Requiem of Silence Page 16

  The racing in her chest must be a reaction to mildew or dust—though if she was honest, she’d admit she hadn’t smelled either in days. No, when she was there, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Varten, heads bent over the book or their notes, all she smelled was his unique scent. And if her blood felt thick in her veins the whole while, and she spent the other hours in her day watching the clock until their meeting time, there was a reasonable explanation; she just hadn’t figured it out yet.

  Zeli squared her shoulders and entered the Goddess’s office. At first she thought the room was empty, but a door in the corner she hadn’t ever noticed before was slightly ajar and two voices could be heard, one male and one female. The door was hidden in the paneling of the wall. She wasn’t certain where it led, perhaps to a closet or an adjoining chamber that the Goddess simply had never used before.

  Concern filled her, causing her to approach slowly. Once, she had been caught alone in a room by a young man. She’d been frightened, unable to call for help. Her thoughts went to the Elsiran acolyte normally at the desk at this time of day, but suddenly nowhere to be found. Fear for the other girl gripped Zeli as the terror she’d felt all those months ago washed over her. However, as she drew nearer to the doorway, the Goddess’s melodic voice flowed out, putting her mind at ease.

  Zeli turned to leave when the words she was hearing registered.

  “What is it, exactly, that you want?” the Goddess asked.

  “What I always wanted, dear sister. Equality.” The answering voice was like a snake slithering over gravel. Zeli froze, her blood turning to ice. Another flashback, this one from eleven years before slammed into her—she was immobilized on a stone table in the glass castle of Sayya, Lagrimar’s capital city. Fear took root in her chest like an evil rose. A robed figure swished away and as she stared at the ceiling, tears streaming down her cheeks, the masked face of the True Father hovered over her. She didn’t remember the words he spoke, but his grating voice was forever burned into her memory.

  During the king’s stay in the dungeon, he hadn’t uttered a single word. Zeli had been able to imagine the thin, russet-haired man lying on the cot safely behind bars as just another Elsiran. He’d worn no robe, no mask, no jewels. No bell ringer announced his every step and movement. No speech sullied the silence.

  But now the voice coming from this hidden room in the Goddess’s office was the same one that featured in her nightmares. For years after she returned from giving her Song in tribute to the king’s thirst for power, she would awake in the middle of the night, skin slicked with sweat, writhing on a pallet between two other servants, screaming silently. Grasping at her chest, willing her Song back into place.

  This rasping voice belonged to the one responsible for hundreds of years of her peoples’ terror. Her own dread and night frights. This was the Goddess’s brother, Lagrimar’s dictator, the True Father.

  Slowly, feeling came back into her limbs, though she didn’t move a single muscle. The two spoke casually. The Goddess’s tone was nonchalant. Like this was just some errant family member off on a vacation and not a fugitive wanted for countless unspeakable horrors to generations of her people. Zeli struggled to focus back in on the conversation.

  “… did you not say you wished to see me free?” the True Father was saying.

  “If you could manage it without harming anyone. If you could find the light of goodness within your nature. I believe it is still there. What would you do with your freedom, I wonder?”

  Zeli’s jaw dropped in horror. She backed away instinctively and ran into a chair. How could the Goddess speak so to him? Of … freedom?

  Zeli didn’t understand what magic this was. Certainly the True Father was not in the room with Her Excellency, though she didn’t dare move closer to check.

  “When will you return?” the Goddess asked.

  “When it is time. When I can reclaim what is mine.”

  Her breath caught; she had heard enough. She left the room on quiet feet though she no longer really cared if she was discovered. Once she’d prayed the political deadlock between the Council and the Keepers on how to proceed with the True Father’s punishment would continue so no one would discover the king’s disappearance before the Goddess located him. But she didn’t even know who she’d been praying to.

  Surely not this woman in there chuckling with Her beloved twin. Hoping for his freedom. That was not the Goddess the High Priestess had taught them was infallible. And if that wasn’t true, then what was the point of the Sisterhood that she’d planned to pledge her life to?

  If the True Father was returning, then there was little point to anything at all.

  * * *

  Zeli’s rushing feet slowed as soon as she was three corridors away from the Goddess’s office. Her run turned into a shuffle, and a gauzy film dropped over her eyes. She had no idea where she was going. She managed not to bump into anyone but couldn’t say if any of the people she passed greeted her or not. Her mind was still in that room, ruminating on what she’d overheard—she couldn’t tear it away. Her hopes and future disintegrated in front of her blinded eyes.

  Could she question Her Excellency? Reveal that she’d caught an earful of this traitorous conversation? And what then? To many, the Goddess was Elsira. The Elsirans worshipped Her. The Lagrimari were in awe of Her. Those who didn’t believe in Her were trying to eject the Lagrimari from the country.

  Her people had nothing now but the favor of the Goddess and the charity of others. They needed more. They needed their Songs back.

  She shook herself and turned, getting her bearings before slowly making her way to the old corridor near the vault entry. She had yet to see so much as a servant in this wing. Still, she used caution, peering at her surroundings carefully to ensure no one saw her sneak into the parlor they had claimed as their own.

  Varten had arrived early. He sat at the table they’d uncovered, his back to her, broad shoulders hunched taking notes on a pad as he studied the journal. He turned at her entry and then did a double take. What must she look like? Concern furrowed his brow as he began to rise, but she held up a hand and crossed the room to sit beside him.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, searching her face.

  Zeli took a deep breath. But nothing came out. Was it all really over? She closed her lips and pulled the wretched ribbon from her hair, letting it fall onto the ground.

  Varten watched her with wide eyes.

  “It’s all a lie.” She blinked but the tears fell anyway. Varten pulled her into his arms as she began to sob.

  She’d come to this land for a new life, a new start away from the corruption and misery of Lagrimar, but what did she find here? More deception. The hope of her people placed in someone who didn’t deserve it.

  Crying was a weakness that shouldn’t be tolerated, but she was empty, so empty and sad and tired of standing up alone. Of trying to be strong. Finally she pulled away, sniffing. She closed her eyes as Varten dabbed at her cheeks with a handkerchief, and then she sat back some more, out of his reach. Gathering the shreds of herself together as she’d always done.

  There was good, even in this. And she would find it.

  “You haven’t spoken to your sister yet, have you?” she asked, blinking. “About the Rumpus?”

  Varten cleared his throat. “No, she’s been so busy. I don’t think she’s slept since Jack left. I can let Usher know that it’s an emergency though. She’ll make time.”

  “No.” Zeli crossed her arms and took a long breath. “I don’t think we should tell her about the Gilmerian Archives. I don’t think we can trust anyone anymore.”

  He frowned.

  “Not that Queen Jasminda is untrustworthy,” she hurried to add, though at this point Zeli didn’t even trust herself. “It’s just that … the Goddess…”

  Varten leaned forward, looking like he might touch her, but she jerked back. She couldn’t focus on his hurt expression; she just held herself tighter, keeping all the pieces of h
erself together when they wanted to float away, like little kites tired of being trapped in the form of a girl.

  “I overheard the Goddess talking with someone. Someone who wasn’t there. Someone who hasn’t been here in a long time.”

  Varten shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  She twisted her hands; she was mucking this all up. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy, and I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  “I’m a prince, remember? What kind of trouble can I get into?” His lips curled.

  “Trouble with the Goddess.”

  The smirk dropped from his face. “You can tell me. If it’s a secret, I will keep it.”

  She swallowed, gripping her arms even tighter. “Not sure about this one. It’s a whopper.”

  “You don’t trust me?” His voice didn’t quite mask his hurt.

  “Right now, you’re the only one I do trust.” She discovered the words true as she spoke them. I trust him more than myself. “It’s just that keeping this particular secret might not be the best thing to do. It might be wrong.”

  The slight wavering of the lamplight made his eyes seem to glow. She stared just over his shoulder so as not to be distracted. “What if we can’t trust the Goddess? What if She has Her own agenda that isn’t in our best interest? What would we do then?” Her voice was a whisper.

  “What did She do this time?”

  “Telling you might put you in danger.”

  “I don’t care. Tell me. I’ll accept whatever comes. You shouldn’t bear it alone.”

  New tears burned behind her eyes at his fierceness. She shouldn’t tell him, but this secret had bored a hole inside her. She could hold it in no longer. “Six weeks ago … the True Father escaped the dungeon.”

  The words settled in the air, and she felt immediately lighter. But she’d burdened Varten. His brow creased, but he stayed silent.

  “It looked like he had help, magical help of some kind. Since then, She’s claimed to be looking for him, but said he was far away. Too far to hurt anyone here. And She won’t let me tell anyone, not the queen or the Guard or anyone.”

  Her throat threatened to close up, but Zeli continued. “I don’t know if keeping Her secret was the right thing to do. I feel like I’ve been doing something wrong, and the guilt…” Her voice hitched and she struggled to breathe.

  Varten looked like he wanted to leap from his chair, but stayed across the invisible barrier she’d created.

  “Just now, when I went to Her office, I overheard the two of them speaking. They were using some kind of magic so he wasn’t actually in the room, but Varten, She was laughing with him. Joking. They sounded like any other brother and sister, not like … what they are.” She blinked away the moisture in her eyes and struggled to steel her spine.

  “And because of that you don’t think we can trust Jasminda?” Varten asked quietly.

  “Can she stand against the Goddess? The most powerful Earthsinger ever known?” Zeli shook her head. “What if the Goddess doesn’t want us to get our Songs back? What if Queen Jasminda does something and the Goddess stops her, or hurts her?”

  Varten startled. “Do you think She would do that?”

  “Didn’t She already let Jasminda die? She’s capable of anything.” Zeli had worked with Her for months and knew for a fact the Goddess wasn’t the same as a normal woman. The power, the long life, they had made Her distant, strange, and cold, not like someone with a conscience, or at least one Zeli recognized.

  “So what should we do now?” Varten asked.

  What she was about to say might be a mistake, but she kept going. “I think we should go to Gilmeria.”

  He stared back, urging her silently to continue.

  “The journal’s author implied that Gilmer helped him figure out how to restore lost Songs. And everything we’ve learned about the Gilmerian Archives indicates that it contains a full record of Saint Gilmer’s travels around the world. What he did in Elsira must be there. The exact way to restore Songs could be in the Archives.”

  “So you want to go to the Rumpus? And try to get into the Archives?” he asked. “Ani made it sound like there was a contest of some kind—only certain people can gain access.”

  “It might be the only hope for the Lagrimari. The True Father is coming back; those wraiths were the first wave and he gloated about returning to his sister. There are still some Lagrimari here with their Songs. He wants them, will always want the power. Our only hope is for all of us to regain our Songs and fight back. We can’t trust the Elsirans or anyone else.”

  Varten’s eyes shined even brighter than usual. She hoped he hadn’t taken offense at her comment about Elsirans. But then she realized, his expression was one of pride.

  “You really want to do this, Zeli? Seems a little out of character.”

  She almost smiled, he’d teased her endlessly about being so cautious, especially in the face of his bravery, but everything she’d hoped for—a future in the Sisterhood, having a place and a home and family—it was all gone now, as sharply as the laugh of the siblings she’d overheard. Like dust through her fingers.

  With her Song, she could make her own future. She wouldn’t be at the whims of fate or the powerful. She would be powerful. Her Song hadn’t been noteworthy, but it was strong enough to help her rule her own destiny. Strong enough to fight back.

  She pursed her lips and nodded grimly. “It is the last thing I want to do. I don’t even know if we can do it. But we have to try, because staying here and waiting for the True Father to attack us again and drag us back into slavery isn’t an option.”

  Fear threatened to overwhelm her. “If we do this, we can’t tell anyone. I don’t want to risk the Goddess’s retribution on anyone else. We’d have to do it alone,” she whispered. “Travel somewhere we’ve never been before, join the contest to enter the Archives, and win.”

  “The odds seem terrible, but that doesn’t scare me,” Varten said. What did scare him, she wondered?

  “So you’ll come with me?”

  He leaned forward; unconsciously she found herself doing the same. “Of course I’ll come with you. We’re in this together. We’ll find a way.” He reached out and squeezed her hand quickly, then let go.

  He looked so earnest, she had to hold herself back from reaching for him. Her breathing restarted, faster than ever. They were partners now, joined for as long as this journey took, and committed to where it would lead. A pang of guilt hit her—as much as she needed his help, she hated to bring him down with her.

  The space between their chairs was only a pace wide, but suddenly stretched to the width of an ocean. She had to be cautious. There was no reason to believe that Varten would betray her, but she hadn’t believed it of the Goddess Awoken, either. Her judgement was the thing she lacked confidence in, even now.

  How easy it would be to depend on him the way she had always depended on others for safety and protection. His arms were strong and warm, and she could feel herself getting lost in them even in the brief minutes he’d held her while she cried. But if she was going to go out of her comfort zone and make this journey, she had to go out completely. They were friends and partners, but he was not her savior.

  However this ended, she no longer believed that her salvation could be provided by others. No prince was going to rescue her. Not this time, not ever.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Come nearer, watch close.

  Listen well, touch more.

  Taste the scent on the air.

  Bear witness to our unity.

  —THE HARMONY OF BEING

  “It is late,” Murmur announced, staring into the fire. Kyara wasn’t certain how they kept track of time down here in the cave city without the sun or watches or clocks of any kind, but she did feel tired. They had walked much of the day to get here and the emotional upheavals had been fierce.

  “Our training will begin in earnest on the morn. I take it you will go to find your beau tonight, Kyara?” The ancient
man’s description of Darvyn nearly made her smile.

  “Yes. He will not like to spend the night apart.”

  “Very well. You may see if he is able to unbind the child. Her bindings are loosening on their own, but speeding the process would aid in her training.”

  “But Earthsong has no effect on Nethersingers.”

  “She was bound by a Bright One. They are Earthsingers but also something more.” This confused Kyara, but she nodded at him.

  “Come,” Mooriah said, “I will show you the way.”

  Ella tapped the wire loop device around her neck and removed it, shaking her head. From her expression it was clear that the amalgam’s power had run out. She spoke to Ulani, who appeared distressed.

  “What’s wrong?” Kyara asked.

  “She only has one left,” the girl said.

  Tana spoke up, speaking to Murmur. “Can you give her one of the stones? Like what you gave to me? Will it work on her?”

  Murmur nodded slowly and Mooriah crossed over to him, retrieving two small black stones that had appeared in his outstretched hand. They were bits of the walls of this cave or one like it. Pieces of the Mother.

  Mooriah handed the small calderas to Ella and Ulani, who accepted trustingly. Kyara held her breath as they closed their eyes. A stone like the ones they held had imparted the Cavefolk language to her when she was here last. With their eyes closed, Ulani was smiling and Ella looked perplexed. The calderas gave visions and hopefully each was viewing something innocuous that would simply transfer the magic and not some horrific display of ritualized murder. Kyara shivered.

  Cavefolk society and culture had involved blood sacrifice on a large scale. The offerings had been voluntary and considered a great honor, but death was death, and these people were dealers in it as much as she was.

  The Folk were not natural Nethersingers, but blood magic had close ties to death magic. While in service to the Cantor, Kyara had learned some blood spells. The scars all over her body were evidence of the cost of that knowledge. With a gasp, both released the stones at the same time and opened their eyes.