Mary Rosenblum: The Eye of God

She missed Etienne, hit the widest part of the narrow ledge. Etienne threw herself on top of her, knowing that it was a stupid thing to do, that they would both go over. Her toes dug into the slippery stone as Zynth’s momentum torqued them both toward the lip of darkness.

They stopped, poised on the brink, still alive. Etienne inched her way backward, arms around Zynth, pulling her away from that dark drop. “Zynth?” she breathed, her heart pounding in her chest. “Are you hurt?” Zynth sobbed once deep in her throat, burrowed her face against Etienne’s shoulder. “Yes,” the whisper was a breath of terror. “It hurts so bad. Inside.” Her body tensed convulsively within Etienne’s arms. “What if I’m damaged? Etienne? I… I can’t be damaged.”

She was so young—perhaps too young yet to have learned she was mortal. It could come as such a shock to you to realize that you could really die. “It’s all right. It’s going to be all right.” She stroked Zynth’s hair, holding her close, smothering her own fear. “I’m going to climb up,” she murmured. “I’ll get Grik. She’ll bring help.” Oh God. The Gateway. The Rethe could come and go, but not humans. Not without a Rethe.

“I’m afraid,” Zynth whispered. “Don’t leave me?”

Don’t leave me. The words echoed through the black tunnel of the past, and Etienne raised her face to the Eye, remembering the image of Vilya’s pale face on her e-mail screen. Don’t leave me, Etienne. I love you. Why can’t you understand? When Etienne hadn’t answered, she had sent no more mail. “I may not be able to leave you.” The words caught in her throat, choking her. “The Gate…”

“It’s all right.” Zynth drew back a little, her face clearing, pain lines smoothing into an expression of peace. “Etienne… I need to tell you…” She lifted her hand, fingers opening like the petals of a flower. Gently she touched Etienne’s face. “I wish… you could have been… other than what you are.” She closed her eyes, her fingers exploring the planes of Etienne’s face as if to commit it to memory. “You can go and I won’t be afraid.” She opened her eyes, her smile making her beautiful. “You will need to take the key. It’s just below my collarbone. On the left.”

“Key?”

“To the Gate. You will have to take it out.” She shuddered. “But it is just beneath the skin, so it should not hurt much.”

So, the Rethe’s ability to manipulate the Gateways was not an inborn psychic ability, as they had claimed! They used tech after all! Even as these thoughts were running through her head, Etienne had clicked on her flash and was opening the neck of Zynth’s suit, feeling beneath her shirt. Her skin was clammy and her skin had gone pale. Shock? Internal bleeding? Her pain was seeping shrilly into Etienne’s head, as she found a tiny subdermal lump just below the knob of Zynth’s left collarbone. She looked into Zynth’s wide eyes, brushed sweaty hair back from her forehead. “I’ll be quick,” she said softly.

“Thank you.” Zynth swallowed. Her eyes followed Etienne’s hand as it slid into the pocket of her suit to retrieve her laser blade. As Etienne thumbed it on, Zynth shuddered and closed her eyes.

Etienne placed a restraining hand on her shoulder, but Zynth lay utterly still as the tiny beam of energy sliced neatly through the skin just above the sphere. She caught her breath as Etienne pinched the embedded sphere free of the surrounding tissue, but made no other sound. “Press.” Etienne placed Zynth’s fingers over the gash. “It’s not bleeding much.” Fingers red with Zynth’s blood, she studied the sphere. It was made of a matte black material, was about the size of a garden pea. Carefully, Etienne slipped it into an inside pocket on her suit, sealed the pocket closed. “I’m going to climb up. It shouldn’t take me too long. We’ll be back soon.” She leaned down to kiss Zynth gently on the forehead. “I promise.”

Zynth’s eyes opened and she reached up to cup Etienne’s face between her palms. “I know you’ll come back.” She kissed Etienne slowly, sensuously, on the lips. “Be careful.”

“I will.” Etienne got stiffly to her feet. The damned wind had died, as if the Eye had accomplished what it had wanted to accomplish. Or maybe it thought that they were trapped. You’ve never watched me climb, Etienne told it silently. When I come back, I will come back for them both. She bowed slowly, formally to the Eye, then turned and searched for the first holds.

You never look down. You look up, to the sides, focus on that next crevice or ledge where you might jam fingers or toes. You don’t think about wind or the seconds ticking by as a girl dies.

And a man, too. She caught a whisper of Duran’s delirium, pressed her lips together, and eased her weight upward.

You don’t look at the top, either. Not after your muscles start to shake and your fingers are numb and you know that you can’t do this a whole lot longer. So when she reached up, groping blindly, and her hand slapped down on level ground, she almost lost her grip and fell. With a final spasm of exhausted muscles, she shoved herself upward, lunging over the edge to flop belly-down onto the blessed stone. For awhile she simply lay there, panting and shaking. Then she forced herself to her feet.

It was still dark—didn’t dawn ever come here?—and the habitat was gone, of course. Etienne staggered to her feet and stumbled away from the cliff edge. Clutching the tiny key, she headed for the place where the Gate had been. For a moment she thought that it wasn’t going to work—there was still nothing to see. Then, in an eyeblink of time, she stepped through into the dusty square near the squatter village. The shacks and pre-fab cottages drowsed in the hot afternoon sun, and Grik sat beneath a tower of branching turquoise silicate that housed a native hive creature.

Asleep, her head leaning back against the stem of the structure, Grik’s face was carved into gaunt lines of worry, or exhaustion. She jerked awake as Etienne approached.

“Where is… it.” She bolted to her feet.

“Hurt.” Etienne took a single step toward her, fists clenching. “Are you satisfied? Has she been punished enough, or does she have to die there?”

“You mean… injured?” Grik’s face had gone pinched and white. “She needed to risk herself, yes… but to be injured… ” Outrage filled her voice. “How could you let that happen? Impossible!”

“I was right,” Etienne said coldly. “About why you hired me.”

“Enough.” Grik was already striding toward the gate. “How badly is she injured?”

“I don’t know.” Etienne had to trot to keep pace with her. “She said it hurt inside.”

Grik made a short ugly chopping gesture with both hands. “Remain here.”

She took a single long stride into the air and vanished.

How the hell did they know where the damn Gates were? Etienne wondered. More buried hardware? She wasn’t buying the “higher evolution” explanation any more. She looked toward the cottages. A girl peeped at her from the sparse reed bed that grew along the south side of the square. She ducked out of sight when she saw Etienne looking. Her excited curiosity came to Etienne like the bright smell of rain on summer dust. Etienne smiled at her, closed her fist around the black sphere, and stepped through the Gateway.

A dozen Rethe clustered at the top of the cliff. Light globes mounted on long poles flooded the area with blue-white radiance and four of the Rethe lowered a stretcher. Another Rethe was just clipping herself to an anchor. Fast response time, Etienne thought cynically. They must have been waiting at another Gate for just such an emergency. This whole escapade felt more and more orchestrated. She didn’t see Grik, but another anchor and rope suggested that she might be below. Etienne walked over to the small red-haired Rethe who was about to climb over the edge and put a hand on her shoulder. The Rethe recoiled with a sharp clap of her cupped palms, but Etienne ignored her as she unclipped the rope from her harness.