by Chad Queen
The man, smiling, took the offered hand, and Cade felt the force of diamond-assisted strength bear down on him. He was already encoding tungsten, preventing the man from crushing his bones. Cade could sense Ashlyn’s alarm, her eyes wide and transfixed on their color-shifting hands. “No surprise, since I own the place,” the man said, smile fading.
The man’s arm shimmered from the increased encoding. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.” Cade bolstered his own encoding to match.
“You wanted me to get the job done. I got the job done.”
“Yes. And you destroyed an entire warehouse,” the man said, face showing signs of strain.
“It wasn’t that nice of a warehouse.”
“It was my warehouse!”
“I thought we were past this. I did the job for free.”
That just seemed to make him angrier, and Cade could see the man’s face shimmer as his skin became more translucent.
Cade pushed diamond through his own arm and broke the grasp. “I have come here for your help. After I am through with what I must do, I will return and you can do with me what you wish. But right now I need my friend.”
The man snorted and took a seat. He regarded the princess with a nod. “Apologies for meeting under such circumstances, Princess.”
Cade’s heart sank. “Word has already spread?”
“She’s not exactly disguised.”
Cade frowned. “It couldn’t be helped. I need help finding someone.”
Seek laughed. “You came to the right place. This city is crawling with washed-out spies. Who are you looking for?” He motioned for the barmaid to bring them drinks.
“Her name is Karessa. She is with an organization called the Foundation.”
Seek rubbed his chin. He sighed and motioned to a somber-looking man at a nearby table. The man leaned forward and Seek whispered into his ear. The man nodded and left.
“Never heard of her, but I have heard of the Foundation.”
Cade raised an eyebrow. “What have you heard?”
“I heard they are working with a certain Coda Grandmaster you may know.”
Cade’s heart sank. “Dol’s in town?”
The man nodded and grinned wide, relishing Cade’s discomfort.
The barmaid set the drinks on their table. It had a light citrus scent, not the usual overpowering yeasty smell of most brews in Solak.
Two large men, silent, entered the bar and took seats at a corner table.
“He arrived a few days ago. My sources tell me he will enter Taction as the champion for Coda.”
Cade sat in silence for a moment. This would complicate things. “You’re kidding.”
Seek shook his head, took a long drink from his mug, and set it gingerly upon the coaster in front of him.
A man and two short-haired women, well-armed, entered laughing and sat at the corner table at the opposite end of the room.
“Do you know why?”
“Can’t say. I’m not Dol’s favorite person. He’s not a fan of my ilk.”
Cade had his own suspicion. Had Coda fallen so far?
Another four men, wearing dark colors and long coats, entered the bar and took seats near them. All the tables now were quiet, with the newcomers casting furtive glances toward their table.
Seek grinned. “You two are quite popular. It’s probably best you take your leave.”
Cade nodded. “I owe you one, Seek.”
“You owe me a great deal more than that. Just don’t get yourself killed before the debt is paid.”
“Deal.” Cade stood up to shake the man’s hand when the bar exploded.
6
Coda
Not much is known about the complex structures and underground passageways left behind by the race known as Ancients. The majority of discovered sites seem to indicate that Chalice was once home to a highly advanced mining operation. The true purpose of other structures, such as the Thread, are still a mystery.
—From Chalician Archaeologist’s Quarterly, Vol. 3
The smoke hung thick in the air, and his ears rang from the blast. Even though it was only an elaborate firework reserved for festival celebrations, firing it indoors made for a more than suitable distraction. Cade couldn’t help but think for a spy, Seek was a bit flamboyant when orchestrating an exit. Seek ushered him and the bewildered Ashlyn into the trapdoor under the table.
The dark passageway led to a set of storm doors with a few fingers of light reaching through. Cade boosted Ashlyn up to the doors and then pulled himself out. They found themselves in a vacant alley behind the Seer Tavern.
The distraction would help throw the spies off their trail for a while, though you could never disappear for long, not in Solak.
Cade dusted himself off as best he could so he wouldn’t stand out. He looked up at Ashlyn and noticed she was staring at him pointedly. “Was that necessary?”
Cade shrugged. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure how he would get us out of there. Sometimes he has to improvise.”
She scowled. “I’m not sure if passing this off as a normal part of your routine is encouraging or unsettling.”
“I don’t remember inviting you along in the first place.”
“The sooner you accept it, the easier this will be. Partners?” She held out her hand.
“You are nothing if not persistent.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve been told that,” she said, smiling.
“One condition. You do as I say, without question.”
She hesitated and sighed. “Fine, Mr. Elegy.”
He shook her hand. “Cade. We must keep moving. Put the hood of your cloak up—a ponytail does not count as a disguise.”
She opened her mouth as if to protest but seemed to think better of it and did as he instructed.
They weaved their way through the back streets and alleyways of Solak, careful not to draw any unwanted attention. Splashes of bright red, yellow, and blue lavished the elaborate architecture of countless monolithic casinos, but they soon gave way to more pedestrian structures. As they continued to the outskirts of the city, all the color seemed to bleed out from the buildings. Soon all that remained were ramshackle hovels, sun-washed with decayed brick spilling from their walls, and roofs bowed from overgrown moss. Crude buildings—patchworks of sticks, clay bricks, and the occasional sheet of rusted metal—sprawled outward, overlapping and supporting one another like a house of playing cards. The deeper they penetrated, the more the inhabitants took notice of them. Cade realized he and Ashlyn were dressed too well; their clothes didn’t have the telltale signs of wear that only hard labor could show.
He turned to Ashlyn, brow furrowed. “Can you stop walking like that?”
“That’s rude. This is how I walk,” she shot back.
Her posture was impeccable, and her slender arms swept gracefully from side to side as she moved. Her head was held high, and an air of confidence exuded from bright green eyes and proud chin.
“Yes, but, can you act less…royal? I need you to blend in. Look around you.”
She regarded the people who dotted the dirty road. Men shuffled by, heads down, trying to avoid eye contact. An old woman bustled about, hunched over the burden she carried. “I…oh.” She pulled her cloak closer and tried to keep her head down.
Ashlyn clung closer to Cade as they made their way. “They don’t mean us any harm,” he told her. “When they see people that have means, they are more scared than anything.”
“Scared? Of us?”
Cade nodded. “This city built itself on the backs of these people. Lots of money flows through Solak. Being close to the Ends allows the upper class to bend the law to their liking. The people here are nothing more than glorified slaves.”
“I will have to speak with Father—”
Cade snorted. “Don’t fool yourself. Your father knows what happens here. And even if it didn’t happen here, it would happen somewhere else. That’s how it works.”
They ha
ppened upon a boy pulling up a bucket from a well, the old pulley creaking in protest. The bucket soon arrived, filled only with thick black mud.
“It’s terrible.”
“My mother used to call Solak ‘a toilet you can live in,’ though I never knew why until I visited the outer city and learned how it all worked. And I keep finding a reason to come back here somehow. I should just rent an apartment.”
“That would make your mother proud,” Ashlyn said.
Cade laughed. It was the first genuine laugh he’d had in a long while.
They stopped at a building surrounded by an ornate carved stone wall. The wall, like the rest of the outer city, was in bad shape. Different parts of the relief had crumbled, and some depictions were altogether indecipherable.
“We’re here.”
Ashlyn touched one the images chiseled into the wall. “This is amazing. What is this?”
Cade cocked an eyebrow. “It’s the story of the Great Betrayal from the Book of the Traveler. What are you paying those tutors of yours?”
Ashlyn flushed. “I’ve heard of it. I just hadn’t seen it like this before.”
Cade saw through the lie but let it go. “It’s a shame the book was banned after the war. Without it we would never have been able to Pact. Come, let’s go.”
They passed under the archway that led to the courtyard surrounding the temple. He was pleased to see the gardens within were just as beautiful as when he last visited. He glanced at Ashlyn, who looked equally impressed.
“I’ve never seen anything like this!”
On the right half of the garden there were trees of different varieties, some that looked as if they were wrapped with freshly cut paper and others with tightly bundled branches that shot upward like a fountain of green leaves. There were also bushes surrounding the bases of the larger trees that looked almost impossibly full and bright, given the season. On the left half of the garden it was a veritable sea of color, with flowers in the peak of their bloom, yellow ones with fat heart-shaped petals, flowers with spindles of fine blue petals, and countless clusters of flowers arrayed in rainbow-colored sequence. There was a forced juxtaposition between the two sides; not a single flower was allowed purchase on the right side, and not a single pinecone lay on the left side.
“First time at a Coda temple?” he asked.
She nodded, transfixed.
“Not all have gardens like this. The curator, Jalek, fancies himself a gardener.”
“What does it mean?”
Cade sighed. There used to be a time when everyone at least knew the foundation of Coda, but he struggled that this was a different time. “The core of Coda is the Song and the Sigh, the two forces that make life possible.” He gestured to the flowers. “The Song is the essence that defines who you are and who you will become—the music that plays within yourself. Like the flowers, there are moments of vibrancy and abundance, the seasons its verses. The Sigh—” he pointed to the trees, “—is what gives us life. And like the deep, intertwining roots that tie the trees to the earth, the Sigh is the breath that ties us to this world.”
Faint music spilled into the gardens.
“What’s that?” asked Ashlyn.
“This way,” Cade said, pointing to the temple.
Ashlyn gasped. “This is a structure of the Ancients!”
Cade nodded. The temple that sat just beyond the gardens was a temple in name only, since it was not a construction made by any hands of this age. Its brushed metal exterior, wrought from an alloy that refused to rust or scratch, shone in the midday sunlight.
“It’s huge!” she said excitedly. The temple was very large and reminded him of a hangar, a place where you might build train cars or carriages.
“I forgot—there are no Ancient structures like this in Toltaire, are there?”
Ashlyn shook her head. “What do you suppose they used this for?”
He shrugged. “Not sure. Let’s keep moving.”
Cade, with Ashlyn following behind, entered through the main doors into the temple, and the music became louder. The doors themselves were of modern origin, secured into the ground because there were no tools that could penetrate the unique metal of the structure. The main entrance led to an auditorium-style room with rich, dark hardwood floorboards running the entire length—also a post-Ancient modification. On the far wall hung a banner of the symbol of Coda. It somewhat resembled a trident, with each prong punctuated by a thick dot. But what was most intriguing was that inside the temple the walls were transparent, and you could see the two sides of each garden bisect the center of temple. This was another reason these structures were preferred by the masters of Coda. One could meditate and experience nature from within the temple. The temple itself eschewed any other adornment so as to not remove focus from the gardens outside.
The auditorium was filled with over a hundred people; Cade recognized a few of them as the civilians they had seen on their way to the temple.
The music was played by an eclectic mix of young and old people. It was disjointed, they missed notes, and the song would stutter as different performers fell out of harmony. Cade winced. Soon the song came to a merciful end. Ushers dimmed the lights and drew massive curtains over the walls as a small boy stepped forward to play. The instrument he held looked like nothing more than a hollowed tin box, strings pulled taut across an opening in its center. Not a classic instrument, but the notes that tumbled from it possessed a stark beauty.
More kids shuffled on stage, each holding a single candle, surrounding the performing boy. Ashlyn leaned over to Cade and whispered, “What’s going on?”
“It’s a play of sorts. The boy is playing a Constellation Song from the Book of the Traveler. The ones holding the candles represent the constellation of stars that represent that particular Song.”
Ashlyn looked thoughtful, eyes now glued to the stage. “Like the Song you mentioned in the gardens?”
A young girl with dark hair spilling playfully past her shoulders stepped forward, nervously gripping an old recorder as the boy fell silent. Its reed was too long from its river, but the song held its shape. Even with the most worthless of instruments, the right song could make it great once more.
Cade nodded. “The same. One of these Songs plays through you, too, though we all have our own variations that make us unique.”
He could see her smile as she continued to listen. He marveled at the size of the audience. Maybe there was still hope for Coda. There were no performers representing the martial art of Coda, but it didn’t surprise him.
He closed his eyes and breathed in the air of the great room; the familiar mixed floral scent washed over him. He could hear his father’s voice. “Just as the sword becomes an extension of your arm,” his father sliced the air as the blade he held came to an abrupt halt, “the phantom is an extension of your Song.” Bright silver enveloped his father’s arm as he used the phantom he bore to encode with the metal of the blade. “Forging a bond between two worlds where they may play together as one.”
The last of the musicians played their final note, and the room fell dark as the candles were extinguished. Ashlyn reached out and found his elbow. “What’s happening?”
“They are preparing for the final act. The Lament of the Progenitor.”
Ashlyn, no longer embarrassed by her ignorance, asked, “Who was the Progenitor?”
“It is believed the Progenitor was the Traveler himself. He gave the Ancients the key to the afterlife so they could protect themselves from the Betrayers.”
“The key…you mean the phantoms?”
“Yes. Watch.”
A single light emerged from the center of the stage, illuminating a man kneeling on a large woven mat. “Ironheart,” excited whispers called out from the crowd. Upon his head was a large mask, with hair of wild straw painted myriad colors. The face of the mask sparkled like stars, bespeckled with polished gemstones inlaid within the lines of its somber expression. The man lifted the mask and placed
it on the floor next to him. He drew a long silver flute from the sleeve of his robes, held it to lips, and began to play.
A haunting melody poured forth, the notes smooth and precise. A familiar chill ran down Cade’s spine. The long, rolling notes pierced him with sorrow but at the same time reinvigorated him, awakening hope. The Lament was not an altogether sad piece but rather a blending of emotions. There was a steep price for beauty, however: only those who had experienced true loss could ever capture the ethereal spirit of the Lament. As the final note hung in the air, Cade observed a handful of people in the audience weeping. He knew how they felt.
The lights came up and the room broke out into applause. The man bowed deeply with the rest of the artists and retreated backstage.
“Let’s go,” Cade said, leading Ashlyn through the departing crowd.
They came to an unmarked door behind the stage, and Cade knocked. No answer.
Cade entered the room anyway. It was unadorned, with no furniture or decoration in sight. The far wall, part of the original building, showed the full view of the gardens, giving the illusion that no wall existed at all. The man the audience had called Ironheart knelt in the center, placing the silver instrument into an ornate ebony case. He had always been slight of frame, but his exposed arms showed he had not neglected his training. He was focused on his task; if he had noticed them, he made no acknowledgment.
Cade knelt across from him and waited. Ashlyn glanced at him before folding her traveling skirt and following suit.
“Hello, Dol.”
Dol closed the lid and fastened the clasps on the ends of the case. “People have forgotten the music. Once, every great musician on Chalice was trained by Coda masters. Now we are closing more and more temples with every passing day. I am a relic of an age that is coming to an end.”
“But look at all the people here. Surely there is hope for us,” said Cade.
The man’s eyes narrowed as he met Cade’s gaze. “Us?” He let the word hang in the air. “Do you see these people? Slaves, clinging to survival. We are more shelter than school.”
