She licked her nose again. “Yes,” she said.
Tom looked at her, and sighed. “I’ll talk to you at noontime,” he said. “Saash, the catenaries will go down in half an hour—that’ll give everyone worldwide who might be transiting plenty of time to finish their transits or change their plans.”
“Fine,” Saash said. “We’ll use the Thirty gate again for the access: having just worked on it, I’m happiest with its function. If you’ll see to it that power is running to that one gate for noon—”
“Consider it done.” Tom stood up again. “Listen, you three… I’m sorry this is going to be so rough on you. I appreciate what you’re doing.”
Do you, I wonder, Rhiow thought, but then she felt guilty, for the thought was unworthy. Of course he does. It’s his job. AH we can do is do ours.
“Let’s go, you two,” she said. “We’ve got a lot of preparation to do. T’hom—go well.”
“So may we all,” he said, and vanished.
The three of them repaired to Rhiow’s rooftop and spent the next few hours discussing what spells they might possibly bring with them that would do any good against a force much bigger and more dangerous than the saurians they had met the other day. It was certain that they would meet such force, since they had defeated the saurians so bloodily last time, and (worse) because Har’lh’s disappearance was almost certainly a provocation to draw them, or others like them, down again.
“My guess is that they’re going to try something more spectacular than the last time,” Urruah said. “If you’re right, and they managed to sabotage the catenary … then worse is coming. We’ve got to get down there and have enough power to stop whatever we find.”
“If T’hom gets us that override,” Saash said, looking out over the rooftops as the sun came up, “it’s going to make our jobs a lot easier.”
“Plan for it,” Rhiow said, “but also plan without it I for one am going to be prepared to survive this intervention: I’m not going to plan to get stuck in circle again, either. I know the Oath says we have to let these creatures survive if at all possible—but not at the cost of our own lives or our mission. I’m going to use that neural degenerator as liberally as I need.”
“So will I,” Urruah said, “but Rhi… even an override may not be enough to save us, if the kind of numbers turn up that you’re expecting.”
“What are you suggesting we do about it?”
“Conjunct coupling,” Urruah said, and licked his nose.
So did Rhiow. Saash just stared at him, round-eyed, then turned around and started to wash her back.
“I’ve been thinking about what Arhu was saying,” Urruah said. “ ‘He’s coming. The father … the son.’ Something bigger than the rest of the lizards. Something much more dangerous … that was the impression I got, anyway.”
Rhiow switched her tail in reluctant agreement. “You’re saying you think conjunct is the only way we’re going to be able to maintain power levels high enough to handle something like … that.” Whatever that was: she was becoming afraid to follow that line of reasoning to its rational conclusion, even here in the burgeoning light of day.
“It means,” Urruah said, “that no matter whether one or another of us has a lapse, the others’ combined power will be able to feed the wizardry they’re doing, and keep it going.”
Saash sat up and glared at him. “It also means that if we go down there hooked up in conjunct, we all have to come back that way … or none of us can come back up again at all! If any of us die down there, the others will be stranded—!”
There was a pause. “Yes,” Urruah said, “it would mean that. But think about the alternative, even with the override that T’hom may or may not be able to get us. You’re doing a wizardry. Your concentration, or your power flow, fails. You blow the wizardry … and you die … and then the others are put at risk trying to keep you from dying, and their wizardries fail.” He would not look away from Saash. She stared back at him; the tension stretched itself across the air between them. “Everyone dies. The whole job goes straight to sa’Rrahh. And not just our lives … whatever happens to them when you die down there. A whole lot of other lives. All those that depend on the gates working. Har’lh’s, too, for all we know. —At least this way we would have a better chance of supporting one another’s wizardries. I’m no hero … but it’s all about getting the job done, isn’t it? Rhi?” He turned to her.
Rhiow looked down at the gravel where she sat, her tail twitching. Finally she glanced up again. “If it were just me,” she said at last, “I would sanction it. But it’s not just me. There are two other team members who must agree to be bound in this manner… and this isn’t something I can decide for the others involved.”
Saash would not look at her. “I’m not going to ask for a decision now,” Rhiow said. “Noon will be soon enough. Between now and then I’m going to have to go explain it all to Arhu anyway, which should be interesting.” She looked east, at Rhoua’s Eye, rising nonchalantly in the sky as if this were just another day; and from the streets came the early hoots and tire-screeches of the beginning of rush-hour traffic, reinforcing the feeling of normalcy, spurious though it was.
“It’s all in the Queen’s womb anyway,” she said. “All we can do is wait and see how the litter comes out… and meantime, make sure our claws are sharp. Saash, wait awhile before you head back to the garage.”
She walked off to her usual stairway in the air, leaving Saash and Urruah pointedly not looking at each other. Please, Iau, let them sort it out, she thought.
But she couldn’t help but wonder how effective prayer was likely to be today, of all days…
The garage was deep in its morning business, cars going in and out at a great rate, and Rhiow questioned whether the ehhif working there would have seen her whether she had been sidled or not As it was, she was, and she walked up the air again to the high ledge in the back, where Arhu was sleeping.
She sat down on the concrete and simply looked at him for a moment. He was sleeping a little more easily, if nothing else: stretched out long and leggy, rather than hunched up in the little ball of previous days. He’s beginning to fill out a little, Rhiow thought, even after just a few days. A few months of this and he’s going to start looking like a proper young tom.
If we survive that long…
She was aware, suddenly, of eyes half-open and looking at her.
“I heard you,” Arhu said, not moving, just watching her with a sleepy look, but one that was nonetheless unusually knowing.
Rhiow stuck out a leg and began to wash it in a casual manner.
“Something bad’s happening, isn’t it?” Arhu said.
“Much worse than usual,” Rhiow said. “Har’lh is missing.”
“I know,” Arhu said, rolling over to lie upright. “I see that. Or, at least, I know it’s happened… but I don’t know how or why.”
He paused, as if looking at something else; then said, “You can’t go after him now. Something’s coming ,… trying to break through.”
“What?” Rhiow said.
“The one who chooses,” Arhu said, gazing out into the fumy air of the garage. “And the one who didn’t choose. There’s a darkness pushing against the gate; I see it bending outward, and there are eyes, they’re staring, they want—” Suddenly Arhu scrabbled to bis feet and pushed himself right back against the concrete wall, as if he had forgotten how to melt through it, and he started to pant as if he had been running. “It’s coming,” he gasped, “they’re coming, all the choices, all the eyes … coming upward…”