all with a faint look of Elaki. They had terrified Yskatarina, but she could not have said why.
“You would not understand. I need someone on whom I can rely.” The tight porcelain skin of Elaki’s face seemed to soften. “Someone whom I love, Yskatarina.”
And Yskatarina, flattered beyond words, asked no more questions.
But now, no more than a day later, those awkward issues were starting to chew once more at the edges of her psyche. Where had the Kami come from, for instance? And what was the nature of the transformation that she and the Animus had undergone? Yskatarina’s love for her aunt was as strong as ever, but she could feel cracks beginning to appear.
She made her way to the slits in the wall, painstakingly carved with a diamond knife over the course of a single night, years ago now. She had been ten. The Animus had kept watch. She had never regretted the risk she had run, though if her hands had been made of flesh, they would have bled. It had felt, however, as though her heart itself had begun to weep blood, her implanted conscience reminding her in an incessant internal whisper of how much she owed her aunt, how greatly Elaki was loved, almost to the point of worship.
Almost, but not quite.
She put an eye to a crack and peered through. There was Elaki, wrapped in a black shift with a tall medical cowl, moving slowly about the laboratory.
Beyond her aunt’s shoulder, Yskatarina caught a glimpse of moving starlight: a ship coming in over the wastes of Nightshade. Within the growing-tanks, things twitched long limbs. A black spine crept over the lip of a tank. Elaki batted it back. Yskatarina frowned; it looked too much like the Animus.
Isti was there, too, the ever-present shadow at her aunt’s heels. Yskatarina did not know what kind of thing Isti was, whether machine or bio-organism or hybrid. He was short and squat, with thick fingers and a squashed face. But his loyalty to Elaki was certain, greater even than Yskatarina’s own.
“He is bound to your aunt, as I am bound to you,” the Animus had said once, as it clumsily wielded the brush that tore at Yskatarina’s long black hair.
“As we are bound to each other,” Yskatarina had said, gently reproving. She stared into the dark wells of her own reflection, and would not look up at the Animus. The brush had tugged and pulled, but the Animus said nothing.
“What if Yskatarina fails?” Isti asked.
“To kill the girl? She will not fail. But I will give her an additional incentive. If she fails, I shall tell her I will have her Animus taken away and returned to the vat.”
Yskatarina felt her heart grow cold and still within her.
“Would you do such a thing? It is the only success of its kind.”
“I will sacrifice it if I have to. But I do not expect it to be necessary. The threat should be enough to secure Yskatarina’s complete cooperation.”
“Have you told her exactly why the girl must be killed?”
“Of course not. Yskatarina is loyal to me—I made quite sure of that—but there may still be cracks in the black light programming. I do not want her to start thinking, Isti. She shows enough signs of it already. I have told her enough of the truth, which appears to have contented her.”
Listening in the walls, Yskatarina thought of losing the Animus and had to clench her teeth against her tears. Yet her conscience chattered and whispered within: You know your aunt has only your best interests at heart, that she is all-wise; you know that you must love her—must love, must, must . . .
I have told her enough of the truth . . .
Conflict chattered and hammered inside her head, bringing lightnings of pain in its wake. The cracks were widening. With a great effort, Yskatarina shut off the inner voice and made her way unsteadily down through the walls. But as she went, she told herself that she would not let Elaki take the Animus from her, whatever she had to do to prevent it.
CHAPTER 3
EARTH
Upon their return to Cloud Terrace, Dreams-of-War had gone straight to the Grandmothers and informed them of what had taken place. It had not been an easy discussion.
“She stood there, in the street, while that creature held her hand?” the Grandmothers demanded, speaking as one. “Disgusting! Is she injured?”
“Her hand is hurt a little. That appears to be all.”
The Grandmothers’ eyes gleamed. They shifted on the bed: two women, joined to each other at one side, with only two arms between them. Left-Hand Grandmother was wizened, with black eyes in a mass of wrinkled skin, and the hand that rested on the counterpane was gnarled. Right-Hand Grandmother appeared no more than eighteen, hawk-faced, with a coil of white-streaked dark hair, though Dreams-of-War knew that the two were the same age. “Do you think it learned anything?” It was Right-Hand whose voice was clearest, but Left-Hand echoed all that she said.
“Who can say?” Dreams-of-War replied, endeavoring to keep the coldness from her voice.
Typical of the Grandmothers to exhibit outrage: They were the ones to enjoy control, to slink or barge into a person’s mind and body, commit all manner of violations before retreating, but woe betide anyone else who tried such a thing.
“If the Kami now know she is the hito-bashira,” the Grandmothers said, “they will not suffer her to live.”
Dreams-of-War frowned. “Why not?”
“You would not understand.”
“If you only told me what is meant by hito-bashira, perhaps I might,” Dreams-of-War said, exasperated. “Is it to do with this thing she does, this folding of time? Three times a week I watch as she flicks the minutes forward, turns seed into flower or fruit, then back to seed. I watch, and yet I have no idea what she’s really doing, because you won’t tell me. I assume that the term hito-bashira has something to do with her talents, but what? The girl asks and asks, and what can I tell her? She pesters both myself and the kappa for answers. We feel obliged to pretend, for otherwise we look like idiots. It is time all of us are told.”
“No! And you are nothing more than a hired hand. Do not presume.”
But Dreams-of-War was unwilling to be stopped. “And what is to be done now? Can she turn back time in order to change it?”
“Not yet. And so we must send Lunae away, now that the Kami know she is here. It is no longer safe. We can hide her no longer; we must find a safe place for her.”
“Then why raise her here, in the city of the Nightshade Mission, where the Kami are known to be present?”
“Because it is thereby easier for us to see what the Mission might be up to. And we have learned from them, too. Our enemy has been making swift progress, and this project, always important, has now become a matter of urgency.” Left-Hand nudged Right. “Do not tell her so much.”
Dreams-of-War stared at the Grandmothers, who stared unblinkingly back. She could feel depths and mysteries. She did not believe for a moment that they had told her the truth. Dreams-of-War
