Echoes in the Dark (14 page)

Raine
started walking through the flagstoned courtyard called Temple Ward to the keep
where she wended her way through the building and the maze outside to the
Landing Field. Blossom was waiting, a beautiful white volaran with big brown
eyes and wings of subtle white shades. Gorgeous creature. As soon as she saw
Raine, she trotted across the field, fully caparisoned in colorful tooled sky
blue leather and gold thread. She wore a saddle for Raine’s benefit, but only
had a hackamore around her nose for reins. Raine had been instructed in
“volaran partnering” and gave Blossom most of her cues mentally or by shifting
her body.

We
go to Faucon’s?
Blossom repeated as Raine mounted and they took to the sky, flying west.

Ayes.

Blossom
lapsed into silence. Raine was glad that she was quiet because she wanted to
enjoy the flight. As always her spirit soared riding on the winged horse. She
inhaled deeply, the clean air of a land that knew no machines. Beneath her the
landscape was one of green and rolling plains, a low ridge of hills that tugged
at her heart. When she caught the distant scent of the ocean, her pulse picked
up.

Since
she’d been unconscious when she’d been brought from the coast to the Castle,
all she’d seen were maps. The land was far more beautiful.

Blossom
caught an updraft and rose higher, the sound of the wind swishing through her
feathers a soft accompaniment to the rush of the air against them.

Distance
Magic now?

Raine
sighed.
I wanted to see Alexa’s and Bastien’s estates.

We
do Distance Magic for a little bit, then come out, look at their estates,
Blossom said.
Then
do more to Creusse Crest.

Won’t
that take more Power?

We
have plenty of Power.

All
right.
Then Blossom drew on their combined Power, fumbled to merge it for the spell. A
tweak, some disorientation and a clear bubble formed around them. Each beat of
Blossom’s wings took them much farther, as if the magical bubble had no inertia
and it zoomed through the atmosphere. Propelled by magic? Could a ship travel
like that, too? Raine didn’t think so. Power would be a part of the energy
source but it wouldn’t be Distance Magic that made a ship go. Sails couldn’t be
used by people who couldn’t see or feel or scent the air. Fishing folk couldn’t
have a bubble around them to haul in a catch.

Pop!

Alexa’s
and Bastien’s estates.

They
were side by side and looked comfortable and well-established. A volaran herd
running free on Bastien’s land lifted their wings in salute.

They
are old or tired or lost their riders,
Blossom said, her voice laced with
pity. She lifted her head, rose higher.

Blossom
had lost her rider, too, but not from battle. One of the Summoned Exotiques had
returned home, Blossom had been her volaran. Raine’s stomach sank.
You know
I don’t want to stay here in Lladrana.

You
were treated bad. When you are treated good you will stay.

Raine
winced. There was another pop as Blossom formed the Distance Magic bubble
around them.

We
will fly due west, then south,
she said with a cheer that sounded a
little false. Raine realized she’d poked a sore spot and shook her head. She
was just getting her balance here, why did she have to make decisions right
away? But what decision was there to make? Could she really see herself facing
the Dark and fighting and staying here forever? No.

Blossom
was flying due west to the coast because that was where the estate the
Lladranans had offered Raine was. She’d seen drawings, and pictures from Bri’s
camera, but not the place itself. She shouldn’t be curious.

And
the island where the Exotique Circlet Marian lives is due west, too,
Blossom
reminded.

Raine
gritted her teeth and called up a map in her mind.
I think we need to angle
south.

Faucon’s
main estate is almost due south of your land.

It’s
not my land.

A
big beautiful seaside estate. Lots of room to fly and run, a nice stream, good
stables for volarans and horses.

Raine
had never been on the back of any sort of horselike creature until she’d met
Blossom.

Big
house for you, too. Bigger than where you live now.
Blossom didn’t
care for Raine’s house in the “city” of Castleton, there was no room for a
volaran stable. From what Raine had seen in the pics, the place on the tiny
peninsula was a small castle.

The
world blurred outside the bubble, but Raine thought she smelled the ocean.
Mixed emotions welled inside her. She loved the ocean, couldn’t imagine not
living close to one, but her first months in Lladrana had been hideous.

Now
she only had a few more, one way or another.

10

Singer’s Abbey

J
ikata’s voice
lesson with the Singer went well, they treated each other with exaggerated
courtesy. Before actually doing the exercises, they did some body stretching.
After the scales and range practice, the Singer spoke of Power, and spells initiated
by sounds, notes, tunes, “songspells.” Jikata opened and shut windows and
doors, locked them, released the locks. She learned various humming bits to
Summon Friends.

The
Singer watched with a careful eye as Jikata stirred water, lit a fire in a fireplace,
made wind chimes tinkle and moved dirt in a planter. By the time she was done
with the “simple” spells, Jikata was exhausted and would have smelled of sweat
except her gown absorbed perspiration. Since the dress released an herbal
scent, it was obvious how hard she worked.

The
old woman, of course, demonstrated all the tasks serenely and with little
effort.

Jikata
ate lunch by herself, a light one of fruit and cheese and crackers with a
hardboiled egg. Then came the baths, massage and rest. She could almost believe
this was a resort—Club Lladrana, a retreat specifically for singers. She’d
reluctantly decided differently, let the knowledge that she was in another
place incrementally filter through her, and focused on the incredible
instruction she’d been getting.

In
the afternoon she went with the Singer to a suite of personal rooms above an
octagonal tower. The old woman had several suites throughout the compound for
various activities—or various levels of visitors. Certainly the Friends in
different buildings were of different status.

“These
are the rooms where I receive Marshalls who come for a Song Quest,” the Singer
said. “I do not use them otherwise because they are very close to the Caverns
of Prophecy. Listen and
feel.
”

Jikata
recalled her Summoning, the caves, the sounds, the visions, and didn’t open
herself up fully. She’d already learned how to tone down the soundtrack around
her, hear selectively. It was a matter of control, like breath control. If she
opened herself fully, she’d be overwhelmed by Song, especially in the Singer’s
presence. She thought of her Power like the flame of a gas oven, opening a
valve and giving the burner more energy.

So
now she set her Power on low,
listened.

Hollowness
under her feet. She knew the sound of stone—worked and raw around her, beneath
her. The different, deep chord of the planet itself. Only now, when she heard
that strange Song, did she realize that she’d always heard a rhythmic beat
quite different, that of Earth.

Whispers.
Perhaps even hissing like gas. Dangerous if she were open and defenseless to
it.

Jikata!
Pay attention!
It was the Singer’s voice, in her head. Jikata sucked in a breath. All right,
she should have expected that people could speak telepathically, too.

“One
moment!” She wouldn’t let the woman rattle her. She wasn’t a tyro in the music
business.

But
the Singer had that smug smile Jikata was beginning to intensely dislike. Eyes
widening, Jikata realized the Singer had spoken to Jikata with her mind, while
she’d answered aloud.

The
Singer had spoken
Lladranan.

Jikata
had understood.

She
was learning the language through Song and telepathy and hearing it spoken
around her. She’d been a fairly quick study before, but nothing like this.

Letting
her knees soften, becoming aware of her
ki,
she let Songs sift into her,
or into her awareness and Power.

Her
senses slipped down from this chamber to below to the Caverns.

Whispers
coalesced into sound, into language—English. A vision formed.

She
saw the man in white leather. They were walking along a sandy beach, surf
foaming near their feet.

They
were talking. No, they were
flirting.
Warmth tingled through her, then
and now. A half smile curved his lips, lightening his serious expression and making
him dangerously attractive. There was an easiness between them, as if they had
a lot in common. His eyelids lowered over a very male glint, and he took her
hand, raised it to his lips.

His
mouth on the back of her hand sent frissons through her and she knew that this
night they’d make love.

Then
he froze, dropped her fingers, reared back, shock on his face.

Followed
by utter revulsion. Pain. He shook his head, slapped his hands against his
ears.

She
stared at him in horror. Worse, she could feel tears backing up in her throat,
rising, rising. She had to get away…. She stumbled, blinking frantically to
keep tears back. Why hadn’t she learned a spellsong for
that?

Jikata!
The Singer’s
voice.

Suddenly
she wasn’t there and then, but here and now. That was Zen, this is Tao, she
thought with ironic humor. Her throat still burned.

The
Singer was frowning, her face wrinkled into a thousand lines that spoke of age
and experience…and some of them of lost love. “What did you see?”

Jikata
cleared her throat. “The man from the other night.”

“The
night you were Summoned.”

“Yes.”

“Ayes.”

Did
the Singer mean her to parrot “Ayes?” Jikata didn’t want to play games. She
nodded.

“That
is Luthan Vauxveau, a wealthy, Powerful noble of the Chevalier class. He wore
Chevalier leathers and is my representative to the rest of Lladrana,” the
Singer stated.

Chevalier
meant what? Horseman? Knight? One of those who flew on the winged horses?

A
knight in white leather. Was that as good as in shining armor? He looked more
like a Western knight than a shogun. No, he
acted
more like her idea of
a Western knight, though her ideas of both knights and samurai were formed by
the media.

As
the Singer crossed to a dark red door, Jikata understood that though the woman
had spoken telepathically, she hadn’t seen into Jikata’s mind and that was a
blessing. She didn’t want anyone to do that.

The
Singer opened the door and gestured Jikata into what looked like a closet. She
wasn’t claustrophobic, but it was hardly big enough for three people. Everyone
on Lladrana seemed to think personal space was a lot smaller than Jikata
believed.

The
Singer waved her hand up and down.
A moving box.

An
elevator.

We
descend to the Caverns of Prophecy now.

Jikata
hesitated. The Singer lifted her brows.
I promise neither will hurt you.
Jikata wasn’t accustomed to being patronized in her own mind. She shrugged and
got in.

The
Singer Sang a scale, starting at the top of her range and descending. The
elevator moved gently and silently down.
This is the only moving box in Lladrana,
and I am the only one who can Sing the songspell.

Then
the door opened and they were in the caves. As Jikata watched, mist gathered
into wraithlike shapes and solidified….

A
piercing high C and the mist dispersed. Middle C and Jikata’s vision blurred
and she understood the Singer had curved some sort of force field around them.
Handy. From her last time in these caves, Jikata figured that the man in white,
Luthan Vauxveau, didn’t know that particular spell. But Jikata had also sensed
that the man didn’t know the Caverns. Thinking back, the majority of the
Friends didn’t know the caves, either.

The
Singer walked with a sure step through dark brown rock tunnels, following a
spell light brighter than Jikata had learned to make…yet, in the two days she’d
been here. “Time passes the same?” She wanted reassurance.

“Ayes.”
The old woman didn’t pause, but as they turned left, Jikata saw a tiny marking
on the rock wall at about her eye level. High for the Singer, lower for the
rest of the Lladranans. The Lladranans, like most Earth peoples, had grown
bigger and taller over generations? The sense of the caverns was ancient. Long
smoke smears—from torches?—were even with Jikata’s head.