Spinning Starlight (27 page)

Next is something that’s definitely not a memory, at least not mine, because I never saw it. My brothers in different places, but always at a conduit terminal, working on the mechanism
with tools I don’t recognize. Each of them disappearing in the midst of their work with a snap of light—the moment Minali trapped them, however she did it.

I have the sensation of opening my eyes, except I don’t think I ever closed them. If what I saw before was in my head, what I see now is real…or as real as anything in the Khua is. My
brothers approach, but not too close. They stand in an arc in front of us, speaking words I can’t hear. Emil reaches toward me, but something blocks him, forcing him back like an invisible
wall. Still, their presence curves my lips into a smile. I look up to Tiav to see if he understands now, if it’s all right.

There’s no understanding in his eyes. There’s only horror.

Either Tiav pulls or the Khua pushes. Whichever it is, the bright, perfect fire surrounding us snaps and breaks, leaving us under the moons of Ferinne. No sign of my brothers.

Tiav isn’t looking at me. He presses his palms against his eyes, his muscles so tight they’re shaking. When I touch his shoulder, he shrugs me off and steps away, leaving me behind
him.

“Kalkig was right,” he mutters.

I freeze. Not good.

“Liddi, how can you do this? I don’t care about the not talking, but all this time being my friend, being…and the whole time Kalkig was right. You and your brothers, you’ve
done something to the Khua. Is it some kind of attack on us? Trying to destroy the Khua or use them because you don’t believe they’re alive? What is it?”

No, not us! He saw something different than I did, or he misinterpreted it. I grab his arm and force him around. He has to look at me, look in my eyes. I have to make him understand, because
what he’s thinking is much worse than Agnac ideas of defilement.

His eyes meet mine for half a breath. For that half-breath, I see the familiar spark. The spark that made me trust him, the spark that gives me hope. Then his eyes dart down several inches.

“How did you get that?”

I follow his gaze. The crystal disk hangs from my neck. I have no idea how it got there. A spark of light glows in the center—a familiar spark of light—and I instinctively turn
toward the crystal spires.

The Khua isn’t there. Tiav sees it at the same time I do. Fear and fury vie for domination, contorting his face.

“What have you done? Give that to me, now!”

His anger at Kalkig was nothing compared to this. It’s nothing I’ve seen in him yet, and it scares me. I reach for the cord—of course he can have it back, I didn’t take
it, I don’t know why I have it—but my hand freezes halfway.

It doesn’t come in words—it comes in feelings. But that’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t I? It’s not mine.

Even without words, I get the clear sense of a “me” in there. I feel it, a sense of self emanating from the disk, as strong as my own awareness and individuality. Any remaining
doubts that the Khua are alive are eradicated in that moment.

Instead of taking off the disk, I take two steps back from Tiav. He takes one step to close the distance again, grabbing my arm. No tenderness with a light touch, no answering tingle across my
skin. Just pressure clamping down.

I break his grip and knock his arm away. Between the media-grubs and guys like Reb Vester, my brothers made sure I wasn’t defenseless.

“It’s not a game, Liddi. Stop this.”

No, it’s not a game, but I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what’s happening; I only know my heart is pounding, throbbing through my head. And I know I hate how Tiav
is looking at me.

He takes out his com-tablet, taps something on it. “The keepers are coming. They’ll have to sort it out.”

More than the anger, the hurt in his eyes burns into me. “The Agnac may get what they wanted after all. And you’ll never tell me why, will you?”

Because this Khua might have answers…which means this might be the only way to save my brothers. That’s why.

I mouth the words, hoping he can read my lips.
I’m sorry.

Then I run.

“Liddi!”

I ignore him. I don’t know where I’m going—where I
can
go—but I run anyway. He’ll catch me. He has longer legs and knows the territory. My only advantage
is that I caught him by surprise. It gave me a head start, but it won’t last. My feet nearly fly out from under me as I run down the far side of the hill, but after that, there’s a long
flat stretch before the hills rise up again.

Tiav still calls after me, but there’s another sound, this one from my left. Heavy footsteps, too heavy for Tiav. I glance to the side and find a silhouette in the moonlight. A very large
silhouette. Haleian. He’s running a path that’ll converge with mine in moments. Maybe he’s a keeper who was already nearby when Tiav called. He’ll catch me with zero effort,
but I have to try. I’m about to adjust my course to move away from both him and Tiav, but my gut stops me.

Having a crystal disk talk to me without a voice is freaking me out, but the conviction of the impressions keeps me moving.

As expected, the Haleian quickly reaches me, and I brace myself for impact, but it doesn’t come. He doesn’t tackle me to the ground. Instead, he grabs me by the arm and waist, slings
me across his back, and continues without breaking stride. If anything, he goes faster.

I’m clinging to the back of a stranger who feels like he’s made of solid rock, except rock could never move so fluidly, with such speed. He climbs the next hill like it’s level
ground, and I know without looking that Tiav is falling behind.

“Don’t—Liddi, stop! You can’t—you can’t hide. We’ll find you!”

They probably will. Even if they can’t follow the broken heart I’m trailing, they can probably follow the Haleian’s huge footprints. As the alien cuts toward the low mountains
rising in the distance and Tiav’s voice fades, I wonder if I’ll ever hear it again. If I do, it will never sound the same, never have the same care and life in it. I stole that from him
when I stole the disk.

Not that I intended to steal it.

I have to think about something else. The Haleian helps on that front.

“If you’re wondering, my name is Yilt. Quain sends his regards.”

My first thought is that I didn’t know Quain was a him. My second thought is to wonder how Quain knew to send a Haleian to help me tonight, and why he did it. The Khua around my neck tells
me the answer by way of my gut…maybe…or it’s just my own best guess:

I’ll find out when we get to where we’re going.

Like every other day that week, Liddi’s friends decided to play skip rope during lunch. And as usual, the bossy ones declared Liddi would be last. She didn’t
mind. She was fine watching the others.

If you found a portal high, if you found a portal low,

Where in the Eight Points would you go?

Sampati was always a popular choice, even though no one was very good at jumping that fast. Some of the kids said picking Sampati showed you liked your home and had proper technologist
pride. Others chose Yishu because they could make everyone laugh with their silly dancing, and Pira always chose Erkir because it was easy.

Finally, Liddi’s turn came around. She ran in under the rope and started jumping.

“Ferri!”

The twirlers dropped the rope, but everyone was already running like they had a head start. Which they did.

Liddi
always
chose Ferri.

I RUN. WELL, YILT DOES, MOSTLY.
He put me down for a while in a small slot canyon where it was hard enough for him to fit through on his own. As
soon as we came out, he picked me up again.

I hide. Flyers have been passing overhead at least once an hour. Every time they do, Yilt hears them coming. He stops and covers me with a length of super-thin cloth from his enormous pocket.
Something to keep heat sensors from seeing me, I guess. While I peer from under the sheet, Yilt just stands close to the nearest tree, concentrating like he’s trying to name his ancestors
from shortest to tallest. He doesn’t say anything about it, but when the flyers clear and he picks me up again, I notice his body is cooler. It makes me wonder if he can consciously control
his own temperature.

I think about taking off the disk with the Khua hitching a ride. It would be just as safe in my pocket. But my hands are busy enough clinging to Yilt most of the time. When they’re not, it
just seems easier to leave the disk where it is. Silly as it feels, I try thinking questions at it.
Who are you? What’s going on? Why did you do this?
No response. Nothing to say now
that I’m running like it wanted.

And it definitely wanted. Energy doesn’t want, so I have to accept that Tiav and Shiin and Kalkig and everyone were right on at least one point. The Khua are alive. They’re aware and
they want and they communicate and they decide…they just don’t do it in anything resembling the way we do. I can’t wrap my head around it beyond accepting that it’s true. That
must be what the Aelo spend their whole lives doing, trying to make sense of it.

The knowledge both fills me up to bursting and leaves a gaping void of uncertainty. I don’t know what the Khua being alive is going to change, but I do know I don’t have a lifetime
to figure it out.

After uncounted hours, as the sun finally teases the horizon, we arrive at a road with a streamer waiting for us. Yilt and I both get in. He doesn’t know how much I hate the streamers;
I’m not sure he’d care if he did. He’s been careful enough about keeping me safe, but I can’t exactly say he seems concerned about my mental state. Or the fact that
I’m exhausted.

Just like every other time I’ve been in a streamer, I close my eyes. I can’t stomach the warped rushing of the world outside the windows. The upside is that the trips are so
brief.

Except not this time.

It keeps going. Maybe twenty minutes. Possibly longer, because there’s every reason to believe I doze off. I open my eyes with a start when the sudden sensation of non-motion returns.

Night’s approaching again, with the remnants of dusk holding on a little longer, highlighting that we’ve traveled a
long
way with the crazy speed of the streamer.
We’ve stopped on a street with nearly identical single-story buildings. I don’t see any larger buildings in the distance, so we’re probably not in a big city. There’s
something strange about these buildings, though. Their single story is a little too tall, and so are the doors, which are also a little too wide.

Yilt is about to get out of the streamer, but I tap his arm to stop him. A gesture at our surroundings with raised eyebrows is enough to communicate the question.

“This is Cim. A Haleian settlement for when we get tired of bumping into things in the cities.”