Echoes in the Dark (28 page)

Luthan
apologized to them for following the Singer’s orders without asking for more
explanation himself.

When
they’d brought in their children, he asked forgiveness from them, too. The
little girl had come straight to his arms, charming him. The older boy had said
he’d forgiven Luthan, had reluctantly shook his hand, but had hung back until Luthan
brought out his reparation gifts. A small golden bracelet with a tiny flying
volaran for the girl, a miniature hat like the one Bastien had designed for the
boy.

The
gift had had the boy yelling with joy. He was the only youngster to have one.
His eyes had gleamed and he’d hugged Luthan enthusiastically and had said
against Luthan’s neck that he
had
forgiven him. Since the pattern of his
Song had changed, Luthan believed him.

Seeing
their children’s acceptance of him had eased Calli and Marrec even more.

They
had been the last people he’d had to apologize to, his actions against them the
worst. In the flush of the feel-good moment Luthan had left their suite in
Horseshoe Hall and gone down to soak in the Chevalier baths, the best in the
Castle.

At
first there was wariness at his presence, but after he’d engaged in a couple of
water fights and taken some dunkings, the men and women had relaxed.
Furthermore, they’d treated him as if he were still their representative and
confided some concerns that they evidently hadn’t told his successor, Lady
Hallard.

The
Chevaliers were worried primarily about the scoring of the trials, which
weren’t based on play dueling but on a point system: for flying, teamwork,
speed, teamwork, fighting technique, teamwork, and strength of Power and
Singing.

Luthan
had moved to the largest pool and laid out the scoring structure—developed by
Alexa, Calli and Bastien, with input from Marian—and word had spread until
people sat thigh-to-thigh and bumping knees to listen. Someone asked about the
Exotique Singer, the events of that Summoning. Others wanted information about
what happened on the coast with the Exotique Seamaster. Wanted his reports.

The
long talking had been worth it. By the time Luthan had taken his shriveled toes
to bed in his room in the Noble Apartments, the Song between him and his fellow
Chevaliers, which had broken or gone flat, had been completely mended.

Many
greeted him with a personal word as he strode from his rooms across the
courtyard to the Assayer’s Office, through it to the Landing Field. He even
heard a mild cheer as he arrived that lightened his heart.

He
was the last of the first nine.

As
he donned his helmet, he nodded to Faucon, also a favorite. Faucon was a noble
Chevalier who fielded two teams to fight the invading horrors, and fought with
them. He was rich, Powerful, provided a large measure of the funds for the
expedition, and had been a lover of
two
Exotiques.

Luthan
snorted. The fact that Faucon had finally succumbed to Raine’s charms the night
before last had been all around the Castle yesterday morning, despite it taking
place on the coast. Everyone was eyeing the man, betting on whether the sex had
tired or energized him, whether any bond with her strengthened him. Warriors
were an earthy lot.

Also
in the first set was Koz, once a tough and skilled Lladranan Chevalier flying
under Luthan’s father’s banner, then Alexa’s. His soul had flown his body, and
that of the dying Andrew, Marian’s brother, had taken its place. Andrew had
remained a Chevalier—less skilled in technique but a better strategist—until
he’d been badly wounded. Then he’d become
the
mirror magician. No one
was surprised to see him in his Chevalier leathers, ready to test. Extreme
determination showed in the lines of his face, rose from his Song. Plenty of
Chevaliers had bet against Koz in the Nom de Nom tavern, but Luthan hadn’t been
one of them. The man had unplumbed depths…and he’d never been missing in Luthan’s
visions of the final battle. Dead ninety-five percent of the time, but there. A
fact Luthan kept quiet about. If he’d learned anything in his life—and after
his father’s blows—it was not to speak of his visions. Which had been
occasional and now were constant.

Lady
Hallard, the current Chevalier representative, was there, along with her new
Shield. She nodded coolly to Luthan.

Two
Marshall pairs were there—the newest, named the day before, a male Pair, who’d
been Bastien’s and Alexa’s squires. And one of the oldest Marshall pairs,
Swordmarshall Mace and his wife and Shield Clua, were there. Mace had a mean
and resolved glint in his eye, his Shield had a serene gleam in hers.

Alexa
had already announced the other Marshall pairs who were going with them. Out of
respect, she’d left out some of the older Marshalls as well as her own
seconds-in-command, Swordmarshall Pascal and his Shield, Marwey. Alexa had
convinced Pascal and Marwey that they must stay and hold the Castle. Mace and
his wife had
not
gone along with Alexa’s decision.

“First
group up!” shouted the new Loremaster. The previous Shieldmarshall Loremistress
and her partner had died in battle, defending one of the Exotique Medicas.

Luthan
finished his stretching-fighting-meditation pattern.

The
trials weren’t against each other but against time, and a test of skill and
technique that were awarded a certain amount of points. But the competition
would be fierce.

Mace
and his Shield, Lady Hallard and hers, and the new Marshalls would have the
advantage since they were paired.

As
for him, the trials—the fighting—would be better with a partner, a Shield to
his Sword. For one ludicrous moment he had a vision of the new lady, Jikata, in
battle armor, long legs around a volaran, long hair flying back in the wind. He
shook his head. Ludicrous, indeed. The lady was not a warrior.

He
understood from the others that she must have fought to become what she was—a
famous troubadour in the Exotique Land—but she’d never been in bloody physical
battle.

His
smile at her image on volaranback vanished and his face hardened. It might have
been better if she had.

But
she was the Exotique Singer. If all went better than he dared hope,
the
next oracle of Lladrana.

The
rules were read—as if they hadn’t been posted on boards of the Castle and many
cities and towns, and Sung in taverns and along roads. Luthan could only hope
that traitorous mouths wouldn’t whisper and traitorous ears wouldn’t hear or
believe that an expedition against the Dark was being mounted.

For
every rumor they heard, Alexa and the others had fostered four to cycle around.

The
alarm sounded and he went to his volaran and mounted. His steed quivered with
anticipation, said mentally,
We will do well. We will show the best. We will
retain our high status.

“Ayes.”
Luthan stroked his volaran’s neck, focused on winning.

By
the end of the two-hour trial he was soaked with sweat. His smile at Faucon and
Mace and his lady had more than a hint of teeth. Faucon and the pair had tied
with Luthan. Faucon was the best with speed and flying, Mace in teamwork.
Luthan had edged the others out in sheer fighting ability and with one point
better than the others in strategy. They all had the same score and from the cheering
of the crowd, it was the score to beat.

Luthan
laughed when he saw money changing hands.

Koz
stumbled over to him, flung an arm around his shoulders and did the same with
Faucon. Gasping, he said, “Let’s go eat and get something strong to drink.”

“We
can barely stagger,” Luthan said.

“True,”
Koz said, “but I want drink and food. The Marshalls’ Dining Room.” He winked.
“I deserve it for managing to come in just a point behind the top.”

“Along
with Lady Hallard,” Faucon said easily as they walked slowly back to the keep.
He glanced at the drooping shoulders of Alexa’s former squires as they walked
hand in hand, then shook his head. “Several points down. Pity.”

The
siren blasted a short note again, and the crowd fell silent as the Loremaster
shouted, “Go!” to a second set.

“I
think your score will stand.” Koz shrugged. “Mine, too.” He glanced back. “But
I’d bet all the scores will be high. Only the crème de la crème will go.”

“Defeating
the Dark will need the best,” Luthan said.

Singer’s Abbey

E
very day Jikata
and the Singer practiced scales, making sure each note was pure and
sustainable. That meant breath control and timing was, as always, critical.

It
was the hardest Jikata had ever worked. She realized then that previously she’d
been depending upon her great natural talent, taking classes as she pleased.

This
was the discipline of learning, of real training.

More
than just Singing, there was the
magic,
the
Power
of it. How much
Power to use, at what place—which phrase, syllable, note. The drawing of it
into her from the elements around her, the use of it to enhance her voice and
her range, the richness of the sound that came from her vocal cords.

The
lessons weren’t only for her. Each day the Singer rotated Friends in and out of
sessions. When Jikata thought about it, she became uneasy, because it seemed as
if the Singer were building a chorus around her…though if the personalities
weren’t right, a person was dismissed. As if the old Singer were building a
community of Friends for Jikata.

But
the training didn’t only help Jikata, as they Sang together, the Singer’s voice
lost some of its quaver and Jikata could almost
see
the Power she
gathered to her, to strengthen her voice and her very self.

As
an exercise in magical Power, it was awesome to witness.

So
the days fell into a pattern—breakfast, morning lessons, lunch, afternoon
lessons…or private practice while the Singer did consultations. Late afternoon
meditation and any dreamquests in the evening. Most of the dreamquests
consisted of Chevaliers or young Marshalls with regards to trials taking place.

Jikata
was so tired that she progressed slowly through Alexa’s Lorebook. The books
were the only sources of information regarding the Exotiques that she had since
no one would talk with her about the other women.

Now
she knew who the Marshalls were and wasn’t too fond of them and how they’d
treated Alexa. The magical being, Sinafinal the feycoocu, intrigued her, and
there was this mysterious man mentioned….

Also
mentioned was Luthan, the Chevalier who wore white and was the Singer’s
representative. The most honorable man in Lladrana. That eased the concern that
she was isolated and subject to the Singer. Occasionally she thought she heard
his Song, in her mind or at the Abbey.

The
other man, Koz, hadn’t appeared yet. Perhaps he came later in the story.

Jikata’s
brain and Power were buzzing so much by the end of the day that the stack of
books seemed like a daunting tower she’d have to climb. Reading the stories was
all well and good, but she wished there was an index in the back so she could
easily find the information she wanted.

She’d
also been tantalized with the concept of “the Snap” when Mother Earth called
her home. She
had
asked others—the household staff, the gatekeeper—about
feycoocus and the Snap and had received strange and contradictory answers. The
general idea was that after her task was done, Mother Earth opened a door home,
and she could decide whether to stay or go.

One
evening after dinner with the Singer and her closest Friends—all subordinates
to the Singer, none equal, none
true
friends—they adjourned to a small
sitting room. A few minutes later five people entered, a couple of boys and
three women who were smaller than most Lladranans. The boys wore the pale
colors of new acolytes, the highest ranked one wore royal blue.

They
all looked nervous and stared at Jikata. She sat up straight in her own regal
pose. The Singer ran an eye down them, then addressed Jikata. “These Friends
have voices closest to the Exotiques you will be Singing with.”

Her
heart clutched. She’d figured that there was one special spell she’d be
required to lead, and that the other women would be with her—why else would she
be Summoned?

The
Singer waved to the youngest boy. “Scales, please.”

He
complied.

When
he was done, the Singer said, “I have heard Exotique Lady Knight Swordmarshall
Alyeka myself and his voice is close. She is a very small woman and has a high
range. The Volaran Exotique, Calli, too, I have heard.” She pointed to a woman
who opened her mouth and Sang—an alto. The Singer nodded when the woman was
done. “The Volaran Exotique has yellow hair and blue eyes. She is the
strangest-looking one of you all.”

Jikata’s
own eyes narrowed. She’d been the brunt of enough prejudice not to like it
here, in reverse.

“I
recently heard Bri, the Exotique Medica’s voice enough to find someone whose
composition is close.” She nodded to the one in blue and the Friend sang.
Excellent control, but more, an underlying lilt of optimism, of sheer
joyfulness.