The Gate to Futures Past by Julie E. Czerneda Read Free Book Online Page A

the living. Their resting minds showed as fragile, distant lights; I took great care not to draw them deeper.
    I felt—
Aryl’s mindvoice trailed away.
But where?
    Morgan’s, strong and familiar,
Here.
As if he’d taken my hand to guide me, I found myself near one light in particular as it
sputtered,
about to fail. Nyso? Luek?
    Heedless where I was, I cried out in furious protest,
NO!
    The M’hir reacted to my emotion, as of course it would, darkness whipping to maelstrom. Before it could get worse, I
yanked
the three of us to safety.
    Morgan rolled to his feet, snapping on the tiny handlight he’d packed in anticipation of an uncertain future. Practical, my Human. I freed myself from blankets to pad after him between the beds.
    The Core was more a village than dormitory. Yes, everyone slept together, finishing their day by changing into the sleeveless white shifts the ship provided, but where there’d been simple rows of beds, enough for twice our number, now stood organized clusters, with space between.
    To create that space, about a third of the beds had been removed and stored. Others, stripped of their padding, became low tables. The modest reorganization helped us deal with the reality of our forced confinement here. If there was a hint of getting back at
Sona,
I was the last to argue.
    Family groups took up the middle, male unChosen and the Choosers who might find them irresistible on opposite ends of the long chamber. Although there’d been no incidents, no one wanted a repeat of Ermu sud Friesnen’s blatant ambush of her Candidate in the shower; the success of their Joining had owed more to blissful ignorance on both sides than sense. Since, to thesimmering disgust of at least one M’hiray Chooser, I’d put Eand di Yode and her Chosen, Moyla—Om’ray Adepts and former Councilors of Sona—in charge of future matches. Tle could rail at them until exhausted, but she wouldn’t. The elderly pair were among the few she respected.
    Most importantly, Eand, however minimal her Talents as Sona Clan’s remaining Healer, had the strength to help Tle, should we ever have a Candidate who could survive her. Time was on Tle’s side, a Chooser’s physiological age unchanging until Choice, or not. It depended on how frustrated she became.
    I followed Morgan between the M’hiray families to the section housing the various Om’ray Clans. They kept themselves apart; I suspected they found us, though kin, at times as alien as Morgan.
    His dot of light came to rest on a lump of blankets, a lump shivering as if cold. I hesitated, filled with new dismay; this wasn’t where Ruis had left her patients.
    Morgan moved forward, passing me the light as he knelt by the bed. “Easy—”
    Blankets flew off. The figure beneath scrambled back, limbs flailing, to crouch against the wall at the head of the bed. Eloe di Serona, once of Tuana Clan. I lowered the beam to avoid the young Om’ray’s face. She lunged forward, snatching the light. Holding it close, she rocked back and forth.
    Her arms were striped in deep angry gashes; similar wounds marred the smooth skin of her cheeks and neck. Her hands were stained, nails dark with blood. Shields tight, sick to my stomach, I whispered. “I’ll get a Healer.”
    A second incident in mere hours couldn’t be coincidence. What was happening?
    â€œLeave me alone.” The Om’ray bent her head, hair sticking to the blood, and drew the blanket to her chin. The light bleached her skin, emphasized the damage. “Go ’way.”
    Instinct kept me from
reaching
for her mind. I bit back my protest when Morgan laid his open hand on the bed, inviting her to touch his. He knew what he was doing.
    Hopefully.
    A sullen shrug. “Wouldn’t if I were you. It’s dark. Always dark. That’s what they do. Drag you under. Bury you deep. Till there’s nothing but dark.”
    As the