“Excuse me,” Yumi said. “I need to…um…go. For a little bit. For something.”
She dashed off toward the bar, where Painter was chatting with Design. When she arrived, she found Design stretching something glowing between her fingers. Like a cord made of light. Yumi momentarily forgot what she’d been about, instead staring at that strange sight. A glowing rope, whose ends vanished into nothing.
“Your spiritweb,” Design was saying, “knows what body is yours. It remains Connected to it, you see. You form Connections like that with everyone—and to a lesser extent everything—you’ve known. Nifty, eh!”
“And that cord,” Painter was saying, “is mine?”
“Yup!” Design said. “This won’t cut it. Don’t worry. I’m just lengthening it, and also checking it for problems. I couldn’t think of much else to help—sorry, I’m incorrigibly useless at times. It’s in my Pattern. But at least this will give you a longer leash, so to speak.”
“What is she doing?” Yumi whispered to Painter.
“She’s making it so that we don’t yank each other around,” he explained, “when we get too far apart.”
“Technically you will still do that,” Design said, “but the distance you can go before it happens will be much greater. I can probably get this to several blocks in length without risking any degradation to your Connection.”
That sounded like a good thing, although something about it felt…regretful to Yumi. All these years, she’d been alone. Selfishly, a part of her had liked that there was someone who couldn’t leave her by herself. She shoved aside such impious emotions.
“Painter,” she whispered. “Do you know about this launch the others are discussing? A ship? Sailing the sky?”
“Oh, right,” he said. “Yeah, it’s more like a bus that rides hion into the sky. They’ve been discussing it for years. Off to…” He sat upright, then smacked his hand into his face. “I’m an idiot. It’s going to your planet, Yumi.”
“So?” Design asked. “Nikaro. You’re not going to sneak on board, are you?”
“What? No!”
“Oh,” Design said, sounding disappointed.
“It seems like a strange coincidence, doesn’t it?” Yumi said. “That I should come here mere days before your people send explorers to my world. It could mean something.”
“Wait,” Design said. “Are you sure you’re from that other world, Yumi?”
“No,” she admitted. “It’s Painter’s theory.”
“I kept noticing the star,” he explained, “on the day when the swap happened. And, I mean, it makes sense. Her world, Design, has this enormous ball of fire in the sky!”
“Most do, Nikaro,” Design said. “Like, practically every world but this one.”
“They do?” he asked.
“Yup.”
“Do they all have heat?” he asked. “From the ground?”
“Heat from the ground?” Design said, looking to Yumi, who nodded eagerly. “No, that’s really strange.”
“Could I be from some other place on this world?” Yumi asked.
“We surveyed the planet before coming here,” Design said. “I didn’t pay enough attention, so it’s possible—but I think the entire thing is covered in the shroud.” Design shrugged. “The theory that you’re from that other world—the one that orbits with this one strangely nearby—is solid. You could be from somewhere farther out, I guess, but Connection on this level rarely spans that distance. It was, for example, super hard for me to leave my homeworld, given my Connection to it.”
“Did you…see anything about that world in the sky?” Painter asked. “Before coming here?”
“Afraid we didn’t stop there,” she replied. “Heat from the ground, you say?”
“Yes, and plants that fly!” Painter added.
“Neat!” Design said. “Well, I might be able to confirm it to be sure. Your spiritweb’s Connection to your world will be fainter than the one sticking you two together, so I can’t see it without help. Hoid had some device somewhere in our luggage though…” She shrugged. “Give me some time. I’ll try to dig it out.”
“Regardless,” Yumi said, “that group of people traveling from here to the other planet—probably my planet—might be involved in all of this. That might be why the spirits have done what they’ve done.”
“I thought you were sure our swap had to do with that machine,” Painter said.
“They could be related,” she said.
Painter, remarkably, nodded slowly.
“You agree?” she asked. “We agree on something?”
“Not the first thing,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
He smiled. “I’ll show you. Tomorrow.”
The next morning, Painter awoke eagerly and stretched. The floor was faintly warm from the wagon having been lowered to the ground for the night. He could imagine how comfortable it must be on a cold night to settle down into that heat: blanket on top, radiance beneath. Like an ember crumbling into the bed of a fire. Though he wasn’t ready to give up his soft futon yet, maybe there was something to Yumi’s way of doing things.
Well, some of the things she did.
As she was drowsily sitting up and arranging her sleeping gown, Painter strode over to the door. It opened on its own, Chaeyung standing outside with a table and Hwanji beside her with a small tray of food. They arrived early and waited there, listening for noise so they would know when to enter.
Painter took the tray of food. “Thanks!” he said. “I’ll eat alone today.” He winked at them, then shut the door.
Behind him, Yumi gasped.
He walked back to his blankets and sat. Then he dug in, using the maipon sticks for the rice, though the attendants always used a spoon. Which was odd, but perhaps it was a ritual thing.
He looked up at Yumi’s horrified stare.
“What?” he said, wiping his mouth. “Rice on my lips? Sorry. I was hungry.” He dug back in, picking at all the little bowls of savory delights they always brought to augment the rice. That was a nice touch—made him feel like he was eating a huge feast, even though each side dish contained only a bite or two. Enormous variety, but in microcosm.
“Painter!” she said. “I… What…” Evidently she was having trouble speaking. Almost hyperventilating.
He paused. He’d expected her to be upset. He hadn’t anticipated…well, this.
“Yumi,” he said. “Breathe. It’s all right. The world isn’t going to end because I decide to feed myself.”
She gasped more frantically. As if she thought, just maybe, the world would end.
He reached for her, but stopped shy of touching her. “Yumi,” he said. “Look at what you’ve been doing in my world. Feeding yourself, moving around freely. The spirits gave that to you. They aren’t going to care if I eat on my own.”
She settled down nearby and held her head, not looking at him. That…really was a stronger reaction than he’d anticipated. Maybe…maybe he should call the attendants back. He turned to do so, but at that very moment the door swung open.