Rift in the Sky

Enris? A tinge of worry. She was picking up his doubt. What’s going on?

It’s complicated.

Say no. To whatever it is.

He couldn’t do that. Not if he grasped what Marcus offered. “Will I still understand real words—Om’ray words?”

“Yes yes yes. Sleepteach adds information to the memory, not take any away. You won’t notice any change. But if you hear Comspeak words,” Marcus nodded vigorously, “you will hear what they mean. You will be able to answer, using those words. With my innerworldaccent,” he added confusingly. “Sorry. Don’t know how to reprogram. You’ll sound like someone from Stonerim III. That’s not a bad thing. Proper vowels.”

Enris found he had taken the device. It was warm from Marcus’ hands. There were no controls or markings. He made to put it on his head.

“Not yet. Lie down, ready for sleep. Put over eyes, then say these words: activate . . . standard . . . teach . . . mode. You say them.”

“ ‘Activate standard teach mode.’ ” The little eggs went from pink to white.

“To stop, take it off, or say end . . . session.”

“ ‘End session.’ ” Pink again. Enris wanted to try the words again, to see the colors change, but didn’t. The Human was used to such effects. He didn’t want to seem like a child caught up by novelty.

He could do it later anyway.

“Thank you, Marcus.”

Enris? Calm, but this time with the faintest touch of confusion. So much for the water. If Aryl couldn’t convince the Oud, no one could. Shaking his head to himself, he headed for the door.

“Come again to visit.” The Human sounded almost wistful. “Before I go.”

Enris glanced over his shoulder. “We’ll try, Marcus. Hard to spare anyone right now, with water so . . .” he let his voice trail away, eyes searching the room, jammed with devices and technology and crates. And dirty clothes. “You know our problem. You watch us, don’t you? From above.”

The Human’s cheeks turned pink. “Surveillancemandatory. Not my choice.”

“We understand. But—” An idea took hold. An idea worthy of Aryl di Sarc, if it worked. “Can you see us outside in truenight?”

Marcus hesitated, then shrugged. “Yes.”

Enris smiled broadly. “I need a favor, my friend. A favor that could let us visit you as often as you want until you go.”

Marcus Bowman raised one eyebrow. “What?”

“Make sure no one watches Sona this truenight. Can you do it? No vids, no recordings. No eyes. Of any kind,” Enris added hastily, thinking of the Strangers who looked nothing like Human or Om’ray. “Just for this truenight. That’s all.”

“That’s all. Interrupt surveillance. Leave a hole in the record.” A corner of Marcus’ lips twitched upward. “You don’t ask what’s easy, do you?”

“We didn’t ask you to watch us,” Enris countered.

“Good point.” The Human nodded to himself. “All right. I can give you privacy for one night. But don’t wander through the site after dark. The security fields and autodefense will still be on. Those need a pair of idents to be deactivated and I don’t want to explain that to Vogt or Tsessas.”

“No need. Privacy for Sona, until dawn. Thank you.”

“Do I want to know why?”

“If it works, you’ll find out tomorrow.” Enris smiled warmly. “You’re a good friend, Marcus. A good friend.”

The Human’s fond yet skeptical expression at this reminded him of Jorg. His father had had the same look whenever Enris tried to blame Kiric for the latest abuse of the family kitchen. Their mother, Ridersel, would hide a smile. They’d known him so well.

They were dead now. Because of the Oud.

“Enris?”

“Nothing.” He restored his smile. “Time to see what’s happening outside. Good-bye and thank you, Marcus.”

First, Enris pushed his wonderful new idea as far down in his consciousness as he could. After all, if it worked, he wanted his Chosen surprised.

If it didn’t, the fewer who knew the better.

Chapter 3

TO SPEAK INTELLIGIBLE WORDS, an Oud had to rear and expose its limbs. There were many, most with hooks or claws, but a clustered few worked together—somehow—to produce sound.

Making sense of those words, Aryl thought impatiently, was the hard part. The Oud Speaker, it turned out, believed the Om’ray had received exactly what they’d been promised.

“No, we haven’t,” she told it again. “The Oud still get more. You haven’t sent enough to Sona. You promised we’d get most of the river!”

“Did! YESYESYESYES!” It reared higher, rocking back and forth to emphasize its point. Having descended from its vehicle—she assumed to knock on the Human’s door—the rocking made it sink slightly into the ground. Rather, mud. Wherever Oud treads hadn’t torn up the dirt, small plants sprouted, a single leaf curled just so. Nekis, most likely. The waterfall’s spray reached this far with the right breeze. Water was everything, Aryl thought with longing. She even missed the rains that drove Yena under roofs for days. “Sona enough.”