Echoes in the Dark (4 page)

Luthan
looked her straight in the eyes. “I was in you.”

Striding
to the outside rim of the circle, he stared down. As expected by all, the
Summoned Exotique was a woman. A lovely woman, beautiful more in the manner of
his own people than that of Exotique Terre: long, dark hair flowing around her
torso, old ivory and gold complexion, lush lips. He swallowed hard and waited
for his innate revulsion for Exotiques to hit.

Marshalls’ Castle, the same time

R
aine Lindley
found her feet carrying her to the great round temple in the Marshalls’ Castle.
Again.

There’d
been something in the air of her small purple home office that wouldn’t let her
settle. Time and again she’d erased the line of the ship’s prow she was
designing. When she looked out the window, rainbows seemed to dance on the air
and somehow she caught a scent of incense and the reverberation of a gong.

So
she’d mounted her flying horse, her volaran, for the short two-mile trip to the
Castle and the temple, accompanied by her companion, a young magical
shape-shifting being called a feycoocu. This compulsion was more than was
natural or healthy.

Because
look what happened when she last followed a compulsion. At home in Connecticut
she’d been so obsessed with her grandmother’s mirror that she’d stare at it for
hours, think about stepping
through
it, and how strange was that?

Then
she’d thought that giving the mirror away to one of her brothers—newly
engaged—was the right thing to do. To top off all this foolishness, instead of
driving around the inlet, she’d packed the mirror and taken it onto the open
sea in a new boat she’d built. In the winter. It was a mild day and the water
was calm, but the action had been unwise beyond belief.

Thunder,
lightning…storm from nowhere. The quilts and ropes around the mirror falling
away magically. The glass blazing white like nothing she’d seen. The boat
breaking up under her, the wind whipping her
into
the mirror, then
landing her in the cold sea of here—an alternate dimension or universe or
whatever. Lladrana.

She’d
been Summoned by the Seamasters, who’d done it on the cheap. They hadn’t even
known they’d succeeded. Just called a person from Earth and when she didn’t
seem to show, they wandered back to a market gathering.

That
forced Raine to fend for herself in a strange land where she knew
nothing,
and, in fact, got sick if she were more than a couple of miles from the sea.

Of
course the worse had happened. One of those Lladranans who had an instinctive,
irrational repulsion for people from Earth—Exotiques—had found her, been in a
position of power over her. Tormented her. She’d lived like that six months
before she could escape.

A
winged horse had found her, brought a nobleman—Faucon Creusse—to her, and then
she’d been
tuned
to this world and the sickness had gone away. Maybe
that was why she was here, in the temple. The ritual to tune her had been here,
in this large round building separated into sections by fancy screens.

Now
the feycoocu was playing in the pool as a baby seal. Raine glanced at her, then
stared at the crystal chimes that had run through her body last month, plucking
inner chords she didn’t know she had, and shivered.

There
were seven chimes, and her friend Bri Masif, another Exotique, a healer, said
they corresponded in sound and color to the chakras. The chimes sat on a large
marble altar carved with symbols of the four elements, one on each side.
Raine’s, like Bri’s, was water, which was the only thing that really made
sense. Because she was a shipbuilder and would create a vessel that would carry
an invasion force to fight the Dark.

One
fast ship that might escape notice, loaded with the best fighters in Lladrana,
and the Exotiques to Sing and trigger a weapon knot that would probably explode
the whole damn island.

Raine
peeked inside the chimes. She was sure that during her ordeal these had been
lit somehow, but there was no candle wax inside. They were probably storage
crystals like the ones embedded in the beams above her. She cleared her throat.
She was learning all about Power—magic—and how it manifested in music. She
hummed, true C. The red chime sounded the same note and lit, staying bright.
Raine ran the chakra scale and grinned when all the chimes lit.

Then
she stared at the silver gong, nine feet in diameter. Naturally it was
suspended in the frame with Power, didn’t have holes in it. She narrowed her eyes.
Did it have an aura? Probably from all the magic in the temple, all the times
it had been used in ritual, still…She circled the altar to look at it from the
back. As she watched she thought she saw it vibrate faintly, heard a soft,
trembling note. But when she shook her head it went away. She examined the gong
again, there was something about it….

“What
are you doing here? Do you have a final model for the Ship yet?”

Raine
jumped. She hadn’t heard the doors open. The Castle staff was keeping them too well-oiled.
Slowly she turned to face the man who was also a great draw for her to come to
the Castle. The sexy guy she’d longed would notice her, Faucon Creusse.

3

S
ince Faucon had
been dumped by another Exotique—okay, the whole lot of them—he didn’t give
Raine the time of day.

For
some damn reason she swallowed sudden tears, hoped they didn’t show in her
eyes. How humiliating. She dragged a silk handkerchief from her pants pocket
and stumbled over to the low stone built-in benches that circled much of the
temple. Sank down onto one of the fat jewel-toned cushions and sniffled.

I
am here. We are fine.
Her feycoocu levitated over to her, leaving a dripping wake, then glared at
Faucon. The little creature didn’t give Raine any advice, a blessing since she
wasn’t very wise.

“Pardon,”
Faucon said stiffly. “I shouldn’t have been so rude.” He was cold, which was
worse. His face was expressionless, masking the irritation she’d seen the first
time they’d met and every time since.

“Is
something wrong with the Ship?”

“The
ship.” She bit her own irritated words off, tried for the chilled courtesy that
he’d mastered. “Nothing is wrong with the ship. I should have a final model
this week.” She bent her lips in a smile. “As for my welfare, I am a little
touchy since all anyone cares about is my crafting of the ship, but I will get
over my mood in a bit, thank you for asking.”

She
thought his golden skin tinged red. He inclined his head. “I am sorry to
intrude.” He hesitated. “Did you touch the gong? I thought I felt…thought I
heard…”

She
blew her nose and tucked the handkerchief away in a pocket. “No, I did not. But
Summoning a new Exotique seems to be on all our minds. I wasn’t
asked
to
be Summoned.”

“By
the Song,” he muttered. “Only Alyeka was asked and came of her own free will.”

“Didn’t
know what she was getting into,” Raine said.

“But
the others have stayed with us to fight the Dark. I don’t remember them being
so fussy during the time they were making that decision.”

He misremembered,
she was sure, she’d read their accounts. But what came out of her mouth was,
“My family! They still think I’m dead. And I don’t know what’s going on with
them!”

He
flung up his hands. “Is that all?” Now he strode to her, locked elegant fingers
around her wrist in a strong grip, pulled her to her feet.

The
feycoocu hissed, had turned into a little snake when they weren’t looking.

Faucon
ignored the small being, and said, “Why haven’t you talked to mirror magician
Koz about getting a mirror to your family so you can see what’s going on?”

Raine
shook her head. “He hasn’t been around, has been in the east studying advanced
mirror magic or something.”

“Well,
he’s here now. We’ll go see him.”

Turn
her over to Koz, Faucon meant.

She
shrugged out of his grasp, turned again to the gong. She was sure she’d seen it
tremble. A strange
push
of air popped her ears. She put a hand to her
head. Faucon frowned, lines digging into his face, and steadied her with a hand
to her elbow.

We
must stay until it’s done,
said the feycoocu.

Singer’s Abbey

L
uthan stared at
the new Exotique and waited for the screeching of all his senses into a
cacophony. An awful Song that
hurt
until he learned to know the person
behind the pummeling sounds that shrieked “mutant.”

Those
who didn’t experience the horrible Song called the effect “an instinctive
repulsion” and it was that, but it was more. An assault on his inner ear, his
inner sight, his inner self. He’d learned to control it, of course. There was
no honor in attacking an innocent person who had no knowledge that their Song
was hurting him.

He
waited and it didn’t come. Instead he saw the long legs of the woman dressed in
that sturdy blue material the Exotiques liked so much. Soft cloth draped her
breasts and a harmony ball gleamed against their round fullness. She had
equally full lips. Her eyes were as tilted as his own, as his people’s, her
skin not as golden as most Lladranans, but not that strange paleness of the
other Exotiques, or Marian’s hint of olive.

Studying
the length of lovely legs and slender torso, he knew she wouldn’t have the
height of Lladranans. Marian would still be the tallest, this one was near to
the size of Calli, the Volaran Exotique with the yellow hair. But this woman’s
hair wasn’t yellow, or the red of Marian’s, or the browns of Bri and Raine. Nor
the black with varying deep colors of his people. It seemed to be a very dark
brown with black mixed in, not the other way around.

No
repulsion. Had he finally mastered it? Squeezed the hideous moment from full
minutes to less than a second? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He only blessed
the Song that this lady brought no instinctive repulsion and following shame.

In
fact, her Song was vaguely muffled, heard dimly and not with the clarity of
everyone else’s in the world. Odd, but relieving.

A
red cockatoo watched over her.

His
anger at the Singer had dissipated. It would return, but now he felt only
extreme wariness. He inclined his torso to the Singer, not the full bow he had
given her when he’d first become her representative two years ago.

“Sweet
Song salutations, Singer.” Difficult not to hiss the greeting, to keep the
proper rhythm and lilt, but that’s how she judged her Friends, judged him.
Irritation would have made his tones hard and he was glad he’d lost it. He’d be
courteous until the new Exotique was settled.

When
his gaze met the Singer’s, he knew she
saw
that he doubted her deeply.
There was a flash of arrogance there, her own annoyance.

A
long glint caught his eye and he peered into the shadows of the cavern wall
opposite them and saw a huge mirror, the glass covered with a faint sheen of
blue that he thought could be sapphire dust.

He’d
taken part in tuning Raine to the vibrations of Amee. Grimly, he said, “I see
that you have chimes, and the crystal bowls for additional Song, cymbals to
approximate the gong. But not the gong itself. You brought the Exotique by
mirror magic.”

The
Singer’s eyes flashed Power. She lifted her chin. “Do you presume to think that
my
Summoning could be inferior than the Marshalls’ puny chanting Song?
Especially now that Partis has died and cannot lead them?”

A
shaft of pain speared him—Partis had been his loved godfather. Luthan held his
ground, narrowed his own eyes. “Your Song is incredibly more Powerful than the
Marshalls—”

Her
expression relaxed.

“Your
voice magnificently trained, your Friends almost as good a team as the
Marshalls.”

“Almost!”

“I
have fought with the Marshalls, been mentally linked with them as a team in
battle, in healing circles after battles. They are the premier team on
Lladrana.” He gestured to the people in colored robes around them. “Neither you
nor these Friends have experienced life-and-death circumstances that form such
a bond. Further, the Marshalls participate within their bond as equals. Your
Friends will never be allowed to be equal to you. Could never be equal to the
Singer.”

Her
expression showed pride mixed with irritation. Not many told her the truth.
“But my team must have done well enough. We drew her here.”

Luthan
nodded. “She is here, but how tuned are her personal Exotique Terre vibrations
to our planet of Amee? You have the chimes, the crystals, cymbals. But you do
not have the gong.”

“And
the gong is so necessary?”

“I
have been at four Summonings and a tuning, have seen and felt and heard what
occurred. You have not attended. Yes, I believe the gong is necessary. Unless
you want to limit and cripple this Exotique to stay near the Abbey, as the
Seamasters crippled their Summoned one.”