Alysha's Fall Page 8

  He stared at her, convulsed with hate. The febrile light sparkling between the bruised folds of his brows and cheeks radiated the emotion so strongly her eyes felt warm when she met his gaze.

  But she didn’t miss the tic at the edge of his eye. His fear did not bring the intoxication she’d expected; it nauseated her. Alysha staggered out of the office, turning down the corridor. She found herself in the kitchen, unaware of how she’d arrived and why.

  Something about the kitchen . . .

  Go sit in the kitchen, please, arii.

  Alysha glanced across the counters, caught a spill of light on silken fabric. She carefully crouched next to one of the lowest cabinets and found its door ajar, frozen a few centimeters from the opposite track by a tassel’s splay. Pushing it open, she brought forth the golden pillow.

  Alysha did not see it: her eyes were full of stars. But her fingers traveled its edges several times before she pulled herself to her feet with the help of a hand on the counter. With the pillow tucked against her breast, she left.

  The walk to the clinic stretched an hour and a half; she stopped several times to empty her stomach, and other times simply to collapse against a fence or a post, breaking her lip open in her concentration as she stared at the sky and wondered if it was too late for her. Wondered which star should be white Rispa’s, innocent Rispa, so like snowy Angel. . . .

  A star, then, for Angel, for innocence. Had she ever been a star, she wondered? When had she turned cold, the warmth of her naïveté drained away? She’d told Laelkii she didn’t want this to affect her, but was it too late? Was her spirit twisted beyond the power of the stars to heal? Will it be for always? It will.

  She stumbled to a halt outside Nathan’s and Laelkii’s home, one bleeding hand spread across the sign of the healer’s staff as her forehead dipped to rest against it.

  The light leaking past her hair alerted her first. Slowly, achingly she turned her head in profile to the brilliance, the stars in her eyes. The stars were her future—what did it mean if she lost the ability to reach out to them?

  “Arii . . . ” Laelkii, the healer’s wife. White Laelkii. “Arii, you should come in. We’ll make an arch ready for you.”

  She could not find the energy to answer and let her head rest again against the cold wall.

  The hand on her shoulder fell so softly it reminded her of snow, of butterflies. “Arii?” Laelkii put the lantern aside. The hands lifted, their weight replaced by the Asanii’s robe. “Please . . . you’ve had enough of pain and cold. Come in with me.”

  Alysha’s eye slid over towards Laelkii’s face. “Why?” she asked, her voice almost too hoarse to be heard. “Why do you care? I’m a shell.”

  “No . . . no, never you,” Laelkii said, chocolate-brown eyes clear, her face lit from beneath by the lantern’s yellow light. “Please. I barely know you, Alysha, but you shouldn’t be out here—out there. In that place. You don’t belong there.”

  “Where do I belong then?” she asked. The long breath she sucked in burned, so cold was it, and she shuddered despite the robe.

  Gentle hands lit on her shoulder, on her wrist. Laelkii’s voice had softened, distraught, struggling for the words. “You belong wherever you want to be. Never where you don’t.”

  Alysha stared down at her abruptly. The pillow gave beneath her hidden hand as she pressed it to her midriff. In the strange lighting, Laelkii reminded her abruptly of Angel, so serenely vulnerable, so unaware of the fragility of her own armor, her voice so undefended. “Why do you trust me?” she asked.

  “Maybe because you do,” Laelkii said, ears beginning to flush. She glanced at the snow, her hand sliding down to cradle Alysha’s elbow. “Please, come in with me?”

  Alysha lifted her hand, ignoring the other’s touch at her elbow, and placed the backs of her fingers against the older woman’s cheek. Laelkii stiffened, meeting her eyes. In them she saw wounds.

  Is it dead yet? Almost.

  Alysha’s hand slid around to cup Laelkii’s skull, pulling her toward her gray breast, and then the pale, slender body bowed against her shoulder and began to shake in the throes of silent sobs. Alysha rested her head between the other’s ears and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of mint and clean, cold hair. She thought of the pillow, of Angel’s wings, Laelkii’s retiring eyes. She thought of falling stars rising backward against the sky, back into the bosom of darkness, of gentle night. If she had lost the ability to reach the sky, perhaps it could be regained by healing the stars that belonged in it.

  “Come,” she said softly, curling her arm around Laelkii’s shoulder and pressing her lips to the older female’s forehead. “Let’s get out of the cold.”

  Will the pain ever go away? It will.

  Inescapable Dawn

  Alysha rolled a small cool pebble beneath her bare foot, watching the horizon. Held taut against the danger of inattention, her slim, long body quivered in the early ivory sunlight, gray fur fringed with an eastern-facing gold halo. Her breath escaped in thin white clouds as she waited, nearly exposed on the slope beneath the brown, cold rocks her team had chosen for their flag. She was near guard this time, with two fellow class-mates. Most of her team had begun their cautious creep forward toward enemy territory.

  She hadn’t agreed with the strategy; it was about as subtle as a rock to the head. But they’d wanted to try the obvious and she was only one member. Their backs were just visible against the stretch of earth laid soft and dark in a hollow not yet touched by the sun. Occasionally a blue flag hanging from a belt would rise in the faint winter breeze.

  It would probably snow in a few days. Alysha had no desire to think of what the soft whiteness would do to mobility. They’d been playing games on the field for a week, and probably would do so for another hundred if their Applied Tactics teacher, a retired human commander, had any say. He shared her opinion of their inability to apply any tactical foresight to their game-play. She sighed and glanced again at the bulk of Blue Team.

  A chorus of throaty yells interrupted the silence of the morning. Gold Team poured from behind the rocks and into the shadowed fold, engulfing Blue Team entirely. Alysha froze, eyes widening, as none of her members emerged and the remainder of Gold Team surged up toward the flag. She exchanged fleeting looks with the two on the hill with her.

  The Harat-Shar stared, horrified. “ ’Jentarel! That has to be all the Golds and they’re coming after us!”

  Alysha did a quick count; her companion was right. And no Blues coming up to succor them. “Run!”

  “Run? Are you crazy? They’ll take the flag!”

  “They’ll take the flag anyway,” Alysha said. “If we can get over to their side first . . .”

  “There’s no way!”

  Alysha bared her teeth at him. “Watch me!” As she turned and sprinted down the valley, she called, “Try and keep the flag from them as long as possible!”

  Gold Team would easily capture the flag. But as long as there was one member of Blue Team missing, they would have to bear it to the Gold flag-site to win. Alysha darted behind a boulder as the tidal wave of enemies came over the hill. It wouldn’t be long before they discovered she was missing; they had only to take down the Harat-Shar and Seersa standing guard and they’d surmise it when touching Blue Flag didn’t finish the game. With her back to the cold stone, Alysha let them thunder past. If she left too quickly, they’d notice her. Too slowly and there wouldn’t be enough ground to save her. Gold had some fast runners, as badly utilized by Gold Team as Blue Team’s members were by Blue Team. Again, she thought of rock-simple tactics and slid around the edge of the boulder.

  Alysha surged into the dark of the valley between the two team territories, her belt of blue flags waving around her waist. She kept to the shadows, but only marginally; the others would be busy marauding. Now was the time for straight lines. She concentrated on breathing. Laelkii had been kind last night, but her husband Nathan, the healer, was at a conference off-world and his wife had
only been able to handle the most superficial bruises. She labored despite months of the Academe’s unforgiving physical education, breath snatched from the winter cold and pebbles flying from beneath her aching feet.

  An outraged roar from behind her alerted her to the pursuit of Gold Team. She blessed the extra minutes the remaining guards had bought her and streaked to the top of the dip. Rocks and scree sprayed from her toes as she made a hasty ascent, darting behind boulders. There weren’t that many places to hide a flag in the small field; she would have chosen someplace high. Spotting an outcropping behind a shelter of rocks much like the one on her side, she ran harder.

  The enemy was closing the gap, but her lead was better than theirs. Sprinting up the shoulder, Alysha leaped behind the boulders . . . and into the lone guard beside Gold Flag. He was as startled as she was, but made a reflexive snatch at her belt. She twisted under his arm and skidded into the flag, bowling it over. One of her gray hands grabbed the pole just before several hands jerked the blue flags off her waist.

  The whistle blew.

  Revived by the sound, the members of Blue Team poured back onto the meld, laughing and cheering. They pushed aside the stunned Gold Team members and tried to help Alysha up.

  “I’m fine,” she said, backing away from their hands and standing a little clear of them. Her obvious reluctance to draw near them confused a few of the cadets, but elation over their victory overcame their puzzlement and they quickly carried the party down from the shoulder. Alysha shivered at the proximity of them—she couldn’t quite bear being touched by so many this early in the morning, so soon after Phantasies.

  As she struggled for composure, Commander Mark West waded into the fray. “All right, all right, enough! You won today, but not because you worked as a team or were smart, but because you had one gutsy member. Blue Team, work off your ebullience in five laps around the track.” He waved off the groans. “Go! I know you won. You did it badly. Now get! And before you—” He looked at Gold Team. “—have any time to gloat, I want ten laps. For underestimating your opposition. Go!”

  Complaining, the cadet class jogged toward the track, leaving West to turn to Alysha.

  “Any reason you’re dragging your feet, Forrest?”

  She hesitated, still loath to follow that mass of people. Falling had reminded her too much of being pushed, and the memories were new and harsh on her mouth and her body. “No, sir. Just bruised a little, sir.”

  “Bleeding?” He gave her a cursory glance, reached for her arm. When she flinched, he tilted his head. Looking down, Alysha gave him her arm, displaying the shallow gouge where the skin and fur had ripped from her wrist. “Mmm. Ugly, but not serious. You know, they deserve better.”

  “What?” Alysha said, startled by the non sequitur. She added, “Sir.”

  “You know they’re using themselves as a bludgeon, but you won’t guide them. Are you afraid of people or do you just not care?” He dropped her arm.

  “I . . . neither, sir!”

  “Then get involved, Forrest. No one follows a loner.”

  She stared at him.

  “Well, get moving already!”

  Stunned, she jerked into motion.

  Alysha glanced up and down the corridor, then nodded. “It’s clear,” she said. She waved Angel to the door leading to the alley, then followed her into the darkness.

  “It’s so beautiful out,” Angel said, huddling close to her. The Malarai had wrapped a thick cloak around her body beneath her pale wings, but it was little protection against the moist cold.

  Alysha licked her lip and smiled. “Much more beautiful out than in,” she said.

  “Will he miss us, Steel?” Angel asked.

  Alysha shook her head. She did not fear the manager much after her confrontation with him, though she was aware of his petty schemes to give her the worst customers. “It won’t matter if he does. I’m not due again until much later, you’re not scheduled for the rest of tonight. Besides, she could use the company with her husband off-world.”

  Alysha led her companion out of the dark districts of Terracentrus into a modest, respectable part of town, well-lit with trimmed lawns. The two cast long shadows in the warm lamp-light as they walked toward the corner of a diagonal and straight street, to a house with a caduceus on its front wall, emblematic of clinics throughout the Alliance.

  The door chime brought a familiar figure to the window, and then the door slid open for Laelkii Takara Lifeweave. Gray hair bound in thick plaits twinned over her shoulders, the white Asanii laughed and turned twinkling brown eyes on them. “Oh, what have we here? Vagabonds?”

  “Seeking cookies and milk, no less,” Alysha said, smiling.

  “Come in, arii’sen! It’s cold out. I have a fire going.”

  They followed her in, and true to Alysha’s hunch the aroma of chocolate-chip cookies hung on the air. She had often brought some of the girls to see Laelkii’s husband after her first encounter with the healer at the beginning of the semester—usually to bandage the multiple hurts inflicted on them by their profession, for she’d come to trust their discretion. But occasionally she managed to get the girls out to visit just for the pleasure of seeing the irascible doctor and his wife, or came alone.

  The foyer had a door on the side leading to the oft-visited infirmary with its two beds, but Laelkii led them straight into the house, over carpet a deep warm green into a small den. A rocking chair and two sofas faced the fire burning in the brick fireplace. Multi-colored afghans draped on the cushions, and a wooden rocking horse and two brass bowls of nuts sat on the mantle. A small coffee table held a basket of yarn and a crochet hook.

  Alysha stopped at the counter separating kitchen from den. She leaned her elbows there, watching Laelkii don gloves to check the oven. “I’m so glad you all stopped by,” the older Asanii said. “I had no idea who I was going to share these with.”

  Alysha chuckled. “It would be a pity to waste them all,” she paused when Laelkii withdrew a pan of golden cookies, the wet chocolate chips glistening from the low overhead lights. Angel let out an “ooh” of appreciation.

  “Definitely,” Laelkii said with a laugh. “We can’t eat them yet. They need to cool.”

  “Are you sure?” Angel asked wistfully.

  Laelkii looked from one face to the next, then laughed. “Oh, fine. And I’m sure you want to eat dough from the bowl too.”

  Not long after, Angel sat on a stool, licking a wooden spoon clean of dough while Laelkii nibbled one of the still steaming cookies.

  “And you?” Laelkii asked Alysha, amused. “What sins do you want to partake in? It’s girls’ night at the Lifeweaves’.”

  Alysha chuckled. “Nothing, thank you.”

  “Oh, come on, Steel!” Angel said with a broad grin.

  “Are you sure?” Laelkii asked.

  Alysha opened her mouth to say she was certain when the words of the commander came back to her. One ear nicked sideways, then she said, “Well, maybe a cookie.”

  Beaming, Laelkii scraped one off the pan and handed it over.

  They spent several hours talking, playing games in front of the fire. Angel curled up with a borrowed afghan. As the night deepened, the Malarai drifted to sleep, leaving Alysha to stare into the fire and listen to Laelkii rock. The safety of the healer’s house invited a peace on her she rarely felt.

  “You’re good with them,” Laelkii said quietly.

  “Pardon?” Alysha said.

  Laelkii nodded to Angel. “The girls you bring in. You’re good with them.”

  Alysha’s ears flipped back. Their nakedness reminded her of Rispa, hopefully far away by now. “They need me,” she said. She struggled with the words, realizing her own freedom with her touch, her aid with them. “They’re not like other people. They don’t have someone to protect them.”

  “You’re a little young to be protecting other people, don’t you think?” Laelkii said after her chair had creaked four times.

  “I do it,”
Alysha said with a tiny shrug. “I must be able to.”

  “I’m not sure that’s what I meant,” Laelkii said. She sighed and stared into the fire. A few creaks later, she said, “I miss my husband.”

  “When is he coming back?”

  “Later this week . . . a couple of nights.”

  Alysha nodded. Then said, “You shelter us. That’s protection.”

  Laelkii shook her head. “It’s different. You don’t just shelter them . . . you hold them. Even save them, the way you did Rispa. Besides, I’m old enough to have children myself but you . . . you’ve made yourself old.” She smiled. “They’re still innocent, somehow.”

  “And I’m not?” Alysha glanced at the older feline. She said softly, “I like doing it.”

  “That’s good,” Laelkii said with a chuckle. “Everyone needs a guardian.”

  Alysha frowned, ears pricking toward her. “Not everyone is a Rispa, or an Angel.”

  Laelkii smiled. “No. But everyone has a little of a Rispa and an Angel in them. Even you.”

  “That was fun,” Angel said as they slipped back into the main room. The return trip had been without incident. “I like her.”

  “She’s a good person,” Alysha agreed before picking up the rack of beads and belts she had to wear. The clock was pushing mark three. Alysha had one more dance and then an hour with the customers before she could sneak back into the Academe barracks, but she held the warmth of the preceding hours against the coming cold.

  Angel settled on the couch, nodding to Honey before curling up with a sigh. “It would almost be nice to live that way.”

  “Almost?” Alysha asked, startled. “Anything’s better than working here, don’t you think?”

  Angel chuckled. “I guess.” She plucked at some of the fluff on the sofa’s arm. “But I’ve made friends. People I wouldn’t have met had I been the wife of some gentle man.”