Raising Sleeping Stones

By P.H.T. Bennet

***Winner of a 2013 Newbury Comics Award!***

When sisters Kiva and DeeDee Stone discover a mysterious plot that threatens them and everything they care about, they have to take a crash course in the ancient art of DreamKeeping to survive. As two elder DreamKeepers lead them up the Varruvyen river to the Eyle of Return, they show the girls how to gain dream powers greater than anything they had ever imagined. But can they become strong enough to face the monsters that haunt their dreams at night, strong enough to fight the enemies that draw nearer each day? The answer lies somewhere in the broken history of Orora Crona, the Valley of Dreams lost centuries ago, and whoever can piece it together first will rule for centuries to come.

• Language: English
• Publisher: P.H.T. Bennet
• Release date: Nov 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310510304

P.H.T. Bennet

P.H.T. Bennet began exploring the world of the dreams when he was a child and never bothered to stop when he grew up. He had the good luck to have two daughters, Juliette and Paola, who not only served as the inspirations for DeeDee and Kiva, but also shared their dreams and helped him turn their family dreamwork sessions into this book. His lucky streak grew when he married his lovely wife, Mim, who tolerates his turning on a light in the middle of the night to write down ever-crazier dreams and talking about them in the morning as long as he lets her sleep in first. Though flying dreams are his favorite, he also loves the challenge of rewinding, replaying, and revising nightmares until they have much more interesting (and less brutal) endings, the thrill of breathing and swimming at high speeds underwater, the surprise of creating new works of art, the dangers in meeting, battling, and learning from his Shadow as it changes forms, the delight of returning to Paris, where he lived for 5 years, for delicious meals, and the peacefulness he gets from dream visits with his father, who passed away four years ago. He can’t wait to hear what your favorite dreams are and what dream skills you hope the book will develop. You can either share them with him at [e-mail] or with everybody reading the book at http://raisingsleepingstones.tumblr.com.

Book preview

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 by P.H.T. Bennet

All rights reserved.

Cover design and chapter illustrations by Veronica V. Jones

Editing by Thomas Griffin and Stephanie Reich

Additional chapter opening illustrations by Michael Packer

Story Crafting by Juliette A. Bennet

Story Crafting by Paola F. Bennet

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book or app may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

For information, contact the author c/o

DreamKeeper Publishing

66 Perthshire Road, #1

Brighton, MA 02134

DreamKeeper Publishing

a DBA of MTL Enterprises, LLC

Visit raisingstones.com

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Table of contents

Title

Chapter One - Living with a M.U.M., not a Mom

Chapter Two - Heyvon’s All-Guilds Corner Store

Chapter Three - Selection Day

Chapter Four - Before The Beginning

Chapter Five - Hildegarde von Ringen

Chapter Six - The Only Thing to Do

Chapter Seven - Not Such a Clean Break

Chapter Eight - The Door to Demetrius

Chapter Nine - Down Under

Chapter Ten - Into the Woods

Chapter Eleven - Moonglow in the Sunlight

Chapter Twelve - It Isn’t Natural

Chapter Thirteen - Your Third Eye

Chapter Fourteen - An Eyle for Dreamers

Chapter Fifteen - Unmasking the Monsters

Chapter Sixteen - Hard Swings, Soft Landings

Chapter Seventeen - Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Chapter Eighteen - Through a Tunnel, Darkly

Chapter Nineteen - A Glowing Reception

Chapter Twenty - A Wild Ride to the Other Side

Acknowledgements

CHAPTER ONE

Living with a M.U.M., not a Mom

Kiva was standing on the sloped roof of a tall tower, trying to keep her balance as the wind blew and Guilders piled materials and tools onto her outstretched arms. She was struggling to hold it all when a rumbling shook the roof and sent her sliding off, plummeting and screaming downward. Just before she hit the ground, she bolted upright in bed, bathed in cold sweat. Without even thinking, her legs flipped off the sheets, swung toward the ladder, one arm flicking the bedding back in place while the other grabbed the ladder to swing her down off the top bunk, then her feet dove into the work boots waiting on the floor. She had just pulled the straps of her rumpled traineralls over her shoulders when the final blasts of the Cultivator’s sunrise fanfare told anyone still sleeping that it was time to prepare for another day in Solasenda.

The satisfaction of having gotten a head start vanished when she spotted unexpected trouble at the same time she heard the menacing rumble of Aunt Agnes’s footsteps coming down the attic steps: DeeDee’s bed was a mess … again!

By the time Aunt Agnes thrust her beak into the girls’ room seconds later, eyes narrowed like a bird ready to spear any unwarned worm, everything was back in order and Kiva was calmly fastening her tool belt. She could hear Agnes’s lungs deflate with frustration as all the wind she had saved up for a full tongue wagging leaked out. Kiva looked over her shoulder with mock surprise.

Oh, good morning, Aunt Agnes. How are you?

Hmph! Agnes grunted unhappily. So you’re already up. Where’s your sister, then?

She must be downstairs getting breakfast, Kiva replied innocently, turning to show the just-straightened lower bunk. You can see she already …

Kiva didn’t need to finish the sentence because the sound of her aunt’s flattened slippers on the stairs meant her act had worked. She breathed a sigh of relief and tried to smooth out some of the wrinkles in her shirt. Going to bed fully dressed was sometimes hot and uncomfortable, but was well worth the shouting it spared her. While plugging a hole in her tool belt pocket with one of the many socks DeeDee left everywhere, she counted the seconds since her aunt’s departure.

... 25, 26, 27, 28, 29 ... Coming! she called down just as her aunt was yelling at her to hurry up, finish getting dressed, and not leave anything lying around. Hearing the familiar noise of rattling metal, Kiva allowed herself a deep breath, knowing she had at least a couple of minutes while her aunt was busy lighting the stove fire. Now fully awake and a little sweaty after her half-conscious flurry of activity, Kiva inspected the room for anything that might spark Aunt Agnes’s temper.

And she’d found out the hard way what would set her aunt off. These past few cycles, she’d learned that the fastest way to get pulled out of bed by her ear was to mumble, Just a few more minutes? She’d learned that the only way to survive living with Aunt Agnes as their Move Up Motivator, or M.U.M., was to think like Aunt Agnes. Knowing Agnes would see the dirty socks, the scattered Destinator cards, and the hairbrush she was now scooping up as reasons to assign extra Guild prep-work exercises when they got home, she stuffed them under the far side of her pillow, where they joined a growing pile of clothes stuffed there other mornings.

Satisfied that she had taken away a few reasons for her aunt to Motivate her, Kiva breathed a sigh of relief and headed to the bathroom to splash a little water on her face. She was swinging the old door-pump hard to get better water pressure when something on the floor turned her smile to a scowl. Squaggles!

Stifling the rage boiling up her throat, she hurriedly scooped up the tangle of fence vines her sister had used to create yet another version of Squaggles that she must have propped up on the sink before they had slid down the drain, clogging it. Only DeeDee could turn her perfectly normal bundle of training materials into an abnormal mess for her sister to clean up. Again.

Kiva was sick of all the Squaggleses, and even sicker of cleaning them up, but she didn’t really have a choice. No one besides the two sisters knew that the different shapes DeeDee put together every evening were all called Squaggles, and Kiva planned to keep it that way. Slacking on evening prep-work assigned to help her with Guild Training might earn her extra exercises but wasting perfectly good materials to make an imaginary friend would mark DeeDee as possible Facilitator material.

As good as DeeDee was at creating trouble, however, she was even better at getting out of it. Whenever Aunt Agnes asked what she was doing with that day’s materials, DeeDee would always say she was practicing the Cultivator Knot, or the Erector Barrier Bond, or whatever the Guild-Prep task of the day was. And when Aunt Agnes started locking the door to the basement so that DeeDee wouldn’t disturb their mom during the few hours of sleep their mom was able to get between shifts—DeeDee still managed to sneak down there, somehow, and even come up with a great excuse about where she’d been when asked. She said it so quickly and confidently that sometimes, even Kiva bought it.

As soon as they were alone, however, DeeDee would start whispering secrets to her latest Squaggles and promise that, one day, they’d all see what she could do. She always seemed to have some secret plan, a plan beyond getting into a Guild that she never told anyone but Squaggles about.

Kiva looked in the bathroom mirror and wondered what her plan would be if she weren’t always worried about Selection Day. She searched her face for some clue, some indication that she was more than just the girl too distracted by nonsense to be selected, that her aunt saw, more than the older daughter who was usually forgotten by her overworked mother, more than the trainee whose Eastern neighborhood address made others in her class chuckle and sneer. She looked in the mirror, but all she saw were the same dark tadpole eyes, nut-colored skin, and Agnes-cut, spiky black hair as always.

She sighed at her reflection, disappointed. What had she expected to see? The fact that other eleventh-cyclers had already been in Guilds for two cycles said it all: Kiva Stone was no one going nowhere with no idea of how to change that.

The sudden boom of the weather report made her jump. Kiva leaned out the window to hear better—even though the Destinators used enormous drums, the beats didn’t always carry clearly to Kiva’s neighborhood as it was one of the oldest and farthest to the East. She tilted her head up, hoping the forecast would give her hope that this might finally be the day when ... no, she sighed as she heard the same rhythmic report as yesterday. It would be another stifling hot, bone-dry day, the third ... no, the fourth week in a row without rain.

Coming! she replied to her aunt’s call as she chucked the last of DeeDee’s soggy vines out the window and flew down the stairs and into the kitchen. Her aunt’s barking was almost as painful as the checklist she had already made of all the prep-work tasks the girls would need to do that day before and after training.

She looked at the first unchecked item on the list:

Liquidators: unclog kitchen pipe. Water isn’t recycling to Central.

She turned and glared at her sister.

DeeDee ignored her, pretending to be focused on the pile of stacker sticks Agnes had her sorting for Erector prep since that was one of her weaker areas.

Kiva looked into the greasy, murky water in the sink, sighed, and stuck her hand down to the drain. Yech! To take her mind off the disgusting task, she looked out the window. The old willow behind the house looked even droopier and sadder than usual. Apparently, Kiva wasn’t the only one to feel the drought’s effects. Her fingers found the clog, and she lifted a dripping, gooey, tangle of roots and stems out of the drain that she waved angrily at DeeDee before throwing it out the window.

What? her sister asked innocently.

Did you stuff last night’s Cultivator prep-work down the kitchen sink, too? Kiva asked in a threatening voice she hoped was too low for her aunt to hear.

Quiet! Aunt Agnes barked from her perch at the window. "Forecast is over, so the Crier’s coming!

Now eat your porridge and do your prep quietly so we can all hear what’s on today’s schedule."

Kiva wanted to tell her she didn’t care, that the schedule never offered anything but work, but didn’t want to hear what she knew would follow: Aunt Agnes’s M.U.M. Lecture #42: Why the Key to Moving Up is to Keep Moving. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, Nothing.

That’s what you’ll have in your stomachs all morning if you don’t stop yapping and start eating, their aunt barked, waving a spoon at Kiva. Nothing! And what you’d all be eating if the Mayor himself hadn’t sent me to be your M.U.M. She turned to grab DeeDee just as she was reaching for the basement doorknob. Sit back down at the table, finish your work, and eat your breakfast!

But I wanted to say goodbye to Mommy …

She left at first light for work, their aunt interrupted, spinning a sulky DeeDee around, plopping her back in her chair, and putting her hands on the prep-work materials. I’m in charge here.

"Why can’t our mom be our mom anymore?" DeeDee grumbled to Squaggles as she pretended to work with the materials.

Kiva opened her mouth, then stopped. She was about to defend their mother and explain yet again that she had to work double shifts because their father wasn’t around anymore to help the family contribute and that they needed extra status points to qualify to Move Up, but the way DeeDee had asked the question caught her off guard.

She looked at her sister and saw all the sadness, resentment, and confusion on her little face that Kiva, herself, might feel if she allowed herself to, but she couldn’t. That would be yet another distraction, and distractions were what had been keeping Kiva from being Selected the past two cycles. She couldn’t afford to sit around and feel sorry for herself—she had to move on to help the family Move Up to a new dwelling.

Mom has to work, DeeDee. For all of us, she repeated for the hundredth time.

And for the hundredth time, Aunt Agnes responded with a snort.

"She’s not the only one! Now what I have to do every day to keep this family focused …"

Kiva knew her aunt was about to launch into #76— A M.U.M.’s Work is Never Done till their Family Meets the Sun—when the Crier’s voice coming through the window stopped her.

Saved by the Crier, Kiva told herself.

People of Solasenda! The Gold King has risen above us again! Praise be to our king and praise to all who work Westward to follow his golden way! the Crier continued, his voice cracking.

Nah nah nah, DeeDee mumbled grumpily to a dangling Erector stick she’d stuck in the mass of tangled honey-colored curls over her eyes. When you and me are free, Kiva heard her whisper to the stick, "we’re gonna follow our own way to a place where no one—"

Quit jabbering and listen to the schedule! Agnes barked. Do you want to stay here forever while the rest of the six-cyclers leave you behind?

Kiva looked around at the house and thought that, even though it was drab, dark, and full of the empty spaces her father used to fill, she wouldn’t mind being left behind if their aunt would leave, and leave them alone.

Here are the steps of the day along the Western way! the Crier continued, his voice breaking on the last word as he strained to sound important. Another young one, Kiva thought. The Cultivators always sent the newest and youngest criers out East to train in her neighborhood, where no one but a scattering of Facilitators and M.U.M.-badgered families still lived. Just another reminder of how far they had fallen behind.

Airators are completing the new switching and delivery towers, so cable needs to be brought to the corner of Fruitful and Faith. Liquidators are extending water service to the newer blocks, the Crier squeaked, so pipes need to be carried to Prospect Street this morning. Cultivators will be planting in the New Horizons development, so saplings need to be brought to Options Avenue. Erectors will be putting the final touches on the walls behind the new city hall as soon as the next load of bricks is delivered. Our mayor knows that everyone will do their part because it’s all preparation for Move-Up Day, which he says will be the greatest Move Up Day Ev ... he paused when his voice went high, then tried again, lower, Ever!

As DeeDee complained about the huge pile of seeds that Aunt Agnes dumped on the table to be planted in little pots for Cultivator prep, Agnes launched into Lecture #13: Why No Task Should Be Rejected If You Want to Be Selected. Kiva started sticking peas in the soil and making all the right facial expressions so as not give her aunt the chance for another Lecture #21: Listening to Your Guilders.

Even though she knew Aunt Agnes wasn’t even close to being a Guilder—a M.U.M. was only one step above Facilitator, after all—she also knew enough to keep that to herself. Seeing that DeeDee was not paying attention, Kiva gave her a swift warning kick under the table while dutifully nodding so that their aunt wouldn’t go into #44. Kiva did NOT want her to launch into #44 again.

She also did not really want to launch into breakfast #5044, or whatever it was since Aunt Agnes had moved in with them four—or was it five?—cycles ago. She looked out the window at the sun just waiting to fry her, then at the pile of seeds to plant, then at the bowl of cold, tasteless porridge before her, and was trying to remember what life at home had been like before the town had sent their aunt to live with them, before they’d missed the last Move Up day, before their father had left them to be a Futuneer.

A loud bang on the table brought her back to the present. She turned to see that Aunt Agnes had smacked down a glass of bad news: her Unsweetened Homemade Gooseberry Juice. She and DeeDee secretly called it UHG! because it was guaranteed to wipe the smile off your face, strip the enamel off your teeth, and erase every thought from your mind except how to swallow it as quickly as possible.

Though their aunt could not be relied upon to cook, clean, or do much of anything around the house except make long lists of things that supposedly would help them improve their chances of Moving Up this time, she could be depended on to pour a daily dose of the horrid, cheek-searing stuff down the girls’ tightening throats each morning.

Stop dawdling, girl, and drink up that juice! It’ll give you what you need to get through your training day! her aunt barked, wheeling around from the sink just as Kiva was about to pour the repellent fluid into the plant beside her, the one that had been killed off by many other glasses disposed of in the same manner.

Her heart sank—there was no way out of it now. Her aunt was shoving porridge into DeeDee’s mouth with one hand and gathering up the sticks with the other. Her time was up, Kiva knew. She held her breath as she quickly spread a spoonful of cold, leaden porridge over her taste buds to protect them from the worst, then raised the glass to her lips with a trembling hand.

As the first dribble slid through the tiny space between her tightened lips and hit the mush, her eyebrows raised in surprise. For once, the mush was working! She couldn’t taste a thing!

Good, isn’t it? her aunt asked, mistaking Kiva’s surprise for pleasure. Go on, now—that’ll give you all the pep you need to get through training!

Kiva managed to nod agreement. Then, as she was pouring more in under her aunt’s watchful eye, the cold, tart liquid melted through the mush and seared her tongue with its sourness, shriveling her mouth to the size of a pea. Kiva struggled in vain to control her muscles enough to spit it out, or even swallow it, anything to get out of drinking the horrid—

The pack is coming! Aunt Agnes yelled just as Kiva heard the distinct rhythm of hundreds of feet marching in synch to the pack drumbeats. Grab your tools and get out there before it passes you by! Kiva was still struggling with her juice when Agnes yanked her up by her straps with a jerk that sent the acidic juice burning down her throat.

Her eyes watering, Kiva struggled to adjust her tool belt on her way to the door. DeeDee bolted from the table, her raised tool belt spilling her untouched juice onto the table and task list in a remarkably lucky—or clever—move that Kiva decided to try the next day. In a flash, Aunt Agnes had shoved them out into the dusty street toward the passing pack.

DeeDee ran to join her level mates, who were carrying lengths of narrow pipe to the Liquidator worksite, while Kiva hung back, considering her options. The cable some were hauling for the Airators looked pretty heavy and pushing brick carts for the Erectors was sure to be even harder …

Kiva! Get a move on! her aunt yelled in a screech that made all the kids’ heads turn. You’ll never get into a Guild if you’re not part of the pack!

I didn’t get in the last two tries, Kiva thought to herself, but shuffled forward and joined the seventh-cyclers straining to pull the tree wagons forward. Why should this time be any different?

CHAPTER TWO

Heyvon’s All-Guilds Corner Store

The next ten hours of training did nothing to improve Kiva’s mood. Since it was the last day before Selection Day, all the Guilders and Guildresses were just as tense as their trainees, barking at them to move faster, react more impulsively, and get through the placement prep exercises in record time.

It wasn’t just because they wanted their group to do well, according to what Kiva had overheard one level mate tell another. She’d heard that how far West the trainers got to Move Up depended on how many of their trainees placed into one of the five trade Guilds. Since Move-Up Day only happened every five cycles, that would explain why Gr. Stax had urged Kiva to keep throwing her bricks on top of each other even though they weren’t properly lined up, and why Grs. Fairweather had yelled at her to stop thinking and just guess the name of the clouds on the picture board: the Guilders were afraid Kiva would put accuracy ahead of speed, reflection ahead of action, deliberation ahead of decisiveness, as she had the past two Selection Days. If she did that, she could keep them all from moving West for another five cycles.

That would also explain why her aunt had been pushing them even harder than usual at home, Kiva reflected. Maybe Aunt Agnes’s future depended on how well the girls did, too. In Solasenda, not Moving Up made you invisible in the eyes of everyone who moved past you.

Kiva knew what that felt like. For the past two cycles, she’d been the only trainee in her level to not make it into a Guild.

It isn’t fair, she thought.. All the others had bombed on three or even four tests and done really well on only one, but that had been enough to get them accepted. Kiva, on the other hand, had scored average or above average on most of the tests, but not high enough on any one to be invited to join a Guild.

She hadn’t always felt so isolated, she reminded herself. When she’d been younger, there had been others like her still around, ones who weren’t always thinking about keeping up with the town’s relentless westward march and obsession with moving up, up, up. There was Cynger, who’d always rolled her eyes at Kiva as soon as a scolding Guilder’s back was turned. And Amian, who’d clearly wanted to fit in, but couldn’t keep herself from watching the clouds pass overhead, or a colorful bird flash by, or any of a hundred things that took her mind off her training, things Kiva wanted to look at, too, but didn’t dare to.

And there were others, too, some of whom Kiva had called her friends, like Reckless Reggie. One by one, they’d all been kept back, then moved aside, then sent away. All those who couldn’t make the cut had simply ... disappeared, until Kiva was the only one left in her level who hadn’t Moved Up.

As a result, the other trainees in her level avoided her as if she had a contagious disease. So now, she had no friends left, at school or elsewhere. And outside of Guild-prep, a girl as tall as she was without a Guild uniform attracted many curious glances and a lot of whisperings. If Kiva weren’t Selected this time, she’d become a town joke or a Facilitator, which was pretty much the same thing.

There’s worse than that, a voice in her head reminded her. You could become a—

She shook her head violently, feeling suddenly clammy and cold. Why had she thought that? That would never happen to her! Her skills were getting better!

Better enough to be selected this time? To avoid becoming a Futuneer?

Kiva shook her head to get rid of that voice and the fear it brought to the surface. She would do anything to keep that from happening.

She’d heard townspeople strain to make their family members being sent West as Futuneers sound great:

They’re charting our journey Westward!

The Golden King will guide my daughter to the new source of water we need!

But Kiva knew the truth about them: they weren’t being sent toward a great future, but away from the town because the council felt they set a bad example, that their presence as repeat Facilitators would remind people of the past when they needed to be focused on the future.

But that wouldn’t happen to her! Being selected to join a Futuneer exploratory party only happened to total losers who stayed at the Facilitator level two cycles in a row without being reselected, or people who were too old to help the town keep moving West.

Or to people who volunteer, her inner voice added. People like Dad ...

No! Kiva shouted as a hot red flash blurred her vision.

Is there a problem, Stone? Grs. Cotterill asked, approaching cautiously.

No, Guildress, I just … Kiva stammered, searching for a Western way out of her outburst. I just reminded myself that I was using the Cultivator shovel the wrong way. ‘Firm up the wrist, legs dive, arms twist,’ she intoned as she thrust the shovel deep into the ground, then twisted it into a half circle as she lifted, depositing a neat mound of soil next to the hole.

Sunsational! Cotterill told her. "That’s exactly the sort of technique they’ll be looking for tomorrow! Is there any other technique you wish to review? the Guildress asked. I could stay longer and help you practice ..."

No, that’s okay, Kiva replied quickly. I’ve already reviewed trimming, pruning and selecting. I just want to drill myself a little longer on the digging, planting, and bedding sequence until I don’t have to think about it.

Excellent, Cotterill repeated, nodding. Remember, she added, lowering her voice as she leaned closer to Kiva’s ear, "when the judges review Cultivating, or any skill, for that matter, ‘Future potential always beats past performance.’ Just show the judges your potential and we will all be happier."

Thank you, Guildress, I will, Kiva replied with more confidence than she felt. Cotterill smiled, patted her arm, and moved on. Kiva looked down at her hands holding the shovel and saw they were shaking. She felt a wave of relief at having earned the Guildress’s approval, but felt another wave pushing that relief away, a wave of fear. She’s worried, too, she thought. Worried that I might think too much and act too slowly, like last year. And the year before.

Well, I won’t! she whispered fiercely as she turned the shovel expertly. She was determined to make this year different. That’s why she’d spent the past few weeks staying after training—sometimes until just before sundown—for extra practice. She knew she was getting better. And she knew she didn’t have to excel at every event—just one. She knew which one she had the best chance at, the one that would finally take her and her family West with the rest of the town.

Ba-Ta! Ba-Ta-Ta-Ta! Ba-Ta! went the horns announcing the end of the training day. While the other trainees cheered and turned to head home, Kiva waited until Guildress Cotterill had rounded the corner, then stored her shovel and headed over to the Airator field.

Flick, flip, fly. Flick, flip, fly, she repeated to herself as she climbed the stairway to the practice platform, shaking the tension out of her arms. She’d learned she needed to be loose and light to do the dance of the Airator tubes that carried messages across town. It took lightning-fast reflexes to spot the tag indicating which neighborhood they were headed to, hook their bar, flick them off the incoming cable before they hit the bumper, and flip them onto the right outgoing one before the next tube came in. And then you had to snap the tube forward expertly, giving it just the right amount of thrust.

If she gave too little, it would slow or stall before reaching the next platform, jamming up all the other ones behind it and earning her another lecture from her Guilder on how Airators used the air to get things to places faster than they could on the ground. If she gave it too much and it crashed into the destination pole, she risked damaging the tube—or worse, its contents—and earning herself extra runs up and down the tower stairs. If there were a trade Guild for doing stairs, Kiva would have been accepted cycles ago.

After an hour of practice, Kiva headed home. She felt better. Though she still sometimes lifted the tube too high, which made it bounce when she set it down on the next cable, she hadn’t had any jams, stalls, or, best of all, extra stairs. That was one of the benefits of practicing without a Guilder looking over her shoulder. She bet she’d do better in every event if she didn’t have one watching her, correcting her, judging her.

A familiar high-pitched whirring sound caught her attention as she was crossing the street. She looked up to watch an Airator tube whiz through the air from one tower to another, its polished blonde wood turned flame orange by the last rays of the setting sun. She didn’t turn to watch the other tubes buzzing farther down the street because she knew something much better was about to happen, something she’d been longing to do for cycles. She kept her eyes focused on the new delivery tower that loomed over the town as she heard six, seven, eight tubes zipping toward their destinations—the last deliveries of the day. There was a pause, then it began.

Five sunflower-yellow figures stepped to the edge of the platform at the top of the town’s central delivery tower, then jumped. Though they did it every evening at sunset, the sight of Airators flying home never ceased to amaze and delight her. One after the other, they sliced effortlessly through the air, the thin wires connecting their harnesses to the cables above the only signs that they weren’t giant yellow birds. Some leaned forward with arms outspread, while others leaned back, hands behind their heads as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a person to be zipping through the air. For them, it probably was, Kiva realized. And if tomorrow’s test went better, then maybe she, too, could …

MOVE! a woman bellowed, shoving Kiva out of the way of an oncoming Cultivator wagon whose driver was also too busy staring up at the Airators to notice her and reign in his horses. Kiva tumbled onto the street, badly scraping her hands and knees. The old lady, who had also fallen, looked at the retreating wagon that had almost hit them both, then looked down at Kiva, shaking her head.

"What were you thinking? the small, lean woman demanded to know. Her look changed when she noticed the pastel colors of Kiva’s traineralls. Ah, a trainee ...You weren’t trying to get out of tomorrow’s Selection Day placement test, were you? she asked slyly. There are much safer ways to do that. I should know." Her frown suggested the memory was not a happy one.

No, no! Kiva stammered. I was just … I mean … I wanted to watch the ... thanks for saving me, Kiva finally managed, embarrassment overpowering the pain from her cuts.

Don’t mention it, the old woman replied, "but what were you doing, then, standing in the middle of the road like that? For that matter, what were you doing standing still? You’re the first person in Solasenda I’ve seen in cycles who stopped moving long enough to get hit! the old woman told Kiva, cackling at her own joke. Why, I’ve been run down right on the sidewalk by people in such a hurry to take their Guild West they didn’t even see what was right in front of them. Always looking West, she complained, tugging at the rising sun insignia on her uniform with a frown, never within."

As Kiva searched for a response to this bizarre reflection, she noticed there were several things about the woman that seemed quite odd. First, there was her hair. Everyone in town kept theirs short enough to stay out of the way, but Kiva could see long braids peeking out of the old woman’s cap. It wasn’t against the rules or anything. It was just odd.

Much stranger, though, was the woman’s outfit. It wasn’t the uniform, which was the standard orange of the Destinator Guild, but the clothes underneath Kiva could see through the rips from the fall. All adults in Solasenda wore bright reds, golds, oranges, or yellows—each Guild trying to make its uniforms brighter and flashier than the others’—and trainees like Kiva wore traineralls made of paler versions of all the Guilds’ colors until they were selected by a Guild. But underneath this woman’s uniform was a light blue shirt covered with silver lines. Even Facilitators, whose beige uniforms meant they hadn’t made it into any Guild, wouldn’t wear a cool color like that. Cool colors were for dabblers. Warm colors were for doers.

Who … what Guild are those from? she asked, pointing at the unfamiliar colors.

What? Why, Destinator, of course! What do you … the old woman began until she spotted the blue and silver and hurriedly pinched the rips shut. Oh, these. Ran out of my usual undergarments and threw on some old castaways from the textilery. Nothing you should mention, the woman replied nervously.

They both looked up at the sound of blaring trumpets and rolling drums.

Come on, sun’s going down, the woman announced. You need to get back home before the sundown bell rings. Wouldn’t be a good idea to get caught out after curfew the day before Selection.

Kiva nodded and struggled to get up, but because of the scrapes on her knees, every way she tried hurt. The old woman offered her hand and, though Kiva’s hand was cut badly, she took it. She was getting to her feet when a soothing feeling rippled through her palm, as if cool water were flowing down the woman’s arm and up hers. It washed away her pain and made her feel calm, peaceful, and, in a strange way, connected. It was a sensation she couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

The old woman’s face showed the same wonder and delight for a moment, then her eyes rolled back into her head when her body stiffened as if hit by lightning. Her head rolled back and forth as if searching for something, then jerked upright.

Strange images flashed through Kiva’s mind so quickly that she was only able to catch glimpses of a few: a tunnel that looked like a spider web, a dark, smoke-filled cave, a woman swinging through trees, giant thorns lashing out at her, DeeDee sleeping on a grassy mound, a pair of giants riding down rapids, her mother looking gaunt and pale, and giant red tentacles snaking toward her.

Terrified by this last image, Kiva’s eyes popped open, and she saw the old woman, eyes closed, still gripping her tightly.

In a