Rift in the Sky

Benign, declared Council. Guardians of the M’hir. They never spoke, only watched. But this . . . she almost grasped identity.

Who are you? Aryl demanded.

And was answered by a mindvoice so different and distant, she wasn’t sure it was real. We are you.

Meaning what? What do you want?

What do you want?

Not an echo. Not her imagination. She held on as the M’hir crashed against her, held on and poured Power into her sending. I want the baby to live! Fill the vessel!

Where is it?

A question so ordinary and impossible to answer, it threw Aryl out of the M’hir.

She stared at the sac. “Make her move.”

“Aryl—it’s—”

“I’ll do it.” Naryn grabbed the sac in both hands.

Seru pulled it away from her and put it down again. “Naryn. Come to bed. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more we can do. Aryl. It’s time to remove the husk—”

“She still has a chance to live,” Aryl said bluntly. “The Watchers have to find her. She has to move.”

“What are you—” her cousin stopped, her hair lashing her shoulders. “Stop this, Aryl. You aren’t helping.”

Cousin, trust me, Aryl sent, encouragement and love beneath the words. We have to try.

For a heartbeat, Seru hesitated, then gave a tiny shrug. “Naryn in bed first,” she insisted.

“Aryl?”

“Listen to your Birth Watcher,” Aryl told Naryn and helped her lie down. The other was shivering and spent. Seru brought over a soft blanket and set it to warm.

“Stay there,” she ordered.

Naryn’s eyes filled with tears. “You’ll try, Seru? Promise me.”

“That’s all I can promise.”

“It’s enough.” Naryn closed her eyes.

The sac was hard, hard and cold. Aryl shuddered to imagine her own like this. “A force blade?”

Seru shook her head. “All the technology in the Trade Pact doesn’t change what we are. A birth sac opens from within. There’s only one choice.”

Aryl blinked at her. “What?”

“If the Watchers need to find her,” Seru said simply, “take her to them.”

Her hand found Aryl’s. If this doesn’t work, leave the husk in the M’hir.

The more Powerful called it suspension, to begin a ’port then linger in the M’hir. Those Adepts who studied that other space called it a valuable technique; those who wanted to arrive safely called it reckless. For the longer the mind stayed within the M’hir, the less likely that mind would remain whole.

The longer within, the more likely to encounter the unreal presence of a Watcher. Another reason normal M’hiray nipped in and out as quickly as possible.

I’ll be careful, Aryl promised her Chosen. But I have to try.

I know. A warmth, like his arms around her.

Aryl thought of her favorite place, and concentrated . . .

. . . then HELD . . .

. . . and HELD . . .

Power crackled around her, disturbing the M’hir. She was used to the effect and ignored it. Where are you?

Where are you?

. . . she HELD . . .

Power crackled and bled away, or was it self that diminished?

. . . she HELD . . . but for how long? Where are you?

Here. Here. Here. Here.

She was surrounded. Or was she alone? Aryl fought to keep her wits. Where are you?

A Presence. The vessel awaits.

The darkness boiled with movement. Something was coming.

Not coming. Being forced toward her. Chased. Pursued. Hemmed in despite frantic efforts to flee. Helpless and despairing, it lunged at her!

Aryl flung herself away and . . .

. . . found herself standing on the roof of the Tower, the sun warm on her face. She took a deep breath, savoring the smell of growing things. What had just happened?

Enris appeared beside her and threw his arm around her shoulders. “You did it!”

Aryl looked down at the sac in her hands. It squirmed and flexed, then split open down its middle.

A tiny fist pushed through, then a foot. HUNGER!!!

They both winced. “Back to your mother,” Aryl told the newest M’hiray.

Their first birth in their new home. Small wonder everyone wanted to celebrate. If there were questions, they’d wait. For now, Aryl thought peacefully, life was good.

“Knew I’d find you here.” Enris approached the roof edge cautiously, then sat beside her. “Though why you like doing this, I don’t know.”

Aryl snuggled against his shoulder. She didn’t know either. But it relaxed her to sit here, dangling her feet over nothing—though the Tower had its safeguards, among them automated netting to catch anything or anyone that dropped off its roof or balconies. The view perhaps. “It’s lovely up here.”