MORGAN AND I DODGED in opposite directions as the creature bolted dizzyingly from side to side in the small room, throwing itself against walls while KEENING so loudly I wanted to cover my ears.
The racket prevented any chance to reason with it. Aryl?
An unhelpful confusion along with intense disapproval.
My first Tikitik and I’d driven it mad. Huido abhorred traveling through the M’hir; it was entirely possible I’d done this alien harm in my desire not to have a conversation perched in a tree.
We were outside?
I shared my impression of shadows, wet wood, and that appalling too-near drop, feeling her disapproval change into amusement.
I refused to feel guilty for preferring solid ground. Bad enough watching the gangly being rebound from yet another wall. “I’d better put it back.”
Before I could, Morgan managed to intercept the Tikitik. He wrestled the larger being to the floor where it subsided in a curl of misery, hands pawing at its eyes.
He took off his coat, easing it over the creature.
The keening stopped.
“It’s this room.” Morgan looked at me. “We need somewhere with windows.”
Here, Aryl sent. It’s private.
Because bringing a not-Om’ray inside a Cloisters was forbidden. I’d received that message from her already.
And ignored it.
I would not be bound by Om’ray rules, especially those in the category of “not helping.”
I pushed . . .