The Gate to Futures Past (26 page)

Morgan's face was expressionless. “We'll warn them.”

Of what?
I shifted restlessly, my hair doing the same.

Just then, Jacqui passed our table, her face pale and intent. She'd my sympathy. It wasn't pleasant, or easy, fighting an instinct you knew could cause harm, yet promised so much.

It was almost tangible, that
snick
of familiarity. “It's as if we're unChosen, hearing a Chooser's Call.” Almost as irresistible.

Traps need bait,
Aryl supplied grimly.

How do we know this isn't our own doing?
I countered, feeling Aryl's shock.
We've suffered—enough to make our minds unstable.
What if this is our unconscious longing for those we've lost, one strong enough to manifest—

Or our common guilt, clamoring for death and justice, but that bleak thought I reserved for myself.

“It would explain why the voices are specific, but nothing else.” My Human looked thoughtful, then shook his head. “I don't believe this is anything self-inflicted. Ruis assures me our people are recovering, and I've checked a few myself. Being away from the ship helped them all, despite—despite what happened. They've hope, Sira.” His eyes softened. “We do.”

“Then what's stealing it?” I found the warmth of his hand, wrapped my numb fingers through his.
What's after us now?

His fingers squeezed, hard. “After how far we've come, chit, whatever this is, we'll stop it.”

My reply wedged itself in my throat as a yellow-haired child ran through the room, laughing and carefree. Andi'd known I'd
heard
a voice. She'd known and urged me to follow, to be with family. How?

There's no harm in her,
Aryl sent gruffly.

“There could be answers.”
Morgan.

Understood.
Another, gentler squeeze, then my hand was alone and cold. I kept my eyes on Andi, aware my Chosen watched her, too.

He'd do what I'd asked of him. Would learn what Andi could tell us and if we were wrong and that sweet innocent face was a lie?

Morgan would act as I, being a coward, could not imagine. All I could do was hope he'd be able to forgive me.

Andi stopped, ducking behind the nearest adult before peering around. At what? I turned with the rest to face the entrance.

A Hoveny child stood in the doorway, no taller than Andi, perhaps as young. She wore a green dress with yellow frills along the bottom and at the neck, and her long white hair was tied atop her head with a dark green bow. An old but serviceable tool belt was wrapped twice around her small waist, and from it hung an array of digging tools sized to her hands. Her feet were in rugged boots, caked with dust, and a dusty fabric bag bulged at her hip, suspended from a band crossing from shoulder to hip.

Seeming oblivious to the presence—and attention—of so many strangers, the child walked in, heading straight for the nearest food bin. The Hoveny beside it smiled down at her; the rest didn't appear to notice. She'd the run of the place, that told me.

Interesting.

The child wasn't the only arrival. Pauvan Di appeared next, entering with two other Hoveny. The three went directly to where Teris and Degal held their court and, after a brief exchange, the Councilors rose to their feet and followed the Hoveny out. Nik remained seated.

Like a grim shadow, Destin stayed by Teris' shoulder but once at the door, the Sona First Scout glanced back to where her Chosen lay, encased. Her head turned, her eyes on mine. Ah. She'd felt what I'd done.

We'll watch Elnu,
I sent, tight and private.
Keep those two safe.

I felt her
surprise
before she dampened it. Had Destin expected me to ask her to spy on our self-appointed leaders?

No need. I'd gladly leave administration and our settlement details to those who'd enjoyed both and weren't worrying about the dead.

Unless Degal was tempted to make his points with Power rather than words, but I doubted it. Very few Clan were as fond of their own voice as Degal di Sawnda'at. He'd talk my father into retreat.

Meanwhile, the child, a bag of crisps in her hand, wandered the large room. Maybe she was curious about this rearrangement of a familiar place, for the people in it didn't appear to matter as much as the chairs and couches they used. She ignored the Hoveny and when she came to any of us, regardless if that person smiled and greeted her, or not, she paused to stare a disquieting moment as though noticing them for the first time.

Done, she would dip her head and move on without a word.

Mute?

Hunting,
suggested Aryl.

My Human chuckled. “Someone's noticed.”

Andi followed the Hoveny at a small distance, miming her every movement. Dre joined the game. Their playmate dead
within hours, the husk barely cool—their lack of grief seemed incomprehensible, even for children, and I shivered.

Morgan reached across the table, capturing my hand, sending
love
and
encouragement
through our link.
There's an explanation and we'll find it, together. That's what we do.

My hair flowed down to wrap his wrist.
Yes, it is.
I sent my own
trust
and
love
back to him.

All at once, I realized we weren't
alone.

S
UCH A SERIOUS FACE, the Hoveny child, and Morgan resisted his first impulse to smile. “I'm Jason,” he told her.

The irises of her eyes were multihued, like several of the Om'ray, with light purple predominant. They stared at him, the pupils dilated as though to drink him in. Before he could feel uncomfortable, she shifted her earnest regard to Sira.

Who stared back, a hint of pink developing along her cheekbones. “I'm Sira. What's your name?”

The child's white eyebrows dipped together. She reached down to bring up her bag, wriggling out of the shoulder strap so she could put the shapeless and decidedly filthy thing on the table.

The bag moved.

A black claw, no larger than the tip of Morgan's little finger, poked from under the flap and waved.

“What is it?” Sira breathed.

Another claw appeared beside the first, then a cluster of three. They fiddled at the fastening of the bag, clicking with what seemed impatience. The child watched, so they did, fascinated.

Andi and Dre came to stand nearby, peering with interest. Their parents followed. Barac and Ruti. Until they were surrounded by curious Clan.

Morgan spared a glance up. No Hoveny adults.

Finally, claws succeeded. The flap gave way.

And out rolled a ball.

A hard segmented ball, the size of his joined fists, its pale surface painted with, yes, those were flowers, the sort a young child would draw—recognizable, if unlike any he'd seen. A kindred spirit, the Human decided, letting himself smile.

Losing his smile as the ball quivered, then unrolled, for he'd seen this shape before.
Tension
flowed from those around him, who had as well.

The tiny Oud spun about, its hundreds of little clawed feet tinkling like rain on the table, then stopped, one end aimed at the Hoveny child. Her lips puckered, then she sighed and spoke. “Nes name is Tap Tap.”

The claws drummed a complex pattern.

“It's not nes full name,” she corrected. “You know I can't say all that.” This to the creature.

Morgan heard a stifled laugh.

“Hello, Tap Tap.” Sira leaned forward. A red-gold lock of hair slipped along her arm to lie on the table, curling itself at the tip. She gave it a frustrated look but didn't object.

The tiny Oud reversed, then turned to “face” Sira. It moved toward her, then back, then forward, stopping a little closer before scuttling back. In this indecisive manner, it came within touching distance of the tip of hair.

And stopped.

A pet?
Sira sent.

It spun in place, feet moving too quickly to make out, then stopped.

“I doubt it,” Morgan said, carefully aloud.

The lock of hair slowly uncurled, a few strands brushing over the creature. “Oh,” Sira exclaimed, pulling back.

The “oh” hadn't been alarmed or offended. Morgan stilled the motion of his wrist before the knife came free.

The tiny Oud lifted its front end, pulling up until almost erect. Exposed, its undersides were the typical Oud paired line of black
specialized appendages, complete with the talking cluster near what they'd consider its “head,” whatever that concept meant to the creature, only these appendages were miniaturized and delicately beautiful, like the inside of an antique clockwork he'd seen for sale on Plexis.

Appendages that began to move, producing clear, if faint, words. “Tap Tap, best is.”

The Hoveny child rolled her eyes. “I told you.”

“Milly Su, best is.”

A smile, at last, on that too-serious face. “Thank you.” Milly turned to Dre and Andi. “See? Ne's my best friend.” Loftily. “I don't need any more.”

“Milly, manners.”

She inclined her head. “Sorry.” A mumble.

Creating smiles. The innocent exchange had relaxed the adults on all sides, and Morgan didn't for an instant believe it an accident. Whatever they were dealing with, the Oud was definitely no pet.

Sira realized it, too. She leaned toward it again, offering her hand this time, palm up. “My name is Sira. I mean no harm.”

It dropped to all feet and rushed with a cheerful clatter to climb on to her palm, coming erect again. “I am Tap Tap.”

His Chosen bravely raised her hand, bringing the creature to eye level. “Where are we?”

Tiny appendages fussed, flowing up and down, then, one word.

“Home.”

Challenge, assessment, or welcome? Sira's gray eyes lifted to his—no question, she'd know the options—then lowered. “We're glad to hear that. It's been a long and difficult journey.”

“You are Sira Di.” The Oud twisted, aiming the underside of its upper body at Morgan. “Jason Di. Heart-kin.”

He felt the
tension
return. The creature had some Power, that was clear; Oud of any size who did were dangerous.

But Sira smiled as the Oud twisted back to her. “We are Chosen and Joined for life. You sense it, Tap Tap.”

“I hear haisin
.
His, yours, theirs, nes, hers, all. Good. Better. Yours, best is. Home, yes yes.” A pause, as if it considered what to say, then, “Founder, you, Sira Di.”

The child gasped and covered her mouth with both hands, her rainbow eyes round as she stared at Sira.

And Morgan wasn't the least surprised to see a group of Hoveny adults heading their way.

A
SETUP. I eyed the Oud, which had, as far as I could tell, no eyes at all, and wondered if it was worth asking if the creature had summoned the Hoveny, or if our hosts had added surveillance to this room as part of our welcome.

Didn't matter. They'd neatly discovered what we'd thought we had to keep secret: that we'd greater Power—haisin
,
as the little being called it. So much for my worry about the vulnerability of weaker minds. You think I'd have learned from the Drapsk. Technology—or the right help—was more than a match for our avowed Talent.

“What is a ‘Founder?'” I asked Tap Tap. It had better not be like a Keeper, or I was going to protest, loudly. For what good it would do. If I were wise, I'd cultivate a certain fatalism when it came to our new “home” and my place in it.

Appendages fluttered. “Here is where the Founder lived, the first, the best was. Yes yes yes.”

“Is claimed to have lived. That's up to our Seesor, Tap Tap.” Pauvan was among those Hoveny who'd arrived, the Clan making an aisle for them to approach our table.

The tiny Oud dropped down on my hand and wrist, as if to prove it would say nothing more.

Its clawed feet prickled, though less than the hooklike fabric
of the cloaks of the giant version. I couldn't say if it were cold or warm—and neither “it” or “he” was right. What had Milly used? “Nes?” My hair was fascinated with it, locks tumbling over my shoulders to reach but not quite touch again.

When the stuff had met the Oud, there'd been a not-unpleasant tingle, followed by a confused burst of images and words. Shocking, but I hadn't been alarmed, for with the tangle came
hope.

The rest was a message, still sorting itself into sense within my mind. The images were colorless and skewed; the words lumped together as though overheard or recorded. They'd gained a sequence: a pillar twin to
Sona
's access portal, surrounded by stone and shadow;
Confirmation request. Identification:
Cersi-So;
a streak of light across darkness, perhaps a night sky; again the pillar;
the gate to futures past.

With a final image, not least: a city of buildings like the ones here, gleaming in the sun.

I'd shared the message with Morgan and Aryl. He was intrigued; my great-grandmother perturbed by the
feel
of Oud and wary. Their reactions encompassed my own. The ship's transmission had been received, that much was clear. But a gate?

Pauvan inclined his head. “The Seesor would like to meet with you, Sira Di.”

Tap Tap spun about and flowed from my hand, diving end first back into the fabric bag. I rose to my feet, eager for some answers.

Morgan rose, too, his intention plain.

The Hoveny glanced at him, then to me. “With you only, Sira Di,” he emphasized. “You and Jason Di will remain in communication. I give my personal oath we will not interfere with your haisin
.
”

Implying they could interfere—unless it was a bluff. Even if true, I refused to believe they knew the extent of our capabilities. As for my Human's? So far, the pack under the table hadn't seemed to interest them. Their mistake.

Of course, they could know exactly what was in it and not care. That'd be disturbing.

“I'll come,” I said, fingers moving in the signal for “remain
here.” Usually one Morgan sent me, the occasional negotiation being outside my—

What mattered was he stay: to watch our people; to find a way to question Andi. Not to mention our wounded. I looked meaningfully toward the cots. What we could do if a transport came to move them I didn't know, but if Morgan had to go along?

I'd follow.

A barely perceptible nod relieved those concerns. Not happy, my Chosen, but he understood.

“This way, please.”

Milly reached for the bag. Instead of picking it up, she pushed it toward me. “You're to carry ner.”

There being no polite way to refuse, I picked up the bag of Oud, tucking it in the crook of my elbow. Aryl retreated to the limit of my awareness; being the more cautious of us. My hair, of course, took advantage of proximity to drape itself over the bag.

“My mother's hair can move,” Milly informed me, “but she doesn't let it. When I'm old, I won't let mine move either.”

My hair gave a shiver. Take that, I thought at it, not that it ever listened.

Pauvan led, and I followed with the Oud and child, the remaining Hoveny falling in behind as escort. I brushed fingers with the Clan I passed, offering
reassurance
with the Power I no longer bothered to hide.

Each time, feeling the strange little Oud
quiver.