Between Darkness and Light Trilogy (5 page)

Just from the sound of his voice I can tell
I won’t like this new family member, and my suspicions are
confirmed by my first glance. He is really quite large, even for
those here. His hair is an almost irritatingly yellow blond, and he
seems almost on the verge of radiating more of that piercing color.
His clothes, brilliant yellow, white and gold, seem perfectly
chosen to enhance his overbearing presence. His voice, clear and
sonorous and obviously well suited to song, is theatrical, as if he
wishes to upstage all those around him.

I can’t help the disdain in my voice. “Who
is that?” No one answers at first, but then Celeste responds.

“He is Novanus; the only known son of
Nebulaea.”

“I can see why she stopped bearing sons…”
Sarcasm drips from my voice and Celeste smiles.

“He is somewhat… loud. He's worse than usual
lately, ever since his only child died. I suspect he is distracting
himself from the pain.”

I can’t think of a proper response, do I
apologize for insulting a grieving man? I don’t really want to,
there’s something about him that clashes with my consciousness.
Silence dominates for an uncomfortable moment until Casanova breaks
it.

“I’d love to hear more about your beautiful
homeworld, Shi'ahn. You said the moons are blue – do you know for
certain? Has anyone actually traveled there?”

“Oh yes, many have. Among the first, of
course, must have been those who built the Lunarium, as those
stones are not to be found anywhere else on Shiral. Individuals
from many of the magical regions have visited as well – it is, in a
way, a sacred pilgrimage. The Technologists use their machines to
travel to them.”

“So your people are space farer's then, by
both scientific and magical means?”

“Well; only to a point. You see, no one
understands why, but it appears impossible…” I can no longer ignore
what is happening in the rest of the feast hall – an amazingly
intricate juggling event involving over a dozen of the individuals
in the upper tiers. Most seem to be tossing items primarily toward
the annoying Novanus. He seems to revel in the task of juggling
with so many simultaneously. Finally, in laughter, he resorts to
using sorcery to assist with his efforts, and instead of that
ending the performance, dozens more join in, seemingly trying to
overwhelm him while also rather aggressively challenging others in
the room. Some of those recently entangled use technological means
to deal with the onslaught; others rely on astounding skill. Just
as it seems that not another flying object could possibly be added
to the fray, all the items in flight streak toward a black sphere
that appears in the middle of the room, near the ceiling.

The Emperor says, “That will be quite enough
of that; I rather like the course that is about to be served, and
do not wish to be needlessly distracted from it.”

Silence fills the room; muffling out all but
a very subdued melody.

Alma’s voice breaks through the unnatural
quiet. “I can’t help but ask, Shi'ahn, what’s with the music?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, why do you constantly project
music?”

“Oh, I’d forgotten, sorry. I’ve been
surrounded by music since I was a child.”

William adds, “Yea, I barely remember her
being without it, except when she’s trying to sneak or hide her
feelings.”

Alma asks, “So it's automatic then – you
aren’t consciously doing it?”

“No, not at all.”

Gwenllian adds, “And it is reflective of
your mood, of your thoughts?”

“It does always seem appropriate, if that is
what you mean. It’s a part of me.”

Gwenllian looks disapproving, “It isn’t a
very good trait, especially here.”

“I’m sorry – is it considered rude?”

“I wouldn’t know – you are the only person
I’ve known of to do such a thing.”

“That can’t be true, Cailli does so as
well.” They all look blankly at me. “You know, Cailli –
Grandmother?” Still no comprehension in their eyes, and William
looks confused. “The ancient woman in the mountain.” William’s
expression of confusion continues.

“She does? When did you hear that?”

“When she put her arms around us – in fact,
every time she touched me. Didn’t you hear it?”

“Ah… no, Sis, I didn’t.” Gwenllian turns to
William.

“Did you hear the… Guardian, refer of
herself as Cailli, or Grandmother?”

William nods. “Oh yes, although I got the
impression that only Shi'ahn was invited to call her either of
those. She also mentioned that most refer to her as ‘the old hag’.”
Nearly all within sight glance down momentarily, giving proof to
her claim.

Celeste asks, “If you are the Guardian’s
granddaughter, then that must mean Nebulaea has given birth to
another child.”

“Cailli did mention that the title wasn’t
entirely accurate, but that 'greats' do not roll off the tongue
well at all.” I pause and smile at the memory, then explain, “She
understands the importance of the sounds of words; that they should
flow naturally from the tongue like water over rocks in a brook,
creating a music all their own.”

William adds, “Yes, she even called you her
little muse… A rather curious thing to say, I thought.”

Casanova rejoins our conversation, “Music
seems very central to your character, Shi'ahn – would you mind
gracing us with a song?” It seems as though suddenly every eye in
the room is trained upon me; words flee my tongue as never
before.

“I’m sure there are far better musicians in
this hall, I wouldn’t want to bore anyone.”

“Of course there are, but we have heard each
other before. Listening to you would be a new experience, and we do
appreciate new experiences here.”

William smiles, saying quietly, “Come on,
Sis, I’m sure the acoustics here are fascinating.”

I want to refuse, after all, what could I
possibly do to impress these amazing people? Before I can speak,
though, William blurts out, “Of course she will! I’ll even
accompany her.” If I could shoot fire out of my eyes I would, but
he ignores my ire and gestures toward the table, silently asking me
to imbue it with the properties to do so. In resignation I wave my
hand toward it, changing segments of it to act as both a xylophone
and primitive drums. He smiles playfully, projects light upon my
conjuration to validate what I have provided to him, picks up a
pair of spoons and begins an old tune we have improvised to before.
I decide to sing of our childhood… of our adventures and lives from
both our perspectives.

I sing of leading William on adventures, of
him introducing me to his magical creature friends, of the two of
us riding our dragon friends, and of William's growing fascination
with light.

Late in the song, William tosses a glass of
water over my head. At its apex I raise my arms and spin ‘round,
projecting my reach as though to run my hands through the airborne
water, causing it to whisper my name ‘Shi…aahhnn’. William projects
light upward and I use the now widely disbursed droplets to bend
his light into images that we have described in our song. Standing
on a large rock in the lake during a lightning storm, cliff diving
over a waterfall, dragon riding over forests and into the cool
waters, it's one of William's best light shows. I hope our display
doesn’t look to simplistic for this audience… I wouldn’t have done
so if William hadn’t forced it. I can’t help though, surrendering
myself to the joy of the memories as they flash before our
audience; I free my voice from the simple melody of our song and
let it fly through the harmonies I can no longer ignore.

As the song dies down and I regain my
self-control, I look up at our audience and see no smiles; my heart
chills. Are we so unskilled as to give them no pleasure at all with
our performance? I wish we could have heard some of their music
before performing…

Casanova alone smiles warmly at me, then
addresses Novanus, “You should be careful, Novanus, you may lose
the title of best musician to this beautiful young lady!”

“In your dreams, womanizer.”

I quietly ask him, “Casanova, you seem to
have liked our song, why does everyone else seem so displeased? Are
our skills too primitive for this place?”

“Primitive? No! They just aren’t used to
things they don’t understand.”

Alma asks, “How did you do that? I did not
detect any sorcery or technology.”

“What have I done that is unusual?”

She looks at me as though I am either daft
or deliberately being obtuse. “The table for one. How did you make
it function as percussion instruments for William?”

“Oh that, it’s just a game we’ve played
since we were children. It didn’t start out so elaborate, of
course, at first I’d just tell him I’d hidden an invisible drum in
the house – he would search for hours! Once he caught on to my
preferred surfaces, I started giving him more interesting
percussion instruments – it was a great way to get him out of my
hair when I wanted some time alone.” William flashes a perfectly
innocent smile.

Alma doesn’t give up, though. “I mean,
exactly how do you do that? What means did you use to alter the
tabletop?”

How to answer… I’ve never been able to get
anyone on Shiral to comprehend my methods. I had assumed that the
amazing individuals here would already understand… I try
simplifying the concept for her. “Every object
sings
its own
song
, defined by the sum of all its parts and attributes. In
changing the table’s
song
, I changed the way it vibrated
when William struck it with his improvised mallets.” Alma glances
down at the table with furrowed brows. I reassure her, “There’s no
need for concern, I’ve returned it to its original state, there is
no structural damage.”

“And just how did you ‘change its song’? I
did not detect a method.”

“I don’t know how to explain it, I just…
will it, like always.” Sad frustration shows in my voice, which she
notices.

“You’ve tried to explain this before,
without success, haven’t you? Are there others on your Shiral with
this ability?” I shake my head.

“Not since Mathair was taken away. I’ve
searched everywhere, but no one else on Shiral
hears
the
song
.” The years of loneliness and longing consume my soul…
I need to escape from all these painful questions! Casanova comes
to my rescue.

“Well, this has been an interesting evening,
but I suspect that our new family members could use some rest –
they have just had a rather eventful day.

I glance up at the Emperor and see clear
disapproval. I realize then, we had sung through the final course
and apparently distracted him from his enjoyment of it. I try to
project ‘I’m sorry’ through my eyes, but I see no acceptance in his
gaze. Rats, we’ve only just arrived in what is apparently the most
important and powerful place in all existence, and already I’ve
managed to annoy its Emperor.

Casanova stands and offers me his arm.
William also rises and leaves with us. Casanova speaks quietly
after the doors close behind us.

“It is generally not a good idea to reveal a
great deal of intimate detail about yourself in front of such a
large and powerful audience. I should have tried to distract my
sister from her questioning earlier – she can be… somewhat
direct.”

William looks at him questioningly, “Whereas
you?”

Casanova ignores the implication. “Whereas I
know what it is like to be comparatively young and inexperienced
here. Do you know the way to your rooms? This is a very large and
at first confusing place, judging by how long it generally takes
new servants to gain their bearings.”

“We’ll be fine.” William answers without
even glancing at me.

Casanova continues to smile warmly, “Good.”
He leans down and kisses my cheek! I involuntarily stiffen, but I
also feel a strange heat spreading within me. He smiles, “Welcome
to Lumina, Cousin.” With that he turns and walks away.

William mutters, “Kissing Cousin.” I try to
slap his arm with the back of my hand, but he maneuvers so that I
inadvertently take his arm instead. “Just teasing, Sis.” We only
make it to the next intersecting hallway when we are joined by
Lucian.

“I see you’re already making new friends…”
He looks pointedly at my cheek, which warms as I remember the
enticing feel of that small kiss. Lucian continues, “A word to the
wise – Casanova is not nearly as young as he implies, and he has
quite the appetite for young, inexperienced women.” Now my entire
face feels warm.

“Am I… is it that…” He raises an
eyebrow.

“Obvious? Yes. Logical?” His eyes once again
scan my figure, this time lingering on my hips as we walk.
“No.”

William chimes in. “The men of Shiral do not
think of her as”

I interrupt. “William!”

“Their awe and respect for her overshadow
all else.”

For some reason Lucian's expression turns
serious. “Oh I see. In that case, I offer words of caution. The two
of you appear to be somewhat unique. Casanova may not be the only
one to attempt to… befriend you, as a means of learning more about
you. Look, before you leap. Many here have had over a thousand
years to practice their beguiling skills – you wouldn’t stand a
chance. Don’t trust anyone. William, keep an eye on her.”

William smiles, “
Ita vero
.”

I can’t believe they are talking like this
about me – here I may finally have a chance to be treated like a
normal woman, and they’re discussing keeping me ‘safe’? I don’t
want to be safe! I turn angrily toward Lucian, “Excuse me, but who
are you to be messing in my personal affairs?” He doesn’t skip a
beat.

“Until someone officially claims
responsibility for you, by the will of the Emperor I’m to be your
guardian.”

“My guardian? I’m 37, I don’t need a
guardian!” He looks me over again.