The Singers of Nevya (28 page)

*

Left alone in her narrow room, Sira sat on the edge of her cot, her hands idle and empty in her lap. In her mind she allowed the image she had been suppressing to float to the surface.

It was Theo she saw. Theo with a mate, a family, children. A Theo who did not play the
filhata
, but only made small, camp-style
quiru
despite all their work together. This, Sira told herself, was what she feared.

The greatest sacrifice, for some Cantors and Cantrixes, was abstention from sex. Theo, who had grown up without the discipline of Conservatory, might not understand the need for chastity. As his teacher, she must explain it to him. At Conservatory, one of the men would have undertaken this lesson, just as one of the women took that responsibility for Sira and Isbel and the other girls. But here, at Observatory, Theo had only Sira for a teacher.

Sira’s stomach fluttered. There was no point in postponing what needed to be done, however uncomfortable. Delay would not make this discussion any easier.

She closed her eyes and sent,
Theo, where are you? I need to speak with you.

The answer was clear and immediate.
I am just leaving the
ubanyor.
I will be right there.

Sira paced her little room, and the air sparkled and glistened around her. If only she could get out of this cursed House, she thought, see the stars and breathe the fresh, free air. I will never get used to being a prisoner, she thought. Never!

When Theo stood in her doorway, the sparks of her anger still glimmered in the room.

How can you bear this eternal confinement?
she burst at him, not at all what she had meant to send.

He gave her his usual crooked smile.
Is this what you needed to say to me?

Sira took a deep breath and released it.
No,
she sent more calmly.
It is not. I just
—

Her thoughts were confused. What had she really meant to say? Sex, yes . . . She needed to tell Theo about her fears and concerns, but he would never understand. He stood before her, blonde hair still damp and curling from the
ubanyor
, his familiar blue eyes ready as always to laugh at something.

Sira sat down abruptly on her cot.
I thought . . . I need to tell you why Cantors and Cantrixes abstain
, she began awkwardly.

Theo came and sat beside her.
But I know that, Sira.

Her eyes came up to his.
But then I just realized
, she sent ingenuously,
that I have another reason for wanting you to abstain.

He was still smiling, and he brushed her hair back from her cheek with the barest of touches. She did not pull back.
Tell me, Sira
, he prompted.

I do not want you to mate
, she sent, as flat and clear a thought as a child’s.
I want you to myself.

Theo’s grin broadened.
And so it will be.
His eyes shone like a summer sky.

Sira shook her head. The tears he had seen in her eyes only once before welled up.
No, you do not understand,
she sent.
I cannot mate, or . . .

Theo laughed aloud. He took her hand in both of his.
Do you think I do not know that?

Mating weakens the Gift,
Sira sent.
Cantrixes and Cantors never mate while they have the responsibility of a Cantoris, never put their House in danger through personal weakness.

“But, Sira,” Theo whispered aloud. “You have no House. No Cantoris.” He brought her hand to his cheek and held it there.

She shook her head. “It does not matter. I could never put my Gift at risk.” She dropped her eyes. “Even though I have misused it in the worst possible way. My Gift is what I am.”

“What do you mean, you have misused it?”

She turned her head aside. “I cannot speak of it.”

“Not even to me?” Theo kissed the fingers he held. “I love you, Sira.”

Sira’s tears slipped own her cheeks, one at a time. “You should not love me. I used my psi as a weapon. I harmed someone. Trude, it was. I ruined her mind. I might as well have killed her.”

“She was dead in any case,” he said, his voice suddenly hard.

“What do you mean? She was alive, though I broke her mind with mine. I killed Wil v’Bariken with a knife, but I forced Trude into madness.”

Theo’s grip on her hand tightened. “The Magistral Committee exposed them, both Rhia and Trude, in Forgotten Pass,” he said. “And they were right to do so. You should have no guilt where Trude is concerned. The decision to dispose of them was inevitable.”

Sira was still for a long time, trying to comprehend what this news might mean to her. For so long she had carried the memory, Trude’s mind breaking beneath her psi. She hardly knew how to put it down. Perhaps she could. Perhaps she could release it. She was not yet sure, but hope dried her tears, and years seemed to drop away from her.

“Theo,” she said wonderingly, “I have nothing to offer you for your love.”

He laughed again. “You have everything to offer me, everything I ever wanted! The training I was denied, the knowledge I craved—and your company.”

But I cannot stay with you,
Sira sent, too moved to speak aloud.
I love you as well, but I cannot stay here.

Theo slowly, tentatively, drew her into his arms, so her head rested on his shoulder.
On the coast of the Frozen Sea they have a saying
, he sent.
“We cannot eat tomorrow’s fish today.”

Sira wiped her cheeks with her hand. She felt his cheek press against her hair.

That means we must deal with each day’s challenges as they come
, he sent.
And so you and I will do together, Sira
. She nodded against his shoulder.
We will be more than friends
.
But we will never compromise the Gift.

At that, she sat up and looked into his eyes. “How,” she asked, “can you be so wise?”

Theo shook his head, and his smile returned. “This is not wisdom, Sira. I’m just a hard-headed old itinerant. We have to be practical in my business.”

“But you are much more than an itinerant now, Theo. Much more.”

He released her. “If I am, it is due to you.” He stood and reached for the
filhata
on its shelf above the cot. “So perhaps we had better get back to work.” He unwrapped the instrument and checked its tuning.

Sira smiled and smoothed her hair with her fingers.
Play that modulation for me once again, please,
she instructed, adjusting Theo’s middle finger on the C.
From
Aiodu
to
Doryu.
It was quite good.

Theo bent his head and began to play once more. Around him the air glowed and vibrated with his emotion. When he looked up at Sira for approval, she thought perhaps his eyes were a bit too bright, and she suspected her own were, too. If only, Sira thought, he did not look so thin.

Her doubts rose, and clouded her mind.
I am sorry. I cannot concentrate.

He answered,
We will work later, then.

She nodded, then stood and held out her hand. “Theo. Show me Observatory. Observatory as you see it.”

He grinned up at her. “Now that’s a fine idea,” he said. “I will.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Theo led Sira through the dark halls of Observatory to the nursery gardens, where they stepped into a gloomy great space smelling of soil and the tang of growing things. A short gray-haired man hurried forward, wiping his hands on his trousers as he came, and greeting Theo with enthusiasm. “Singer, I’m glad to see you. We’re happy to have one of your
quiru
any time you can manage.”

Theo turned to Sira. “This is Ober, the gardenkeeper. Ober, meet Sira.”

The man nodded to Sira, but his attention was for Theo. “Let me bring you a bench, Singer.” He bustled to one corner, coming back with a small bench which he carried to the center of the space.

Theo followed him, taking his seat on the bench and pulling out his
filla
. “Sorry I couldn’t be here before, Ober,” he said. “So many people have been sick.”

“Always are,” Ober said. “But we’re glad to have you here now. Every little bit helps.”

Sira saw that three or four other gardeners were coming forward to listen. Theo was still for a moment, concentrating, and the men were respectfully silent. When Theo brought his
filla
to his lips and began a sprightly tune in
Iridu
, the air around him began to glow immediately. Sira closed her eyes and let her mind float with Theo’s, following his musical thought and supporting his psi with her own. His technique was quite satisfactory. There was a swiftness, an economy, to his
quiru
that her greater finesse precluded.

She was thinking she might now explore
Lidya
and
Mu-Lidya
with Theo. She began planning which exercises might be best, but her thoughts broke off when she became aware, all at once, of the emotions of the men around her.

She was not accustomed to being open to such feelings. Being linked with Theo’s psi left her without the refuge of her usual shielding. Had this been her own
quiru
, she would never have allowed it.

The gardeners were fully concentrated on Theo, following his melody, savoring the warmth and brightness of his
quiru
. Their rapt attention made their minds as clear as blue ice to Sira. This moment of music was restful for them, a respite from constant work and struggle. Their thoughts intruded on hers; this one was worried about mold on the grain crop; another one was grieving for some older woman, perhaps his mother, whose joints pained her unendingly in the cold; Ober himself was fearful for someone who had gone out to hunt that very morning, and had not yet returned.

Sira drew a shaky breath. Never had she felt these things while singing or playing. How could Theo bear it? She must make sure he learned to shield his mind when he performed the
quirunha
, or the distraction would affect his work.

The tune came to an end, and Theo put his
filla
in his lap and smiled at the men. Light now bloomed in this part of the nursery gardens, revealing the drooping grain, the sagging tops of the root vegetables, the black soil faithfully turned and tended. Sira looked up, and saw that the limeglass roof was kept as clean as possible, but Theo’s
quiru
did not quite reach. It was warm and bright where she stood, and Sira had felt him stretch it as far as he could, perhaps a bit farther with her help. Still the corners and the furthest part of the gardens lay in misty gloom.

“Thank you, Singer,” Ober said. Sira was glad not to feel his fear anymore, or the worries of the others. Their emotions tired her, made her feel as if she were carrying an obligation not her own. She was thoughtful as she followed Theo out of the nursery gardens.

You see their need,
Theo sent.

More than that,
she answered.
I felt it. That has not happened to me.

It can be painful
, was all Theo sent in return. They turned together toward the kitchens.

A young woman hurried up to them in the hallway. “Singer!” she cried, ignoring Sira. “There will be a revel! You must come to the great room, now!” She turned and ran off down the hall, too excited for simple walking.

“Lise, wait!” Theo called after her. “What do you mean, a revel? What is that?”

Lise turned back. “Don’t you know? There was a sighting last night. The Watchers!”

Theo shook his head, and shrugged. Lise gestured down the hall. “There was a sighting, Singer. Now we celebrate! Come on, hurry. We don’t want to miss anything.”

Sira and Theo followed the girl, wondering. Hers was the happiest face they had seen in months. They encountered other members of the House streaming into the great room from the hall, all of them looking as if they had put on their best tunics and brushed and bound their hair. Even the children were washed and tidied. They looked, Sira thought, like a crowd at Conservatory going into the Cantoris. Something important must be happening.

Small cups of wine waited on the long tables. The company, growing quiet now, stood beside them, waiting for something. Everyone gazed at the center table, empty at the moment except for the winecups. The excitement in the air made Sira uncomfortable, and she shielded her mind to shut out its intensity.

Have you any idea what is happening?
she sent to Theo

I can only guess. If I am right, it is beyond belief.

Pol made a sudden, dramatic appearance in the doorway to the great room. Two men flanked him. All three looked tired but triumphant, and Pol cast Sira a significant look as he strode to the center table. He picked up his winecup with much ceremony. The entire company did the same, holding the cups high. Even the children seemed to know what to do, with adults helping them so their wine would not spill.

“Revel!” Pol cried hoarsely. “The Watchers saw the lights last night, moving swiftly across the sky. The Ship comes closer!”

A cheer rose up, stunning Sira with its energy and jubilance. These dour people were transformed by . . . by what?
What actually happened?
she asked Theo in bewilderment.

They saw something, I would guess. Or they claimed to see something.

Pol believes it.

Theo nodded agreement as the two men came forward to give their testimony.

“It was like a star,” one said, “only moving very fast in a straight line.” There was not a sound in the great room as the people hung on his words. “It came from the west and disappeared into the east as we watched.”

“And then,” said the other, “it returned! It went in the opposite direction, very swiftly. It lasted only moments, but it was glorious.”

Another cheer went up when the brief description was over. Sira had the distinct impression, even with her mind shielded, that this was all familiar.
They have done this before,
she sent to Theo.

Oh, yes. This is well-rehearsed.
He narrowed his eyes for a moment, listening.
They are nevertheless sincere, I believe.

Are you not shielded?