The Gate to Futures Past (31 page)

“All Sect members, yes yes. Needed knowledge for the Rebirth. Needed more. Hoveny, most, afraid to look outside system, want to forget past. Past, best is.”

I raised an eyebrow at this. “What's wrong with the present?”

“Not room,” the Oud replied promptly. “System puts air around rocks,” with drum of disgust. “Bad is. Too little food, Brightfall, not room. Bad is. Need empire. New neighbors. Space! Best is!”

Reminding me of Cersi and another ambitious Oud.

“Seesor comes soon,” it finished.

I hoped so. Tap Tap wasn't the only one twitching; it just did it more effectively. My Human, of course, might have been relaxing in our cabin on the
Fox
. Our cabin—

Our lives there.

Longing filled me, irrational.

Impossible.

Then, for an unfathomable moment, I
saw
our cabin . . .

. . . 
The 'fresher door was closed. Painted stems festooned with leaves and buds curled and wove over tile and wall. Flowers burst beside the ceiling lights. The table-desk was out, our bed neatly made—I'd only to step forward
 . . .

. . . 
I wasn't alone. A voice filled me.
<>

“—Cersi wasn't necessary.” Morgan's voice snapped me back to here and now. I clung to the sound, not trying to understand.

That voice again. Deep, hollow. Everywhere. Nowhere at all. It couldn't be my sister's. It wasn't Rael—she wasn't this.

Better she be gone and dead, than this.

I focused on my Chosen with everything I had.

“The original Founder was born here, among the Hoveny, but the ones we've met so far don't have that kind of Power.” Morgan frowned. “Why add Oud genes? What are we missing?”

Don't ask, I thought, then wondered why. Surely my Chosen had good reason. The aftereffects of that voice, I told myself.

But Tap Tap was no happier. It backed into the wall, curling on itself. Not quite a ball, but defensive.

Morgan got off the bench and squatted in front of the Oud. “Oud-Key Prime, answer me. After the Fall, did the surviving Hoveny turn against those with great haisin?”

It explained Alisi's concerns about revealing her Power, little though it was. I held my breath.

Slowly, Tap Tap unrolled, just enough to expose the cluster of speaking appendages. The others stuck out at odd angles, as if to fend off danger. “No, Jason Di. The Best disappeared with the null-grid. ‘And those who heard the dead cry out, did weep for joy and join them.'”

Cold filled me. Wrapping my arms around myself didn't help.

A quiver passed from segment to segment. “Sect Tikitik say Hoveny with good haisin became too rare after, became almost none. Bad is. Oud-Keys nurture, better is, but Hoveny today problem. Many/some think too much haisin bad is.”

If too much had led to the Power-of-Choice and to me? To dead who didn't die but corrupted the M'hir, luring us into boxes shaped like love—

I found my voice. “That's why you're here, with Milly.”

A limb bent to touch a painted flower. “Lovely Milly. Yes yes. Nurture. Too few, are.”

Morgan's eyes met mine, a warning in his.
This isn't just a test, Witchling. This is about the future of the Hoveny. About turning toward Power or away from it. That could be the Tikitik's “consequence.”

If they turn away—
if this was another world where the Clan were labeled a threat, another place we couldn't belong, until all we had were boxes—
we lose our chance at a home.
Something vile exploded through me, like rot, full of disappointment and fear.
They MADE us,
I sent, uncaring that he winced. That the Oud
fled, leaping to the floor and out of the room.
We're what they wanted! They should be grateful!

My Human closed his eyes, pinching the top of his nose between finger and thumb. Holding back what he'd say as if I'd mixed up a cargo code on the
Fox
and he wanted me to figure it out for myself
.

I had figured it out. All of it.
THIS IS ALL WE HAVE,
I shouted at him
.

Could he not understand?

If I have to tear a place for us from this world, WHO'S TO STOP ME?!

Silence. He didn't look at me. Wouldn't. My Chosen.

Say something!

What, Great-granddaughter?
Before I could be relieved to
hear
Aryl at last, she struck.
That you'd fall and take us with you? FOOL!!
With stinging disappointment.
We met Humans and took the wrong path out of fear. We've the chance to do better here, with these people. Do not waste my sacrifice. My Chosen. My beloved Enris.

Sira.
Her mind voice altered, suddenly so gentle, so full of
love,
I gasped.
Despair destroys. Courage. Hope. Those can save us.

Aryl was right. In every way, she was right. What had I been thinking? What had I—a bitter sob escaped my lips.

Blue eyes shot open and Morgan put his hand on my knee, that pressure the only stable point in a universe that fought me like the M'hir. I stared down at him. When had those fine lines etched themselves beside his blue eyes? When had the bones of his cheeks come closer to the surface? How—

A lock of hair came around my waist, winding around his thumb, and I felt something cold slide down my cheek even as I warmed inside. “I'm sorry.”

His lips quirked. “For giving me another headache, or for sounding like your father?”

I was off the bench and on my knees before he finished, my arms around him in a fierce grip. I buried my face in his shirt. “Everything,” I mumbled. “All of it.”

Denial,
quick and implacable. A whisper in my ear, “You'll find the right way, Witchling. You always do. I trust you. So do the people who've followed you this far. The Hoveny,” a prickly kiss, “will figure it out soon enough.”

I love you.

That's because you have good taste.
Light the words and tone, but the M'hir boiled between us and I could have lost myself in my Chosen—

“Sira.”

I worked myself free of Morgan, my hair, as always, last and reluctant to relinquish its grip, and stood to face Alisi, my Human rising with me.

She'd the ball of Oud under one arm. With her free hand, she held out the pendant, now in a small transparent sack. “I, Seesor Alisi Di, declare Sira Di and those with her have come from the world of Cersi, are descended from those who left Brightfall on the Twelve, and have returned to us now with the Human, Jason Di.

“By my authority, we proceed at once to the test of the claim brought forth by Tap Tap, Oud-Key Prime, that Sira Di is a Founder.”

Well, I thought, here we go.

H
ER SMALL HAND was cold in his, refused to warm no matter if he rubbed it gently or not. Her hair hung dull and limp down her back, and Barac would have given anything if Ruti had asked after the children, or argued, or—

Did anything but sit, her brows knit in a frown, her eyes locked on what he couldn't see. “Ruti,” he tried again. “Do you hear that? Feel it? We're underway. Look out the window.” He'd thought it a cupboard, but once the transport had begun to move, the panel covering it had rolled to one side. “There are little creeks. Fields.” A green lush feast for the eyes, after the sere landscape of the Oud. “Won't you look?”
Dearest,
he tried again.

Her mind was closed. He'd taught her to intensify her shields; he hadn't, the Clansman sighed, thought she'd use them to keep him out.

“If you'd
listen
, you'd understand.” The child stood in the opening, her gray-green gaze earnest, her voice sweet.

His hand reached for his force blade, but they'd taken it. “Get away,” he said harshly.

“Ruti doesn't belong here. She stays for you. It's very hard. You should
listen
—”

“Stop!” He jerked to his feet, ready to—

Ruti's hand stirred in his, held tight. “It's all right, Andi,” she
whispered. “Everything will be all right. You go and play, sweetling.”

Barac sank down beside his Chosen, gathered her unresisting form in his arms, and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair. “Don't leave me. Don't. Please don't. You promised.”

“I promised,” Ruti agreed, distant and calm. “I'll wait for you.”

Then he
heard
it.

A hollow voice, tasting of ash and death.

<>

I
PRESSED my nose to the window, trying to see everything at once. A low ridge bordering a wide expanse. Fields, crisscrossed by streams that sparkled in the sunlight. Turning so my cheek was against the window, I could make out where the ridge bent like a hook, squared buildings pressed into its slope and clustered along the top, while curved roads connected the ridge to a neat array of smaller buildings on the flat. Smoke curled thin from chimneys. Colorful bits waved in the air. Flags? Laundry, I told myself hopefully, that being a peaceful, ordinary thing. “What's it called, Alisi? That town?”

“Goesen. We can't see its Sanctum from here, but you will once they send you down.”

“The transport's not landing?” In Morgan's sternest “captain” tone. I turned around.

Alisi held up one hand. “At the Keeper's request, only Sira—”

His face darkened. “No.”

“Morgan—”

We don't separate in unknown territory.

They can't separate us,
I reminded him, strengthening our connection until our hearts beat in synchrony. Or would have, if mine hadn't been racing. I tried. “We'd prefer to stay together, Alisi.”

“Emelen Dis was adamant, Sira,” she said, her rainbow eyes gentle. “No one else may be on the ground, or the test result could be corrupted. The transport will hover overhead, providing a clear view. The Director's staff will doubtless monitor and record everything, but so will I. If you want to end the proceedings at any time, Sira, simply say so. We'll hear you.”

End a responsibility I neither sought nor desired. Avoid being the cause, as Morgan feared, of fundamental change among the Hoveny. Tempting.

“If I do?”

Tap Tap rose. “If you stop the test, you fail the test. Fail the test, bad is.”

Nothing was ever easy. I frowned at the Oud. “Explain ‘bad is.'”

“Sect waits for generations. Now hears ‘Cersi-So.' Knows you used null-grid to return. Won't stop if Sira fail.” Appendages moved in undulating waves, then settled, clasped together. “Others have haisin, too
.
Tle Su, better, maybe best is. Others.”

They'll test the Clan till they find one willing to make their device work. It won't take long.

I nodded. Morgan was right.
Sona
had shown us how to pull in a thread from the M'hir and secure it. Anyone could.

I could name at least twenty who would, especially if they thought they'd gain an advantage on this world.

My Human raised his head. “We're descending.”

I went back to the window. Our destination wasn't the town at all, but one of the square fields. As we sank down, I made out rows of dark green plants with sharp, yellow-edged leaves, their tips overlapping. A fence ran around the edges, too low to appear enough to keep out grazers, though the gate was substantial, a panel of wood attached by chain to a stubby pair of stone columns.

There were other such gates in view. I thought it odd their columns were coated in brown moss.

Until Morgan, beside me, murmured a satisfied, “Hello.”

And I realized where I'd last seen a column just like these.

On a starship.

His name was Emelen Dis, his title Keeper of the Sanctum of the Sect of the Rebirth, and he looked, I decided, like a being about to step off a cliff. Which might have been because we were standing at the back edge of the transport, its massive rear door having retracted to allow the Keeper's aircar to nip neatly inside, looking over a drop that would break most of our bones.

That wasn't it, I thought. Emelen had forgotten his surroundings the instant he'd laid eyes on me and hadn't looked away since. I did my best not to mind.

Lemuel Dis was there, with six of ner armored staff and a bevy of techs with equipment. Our M'hiray scientists would do well here, given any chance at all. I resolved that instant to ask Alisi and maybe the historian about opportunities.

After the test.

“As Seesor
,
” Alisi said formally, “I ask the Sect of the Rebirth to test the claim that this individual,” she gestured me to come forward, “is a Founder. Keeper Emelen Dis, I present Sira Di.”

He swept his hands out and back in the Clan gesture of respectful greeting between peers.

My response was automatic, adding the twist and elevation of one hand to signal my greater Power, then I stopped, struck by realization. What we'd thought mannerisms common to Om'ray and M'hiray?

Were from this sect. Those who'd volunteered to go to Cersi had remembered this much of their former lives—or been allowed to remember—and passed it down to us.

Us. I put my hands safely at my sides. Using these gestures here proclaimed us part of a religious order we hadn't known existed at breakfast. Using our full names, for Morgan had told me the truth? If we weren't mocked, we'd be pitied.

Not to mention the Oud in our blood.

The past consumed what we thought we were—what would be left by the end?

“I trust this test of yours won't take long, Keeper,” Lemuel's tone was neutral. “We've injured on board that need care this arn.”

“It will be, Director. Sira?” With a bow, Emelen indicated his
aircar. “The controls are preset. You need only descend to the appropriate spot and ‘Embrace the Heavens.'”

“Pardon?”

“I ask yours.” With, yes, the gesture of apology even a M'hiray child knew how to make. “A lifetime of euphemism and prayer—it's difficult for me to speak plainly. But I must. Engage the null-grid is, I believe, the correct terminology.” He appeared charmingly flustered.

Appearances could deceive. Emelen Dis had us waiting on his whim, including a high-ranking offworld official as well as a seesor
.
Add to that list Tap Tap, the Oud-Key Prime, who'd scurried around and in and out of the Keeper's aircar with blinding speed as though confirming it was free of stowaways, and a Human—an alien given not a second glance.

But not unremarked. A mutual interest. I saw how Morgan kept his eye on Emelen Dis; he'd palmed his scanner—which I'd assumed was in his pack—to pay even closer attention. If I had to guess, my Human suspected the Hoveny carried something inside his conveniently voluminous robe.

They want me to pull the null-grid into some device,
I sent, tight and private.
It's what we expected.

Maybe.
A flash of blue eyes.
No assumptions, chit. Not today.

Emelen beckoned. “If you please, Sira. We'll see any result from here.”

“Very well.” As they were waiting for me to enter the aircar, I did. Awkwardly. The machine came complete with ornate siderails to step over, which was fine, except the seat was covered in a tapestrylike fabric clearly not intended for my boot. I lurched forward, losing my balance—

A hand had my arm, steadying me. Morgan, moving before anyone else could think to, betraying his speed to save my dignity. A speed and focus that wouldn't go unnoticed, especially by those assigned to guard Lemuel. They wouldn't underestimate him now.

So they shouldn't. My hair lifted, and I grinned at my captain. “See you in a bit.”

There'd been a few times in my life when I'd been plopped in a strange aircar and taken someplace. Such things happened when you'd Scats and Recruiters and your own kind after you.

I was pleasantly surprised to find Emelen's machine had better manners. After floating smoothly out into the sunshine, it sank with a businesslike hum to the field below, no faster than a lift, and came to rest with a polite thump.

A breeze cooled my cheeks, and I was glad of Alisi's jacket. Around me, plants swayed, their leaftips clattering like teeth; those pressed beneath the aircar perfumed the air with a suggestion of, yes, beer. Beer left on the floor overnight, to be exact. Rather welcoming.

I climbed out, snagging Alisi's empty satchel on the hand rail, and almost fell on the beer plants.

Miss me already?

I looked up at the transport and waved.
Should have left this behind.

Show me,
Aryl asked.

Turning slowly, I surveyed my surroundings. I stood in the middle of a slender valley, green from edge to edge. The valley and bordering hills flowed in tandem from side to side, explaining the name “Ribbon Lands.” Presumably there were more valleys like this, beyond those hills. Goesen was in the distance, its buildings stone, with tiled roofs. Trees—or what passed here as trees—showed between. I spotted a homely line of pants blowing in the breeze and smiled to myself.

I could live here,
Aryl agreed
.

First things first.

From Morgan,
Sira, look up.

I raised my eyes, startled to see transports approaching from all sides. “Who's that?” I shouted.

A voice from the aircar. “The Sect gathers, Sira Di.”

Lemuel wasn't informed. Ne isn't happy, chit. Nor is Alisi.

Makes it unanimous.
I could see my people lining the windows of our flying machine and sensed their unsettled
attention.

At least this time I'd decent clothing. I straightened the jacket with an annoyed tug. Emelen could have provided a table with a
nice, small, inoffensive Hoveny device waiting. Something I could activate that would give off a light or signal and be done. But no.

The audience said it all. This was to be a spectacle. Here. In this field.

The transports slowed to hover at a respectful distance. The designs and sizes varied, implying a mix of personal craft and commercial, some large and others less so, in common only that they were jammed with people, at windows or leaning on railings. No Tikitik that I could see, nor Oud, but the latter would be impossible to spot if they were as tiny as Tap Tap.

Who'd put me in this mess. I didn't plan to forget that.

Hundreds of spectators. Could be thousands. The hum, buzz, and growl of their machines was distracting. No, more than thousands. This was a technological society. Whatever I did, fail or succeed, would be known across this world, and throughout the entire system.

Imagining Thought Traveler as one of my observers, I took a moment to glare up, hair slapping my shoulders.

Don't let it go to your head, chit.
My Chosen, deliberately amused.
Fame's fickle.

Sticking out my tongue seemed the logical response.

To it, then. I slogged my way through rows of beer plants, the soil between them a cloying mud, so I was grateful for Milly's too-small boots. Not far to the gate.

To the columns, I corrected. The one on the right was my height, the other shorter. The gate they supported yawned open, the end of its worn and crooked panel stuck in mud, the chains and ropes used as crude hinges still in place. The stone had been scraped, not washed, presumably in preparation for this test. There were strands of moss still clinging to the dark, almost black-green surface, a surface I discovered to be covered in thick slime. Lovely. I pulled my fingers away, decided against wiping them on Alisi's gifts, and shook my hand vigorously in the air instead.

Stalling.

Caution is a virtue,
I replied haughtily, feeling Aryl's assent. Their steadfast presence wrapped me in comfort.

Comfort I needed. I studied the columns. Size, shape, outward appearance: all disturbingly similar to the pillar the ship had called its access interface and had been the Om'ray's Maker. A device capable of altering minds and signaling through space wasn't to be taken lightly. No telling what this pair did, if they were a pair at all.

I moved to stand between them, raising my arms slowly. With a preparatory grimace, I pressed my palms to the cold, slick stone and took a steadying breath. Easy to imagine everyone else in the valley doing the same.

Well, I thought, here's something you can't all do.

And opened my awareness to the
M'hir.