“God’s own,” she gasped as her eyes focused on Elle. “Nan Elle.” She laughed once without real humor. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” Elle agreed, leaning toward Tam. “Thank you for bringing back my granddaughter, Tam.”
Tam cringed and shrank away, and Elle pulled back. Even allowing for the moonlight, Tam looked pale. She had seen him in darkness many times, and the planes of his face were too sharp, his eyes too dark.
“Elle,” he croaked. “Elle. Good. You can help.” He reached for her, but his hand fell away before he actually touched her. “I should turn to my family. I know that. I know. But Elle, you can help.”
Elle felt the blood drain from her face. “God’s garden. They finally caught him, didn’t they?”
Teal, aged to the point where she had become her mother’s twin, nodded. “And whatever they did… it was better for a minute there, but he went to sleep, and now… I don’t know, maybe that gave everything a chance to integrate better, ’cause I think it’s getting worse.”
Elle hobbled forward and laid her hand on Tam’s cheek. It was cold, but slick with sweat. His eyes widened until she could see the whites flash in the moonlight, but he submitted to her touch.
“Oh, Tam,” she breathed. “I am sorry.”
She lowered her hand to her stick. That would have to be enough for now. If Teal was right—and the girl had never been a fool—they had a limited time left for Tam to be of any use whatsoever.
“Bring him, Teal, and tell me what’s happened.”
“Thank you for attending us, Dionte,” said Father Mihran from the far end of the conference table. His was a familiar face—solid, lean, and well lined from years of serious thought. Dionte had seen him at least in passing every day of her life. He knew her. He knew her work. Despite that, he looked at her like a stranger today.
“What can I do for you, Father, my Aunts and Uncles?” She bowed to Father Mihran and the committee arrayed down the sides of the low table.
“I am sorry to have to say such a thing, especially under such conditions.” Father Mihran nodded to the committee. Strangers, all of them, with blank eyes. She looked at their faces and felt nothing. Nothing at all.
“What is it, Father?” Dionte folded her hands in front of her, not letting her fingertips touch. She had to concentrate on the room in front of her right now, but she felt as if she had been placed behind a thick glass wall and every impression from them came to her muted and distorted.
“Your birth brother, Tam, is missing.”
“What?” Dionte clamped her hands together. No, no. Aleph would have told her. Aleph stood with her. She and Hagin had almost eliminated the unexpected distractions the most recent events had caused. She and Aleph were bound together, and Aleph would not leave her ignorant. She had just checked on Tam yesterday. His expanded filaments were almost complete. Another night’s sleep to integrate the final adjustments, and…
But the reports had all frozen with yesterday’s time signature, and no new data poured into her.
“How…” The world spun around her, and she had to sit down hard on the stool behind her.
“That is the question,” said Father Mihran, and the words sounded too harsh. “It comes in conjunction with accusations that Aleph has made.”
Aleph… Tam gone, no report of him, no action, no meeting, no sighting. Where was Tam? Where had he gone without her? They were bound together now. They must see the same future, but where was he?
Dionte forced her hands apart. The committee watched her. She had to answer them. “Aleph is…” She stopped herself. She was not supposed to know too much about that. She was a Guardian, not a tender. They could not know of her connection with Hagin, not yet. “Aleph has said something about me?”
“Father Mihran, Seniors all, Dionte.” Aleph’s quiet voice cut through the assembly, and Dionte’s heart thudded in her chest. What had she missed? What would Aleph say? “I am sorry to intrude, but we are in receipt of a transmission from Director Shontio of Athena.”
Dionte’s spine stiffened instantly. From Athena? What was happening now?
Father Mihran frowned. “Tell him we are in a meeting. I will speak to him as soon as we are finished.”
“He says it is an emergency, Father,” said Aleph.
Senior Jahn stirred uneasily. “The situation there has not been stable.”
Dionte raised her hand and leaned forward to interject, but the father had already nodded. “Very well. Let him through.”