Virginia Hamilton (6 page)

“How sad for Miacis,” Justice said to herself. She thought about answering the pleas, about becoming Star.

Miacis must be awfully alone to try to connect with something so far away. Something she can’t even …

A question jolted her.

How can Miacis know the sun is there, let alone that it’s a star? She can’t even see! If she weren’t blind, what about all the dust—to know the sun’s name and to call it exactly! But she does have telepathy, Justice thought. Maybe she’s not aware how she came to know the sun. But knowing, the way you do by the time you can understand things. Miacis. She’s so alone.

The one thing Justice had learned about Dustland was that all in it were parts of a unit or group for the sake of survival. Except for Miacis.

Justice was staring down at the dust. She had been thinking very deeply; and now scooped up handfuls of it, as a child will play with sand at the beach. Grainy and gritty, the dust slipped through her fingers. It appeared to flow.

Sure looks like dust. But it doesn’t
feel
like any dust I know of, she thought.

Smaller particles rose like steam around the flow through her fingers, cohering in a mass. She thought she felt a warmth when she held the handfuls absolutely still in her palms.

Dorian watched her, looking puzzled as she gathered armfuls to her, then let the dust go. It clung to the air before it poured slowly down to the ground. He didn’t take his eyes from her as she smoothed dust over her legs and feet until she was covered with it to the waist.

Steadying her will in a concentration of force. Stilled her thumping heart to a whirring. All of her senses listened and felt. Her mind penetrated.

Justice knew as much science as any bright eleven-year-old. Her second sight did not make her a scientific marvel. It acted as a truth-bearing light. But first she had to see.

I am the Watcher.
Her mind flared in a brilliance of observing.

Dust. Motion of pulsing. Dust. A rhythm unto itself. High above, where it curved on itself and on the earth, it was the same. Pulsing, as if about to do something. To change.

She kicked the dust away, thinking: All those pieces of worlmas!

The dust slid away from her. It rose slightly around her, momentarily choking her.

What if all the pieces were still alive!

Swiftly, Justice got up and brushed dust from her hands and clothing. But it was no use. Dust was everywhere. It swirled in dust-devils on mysterious currents of air, while she felt not a breath. She would have to sit down in the dust again. And she did, as lightly as she could so as not to disturb it.

Worrying about plain old dust. Shoot!

And felt more confident.

There could be forces in Dustland waiting to alter her power, forces she couldn’t yet fathom. But in the unit, hers was the balance of power.

I am the Watcher.

And steady inside her was that searching light of her knowing. It illuminated what she saw, always.

E
VERYTHING ABOUT THE FUTURE
had brought difficulty to Levi. The grimy air was bad for him. And he seemed not to respond well to the process of time in Dustland. Time took longer in the future. Waiting, sitting, seemed prolonged. The chase of Miacis to capture Thomas was taking so much more time than it should have. Justice sensed that time was stretched, extended and slowed.

Maybe Levi is bothered so much because all of himself that was needed didn’t make the Crossover to here, she thought.

She recalled Levi saying once, “I won’t live long. I’m glad.”

She would never forgive herself if something so unthinkable happened. But she knew it was Thomas who caused Levi the most suffering.

Giving Levi awful sights to see by magic and making him sick with it. For years!

But that was in the past. Now Thomas insisted he hadn’t bothered his brother with magic since they had become the unit and time-traveled to the future.

“I hate coming here,” Thomas had told her darkly. “But I wouldn’t hurt him over it.” And he had sworn he wouldn’t harm Levi ever again.

She had believed him.

He knows we have to get Levi home, she thought. And knows none of us can return unless we’re the unit. So it’s a battle of wits and nerves!

Justice moved around so that she could better watch Levi. His lips had turned a greenish color. Lack of oxygen might’ve affected Thomas’ mind as well, causing him to run out into the emptiness of Dustland.

Levi was lying on his back with his eyes closed. He seemed relaxed. But had his skin turned gray, or was the washed-out color caused by the dust covering everything?

“What skin?” Justice thought, and swiftly willed herself away from the question.

Suddenly a related one: When I’m back home, is Dustland here?

Justice, scratching at her arm, looked down, seeing her arm and hand. They were there. She saw them. And knew they couldn’t be there.

The unit can be injured. Can it? Can any of us be killed?

She recalled Miacis’ attack when they first encountered the animal.

I didn’t use anything on her, Justice thought, still she went right through me and the others. Had Thomas become strong enough to cause them to melt away when Miacis hit them?

I doubt that. What am I doing? We’re not even here! I mean, it just looks like we’re here. We’re here but not completely here. Oh, it’ll drive me crazy if I don’t stop thinking about it.

“Accept what you see, for now,” she told herself. “But keep a good watch and be on your guard.”

Her final pep-talk before finding something else to concentrate on.

Four ordinary worlma creatures were wriggling along in the dust together. They looked like human fingers stripped of the nails. From a distance, they had tiny faces that looked pleasant. Up close, the faces were small indentations. It was all true. Of the four, one was a dry husk. It moved and looked exactly the same as the others.

She shivered, keeping her eyes on them. She felt warm and cold at the same time. With no direct sunlight ever, what passed for Dustland day was bewilderingly hot. She and the others felt wringing wet most of the time, and bothered by thirst. Gritty dust seeped into their clothing and stuck to their skin.

What skin?

Levi had string-like lesions that spread over his neck and face. Justice had watched them form and disappear, then form again the whole time he’d been sleeping. There were worlmas near him, but Justice wouldn’t let them touch him.

Thomas is dead right about this place, she thought. It’s all wrong. Nothing makes any sense.

With a sharply focused flick of her thinking, she removed worlmas close to Levi. And floated them out over the dust, until the area around the cliff and pool was clear of them. In a quiver, like fingers a-tremble, they burrowed under the dust and disappeared.

Justice brushed Levi’s thoughts, very lightly, so as not to disturb him.

Try to get used to things,
gently she traced in his sleep.
Hold on. I’m sure nothing will harm you.
She felt a coolness from him, so empty.

I never meant to get you hurt, Levi. You know I’m sorry that Thomas ran off. How could you know, you’ve been out all this time! Oh, I’m to blame for everything. But we mustn’t stop coming here.

Levi was still within.

She was so grateful to have him and Dorian with her. Both had agreed to become part of the unit so that all of them might enter the future. Unlike Thomas, they never fought against her.

She stared at Levi, marveling at his clothing. The bright woven tunic he wore had dyes that changed color tones. Although muted in Dustland’s dull light, the colors wavered and changed hues.

When the unit entered the Crossover between times, it at some point encountered a severe turbulence. The unit hurtled through it and into the future without a stitch of clothing. Thomas saved them embarrassment by fabricating the clothes they wore. He invented wardrobes and modified them to fit the conditions of Dustland, and to suit his own whim. Yet in Dustland their made-up clothing took on real qualities. The hooded garments kept the dust off them and saved their skin from chafing with the grit.

Justice reached down, and touched her brown sandals. They didn’t feel exactly like the material of shoes at home in the past. But her hand didn’t go straight through them as they should have with an illusion.

The feel of them might be an illusion, too, she thought. But she wasn’t sure. Not yet.

When the four of them returned to the present, each had on his or her proper clothing. Thomas’ magic clothing would no longer be. They’d spent hours at their favorite spot along the Quinella River trying to understand it all. Thomas seemed as confused as the rest of them; yet he might have been keeping from them something he’d discovered.

Now in Dustland the ankle-length robe Justice wore was a woven beige material, very soft and comfortable. A hood fastened beneath the collar. But the robe didn’t sparkle and change colors as did the tunics the boys wore. However, their trousers were the same material as her robe.

Thomas had given himself thick-soled running shoes. Made of a stretch nylon, they would massage away soreness over a long run.

She had noticed his shoes were different from the sandals the rest of them wore, but had sensed nothing wrong. Thomas’ usual hostile swagger had fooled her into thinking everything was all right.

I never thought about the shoes being really real in the first place, she thought. But the shoes are as real as this robe I’m wearing, I guess.

Her mind commenced slipping from her again. She felt slightly sick to her stomach. Tried for something solid to hold on to.

Levi. He was slimmer in the tunic. Carefully, Justice entered his mind, touching lightly and not probing at all. She met the cool emptiness in which swirled senseless fragments. She summoned Dorian. And together, very lightly, they scanned the sense and substance of Levi’s inner space. Sounds of his mind were harsh.

Do you think Thomas tearing away out of the unit did this?
Justice traced to Dorian.

Maybe that, with the Crossover,
he traced back. They both sensed segments of more than one time.

Justice took hold.
Levi. Let yourself go. Don’t think about anything. Relax.

I. Where … who? Thomas. Get.

Levi, Thomas ran off,
she traced.
But don’t you worry about a thing. Miacis is after him and will bring him back. Then we can go home!

She and Dorian formed a wedge of energy and forced time segments back into their proper moments.

Don’t try to talk,
Justice traced.
Don’t move. Don’t look around. Keep your eyes closed. It’s Dustland.

The cool emptiness did not clear. It worried Justice.

“It’s the Crossover, more than anything else,” Dorian told her. They released their telepathy and combined sensory from Levi and from one another. Wearily, Justice dropped her head on her arms.

Thoughts closing in on her. Miacis saying, “Why, yes, Master, there are cities in Dustland.” Miacis too eager to please. Then she’d asked Justice the meaning of the word
city.
And later admitted there were no cities in Dustland. She’d become charmed by the sound of the word.

Will I know when Miacis is lying to me? Not when she doesn’t know.

Her mind retreated from her. I can’t fetch Thomas back, she thought. I’ve tried, but I can’t will him by blanketing him with my sensory. Now he’s too far away.

To keep following Thomas’ escape, she first had to contact Miacis. Miacis might let her tap in on the trace she had on Thomas. Or maybe she wouldn’t. There were times when Miacis pretended that the contact from Justice had never been made.

I don’t like having her out there chasing Thomas, she thought. But she won’t harm him. She’s a special kind of animal. Not really alien at all.

Concerned, Dorian kept his eye on Justice. He thought to send her sensory of peace and quiet repose suggested to him by his memories of home. He missed his mother, the seer, who had uncovered the power of Thomas and Levi, as well as that of Justice. He missed the Quinella lands they all loved so much. That ancient place, with its scents of life and decay; the insects and snakes and great shade trees. These he brought visions of now to calm Justice’s fears.

Justice brushed the sensory aside before it could take effect. With a blink of an eye, she denied any need of Dorian’s concern.

But home. Home, she thought. Some part of us is under the buckeye tree at home. Our hands still joined back there. They have to be joined, have to stay joined, for us to make the Crossover. What do we look like there, with part of us here? When Thomas ran away here, did he let go with his hands and break the joining under the tree?

Murmuring, “He never wanted to come here. And I made him. Did I do wrong?”

Suddenly, raising her voice, “But to run out there! Even if it is to get back at me! Knowing his own brother …”

Dorian touched her with his healer’s sympathy. And drew off some of her worry. Dorian, always unkempt at home, ragged and full of energy. Comical. Here he was calmer and appeared older. Ever alert to Justice’s slightest wish, he was also on guard to the outer world. His hands fidgeted at his collar, pulling the hood over his head.

Justice watched him and softly laughed. “You’re already hidden, Healer,” she told him. “Thomas saw to that with the cliff. Or do you want to have magic within magic?”

He shook his head at her, raising a thumb to his lips. He traced,
Best to keep thoughts quiet now. Some one of
them
is coming.

Justice sucked in her breath, holding herself tightly in. Someone nearly out of sight of her awareness. She had been so deep, traveling in her mind, she had missed the whole thing. Someone. Coming closer.

Human!
A vivid second sight:
On our trail?
she traced. Her tracing trembled at the thought that someone had been trailing the unit.

It’s the same one since yesterday,
Dorian traced back.
The Terrij of the Slakers.

Since when? The … what? Why wasn’t I made aware?