The Singers of Nevya (96 page)

“I see,” she said. He looked up to see her straighten her shoulders and brush back errant strands of her hair with her two hands. “Well, then,” she sniffed. “I’ll just say goodbye to you, Cantor Zakri. We are very grateful to you and your friends.”

“Sook!” he protested. He stood, and took a step closer to her, but she kept her face turned away. The curve of her cheek and the line of her slender neck tormented him. He whispered, “Please hear me. If I were not what I am, things would surely be different. But if Cantrix Sira had not trained me as she did, no one could have lived with me, not you nor any other person. My Gift was wild, out of control. I was a danger to everyone around me.”

“I see,” she said again. Zakri was dismally certain that she did not understand at all, and perhaps never would. It seemed he had failed her after all.

“I am sorry,” he said. For answer, she sniffed again.

Zakri waited for a long moment, but she did not relent. He looked back once as he left the kitchen. Sook still stared out the window, her back straight and her head unbowed. Zakri felt her hurt, her loneliness, and her stiff pride. His own face was wet as he left her.

The Housekeeper of Soren, a woman who seemed still to be stunned by the events of the day, opened an empty apartment for Sira and Theo and their party. She produced clean bedding, but fresh clothes were not available. Apologetically, she explained there had been no soap, and thus no spare linens. They were glad to see the apartment had bedrooms enough for Zakri and Berk to have one, Sira and Mreen another. A long couch awaited Theo in the main room. It was late, and there was more work for them in the morning. The moment the door closed behind the Housekeeper, Theo threw himself on the couch and put his feet up on the carved arm. Sira stood by the long window, looking out.

Well?
he demanded.

Her narrow lips curved upward ever so slightly and she cast him a sidelong glance.
Mreen was here,
she sent.

He sat up straight.
Mreen! When?

Sira came to sit beside him.
When the
quiru
was down,
she answered.
She came and found the little boy . . . Joji, his name is. And she took him away, back to the camp.

Theo stared in disbelief at Sira’s face.
How—by the Six Stars, how is that possible?

She pointed her long forefinger at him in mock admonition.
You gave her the idea with your
quiru
games. She got him outside, and she extended her light around him. They had quite a climb, from what she sends me, and she frightened Berk half to death, but they are safe now with Berk. I must find Joji’s family and reassure them.

Theo fell back on the couch, one hand pressed to his heart in mock suffering.
This is too much for an old Singer! That child will be the end of us all.

More likely,
Sira sent,
that child is the future of us all. Her Gift is beyond my understanding. She must have some great purpose in store for her. I only hope it gives her joy.

Just like you, Maestra. You too have a great purpose. Has it given you joy?

She stretched out her narrow hand to touch his cheek, very briefly.
My dear,
she sent. She did not smile now, but her eyes were very bright.
No greater joy is possible, while we are together.

Mreen and Joji and Berk arrived at Soren’s doorstep before the next morning’s meal was served. More introductions were made. The little boy was alight with happiness and excitement at the prospect of Conservatory. His mother was too relieved at seeing him safe to be upset at their imminent separation.

The great room hummed with talk and movement as House members hailed each other in celebratory fashion. Sira and Theo sat side by side, with Cantrix Elnor across from them. The Magister’s seat they left empty. Many House members glanced at the carved chair at the head of the table, the same Cho had sat in for months, and their faces were grim. Sira wondered if there were no one at all to grieve the carver Cho’s passage beyond the stars.

Sook herself served the central table. Her small body was straight, her face composed. “Good morning, Cantor, Cantrix,” she said calmly as she placed bowls of
caeru
stew before them. “There are no vegetables or fruit at all yet. We’ve had to make the best of it, but we hope you’ll come back when our nursery gardens have fully recovered.”

Sira nodded to her. “Thank you, Housewoman,” Theo said. “We will try to do just that.”

Another Housewoman came after Sook with a pot of tea. This one kept her eyes averted from the empty chair, pouring tea with a nervous motion that spilled drops around every cup. Sira arched her brow.

Zakri, is this one afraid of us?

Zakri watched the girl’s hasty retreat from their table.
That is Nori,
he sent.
She may be the only person in the House to be sorry Cho is gone.

Do you not think those in the carvery are sorry?
Theo asked.

No. I think by the time we arrived, everyone was so frightened of him that they are mostly relieved. Except now they have to face the Committee!

But they are Gifted. The Committee will be lenient with them—they will have to be! The shortage is still their main concern.

Sook looks fully recovered today
, Sira put in.

Zakri sighed, and Theo reassured him.
She is a strong young woman, Cantor Zakri,
he sent.
She will be all right, in time. She has made up her mind to it.

“Excuse me, Cantrix Elnor?”

An itinerant bowed to Elnor and to the rest of them. He smiled rather nervously, and bowed again. “I’m wondering . . . that is, a lot of us are wondering . . . can we go now, go back to our Houses, get back to work?” He gestured behind him to a table full of Singers. “We’d all like to know, actually.”

Elnor lifted a tremulous hand. “I do not know,” she said. “I will leave these decisions to you, Sira.”

Sira and Theo exchanged a glance, and Theo nodded. “Yes,” Sira told the itinerant. “It is time. You may all go as you see fit, and we wish you safe journey.”

“Thank you, Cantrix.” The Singer bowed again, and then he smiled broadly. “Tell me—does anyone want to send a message north? I’ll be on my way to Manrus first thing tomorrow!”

Zakri said quickly, “Yes, indeed, if you will be riding by way of Amric!”

“So I will, Cantor,” the Singer said.

“You have a long ride ahead of you,” Theo commented.

“And I can’t wait!”

There was laughter, and the itinerant bowed once more before going back to his own table. A burst of excited chatter and more laughter greeted him there, and the Cantors looked at one another.

“Things will be back to normal very soon, Cantrix Elnor,” Sira said. “I am sure you will have a Magister, and a new junior, before the summer.”

“I do hope so,” Elnor said softly.

“Of course we will stay until you do,” Sira added.

“Thank you, my dear. I am not sure I am strong enough to manage just yet.”

Theo looked around at the House members. None of them looked strong, in truth, but he was certain that when their gardens were revived, their health would improve rapidly. Perhaps by summer, they could put all of this behind them. But for himself, and Sira, he could only guess what the summer might bring.

He had not shielded his thought, and Sira heard it.
Do you not think we will be back at Observatory by summer?
she sent.

Something is still to come,
he answered.
But I do not know what it is, or where it will take us
. He pressed down his suspicion that it was not his own future that was in doubt, but Sira’s. He had known for years that some great service still awaited her, and his instinct, or his Gift, told him it was near. She watched him, knowing he was hiding some thought. He smiled at her, and gave a slight shake of his head.
Nothing to worry about now,
he sent.

“Well, then,” Sira said aloud. “I believe it is time for the
quirunha
.” The great room hummed with talk and movement as House members hailed each other in celebratory fashion. Sira and Theo, with Cantrix Elnor, sat side by side at the center table. There was no Magister to take the traditional seat of authority, one of many problems still to be resolved by Lamdon. Itinerants were approaching to ask permission to leave the House. They wanted to resume their work, and several offered to carry messages. Sira and Theo, acting together, released any who wanted to go, and Zakri found one Singer planning to travel north who would carry a brief message for him to Amric, promising his early return. The House members had seen fit to lock up nine of the rebels in the carvery. They were to be Lamdon’s problem. Most of them were itinerant Singers. The senior Cantor would have to deal with them.

When the meal was over, and it appeared that everyone who wanted to speak to them had done so, Sira and Theo rose from the center table to go to the Cantoris. They planned a special
quirunha
, and they had let the Housekeeper know they hoped all House members who were able would be in attendance. The second missing
filhata
had been found and tuned. With its mate it awaited them on the dais.

Berk, Zakri, Mreen and Joji followed them to the door of the great room. Sira’s eye was caught by an odd movement to her right and she stopped in the doorway. She looked more closely at the people nearest the large window.

A man fell forward over the table, and the woman next to him pulled him upright again. She propped him against her own shoulder, and tried to get him to take a mouthful of
keftet
. As Sira watched, the meat and broth fell from his slack lips to splash back into his bowl. Patiently, the woman wiped his chin with her hand, and tried again.

Zakri stepped up next to Sira.
That man was one of Cho’s demonstrations. He has been like that since I first came here.

Did you try to help him?

No. There was no opportunity—and I fear his mind is past retrieval.

Sira and Theo looked at each other, and he nodded to her without speaking. “Mreen, Joji,” he said, holding out his hands to the children. “Let us go on to the Cantoris and make sure everything is ready for the
quirunha
. Joji, are you strong enough to lift chairs and move stools about?”

“So I am, Cantor Theo,” Joji said. “I’m very strong, Mama always says so.”

Theo led them across the hall while Sira turned aside, with Zakri and Berk, to go to the man and woman by the window. As they approached, the woman looked up. She was of middle age, weathered and brown, and her eyes and face were worn with exhaustion.

“Forgive me for not standing, Cantrix,” she said. “If I do not support Karl, he falls.”

“I see that, Singer,” Sira answered. She pulled out a chair and sat down. Zakri and Berk stood close behind her. “Can you tell me what happened to Karl?”

The woman eyed the three of them, then shrugged. “I guess it hardly matters now,” she said. “I couldn’t say before, or I’d get the same as Karl, and then I don’t know who would have taken care of him—or me, for that matter.”

“What is your name?” Sira asked.

“I’m Ana,” she answered. “Ana v’Perl, it used to be. I don’t know if they’ll have me now.” A flash of spirit showed in her eyes. “Karl wanted to come here, to follow Cho. He—” her eyes grew dull again. “He’s my mate, Karl. I had to go where he went, didn’t I?”

Sira nodded gravely. “I expect you did. I believe all the Houses will be delighted to have their Singers return.”

Ana managed a tired smile. “Thanks, Cantrix. I hope you’re right.”

“Can you tell us what happened, then, Singer?” Berk asked.

She looked up at the big man. “I wanted to tell you before, when you were here. You’re the courier from Amric, aren’t you?”

He nodded.

“I didn’t dare talk to you,” she said. “It was that Singer, the one from Trevi.”

Zakri caught his breath. “Iban!” he whispered.

She glanced at him. “Yes, that was it,” she said. “Singer Iban. The thing was, Karl here had charge of making sure he didn’t leave Soren, but then he got away, along with his relative. Cho didn’t care about the other one, Clive I think his name was, because he wasn’t a Singer. But he couldn’t get home without Iban, of course. One day they just disappeared—they weren’t anywhere to be found. Cho was furious. He kept saying if there was even one exception, the plan would be ruined. Every Singer had to be here, by will or by force. He sent Karl after Iban.”

She paused, resettling her mate on her shoulder. Sira prompted her. “What happened then? What happened to Iban?”

“I only went because Karl and I always traveled together.” She looked down at her mate’s vacant features. “Always,” she repeated sadly. “It’s a long ride to Amric from Soren, and they were riding hard, but so were we. On the third day we caught up with them. I told Karl we should just let it go, let Iban go where he wanted, but Karl wouldn’t hear of it. He said Cho was depending on him!” The last words were said bitterly, despairingly. “Then Cho used him, he used Karl, and this is what’s left to me!”

“What do you mean?” Sira asked her. “How did he use him, at such a distance?”

Ana looked at her mate’s hands lying useless on the table. Tears formed in her eyes, and she wiped them away with her sleeve. “He was a good Singer,” she whispered. “A strong one, the best. That’s why Cho wanted him.” The others waited while she collected herself. “Cho used Karl’s Gift to kill Iban. He struck with his own psi through Karl’s, like . . . like calling out in a canyon, and hearing your voice echo off the far wall. Like skipping a stone across the Glacier. I suppose Iban’s mind broke, though I had no way of knowing until you came looking for him. Karl—” she turned her hopeless eyes to Sira. “Karl has been like this ever since.”

Berk rumbled something deep in his throat, but Zakri had no anger left. Wearily, he said, “Iban—our master—was brave to the end. It cost him his life.”

“But had he not come to you,” Sira reminded him, “Soren might have been lost forever. Cho grew stronger every day.”

“Nevya must know about him,” Zakri said. “He must be remembered as a hero.”