Riders of the Storm (24 page)

“My family,” she whispered, feeling the pull of that too-distant glow. Louder, “I have to leave, Marcus.”

As she rose to her feet, the Human did, too. “You come back, want find me, knock on door.” He drummed a pattern on the table. “I not talk to other Om'ray. Promise. I give
autolock
your
palmprint.
I not here, door open for you, anytime. No one else. Aryl use 'fresher, anytime.” This with that dimpled grin, distorted by his swollen lip.

She considered what he offered. Access to him, to his amazing technology, whenever she wanted—on her terms. “What if I don't come back at all?”

The grin widened. “You come. Aryl curious.”

That word.

Aryl found herself smiling back.

 

The valley was different now. Familiar. Smaller. Defined. It contained a friend and comfort. Not to mention something that hoped to eat her, making this a more normal place. Aryl studied the rock hunters she passed. Once aware of them, she found it simple to pick them out from ordinary stone, even if dusted by snow. A little too smooth. A little too symmetrical. Large and small, the same basic shape. If she'd had time, she would have examined one. Anything could be killed. It was only a matter of finding its vulnerability.

“Maybe you're good eating,” she told a pile in the shadows and imagined a quiver of fear.

Threatening rocks was probably not the sort of thing a Clan Speaker should do. She couldn't imagine Taisal doing it. Then again, once made an Adept, Taisal di Sarc had no longer hunted or climbed—or lived at home.

She'd been without a mother, Aryl thought wistfully, longer than she'd realized.

Costa had been there instead. Her kind and funny brother. Not a hunter or a climber—but he'd let her do as she wanted. He'd lived at home until being Chosen by Leri Teerac.

Who'd become Lost at his death. Leri was in the Cloisters now, a mindless pair of hands in service to the Adepts and others.

Sona had no Lost. And no Adepts. Aryl sincerely hoped it would stay that way.

She climbed the arch of the second bridge and stopped to consult her
geoscanner
, a gift from Marcus. Hand-sized, with a flat base and a clear dome over an intimidating array of small glowing parts, she'd refused the thing at first. It wouldn't fit in a pocket. She'd break it. After the Human gleefully hammered and stomped on the device, she could hardly use that excuse. And it was well worth having, though she'd have to find a better way to carry it than down her tunic. For the Human had
preset
the geoscanner to hunt for tunnels. It would display a symbol on its dome if it detected any, a symbol that would flash red if the tunnels
radiatedenergy
.

All Aryl needed to know was that red meant Oud, nearby and active.

No symbol. Nothing below the surface but rock.

She carefully tucked her treasure away, sucking air through her teeth as its cold touched bare skin. Sona had its own Watcher now, unlike any on Cersi. With this, maybe they could find all the tunnels—watch for any reshaping. With this, the Oud couldn't surprise them.

The Human had given her a less welcome gift: a puzzle. Sona had been destroyed within the lifetime of living Om'ray, but those who should remember, didn't.

She wasn't sure what to do about that.

Aryl started moving again, running in an easy lope. The effort kept her warm; she'd left the Human's coat and hadn't bothered to collect her sodden Grona one from the grove.

She wasn't sure what to tell the rest about Marcus Bowman either. There was already the stolen river. Two of them, if she counted the one missing farther down the valley. The Cloisters. The Oud and its gift. The potential for negotiation.

Speaker for Sona. That alone should get everyone talking, she thought with an inner wince.

Maybe she'd leave the Human out of the discussion, for now.

 

The shadows were dark and noisy by the time Aryl came to the final turn of the valley before Sona. The noise was the grind and clatter of rock hunters, apparently willing to risk her attention now that she was leaving their hunting ground. They didn't move quickly, unless tumbling from on top of a neighbor, but their numbers were unsettling. When she glanced over her shoulder, it was like being followed by a sluggish landslide.

Maybe they hoped she'd stop and conveniently fall too deeply asleep to hear them. Or trip and knock herself out. Not that a self-respecting Om'ray would panic and run like a fool from a bunch of rocks.

From a Human?

Mistakes you survived were lessons, Aryl told herself firmly.

The glow of Om'ray ahead lengthened her stride. Not just ahead, but someone coming toward her. She
tasted
a name. Haxel.

Impatient for a report, no doubt. Hopefully, the First Scout would settle for words. Haxel couldn't read her memories against her will—no one here had the Power to penetrate her shields—but there was something wrong about deliberately hiding part of a memory. Neglecting to volunteer a minor detail or two, like meeting a Human, wasn't the same at all.

Though Haxel wouldn't miss what she could see. With reluctance, Aryl unwound the length of stranger-metal from her hair and tucked it deep in a pocket. Errant strands flew in her eyes at once and snagged on her chapped lips. Annoying stuff.

What would it be like if more than the wind moved it?

More than annoying, she decided.

Her head turned, drawn by another solitary warmth.
Enris.
He hadn't left the valley floor yet, but moved away at a steady pace. Easy to imagine his long strides. She didn't try to send to him. Wouldn't. Talking to the Human had, in an odd way, helped. Marcus understood and sympathized with her decision—if not the Tuana's. Her lips curved.

Aryl focused on the glow of her people,
reached
for their names, but kept the touch feather soft. Everyone was where they should be.

More than everyone.

She drew back to herself with dismay.

Slow they might be, but the Grona would be here before firstnight.

 

Haxel turned and matched strides with her rather than stop, her hood down. Her white hair strained against its net—agitation, not the wind. “Traveling light?”

The missing pack and coat. “Rock hunters.” True enough. “They like shadows.” Aryl nodded at the far wall, black to within a third of its top. So the return trip, admittedly at a good pace, had taken her less than two tenths. Yena's Cloisters had been almost as far from its village.

“Hunters, are they?” The First Scout gave the oh-so-still-now stones a considering look. “Threat or meal?”

On the snow that by rights should cover them, they were easier to spot than ever. As if that wasn't enough, each had pressed a trail of white as it rolled. “Nuisance,” Aryl decided. “Though I didn't take the time to find out for sure.”

“You've news, then.”

“I found water—the source of the river. It's no closer than where we're getting water now,” she warned, “but will be faster. This goes all the way.” She scuffed her toe against the flat stone of the road.

“What else?”

“The river's dry because of the Oud.”

The First Scout stopped. Aryl, resisting the urge to lean toward Sona, so close, did the same. “The Oud?”

“They made a hole to take the water below ground. And they haven't left. One confronted me—gave me this.” She pulled out the Speaker's Pendant.

Haxel raised a curious brow. “You have been busy.”

If only she knew—or better still, didn't. Aryl put away the pendant and chose her next words with all the care she'd use climbing an unknown rastis. “I think it understood me. That we need the water back. They'll negotiate.”

“To put the water back.” They both looked toward the empty riverbed. “I suppose if they can dig a hole…” As if to dispense with the chancy topic of rivers empty or otherwise, Haxel took off her coat and tossed it to Aryl, who pulled it on without argument. Whatever warmth running had given her was long gone; she had to clench her teeth together to keep them still. The First Scout began walking again, and Aryl hurried to keep up. “You found the Cloisters?”

“Yes. Empty, but whole.”

Satisfaction.
“I don't suppose they left the doors open.”

“No.” Aryl hugged the coat close. “I found bones, too. Most of Sona died there, not here.”

“Locked out, were they?” None of them would forget their own exile.

“Or taken by surprise. The Oud dig as fast as we climb.”

The First Scout glared at the ground. “How can we watch the dirt?”

About to tell her, Aryl hesitated, unsure why. If Enris had been here, she'd have already pulled out the geoscanner, boasted of its power, let him try it. Haxel knew Marcus Bowman, too—she'd met the Human, seen some of the strangers' technology. The First Scout wouldn't flinch at anything that offered an advantage for their people, regardless of source.

Threat or meal…

If Haxel believed Marcus had anything more to offer, she'd want it.

If he refused? There was no Yena more ruthless; none more dangerous.

“There might be a way,” Aryl said as casually as she could, her shields firm. “I thought I
sensed
the Oud who approached me. I can't be sure, but if that's so…” she let her voice trail suggestively.

Haxel took the bait. “If that's so, Aryl, we've an advantage.” Cheerfully. “Just remember what the Tuana said.” Her lip curled. “The stronger your Power, the more you'll suffer if you use it near an Oud. And you are the strongest we have. I'd rather not have you incapacitated when we're about to have our first guest. Or is it guests?” All innocence.

“Guests.” Typical of the First Scout to thoroughly embrace every Talent she deemed useful, Forbidden or not, dangerous or not. Aryl sighed inwardly. She hadn't wanted to think about the Grona, but that was foolish. Haxel should know. “Six. Bern and his Chosen, Oran di Caraat. The rest are family. Her brother and a cousin. Her uncle and aunt.”

“Coming for you.” A hand dropped, not casually, to the hilt of her longknife. “I expected it.”

“You did?” The words came out as a squeak, and Aryl closed her mouth hastily.

Haxel chuckled. “What did you think I'd miss, young Sarc? Bern's lack of gratitude for being saved at the Harvest or your reappearance at Yena the instant we needed you most? I'll take what I sense over any explanation, thank you, no matter how convincing. You've a Talent like Fon's, that lets you move from place to place, or move someone else.”

The forlorn and stunted grove of nekis followed alongside the road. Equally humbled, Aryl asked, “Why didn't you say anything?”

“You can't control it yet, or you'd have used it to save us instead of calling your stranger.” The First Scout laid a hand on her shoulder.
Pride
blended with
sympathy
. “Taisal knew, didn't she? That's why the Adepts exiled you.”

“That's why they exiled all of us,” Aryl replied bitterly. “It's my fault—”

The hand gave her a friendly shove. “It's their loss.”

Futile to warn her, but Aryl had to try. “This isn't like other Talents, Haxel,” she began. “It's dangerous. I need time to learn it, find where the traps lie. It may never be controllable.”

“Don't worry.” Calm and sure. “Until you're ready, no one else need know. As for our guests?” A rude noise. “They won't announce what they've come for, unless they're thorough fools. If they are? They won't eat before we send them home again, truenight or not. You've my word on that.”

The warmth she felt was more than the coat.

 

Aryl climbed up the riverbank beside Haxel, and stood, transfixed.

“We've been busy, too.”
Pride.

Deserved. A true village had sprung from the ruins since she'd left yesterday morning. Their original shelter and second building not only had roofs and doors, but were faced by two more structures under construction. All were square-edged and sturdy, well-suited to the weather. Paths had been tramped through the small field between, narrow and leading to openings in the low wall that, when intact, must have tied the original buildings together. The Sona design was revealed: four sturdy homes had backed onto each open space, with roofs that overhung sheltered areas along their outer walls, those areas connecting their doors one to the other, like Yena bridges. Add water and growing things?

This would be a place she could live.

The wind snickered through dead plants, raising dust.

“We'll have a home for every family by spring,” Aryl replied in defiance.

Haxel smiled. “Sooner.”

There. They'd said it, both of them. Aryl could
feel
the realization in Haxel's thoughts, a peaceful drawing close, like the moment when glows were lit and ladders pulled to protect Yena through truenight. “We're staying, then.” The First Scout sounded amused. “Didn't even take a Council vote.”

They didn't have a Council. If they did? Took the eldest of each family? Aryl grinned. Then Seru would serve with Morla and Cetto. The last time she'd seen her cousin, she'd been staggering alongside the elderly weaver, using her chin to keep a massive stack of coats together. He and Husni were going to teach her how to alter the Sona coats, which were warm but overlong, with too much material that hampered movement.

They walked past the pile of beams and stone that had been Sona's meeting hall. Aryl blinked in surprise. When she'd left, the narrow road that went behind the buildings had been blocked by huge slabs of stone. Now it was a clear passage, if dirt. She turned to Haxel. “How?”

“Fon,” the other explained smugly. “Cetto's notion.”