Free Reap the Wild Wind by Julie E Czerneda Page A

“Why keep me from your thoughts till now? Avoid me. Why? What have I done? Live?” Louder, almost petulant. “That’s not my fault, Aryl Sarc. It’s—”

“Hush!” this time backed by a flick of Power.

“Ow! Aryl—”

She touched his arm, apology and a final plea for quiet. “Bern, please. This isn’t the place or time. Trust me. The Adept said—”

“Your mother.” Harsh, but thankfully a matching whisper. “Did you know she’s letting them believe it’s something I did to myself? Did she tell you she threatened me with Council Sanction? It’s true. I’ll be exiled if I so much as lower my shields and think about what happened where someone else might ‘hear.’ ”

“No!” The drawing she carried— had Taisal ever meant to use it, Aryl wondered bitterly, or had this been her plan all along? “I won’t let her blame you for what I did. You know I won’t.”

“How did you do it?”

Did she even know? “It doesn’t matter,” she told him. “I’ll never do it again. Just forget it, Bern.”

His arm went around her shoulders, then; he rested his chin lightly on her head. She felt him sigh. “Heart-kin. I’m very glad I wasn’t dead, believe me, and will be very happy not to be exiled, but it’s not that simple. You can’t forget something like this.”

“Why not?”

“Because—”

A shriek pierced the night, drawn-out and moist as if something suffered and died. Another.

They startled apart, both looking out to the water. Murmurs from those on the platform mingled with the echoes of the shrieks.

The Tikitik.

“What matters now,” Aryl said quickly, staring into his shadowed face, “is keeping this from the Tikitik. That makes it simple. If you’re asked— say you struck your head when you fell, that you don’t remember anything more.” With all the urgency she felt, she sent, Words, heart-kin. Tikitik use words. They can’t sense the truth.

Adepts can. Council will.

“That’s my problem,” she countered aloud, trusting her voice to sound more confident than she felt. “Bern, trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You didn’t, did you? Sweet heart-kin.” He bent and kissed her, a brush of dry cool lips against hers. “Thank you.”

Aryl felt herself blush. It might not be the first kiss of her dreams, but it was, nonetheless, a kiss.

And truenight was young.

    Chapter 6

     
    O NLY THE SPEAKER COULD BE on the platform when the Tikitik arrived. Aryl and Bern weren’t the only ones hurrying to climb to seats as a final shriek reverberated over the water.

Like candles extinguished by a breath, the floating eyes disappeared. They reappeared at a greater distance. Curious, with caution.

The first thing Aryl did once seated was put her drawing on her lap, facedown. The pane was small enough she hoped no one would notice, though Bern gave it a questioning glance before doing what everyone else was doing— watching for those who approached.

Aryl’s attention was caught by her mother, standing alone where the central arm of the platform began. In profile, Taisal di Sarc looked calm and confident, the image of a Speaker. Everyone relied on her for their safety. Having seen her collapsed on the floor in those same robes, Aryl abruptly wondered where Taisal could turn for protection. Custom held the Speaker inviolate and blameless, but there had been Speakers who failed Tikitik expectations in the past. All Council had done was appoint another, quickly.

The Council: if she leaned recklessly forward, she would see that row of six seated above and behind Taisal, one from each Yena family: Sarc, Teerac, Parth, Kessa’at, Vendan, Uruus. Although all were in the robes of Adepts, white and stiff with thread, only two were of that order, Sian d’sud Vendan and Tikva di Uruus. Council seats went to those of greatest age and experience within a family, not Power.

Unlike the rest, their heads were bare to the night, but Aryl knew from her mother’s