The Singers of Nevya (29 page)

He grinned at her.
I am now. I think I know a camp story when I hear one, but the people believe this. They believe it absolutely.

I know.
Sira glanced around at the smiling faces, seeing the gardeners, who had brushed the dirt from their tunics, and Lise, at their table.

With a single motion the winecups were drained, even those of the children. A group of kitchen workers came out with plates of grain bread and small sweets. These were parceled out with care so each House member received an equal share. People strolled around the room greeting each other, slapping backs, laughing. The difference in their demeanor was more than Sira could take in.

She herself sat, though she did not touch the winecup before her. Theo watched her, and when she did not drink, he pushed his own cup away. Pol emerged from the crowd and came to stand across the table from them.

“You see,” he said to Sira. “We have even more reason.”

“Lights in the sky? The sky is full of lights, Pol.”

“Not like these lights,” he said complacently. “These are the signs they are coming.”

“How often have you seen them?” Theo asked.

“They appear perhaps once every summer. Sometimes less. Sometimes more.” Pol waved his arm grandly around him. “Can all these people be wrong?” His next words were drowned out by a song that rose spontaneously from the crowd.

W
E WILL WATCH FOR THE
S
HIP TO COME,

T
O COME AND CARRY US HOME.

W
E WILL
W
ATCH UNTIL THE
W
ATCHING IS OVER,

A
HUNDRED SUMMERS,

A
THOUSAND SUMMERS,

F
OR THE
S
HIP TO CARRY US HOME.

Like the lullaby
, Sira sent to Theo.
And they are like children. They believe every word.

Still we serve them
, he sent.
Even if they are like children. Perhaps especially if they are like children.
He touched her hand beneath the table.
Unshield your mind for just a moment.

Sira looked into Theo’s eyes, which had gone as dark as twilight in the mountains, and she nodded slightly. Warily, she unshielded her mind. A tide of emotion swept over her, and she gripped his hand as the feelings of all the people in the great room swept over her.

There was joy, the more acute because of the pain which preceded it. There was triumph, as long-held beliefs seemed vindicated. There was grief, because some beloved person had gone beyond the stars and missed the occasion. And there was the most painful, the most poignant, of all emotions: a terrible, desperate hope, an emotion Sira herself had felt not long before.

She bore it for as long as she could before the shield of her mind sprang up, almost as a reflex. She gazed around her at the people of Observatory, and saw individuals, families, personalities. They no longer seemed nameless, faceless victims.

Theo, how do you tolerate it?

This is what life is.

She shook her head, as if to rid herself of all of it.
This is not my life. I could not bear to live with the noise of these thoughts.

Theo squeezed her hand and released it.
I shield myself most of the time. But there are advantages to being open.

She pushed back her chair and stood up.
They are pitiful.

Theo shook his head.
They are no more pitiful than other people. Perhaps if they knew my feelings, they would pity me. Or even you.

Sira looked down at him for a long moment before she turned and fled, unable to bear the scene anymore. She felt Theo’s eyes following her as she hurried from the great room.

Chapter Twenty-eight

In the end, it was Theo who caused Sira to sing for Observatory.

Some weeks after the revel, a group of hunters who had left the House five hours before came galloping back with terrible news. One of their
hruss
had slipped on the cliff path and plunged into the great canyon. Its rider had been scraped from the saddle by an outcropping of rock, and was trapped, injured but alive, on a ledge overhanging the abyss. The hunters were desperate to save him, but it would not be easy. One rider had stayed with the injured man, talking to him over the edge of the cliff. The others had ridden back as swiftly as they dared.

Pol himself came in search of Theo, grating a few words of explanation.

“I will go, of course,” Theo said, reaching for his furs even as he spoke. “But you will have to trust the Cantoris to the Singer Jon by himself.”

Pol nodded. “If the Spirit allows, they can get Emil back up to the path before dark. Then you can all return tomorrow. In my judgment, we must take the risk.”

Theo followed Pol out of the House and into the stables. His alarm over Emil was almost overridden by his relief at being outside. He had forgotten how good it felt to breathe clear cold mountain air, and to look up into the freedom of the wide sky. As a
hruss
was saddled, he tied back his long hair, and sent an explanation to Sira.

With good luck we will return tomorrow
, he sent.

Be careful, Theo. Spirit of Stars go with you.

He sensed the shielding of her feelings, and through it, her anxiety. He would feel the same, if their positions were reversed. He would also not try to stop her from her duty.

The feel of the saddle under him and the reins in his hand was gratifying after months of confinement. He lifted his face to savor the sun, and sniffed the old familiar smell of snowpack.

Pol spoke a few words to the riders, and they were off. Theo was startled to sense Pol’s envy, and he shielded his mind so as not to intrude on the man’s private thoughts. It was curious to think that Pol would rather have ridden out on this frantic attempt to save a life than stay safely behind in the House. He does his duty as he sees it, Theo thought with reluctant admiration. Pol had very little freedom of his own.

The riders and Theo rode for two hours before they reached the narrow passage he remembered from his trip up to Observatory. His legs scraped rock once again as he and the
hruss
pressed through the crevice and came out onto the dizzying height of the cliff path. Here the riders slowed their pace. The rocks were rimed with ice, which had probably caused the accident. The path was no wider than a man’s height, and the canyon gaped into bottomless darkness. Theo’s heart thudded when he peered over the edge into the chasm.

“Now that is not a trip I’d like to make,” he muttered.

The rider in front of him said grimly, “I’d think not, Singer. Hard to come back from.”

At the site of the accident, the hunter who had stayed behind lay on his stomach keeping an eye on the injured man below. He had planted his toes behind a tongue of rock. His shoulders and head hung over the cliff edge.

The riders came up quietly behind him, and dismounted with care. Theo stole a moment, bracing himself with one hand on his
hruss’s
withers, to look out on the vista of the Continent. Far below he could see the sweep of Ogre Pass from the Southern Timberlands to the northern Mariks. He drank in the view like a thirsty man, and for a moment, he understood Sira’s craving to be away. It was hard to think of never traveling through the Pass again.

But now was not the time for contemplation. Gingerly, Theo made his way around the
hruss
to the edge of the precipice where the others were gathered. He was here to protect them from the cold, of course. But any extra hand might be useful.

“Emil stopped talking an hour ago,” said the one who had stayed. “I’m afraid he’s dead.”

Theo closed his eyes and reached out with his psi. He found Emil’s mind, blank and gray with pain. “He’s not dead. He’s unconscious,” he reported with relief.

“How do you know that, Singer?” asked Baru, an older man with hard features.

“I can hear him,” was all Theo said. He had no other way to explain. The men nodded as if he had said something wise, and he wished he had something really wise to offer. He leaned carefully forward to look down the steep drop.

The unconscious man was in danger of slipping off the ledge that had caught him. It was no more than a jagged outcropping in the wall of rock, and he must have come very near plunging all the way into the abyss.

“Only the Spirit could have put Emil on that shelf,” muttered one of the hunters.

“We need to hurry,” Theo said. “It’s not long till nightfall.”

Ropes had been brought out, but someone would have to be lowered to Emil, to help him up. There was little purchase on the slippery path. The men discussed the problem.

“We could tie ropes to one of the
hruss
,” someone suggested.

Theo shook his head. “I don’t think so. A
hruss
has already slipped. We don’t want to lose another man along with this one.”

The men nodded, accepting this. Theo glanced up at the sky, beginning to shade to violet. There was no time to waste. He looked around the group, assessing the men. “Baru and I are the heaviest. We should tie the rope around ourselves, and Stfan, who is so light, should go down.”

Stfan was the youngest man present. His throat worked as he swallowed, but he didn’t hesitate. He gave a stout nod.

“Good man,” murmured Theo. “These others will help. We won’t let you fall.”

In moments, a harness had been fashioned for Emil, and another for Stfan. Theo checked Stfan’s ropes himself, then rechecked them. He and Baru tied themselves securely into a web of rope, and braced themselves as Stfan put his legs over the edge of the cliff.

The last of the daylight glinted on the far wall of the chasm. The near side was already in darkness. Stfan looked back at Theo with eyes stark with fear.

Theo said, “We’ve got you, my friend.” He and Baru began to pay out the rope.

Stfan used his legs to balance against the cliff as they gradually lowered him toward Emil’s ledge. Theo and Baru checked with each other, each confirming the other had a firm grip, before they let the rope slip a few grudging inches through their hands.

Theo followed Stfan with his mind. Despite his fear, the youngster was determined to serve his House. He was prepared to die if he must. This is bravery, Theo thought. Facing fear, feeling it, going on anyway. He took a tighter grip on his section of the long rope.

With his mind open, he heard,
Be careful, Theo.

Sira?
he sent in amazement, even as his legs muscles trembled with effort.
Can you follow me so far?

Maestra Lu could go even farther. When you return, I will tell you the story.

I can hardly wait.

The pressure on the rope suddenly eased, and Baru and Theo stood straight, flexing their knees. Stfan called up from below. “It’s so dark. I’m afraid I won’t tie the harness properly.”

Theo edged to the rim to look down. It was true, the encroaching darkness had engulfed the ledge. He could barely make out the top of Stfan’s head.

“Can’t you do it by touch?” Baru called.

“I can try, but—” A wave of doubt swept from Stfan into Theo’s mind.

“Wait,” Theo said. He reached inside his furs for his
filla
. “Let me see how far I can extend a
quiru
. If I can make it long enough . . . Well, let me try.”

Dark was coming quickly over the cliff path. The chasm had become a black void, making the
hruss
restive. Theo played quickly, without artistry, a simple
Iridu
melody.

The
quiru
sprang up faster than any he had ever created, strong and warm and deep. His psi stretched as far as it could, but he could not reach Stfan and Emil so far below. He wished he had the
filhata
. He could have done it, he thought, with the stringed instrument and his voice. He could have extended his
quiru
farther than ever before, but now . . . Perspiration broke out on his forehead as he struggled, pushing his psi with all his energy.

Never force
, came Sira’s calm voice in his mind.
Always release, like releasing your breath.

Theo drew a deep breath, and tried to release his psi as he released the breath. It was better. The light spilled over the cliff edge, pouring like a glowing river down the wall of stone. But it was still not enough. Stfan stood in blackness with the helpless Emil at his feet.

I will help you
, Sira sent. A moment later Theo felt his psi lift and strengthen. Sira’s psi joined his, blended with his so he could not tell which was hers and which was not. He had never experienced such power. His
quiru
leaped outward, almost to the opposite wall of the chasm. It swelled upward into the night sky, and downward into the canyon, easily enveloping the two men below.

An appreciative murmur swirled around Theo. He sent to Sira,
Thank you, my dear.

I am waiting for you
, she answered, then released the thread of their contact.

Theo turned to the task of helping pull up Stfan, and then carefully, slowly, the injured Emil. It was only hours later, after he had made Emil as comfortable as he knew how, that he realized Sira had broken her own tabu. She had sung—vicariously, perhaps—but she had sung for the Watchers.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Sira put down the
filhata
after breaking her connection with Theo. “I see now,” she whispered to the memory of Maestra Lu, “how you could reach so far. It was love that made it possible. Love, and fear.”

She wrapped the
filhata
and restored it to its shelf. Her mind felt as sensitive as skin scraped raw on stone. Around her she sensed the thoughts and feelings of the House members, and she did not shrink from them. If Theo had the courage to face the barrage of thoughts coming from unGifted ones, so must she. She straightened her tunic, and stepped out of her room into the dark corridors of Observatory.

She went first to the
ubanyix
. Several women were in the tepid water, bathing in near-darkness and miserable cold. One of the strange little lamps smoked in one corner, but it did little to dispel the gloom, and it clouded the air with foul-smelling smoke. The women turned blank faces to her when she came in.