Raindrop's Arc

Chapter 21 of 21

The ribbons held their curve between the tower and the spire. Raindrop stood with empty hands and watched the drops slide along the lines. Near the cloud stage, the pattern was perfect. Drops crossed, copied each other, and spun the arc he had seen. But when he lifted his eyes to the far sky, the drops there still drifted alone. The ribbons could not reach them. "It only works close," Raindrop said. His voice was flat. The stage below him danced, and the far sky sat empty. Thundar Stormstrider pushed himself up from the back edge. His arms were dim. "The pattern needs to jump the gap." "It can't. The drops near the ribbons copy them. The drops far out have nothing to copy." Raindrop pointed at the shimmering shapes turning near the stage. "Those ones are the only teachers. But they never leave the stage." He watched a while longer. The close drops made the curve, held it, then fell to the pond. New drops took their place. The shape stayed near the ribbons and went no farther. It was a loop that fed itself and shared nothing. Then one drop broke free. It caught the arc, spun outward past the stage edge, and kept its curve as it fell into open sky. A drift-drop nearby saw it. That drift-drop copied the shape. A third copied the second. Raindrop stopped breathing. "They're carrying it out." "The pattern's leaving the ribbons," Thundar said. Raindrop understood now. The ribbons were not the whole answer. The ribbons taught the near drops, and the near drops became teachers who fell outward. Each one carried the curve into the sky and taught a new one before it dropped. He did not need to reach the far drops. He only needed enough teachers to spill off the stage. "More," Raindrop said. "I need more drops learning it before they fall." He could not touch the ribbons without breaking the pattern. But he could still move his body. He climbed to the top step of the cloud stage, where the near drops massed thickest. He raised his empty arms and swept them in the arc, matching the ribbons, not leading them. The drops around him surged into the shape. More of them caught it. More spilled off the edge, curving, teaching, falling. The ripple crossed the gap. Raindrop felt it in his chest before he saw it. A far cluster that had drifted for hours snapped into the curve. Then another past it. The empty sky began to fill with the same sweeping line. Raindrop lowered his arms. The pattern ran on without him now, drop teaching drop across the whole sky. He had not conducted it. He had only fed it teachers until it spread on its own. But the drops kept coming, faster now, more than the stage had ever held. Raindrop looked down. The cloud steps were beginning to sag under the weight.