Between Worlds Page 4

  Chapter 3

  The next day, Miska followed the other Kankenni into the Deepest Cavern for Naneri's funeral. It was a large chamber, its farthest edges drowned in shadow. Rivulets of blue light streamed over the walls, down stalactites, flowing and twisting into strange hieroglyphs. Naneri's body, pillowed on gray moss that smelled like rosemary, lay before a glowing orange chasm in the front. Miska paused a moment. Warmth touched her face. Cool air swirled at her back. She looked down at Kimo's mother.

  Orange and blue light met and blended, casting twilight shadows over Naneri's still face. Her markings stood out like ink. Death hadn't smoothed the harsh lines from her expression, but now she seemed less angry, more worn. Avoca had dressed her in a soft crimson gown with hardly any patches. Her P'raptoi staff lay alongside her. Next to Naneri, the living Kankenni looked like ghosts. In respect, they'd all removed their outer clothing before entering this chamber, and stood barefoot in plain undertunics. Miska watched them enter; small children, a few lucky ones carrying smaller brothers and sisters, adults guiding the hesitant steps of venerable grandparents down the slick, sloping tunnels. Illyana was there, leaning on Tanrin's arm, with the baby cradled in a sling. She'd wound her white-blond hair into a twist and let the end flow loose over her shoulders, in the style of a new mother. She still looked tired, but her face shone with pride. Boyish Tanrin couldn't keep from smiling at his new daughter, despite the somber gathering. Miska went to her friends and helped Illyana lean back against a smooth outcropping.

  "You could have stayed in the Healing Cavern, Illyana,” she said.

  "So could you, Miska, from what I've heard.” Illyana shifted so the baby could nurse. “I'm surprised Midyora let you out."

  "That was very brave of you, Worldwalking so deeply,” Tanrin added. The look on his face bordered on awe.

  Miska didn't know what to say to that. After all, Naneri was still dead. Instead, she turned to the baby.

  "When is the naming?” She brushed a gentle finger across the baby's soft cheek, and the little face turned toward her. “Oh, that's very good, Little One!"

  "Three days, if she's still ... strong. We'd like you to be..."

  Just then, more friends crowded around to coo over the baby. Miska found a place for herself, nearer to where Abri would be once the P'raptoi entered, and off to the side, so she wouldn't block anyone's view. From here she could see Kimo, wrapped tight around himself, shrugging off anyone who came near. He looked younger, and lost, even in the crowd. The P'raptoi and Elders still waited outside. She considered going over to him, but just then he raised his head, caught her eye, and warned her off with a bitter glare.

  The cavern floor was damp. Several Kankenni had brought scraps of clothing, long past wearing, to sit on. Miska sat cross-legged on the bare stone. The cold felt good on her sore leg. She unrolled her cloak, draping its warmth across her lap, and stared.

  Her cloak now bore an indelible dark stain. Naneri's blood. And her portion of the Sharing—Avoca would have been scrupulously fair, so this meant no one had gotten much—a tiny paper sack of raisins, a pair of men's woolen socks, and a scrap of pale green cloth, glittering with Motes. A scrap she'd last seen on Illyana's baby's arm.

  How had it gotten here? Avoca, of course. Reminding her that the Elders knew what she'd done, and that they would know if she took the child outside again.

  Miska looked up. She hadn't even heard the P'raptoi and the Elders come in. The P'raptoi circled Naneri's body, holding their staves like a crimson-flagged protective fence. The Elders lined up on the outside. Today they all wore the pure white ribbons of ceremony. Such a short line—only five Elders out of a possible dozen. Behind them she could imagine the faces of the lost seven as they looked before their faces went bone-thin with hunger: Yeni the star-reader; dear, kind Savrona; Braddon the Master P'raptoi, who Worldwalked to the Human city and never returned ... Miska rubbed a hand over her stinging eyes. Abri was making subtle “Are you all right?” gestures in her direction. She nodded. Abri raised an eyebrow, questioning. Miska mustered a smile and turned away to watch the Elders. Even in undergarments they drew respect. Avoca might be unyielding, but she'd guided the Kankenni through a century and a half of living on gleanings in the darkness. Midyora, even with “Finest Flour” printed down the side of her skirt, was still their unshakable healer, and the woman who'd overseen nearly all their births. Balding, hawk-nosed Ilion, Master Worldwalker, Illyana's sternest and best teacher; Olean, who smoothed tempers and mediated with those who wanted to stay ruffled; Lorna, who made things grow where no one else could—the Elders had kept the Kankenni alive in exile.

  Only now, seven of them were gone.

  The remaining five didn't look very happy with each other, either. Avoca led the chant for Naneri, her voice perfectly steady, but without looking at her fellows. The others argued in gestures while the Kankenni came up, some singly, some in families or groups, to kneel by Naneri's still body. Kimo came first, and stayed. The others knelt quietly for a moment, and then stepped back into the cool of the cavern.

  Miska unfolded her cramped legs, stretched, and walked toward the front. The air grew warmer and warmer as she approached. It was a horribly familiar feeling, stepping into this unnatural hot air, to see those you knew, maybe loved, lying on the floor, with no Motes hovering about them. How many times had she watched someone vanish into the fiery gateway to the Last World? Mami, Dadi, Savrona. Everyone but Doddi Jakki. Elders and babies and so many friends ... Lost in thought, she almost bumped into Kimo.

  "Get away from my Mami, freak!” The orange light flared hot in his eyes, glittered on his damp cheeks.

  "I'm so sorry, Kimo."

  "Liar.” His whole body shook. “You're not sorry at all."

  "Kimo..."

  The wilder cats looked like this sometimes, crouched and tense, ready to scratch if she came a step closer. Miska knelt where she was, and let him cry.

  Safe journey, Naneri, she thought. We didn't like each other much, but you were always brave. Braver than I'd be. Wondermaker's blessings on you.

  All eyes followed her back to her place. Whispers rustled through the cavern. Rumor flew swifter than bats among the Kankenni. Miska wondered how the gossip ran. Did her friends think she'd take Naneri's place among the P'raptoi? Did others think she could have saved Naneri, but didn't ... or even that she'd done more harm?

  The P'raptoi were coming up now, some pale, some crying. Boyish Marki and his betrothed, Ama, sobbed openly and kissed Naneri's cold hand. Others dipped their staves in salute. Abri, grim-faced, bowed and came to Miska's side. Twenty four, minus one, they saluted their comrade.

  Lastly, each Elder came forth and laid a white ribbon across Naneri's chest, where they made a star-shaped web. Avoca stood at Naneri's head, Midyora and Ilion by her hands, Olean and Lorna at her feet.

  "Cousins,” Avoca's voice carried through the cavern, “before Naneri can cross to the Last World, we must guide her through the worlds we know. Help us now."

  It had never been so hard to cross. Miska felt her intangible self trip, and this time she didn't get up. Her mind-self sprawled just inside the Second World. From where she lay, the other Kankenni were flickering bubbles. Naneri was a stone statue, wrapped in silvery, starry webbing. The fiery chasm was a sea of golden light. Five large bubbles—the Elders—flowed beneath the statue, buoying it up from the ground. Smaller bubbles drifted forward to help.

  Miska didn't feel like a bubble. She felt more like a stone herself, pressed to the floor by her own heaviness. She felt Abri beside her, gently coaxing. Her leaden-colored bubble-self rolled forward with the others, pressing inward, raising Naneri's effigy over the chasm.

  Always before, she had been there until the last moment, helping to lower the traveler onto that golden surface, watching as they sank beneath the honeyed ripples, silver bonds dissolving, stone becoming, in that last instant, a new kind of living flesh. The second of touching, fleetingly, an existence beyond either body o
r mind, then flickering back to join the others in the Solid World. There was always comfort in that shared return, everyone drained from effort and grief, but reassured by the peace of the Second World, and the glimpse of the Last.

  This time the effort was too much. Miska fell back into the Solid World, aching and exhausted, just as Naneri's body dropped into the blazing chasm. A few tiny sparks flew up and winked out. The other Kankenni sat motionless as quartz formations. Abri's hand lay limp and cold in hers. Even the Motes drifted away, leaving the cavern ever dimmer, and so silent that dripping water struck a thousand echoes. For a few eternal seconds, Miska felt completely alone.

  Something whimpered. Miska raised her head. Kimo lay face down in the gray moss where his mother's body had been. Miska picked her way through the tangle of legs and arms to his side. She did not touch him.

  "Kimo?” Why aren't you with the others?"

  "They left me!” He didn't look up. Either he hadn't recognized her voice, or he was too heartbroken to care. “I don't know how to Worldwalk by myself yet. Ma ... Mami always went with me."

  "Didn't one of the Elders take your hand?"

  "They're mad at each other. Nobody looked to see if I came.” The whimpers became sobs. “They told me Mami was going to the Last World. They said it was beautiful, and that I'd know Mami would be all right. But they threw her in the fire, like garbage!"

  "Oh, Kimo.” Miska looked around for someone who could comfort him. There was no one. The Elders—how could they have forgotten him?—still looked like ice. “It really is warm and beautiful, and your Mami will be safe and happy. I would take you, but I couldn't even keep myself there."

  The boy hesitated, breathing in convulsive gulps. He opened his eyes and looked at her for a moment, questioning, hopeful. Miska held out her hand. He stared at it, and then clenched his fists in the empty moss.

  "You're lying!” Now he sat up and glared at her. “They all lied. I hate you. I hate everybody! Leave me alone!"

  Miska backed up a step, and looked again toward the Elders. This time, Midyora turned slowly in her direction. The Elder Healer was still in the Second World, but now she realized what had happened. Miska made her way back to Abri's side and took his hand again. She fancied she could hear the inaudible ‘pops’ as the Kankenni dropped back into their solid bodies, filling them with warmth, color, and life. Abri squeezed her hand.

  "I think I lost you back there, Love,” he murmured, his eyes still sleepy. “What happened to Kimo?"

  All the Elders, looking horrified, were clustered around the boy. Now it was Kimo, coldly unresponsive, who looked like a stone.

  "The Elders...” She stopped. “He's alone, Dearest."

  "Not for long.” Abri assured her. “The Elders will see to him. I'm sure they've found someone to foster him. Marki and Ama, probably. They're kind, young, energetic ... and they've been hoping to marry for almost as long as we have. With Kimo as their son, they can."

  Usually, after a Crossing, the Kankenni would linger, talking quietly, thinking. Today everyone donned their clothes and hurried out, holding their children just a little closer, casting worried looks at the knot of Elders around Naneri's son.

  "If the P'raptoi would stay, please.” Olean called. “And Miska."

  "Me?” Miska signed her surprise to Abri.

  "We need a new P'raptoi, remember?” he signaled back, flashing her a quick smile.

  Still thoughtful, Miska moved to stand before the Elders. They formed a half-circle around Kimo, who crouched staring fixedly at the cavern floor. Lorna, the youngest at barely a century, was trying to coax him out with a handful of sugar candy. It wasn't working. Midyora scowled. Avoca looked oddly satisfied, as though she'd solved a puzzle. Ilion watched the proceedings from two paces back, expressionless. Olean smiled at Miska—a smile that flickered in and out every time he glanced back at Kimo.

  "We have two important issues before us,” he said. Olean paced while he talked. Since the floor was knobbly with calcite, this meant weaving around stalagmites at the same time. Miska nearly made herself dizzy watching him. “In Naneri, we have lost a courageous trader. We must see that her son, Kimo, is well cared for."

  "Just throw me down the pit, too,” Kimo muttered. Lorna made soft hushing sounds, and he pushed her away.

  "We also have one less P'raptoi,” Olean continued. “However, considering ... what happened to Naneri, we have decided to leave her place empty for now."

  Surprised whispers rippled through the assembled P'raptoi.

  "But Miska...” Abri protested.

  "Of course—Miska.” Olean's gaze focused on a cluster of gypsum flowers just past Miska's left shoulder. “I think we can all agree that she's shown herself to be compassionate, determined..."

  "Goat-stubborn,” someone muttered.

  "...and suited for important responsibility. As is her betrothed, Abri."

  Midyora turned her back on them all. Avoca sat back in a curve of limestone, smiling benignly. The others ... Miska couldn't read their expressions, but her left foot began to twitch.

  "That's why we've decided to entrust this lad, Kimo, to their Guardianship."

  "What?” Abri gave voice to Miska's own disbelief. “You might have asked us..."

  "No!” Kimo bolted upright and shoved Lorna aside. Instinctively, the P'raptoi blocked his way, penning him in a ring of staves.

  "It solves all our problems,” Avoca said. “Kimo will have Abri, whom he respects, for a father. Miska will have children of her own ... perhaps several, eventually."

  "It's logical,” said Ilion.

  "It gives you all what you want.” Olean pleaded.

  "It's Miska's and Abri's decision!” Midyora snapped.

  "What about me?” Kimo glared at them all. “You don't care. You just don't want to be bothered with me any more. It's not fair!"

  Before anyone could move, Kimo stamped on the nearest guard's feet, ducked under her staff, and ran from the cavern.

  "Kimo, dear!” Lorna cried.

  "I'll go after him, Elder Teacher.” Miska ran back up through the winding tunnels, calling hasty apologies to everyone she tripped, jostled or shoved. Several P'raptoi followed.

  Farther up, the paths divided and twisted. Abri and a few others headed for Kimo's sleeping niche. Some ran to check the storerooms. Others searched the play areas.

  Miska hesitated. Kimo didn't want to be found, and he knew as well as she did that the Elders could find him anywhere inside the Caverns.

  That meant he'd run Aboveground, where the hunters lurked. Even Abri would hesitate to search there. And there was no time to get help.

  "Miska!” Illyana, with the baby in her arms, stepped out on front of her. “What's going on? Kimo just ran past. He was crying. What happened?"

  "I'll tell you when we get back. Tell the others I'm still looking for Kimo.” She paused a moment, and gently stroked the baby's downy hair. “You're very lucky, Cousin."

  "I know. Miska, what..."

  "Don't worry! Tell Abri where I've gone.” Miska hurried on, past the Healing Cavern, the Birthing Cavern, and into the outside air.

  The wind had stopped, but it was dark, and colder than before. Miska shook out her cloak and wrapped it around herself. Kimo, without cape or coat, would be colder still. She paused a moment and looked around.

  There was light over the river, very faint. False dawn. Just light enough to show that Kimo was not on this part of the hilltop. Not so much as a cat, goat, or bird to be seen.

  Miska stepped carefully over frosted twigs and pebbles, and looked down the hillside.

  There he was, on the side nearest the little village. The remains of a small campfire glowed in the valley, and Kimo, like a Mote-dazzled moth, was scrambling downhill, straight toward it. Even from here, Miska could hear his harsh breathing, every slip and muffled curse. Any Humans below, asleep or not, would have to notice him soon. Miska followed him. As soon as Kimo stopped for breath, she whistled, birdlike, and held a
finger to her lips.

  Kimo looked up and saw her, but only headed downhill faster.

  "Has he lost his wits?” Miska leapt over a rock, slipped, and skidded downhill to land in a clump of brush just below Kimo.

  "You really are clumsy, like Mami said,” he commented. “Are you stupid, too? I said to leave me alone."

  "Kimo, those are humans down there!” Miska whispered, as loudly as she dared.

  "I know."

  "What?"

  "Everybody talks about how your Doddi used to come on a wagon, and bring everyone new clothes, and candy, and presents. You're always talking about how wonderful Humans are, and nobody cares about me here. So I'm going to ask the Humans to Foster me.” He inched a few steps lower.

  "Kimo, don't!"

  "Why not?” Such a sly, bitter look he gave her! “You always say Humans are nice. Did you lie?"

  "No! But—Kimo, these humans aren't like Doddi Jakki. They ki ... They could hurt you."

  "Then I'll be with Mami.” The look on his face turned Miska cold.

  "Please, come home with me. Wouldn't you rather have Abri foster you?” She offered her sack of raisins. The boy snatched it, gobbling down handfuls, but he didn't back up.

  "I don't want you for a Mami!” Kimo protested, around a mouthful of raisins.

  There was no time to let that hurt. “There are others. Marki and Ama..."

  "I like Marki.” Kimo hesitated. “He taught me how to play Three-Hand-Stoneskip. He even let me win."

  "And it's very cold out here,” Miska prompted. “Even the wild goats are hiding."

  "Yes...” Kimo looked outward. “But the sun's coming up now. We'll make a lot of noise going back, and the humans will see us."

  "Well ... We'll have to go through the Second World."

  "Our bodies too, like the Elders do? Really?” Kimo's face brightened, then fell. “But you're not very good at Worldwalking. Ma ... Mami said so."

  That was true. Moving the physical body meant seeing the Solid World and the Second World at the same time—following paths that only existed in the Worldwalker's mind, not flinching if she walked through a tree that didn't exist in the Second World, but would give her bruises or worse if she came back to her body too soon. She'd have to cross the entire distance back to the Caverns without losing control of herself or Kimo, and summon their bodies back to them. There were no Elders to guide them, or to see that they each ended up in the right body, in the right place. Even Ilion would hesitate to try such a crossing, in sight of humans.