Spinning Starlight (25 page)

I’m not sure what Tiav thinks about when silence fills the room, but I keep thoughts of the council far from my mind. If it comes down to it, I’ll escape, find a Khua, get back to
one of the other Points. Somehow. Letting the council stand in my way isn’t an option.

I keep trying to find something in the gadgets, in the way the crystalline tech works, that’ll help free my brothers. The connections seem to click in my head one by one, but I can’t
see where they’re going. Mostly I get distracted by the watch on my wrist, reminding me how time is ticking away. Time for Minali’s plan to move closer to completion, time for my
brothers’ imprisonment to become irreversible.

Those things are much more important than anything the politicians might be saying.

He doesn’t say so, but I’m pretty sure Tiav has bigger things on his mind, too. Especially after a live-comm with Shiin. The conversation happens in another room and takes a very
long time. When he comes back out, he makes a bigger effort to hide the stress. He fails. I distract him with a wave scanner I took apart.

Jahmari, meanwhile, is much busier than we are. He flits in and out of the apartment several times. Most of his time with us is spent tapping away on a com-tablet of his own. While he’s
gone again on the second day, I decide to take the time to ask Tiav a question.

“Juh-maw-ree im-pohr-tent wye?”

Tiav sits back in his chair and smiles—the first smile I’ve seen from him since before the street attack. “Ah, you noticed that. There are a couple of answers. He’s the
top physician on all Ferinne. They’d like him to live here in the capital, but he chooses to live in Podra because our province has the largest concentration of Khua. He likes being close to
them, and he’s supported my mother and her work for a long time. Without his influence, she might not have been chosen as primary Aelo. He travels wherever he’s needed, but he always
comes back to Podra.”

That makes sense with what I’ve seen. The cuts on my arm definitely didn’t need the best doctor on the whole planet. Tiav said there were a couple of answers, though, and I’m
pretty sure all that was just one of them.

“That’s why he’s important to Ferinnes, but for the Crimna there’s more. I don’t understand all of it, but I’m told if he stayed on their homeworld,
he’d be their leader. He chose a different path. They call him something in their language, which is much more difficult to learn than Agnacki, by the way. The best translation they can give
me is ‘ Khua in Crimna form.’ Because he sees the heart of things, beyond the medical.”

I think back to my cell in the detention facility. The way he sat with me for just a few minutes and seemed to understand my impatience. My recklessness.

A man that perceptive, and he’s on my side. Yet it also sounds like he reveres the Khua. I wonder where he would stand on the “defilement” issue.

Maybe I’m better off not knowing.

Almost in answer to that dark thought, the door opens and Jahmari enters. He doesn’t go far, though, just stands there as the door closes behind him again.

“Tiav, the Izim are coming to Ferinne.”

The gravity of his statement is obvious, but I don’t feel it as much as Tiav does. He stands and approaches the doctor. “What do you mean? The Izim never come here, not in
person.”

“Not never, but rarely,” Jahmari says. “You’re too young to remember the last time they visited.”

“Does my mother know?”

“Yes, she contacted me so I could relay the message to you.”

I get up and join them. Tiav looks down at me, and I try to make my questions clear. He takes a moment to make his guess, never in a hurry.

“Why don’t they ever come here? Besides not having much need to, the environment doesn’t suit them.”

“Indeed,” Jahmari adds. “Even when they do visit, they don’t typically come to the surface. They do better on planets like Crimna.”

Tiav’s still studying me. “You have another question. Why are they coming now?” I nod. “Good, because that’s my question, too.”

The doctor stretches his arms straight down. I think the gesture is the Crimna equivalent of a sigh. “Because of Liddi, of course. Don’t make that face, dear. You arrived, that event
had consequences, which led to other events, so on and so on. You can’t help that.”

“But what do they want with Liddi?” Tiav asks.

“I suppose you can ask them yourself. They want to talk to you once their ship’s in orbit.”

“When will that be?”

“Any minute now, I believe.”

That soon? No, that doesn’t make any sense. None at all. I go back to the computer and activate the drawing program. I think I can draw this faster than I can piece together all the words.
I slide the program to the largest screen on the wall, drawing a quick Eight Points icon on one end, then a general planet-looking thing on the other end. I look to Tiav and gesture at the distance
between the two. He glances at Jahmari before answering.

“Yes, Izima is a long way from here, but their technology makes the distance less of a problem. That technology is how we’re all able to travel between planets. It…I’m sorry.
I don’t think I’m allowed to talk about how it works.”

That makes sense. Someday I’ll return to the “heathens”—hopefully—and the Ferinnes don’t want me helping them get off Sampati and the other Points.

Sense or not, it stings. Because it means Tiav knows he can’t completely trust me, no matter how much he wants to.

The computer chimes, and Tiav taps some commands. My drawing disappears from the screen, replaced by a person’s face. I can’t say if it’s a man or woman. Maybe the Izim
don’t even have gender the way we do. Either way, the suit the person wears obscures any hints. It’s metallic and includes a dark face shield, yet it doesn’t seem bulky or
cumbersome. It’s sleek and beautiful, almost like an exoskeleton, fitting every edge and curve perfectly.

“You are the Aelo who found the visitor?” the Izim says. The voice is smooth and calm, a voice that could chase away nightmares.

“Yes. I’m Tiav’elo.”

“A pleasure, Tiav’elo. I am Quain. And this is the visitor?”

Tiav takes a half step closer to me. “Her name’s Liddi.”

“Liddi. An honor.”

Jahmari draws a sharp breath. I’m not sure why. Quain’s easy voice draws me back to the screen.

“We are very anxious to speak with you. To know of your life on Sampati and what brought you to Ferinne.”

“We’re all anxious for that, Quain,” Jahmari says. “But Liddi can’t speak. Working with writing frustrates her and takes a great deal of time.”

A gentle hiss comes either from Quain or the suit. “Unfortunate, indeed. Perhaps if you come aboard, we can find more efficient means.”

Just as I think that there’s something off in Quain’s extremely good manners, Tiav’s hand snaps around my wrist, too tight, like a reflex he isn’t controlling. I check
his expression. Difficult to read. Maybe he’s anxious at the idea of going on an Izim ship. Maybe his heart just jumped at the idea of finally being able to communicate, to get answers.

Mine did. Actually, my heart split in half and jumped in two directions. One half leapt at the thought of finally getting around this barrier, this restraint. The other plummeted. Without the
excuse of my silence, secrets will be much harder to keep. All this time, and I’m still not entirely sure what I should and shouldn’t tell Tiav. What might condemn my brothers and what
might save them.

Instead of stinging, the thought aches. I guess I don’t trust him completely yet, either.

“I’m afraid it’s not an option,” Tiav says. “Liddi isn’t allowed to leave. House arrest, you could say.”

Quain’s faceplate is irritating. No eyes to read, no expression to decipher. The voice remains smooth, offering little. “Why is this?”

“It’s a condition of the Agnac Hierarchy.”

“Unacceptable.”

Two heartbeats pass, and suddenly the screen splits—Quain on one side, Oxurg from the Agnac on the other. Before anyone says anything, it splits again, bringing Voand and Ymana. No sign of
the Haleian leader. Maybe he’s busy. Maybe no one cares because he never has anything to say.

“Oxurg, why are you punishing the visitor?” the Izim asks.

“She broke the law repeatedly, not least when she violated the Khua to come here in the first place. She has made continued attempts to interfere with them. We must protect the Khua from
her, and if I had my way, we would kill her and be done.”

“Violated the Khua? How do you mean?”

Tiav uses his hold on my wrist to pull me a little closer. I remember one of the few things he’s said about the Izim so far, that their regard for the Khua is more like worship, the same
as the Agnac. Oxurg’s intent is obvious. He wants Quain to take his side, to try to persuade the others that it’s dangerous to keep me around.

If
two
races push for my execution, I’m not sure I like my chances.

“The Aelo ensured the heathens would be kept far from us, barred from the Khua, many years ago. This girl attacked the Khua, breached the seals. Her mere presence is an assault.”

Quain’s head tilts. “That is your interpretation? It is a puzzling one.”

Voand and Ymana have been silent, but the Ferinne leader speaks now. “How so, Quain?”

“Because it presupposes anyone could defy the Khua in such a manner, through sheer force.”

“She is not supposed to be here, yet she is,” Oxurg protests. “What other explanation is there?”

“A very simple one. The Khua allowed her to pass.”

Several months after meeting Joon at the Igara party, Liddi got an itchy, irksome feeling in her gut, like something was off. She’d hardly spent any time in the
workshop lately, she was always so busy going out with her friend. At this rate, it would be another year with nothing to debut at the Tech Reveal. Anxiety gnawed at her, but no matter how she
tried to set aside time to work, it just didn’t happen.

Then Liddi realized what it was. Every time Joon live-commed, she talked but didn’t listen. If Joon wanted to go shopping, they went. If Liddi said she was busy, Joon talked her out of
being busy. If Joon came over, they spent all their time watching media-casts and trying on everything they’d ever bought during their shopping trips.

Being Joon’s friend was exhausting.

With the next live-comm, Liddi decided to put her foot down. “Sorry, I can’t,” she said. “I have to spend some time in the workshop. You should come over, though.
I’ll show you what I’m working on.”

“Are any of your brothers home?”

Emil was just passing through with a sandwich from the kitchen, out of the live-comm’s visual range. His eyes widened and he shook his head.

The gnawing feeling twisted into a sharp-toothed growl. Liddi didn’t know how she’d missed it before. Joon
always
asked if her brothers were home. If Emil wasn’t,
she didn’t bother coming.

“If all you want is to flirt with my brother, live-comm him, not me.”

“Oh, come on, Liddi, you know it isn’t like that.”

Joon’s mouth said one thing, but her eyes said another, and Liddi didn’t miss it this time. “Find someone else to leech off of, Joon. Good-bye.”

The end of the live-comm signaled the end of the so-called friendship.

Two days later, the media-casts started. The Insecurities of Liddi Jantzen. Things only Joon knew, because Liddi hadn’t told anyone else. Things that made the Triad worry because even
they hadn’t known. Her infatuations and fixations, her anxieties and fears…the fact that she still dreamed about her parents sometimes and woke up crying.

It was clear what Joon had gotten from the friendship. Her profile was at an all-time high.

All Liddi got was a vow never to trust anyone outside of her family again.