Instead, she counted heartbeats. She counted distant screams. She imposed order on the world and insisted on being part of it.
When at last she unclenched her jaw, swallowing blood, and licked her swollen lips, she knew she’d won. She was terrified—but she had sane reason to be. All that remained was to stay calm until dawn, and hope the Tikitik were prompt in unsealing her.
Truenight had never seemed so long.
Chapter 18
“IS THIS YOU?”
Facing the light as if she were one of Costa’s plants, Aryl squinted at the silhouette of a second Tikitik. The first had removed more than half the door sealing her within the rastis—to her great relief—before standing to one side for this sudden question. “Is what me?” she asked, trying to see what her visitor held.
The creature moved to block the brightness. Now she could make out the strip of white cloth between its hands, inscribed in black with one of their symbols. No. Aryl’s eyes widened in surprise. It was the tiny curve and dot she’d put on her drawing, rendered larger. “Yes,” she said, wondering that the Tikitik had understood her intention. “That’s—it means something I did.”
“Good.” Tucking the cloth into a belt, it took a blade and approached. Aryl tensed, but all the creature did was cut her arms free from whatever had held them against her body. She hissed in pain as her arms flopped loose and useless; eight eyes riveted on her immediately.
“I’ll be okay,” Aryl told them, hoping it was true.
They had kept her safe, as promised. She’d listened to screams until falling asleep; was roused by the drumming of feet as the Lay’s hunters returned to the water with their mouthfuls of flesh.
It hadn’t been long after that—though time seemed to move oddly—before the first holes had appeared before her face, streaming with glorious light. She’d never imagined being glad to see something so ugly and strange as a Tikitik.
Now the new one took her right arm by the elbow, gently lifting it. Aryl watched in fascination as it neatly wrapped the ink-decorated cloth around her forearm and wrist so the symbol was displayed, slipping the loose ends under a fold to secure it. “What is this for?”
The Tikitik showed her the cloth around its wrist, the symbol much more ornate. “You are no animal, to go unnamed.” It backed a step back to allow its fellow to continue breaking open the chamber “door,” a process involving its fingers. The blue material crumbled away with deceptive ease. With that grip, she judged, they should be able to climb anything.
But there was a more pressing matter. “Go where?” Aryl asked anxiously. She was far enough from home now. “Are you taking me back to—oomphf!” this as a final restraint gave way and she fell forward, every muscle in her body locked in spasm.
The Tikitik were ready, catching her in their dry, cool arms. Aryl trembled helplessly, horrified at their touch, expecting at any moment to have one of the creatures force its flesh into her mouth and send her into unconsciousness again. They merely lifted her to her feet, her body and arms in a strong but gentle hold, and waited for her to be able to stand. “Th-thank you,” she managed, blinking away tears. She was free!
As Aryl began to regain control over her body, she felt the other suddenly close; Taisal, wanting contact. She risked a quick Later—afraid to be distracted.
“Do you need nourishment?” A third Tikitik approached, carrying a bowl of dresel large enough to feed three families. Behind it, Aryl could see the other chambers remained sealed. Or had been resealed. How long did the “Sacred Mothers” endure captivity?
And why?
She pulled at her arms, and the creatures released her. “Yes.” Gesturing gratitude before dipping her fingers in the bowl was likely pointless, but she felt better for the courtesy.
Two left as she licked her fingers. The one who’d given her the cloth band remained, all its eyes on her as she stretched with care. Aryl finished by bending forward to rest her palms on her feet, then rolled her back upright again. She wanted to groan with relief, but was acutely aware of her audience. “That’s better,” she said.
“You recover quickly,” it commented. “Good. We will go soon.” It hesitated, then bobbed its head twice. “The other cloth you wear. Is it something you need?”
Surprisingly tactful. “I need to be clean,” she said, making a face. Filthy as she was after a day trapped, she’d rather be naked in the rain; it wasn’t a choice, not with biters that liked Om’ray already making their presence known. “Is there water I can use? To wash my clothes and myself?”
A long, knobby arm reached past her to point. Aryl half-turned. Behind her rastis, the ground slipped into still black water. Water that wasn’t still for long, as something beneath its surface surged hopefully up and down again.
“Not that much water,” she clarified breathlessly.
The Tikitik gave its soft bark. “There will soon be much more than this, Om’ray. But I understand.” It beckoned to another of its kind. “This humble one will wash you.”
From the way its small front eyes rolled, the “humble one” wasn’t any happier about this than Aryl.
Are you sure you’re all right?
Aryl considered several possible replies; none suited the moment. Yes. They’re responsible hosts and respectful. I’ve no complaints.
None that she’d share. The Tikitik’s wash had produced admirable results. Her skin was so clean every bite and thorn hole showed in exquisite detail. Her hair, free of soil, was free in truth. The braided net hadn’t been returned and the result flew loose around her head and in her face. Her clothes? The undertunic was clean and intact, for what it was worth, since it went only to her knees. The wraps for her arms and legs had disappeared. Those, the Tikitik could replace and did. Their cloth was finer in weave, so those were an improvement.
Otherwise? She really and truly didn’t want to know any more about the cold, flat, and thoroughly slimy creatures the Humble One had slapped over every part of her naked body. They’d pulsed and scraped and giggled to themselves as if she’d been a feast. When Aryl had tried to pull them off, the Tikitik had quickly prevented her, saying only the “wash” wasn’t done.
When it was, the giggling stopped and the creatures dropped to the ground around her feet. The Tikitik had carefully collected them in a bag.
Where are they taking you?
Aryl collected her thoughts. I don’t think the Humble Ones know. The leader isn’t back yet.
Is it the Speaker? With a rush of anticipation.
I didn’t see the pendant. The others take its orders.
Those others sat to either side of her on the damp ground, large eyes closed as if they slept. Their small eyes, however, were wide open. These bent on their cones as often to gaze at her as their surroundings. Guards or protectors—the result was the same.
Send to me when you know more.
Aryl felt their link thin; Taisal was leaving her. Involuntarily, she reached. Don’t go, she pleaded. Not yet.
Taisal struggled, but Aryl’s hold was too strong. Release me! With the command came a distress close to fear.
She relaxed her grip at once, horrified at what she’d done. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—
I know. Her mother was still there, though her mindvoice was distant and cold. But have a care, Aryl. Do you think it’s easy for me in the Dark? Do you think it’s safe?