s Sjandra Kei and therefore of Johanna’s Straumli Realm.

The Straumers were not much for looking back, but Ravna had told them about the Age of Princesses. At the Academy, she used that history to make a bridge between humans and the Domain. Johanna smiled. “You should be glad to be co-Queen, Ravna. I bet you played at being one when you were a child.”

Ravna hesitated, embarrassed to admit the truth. “Well maybe; I’ve discovered that the reality is … distracting. It was necessary to begin with, but you kids are established now. I need to concentrate on the external deadline. We only have a few centuries before some really bad guys blow into town.” Ravna hadn’t told the Children of her crazy dream, or the zonograph glitch. There had been no repeat, and the data was less than credible. Instead she worked harder and harder, and did her best not to seem like a madwoman.

Ravna looked away from Johanna. For a few steps, she just watched her own feet trudging along the cobblestones. “It could be less than centuries,” she said. “The Blighters weren’t left with any working ramscoops, but they could probably boost a few kilograms to near-lightspeed. Maybe, when they still had their pipeline to god, maybe they even figured out some way to nail us at lightspeed. I need to spend all my time making sure we’ll be ready.”

Johanna didn’t reply. Ravna was silent for a few more steps, then repeated her main point: “I just mean, I should be spending more time with Oobii. I’m a librarian, after all, and in a situation like this, any other use of me is a waste. I think it would best if maybe you and Nevil could lead, with Woodcarver.”

Johanna stared at Ravna in shock. “Are you crazy?”

Ravna smiled. “We’ve both been accused of that at one time or another.”

“Hah!” said Johanna. She put an arm across Ravna’s shoulders. “If we’re both crazy, it’s in very different ways. Ravna, we need you—”

“Yes, I know. I’m den mother to all that’s left of humanity!”

That old and whimsical complaint should have brought a smile to Johanna; instead her expression became positively fierce. “Ravna, you’re the mother of all that’s left here. Ten years ago we were kids and babies, and to the Tines we were weird animals. Without you to hold us together—to mother us along—most of us would have died in coldsleep, and the few who survived would be freaks in Tinish wilderness!”