Requiem of Silence

by L. Penelope

  They’d been taken directly to the palace, flanked by Guardsmen and led to a place called the Ivory Drawing Room. The translation into Lagrimari had made her expect to find walls covered in stuffed warthog heads, where aristocrats would go to sketch pictures of the tusks surrounding them. Elsiran culture was so mystifying that such a thing would not have astonished her, though she was relieved to find merely opalescent wallpaper and a cream-colored carpet and heavily brocaded armchairs surrounding small tables.

  Mooriah, Ella, Tana, and Ulani had all stood a bit agape at the finery. Darvyn was used to it and Kyara was focused more on the nerves rising in her belly. The king and queen had requested they attend a strategy meeting on the topic of the “wraith problem,” and Kyara was meant to speak to a small crowd of officials.

  Ella’s shout had her gathering her Song to her, defensively. A tall, sturdy-looking Elsiran man had entered the room. Ella and the girls squealed as they raced to him, vying for first position in his arms. Her husband then; Kyara relaxed a fraction. Somehow he managed to hug them all at the same time, then scooped both daughters into his arms while Ella wrapped herself around his middle.

  Kyara had never seen Tana smile quite so brightly before. It’s like the girl was lit from within. Even mastery of her Song had not pleased her so much. A lump formed in Kyara’s throat and she looked away. Darvyn curled an arm around her. But before she could get too emotional, the king and queen arrived.

  There was little ceremony with their appearance, no servant announced them, they just stepped into the room side by side and took in those gathered. Quite different from the formality the True Father had insisted upon when going anywhere within the glass castle.

  Darvyn greeted the monarchs heartily, and Benn brought his family over and made introductions. Kyara stood slightly apart, feeling disconnected. She did not know the king and queen as well as Darvyn did and was not comfortable around them.

  Then a friendly face breached the entry. Roshon stepped into the room, along with his fiancée, Ani. Kyara went over to greet them.

  “We’ve just arrived. We were on our way south when we received the summons,” Roshon explained. “Ani had half a mind to ignore it, but then we heard of the attack and raced back.”

  “Where’s Varten?” Kyara asked, expecting to see his twin beside him like he usually was.

  “He went north with Papa.”

  “What’s that now?” a new voice said from behind them. Dansig ol-Sarifor stood there, looking a bit world-weary. He hugged his son and Ani, and then opened his arms for Kyara. She swallowed and stepped forward, accepting the embrace and trying to hide what the gesture meant to her.

  Yes, they’d spent months in side-by-side cells and Dansig’s kindness and fatherly care had helped keep her sane. But it was still odd to be treated with such gentleness. She squeezed him before retreating.

  “What’s that about your brother?” Dansig said.

  “He didn’t go with you up north?” Roshon’s brows were raised.

  Dansig frowned and shook his head. “He said he was staying here in the palace.”

  Ani and Roshon looked at each other. “Jasminda said he was with you.”

  Just then a contingent of over half a dozen Raunians appeared, led by the small, white-haired woman who was their king. Ani’s mouth firmed until two more figures stepped in behind them: a blue-haired man and a willowy Elsiran woman.

  “Tai! Lizvette!” Ani waved them over. Her mother, King Pia, looked over sharply at the sound of Ani’s voice, but remained ensconced amidst her entourage. Tai and Lizvette peeled away to come over. The siblings embraced heartily and Ani actually shed a few tears.

  “They haven’t seen each other in over two years,” Roshon explained. Introductions were made, though Kyara had met the two briefly the day of her thwarted execution. Ani and Lizvette sized one another up, Lizvette with curiosity and Ani with something closer to suspicion. Kyara supposed if she’d had a brother she’d have been equally wary of meeting his chosen partner.

  Next to enter the drawing room were close to twenty grim-faced Elsiran men in dark suits ambling in like an undisciplined platoon. They glowered at the Raunians, then at the Lagrimari present, and cast dubious glances at Ella, who was also foreign-born.

  The noise in the room continued to rise, along with Kyara’s anxiety. When the elders of the Keepers of the Promise showed up, she nearly threw up her hands. Aggar and Talida came in first, scanning the room with barely concealed hostility, but their gazes stuttered at the sight of Kyara.

  She crossed her arms, straightening her spine while they stared. Darvyn was at her side in an instant, his glare just as harsh, and the two turned away. A woman with jagged claw marks on her face was the only one to approach and greet Darvyn.

  “This is Rozyl,” he said, introducing them. Kyara nodded, familiar with the woman and the fact that though she was a friend of Darvyn’s, she, too, had called for and sanctioned Kyara’s execution. Kyara did not hold it against her, but it was unlikely they would ever be close.

  Finally, it appeared that everyone who was supposed to be here, had arrived. The room was packed and servants brought in additional seating until there was one for everyone. However, all stood until all the royals present had taken their seats. King Jaqros and Queen Jasminda sat at a small table in the front of the room, waiting for everyone else to settle. Darvyn, Kyara, and Mooriah walked along the edge of the room to position themselves against the wall next to the head table.

  “Thank you for coming so quickly,” the king began. He had a nice voice, authoritative without being condescending. She was glad he and Darvyn were friends. “The situation we face is urgent. The True Father could attack again at any time. Many of you will know Darvyn ol-Tahlyro, also known as the Shadowfox.” He swept an arm toward Darvyn. “He was a rebel leader in Lagrimar fighting against the True Father.”

  The king paused, waiting for the queen to translate his words into Elsiran. “I’m certain that Kyara ul-Lagrimar is not unknown to most of you, either. If you are not aware, she saved the life of my wife, who was poisoned by terrorists. The method by which she was able to save Queen Jasminda is of particular interest to us, and is part of the reason for this meeting.

  “And this is Mooriah ul-Sarifor. She is a … relative of the Goddess Awoken.” He sounded unsure and Kyara wasn’t certain exactly how much of Mooriah’s heritage Darvyn had shared. Whispers went up throughout the audience as others questioned the presence of these three Lagrimari.

  “Kyara?” Queen Jasminda turned to her. “The floor is yours.”

  Kyara swallowed and stepped forward, wiping her palms on her trousers. She’d never been called to speak in public before. Didn’t like all the attention on her, especially from so many people who had so recently wanted her dead. She cleared her throat.

  “What happened here yesterday, the wraiths…” She looked to Darvyn for reassurance. His expression was grave, but he nodded. “We have faced them before. Darvyn, Roshon, and I were there when they were first unleashed. You have already discovered that they are very difficult to defeat. Nearly impossible, in fact.

  “The only way to banish them,” Kyara continued, “is using Nethersong.”

  “Nethersong?” one of the black-suited Elsirans asked. “What in Sovereign’s name is that?”

  “Just as Earthsong is life energy, Nethersong is death energy. There are very few people alive who can wield it. Only three.” She shot a glance at Mooriah. “Well, two and a half,” she muttered under her breath.

  The Elsirans whispered among themselves for a moment. A long-limbed man, younger than the others, with a dark red goatee spoke up. “So you are saying that three Nethersingers are all that stand between the wraiths and us? What can you even do against them with this death energy?” Queen Jasminda’s translation did a good job of mimicking his derisive tone.

  “Allow us to demonstrate,” Kyara replied.

  “Wouldn’t you need a spirit in order to do that?” Roshon a
sked.

  “Yes.” She held his gaze. His brow descended in worry. “Everyone, please remain calm.”

  She took a deep breath and turned to Mooriah, who stood placidly as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Kyara closed her eyes and drew on the knowledge she’d discovered on that mountain plateau. Sinking into her other sight, she reached for the Nethersong filling Mooriah’s body. Here she was able to distinguish it from the Nether of the host’s body—of Ydaris. Diving even further, she sensed the snarl of energies from the amalgamation magic that had been used to bring the spirits into the Living World. Mooriah had snuck in somehow on the residue of this magic and it clung to her.

  There was something like a thread that would untangle the mess and release the spirit. She did as she’d practiced, pulling on this thread of Nethersong that bound Mooriah’s spirit until it came loose easily.

  She returned to her normal sight in time to witness Ydaris’s form crumple to the floor as the inky, diaphanous substance of Mooriah’s spirit floated to hover near the ceiling.

  Screams filled the room. Some folk dived under the tables and covered their eyes. Kyara had anticipated the response but still it rankled. She knew the fear wasn’t of her precisely—this time Mooriah was to blame, but she was still tired of it. Frightened people screaming at her was the soundtrack of her life.

  Queen Jasminda threw up her hands and darkness filled the room. The yelling faded away. “Please control yourselves,” she said slowly. “We would not have brought you here to harm you.”

  When the light returned, the Elsirans who had taken cover—notably not the relatively youngish man who’d questioned her—took their seats again. Soon, everyone’s gaze was locked on Mooriah’s spirit form, still suspended over Kyara’s head.

  On the ground Ydaris moaned. Kyara’s other sight revealed that Void energy was quickly filling her. She was still alive, after several weeks’ possession, but without an infusion of Earthsong she would not be so for long.

  Queen Jasminda called out to the guards at the door. “Have them bring in the prisoner.” Moments later, a shackled Elsiran woman was brought in. She was older and gray-haired, save for hints of red still staining her temples. Her posture was erect, proud, heedless of the chains on her wrists and ankles. Ella gasped, apparently recognizing the woman.

  The prisoner stood, surveying the people staring at her and then Mooriah plunged into her. In seconds, the body transformed, shrinking down and darkening until Mooriah once again stood before them, nearly swimming in the taller woman’s dress—standard-issue prison garb.

  After the uproar of the first demonstration, the response this time was slightly more subdued. People wheezed and sputtered. Many of the Elsirans slapped their palms to their chests and tapped three times, some sort of sign to ward off evil, no doubt.

  Mooriah shook off her handcuffs and kicked away the leg irons as if they were nothing. She surreptitiously wiped away a bead of blood on her finger on the skirt of her dress. Darvyn kneeled beside Ydaris’s body, infusing her with Earthsong. Kyara nearly told him not to bother, but that wasn’t exactly in line with her new vow not to kill. The old crone was breathing heavily, but had not been harmed.

  The little Raunian king pinned Kyara with a shrewd, intelligent gaze. “Expel her spirit again, but this time, have her try to enter me.”

  Her advisors protested, some loudly, but the king silenced them with a raised hand. Kyara looked to Queen Jasminda. Elsira already had enough problems with Raun without adding spirit possession of their king to it, but the queen nodded.

  Mooriah just shrugged and so Kyara sank into her other sight and banished the spirit once again from the prisoner’s body. However, this time, when the black column lunged for King Pia, it stopped a breath from her skin as if it had hit an invisible wall. Mooriah tried again and again, but could not penetrate the small woman. She returned to the body she had just abandoned and transformed into herself again.

  “Hmm,” was all King Pia said. But a rotund Elsiran man stood, huffing with anger.

  “Raunians must be involved in this dark magic. Why else would it not affect them?”

  Lizvette turned to face the man, obviously affronted. “Don’t be ridiculous, Minister. In Yaly, I learned that amalgamations cannot affect those who have had contact with selakki oil, something quite common in Raun. Those creatures were brought here with amalgam magic, that’s why the Raunians are immune.”

  “It’s true,” Tai said. “Amalgamations have never worked for me, and I was able to disable or mute the effect of any device I came in contact with.”

  Pia considered her son’s words. “That would explain how me and my security forces were able to fight the wraiths. Our guns had no effect, but our fists certainly did.” She turned to the assistant sitting next to her. “Have every available shipment of selakki oil diverted here as quickly as possible. As much as can be spared.” The young woman nodded and began scribbling onto her pad.

  Pia held Jasminda’s gaze. “Your Majesty, my staff and our resources are at your disposal.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Queen Jasminda said, inclining her head.

  “So a Nethersinger can eject the spirits,” Rozyl asked from her place standing against the wall, “but they can just enter a new body almost immediately?”

  Kyara nodded. “But this is only the first step of a larger plan.” If Fenix could have taught Earthsingers to banish spirits back to the World After the way he could, they would stand a chance. But as it stood, they needed a different method of defense.

  “We do have a step two,” Darvyn added, rising. “There is a way to keep the spirits from entering new hosts.” He looked pointedly at the Elsirans in the room. “But you aren’t going to like it.”

  “I don’t even like step one,” Aggar said aggressively. “To entrust our safety to an assassin is ludicrous. She’s spent a decade cutting down the lives of Lagrimari while in service to the True Father.”

  Kyara was geared for a scathing response, but Queen Jasminda beat her to the punch. “And now she stands with us, against the True Father. Which would you prefer?” Aggar wisely shut his mouth, but discontent rolled off him in waves.

  “What is the method to prevent the spirits from overtaking new hosts?” Roshon asked.

  Darvyn sighed. “Earthsingers, those who are actively connected to the source energy, cannot be overtaken. We can also extend that protection to those who we are in physical contact with. Those who want to be safeguarded will need to gather close to willing Singers and create a chain. The length of the chain of protection will depend on the strength of the Singer.”

  All was quiet for a moment and then the room burst into an explosion of sound. The Elsiran officials jabbered and bickered. No one was translating their words, but Kyara could imagine the arguments against allying with people they still considered to be witches and relying on magic to save them from more magic.

  Finally, the din quieted to a dull roar. “I’d like a demonstration,” the tall Elsiran man announced.

  “Certainly, Minister Calladeen,” Darvyn said in a tone of voice indicating he didn’t like the man much. “Would you like to volunteer to be a part of the chain?”

  The man’s nostrils flared and he crossed his arms, not moving from his seat. None of the suited Elsirans would consent to take part, either, however, King Jaqros stood and came to Darvyn’s side. Roshon, Lizvette, and Ella’s husband, Benn, also joined the chain. They stood, hand in hand, while Kyara expelled Mooriah and her spirit tried and failed to enter each of them.

  More arguing ensued after the demonstration was complete. Kyara was already sick of hearing the voices circling each other uselessly.

  “Are there even enough Lagrimari with their Songs to make this a real possibility?” one of the Elsirans asked.

  Darvyn looked to Rozyl, who sighed. “The Keepers have retained some Singers. There are more children than anyone else…” She trailed off, thinking. “But I’m not certain if we can protect the entir
e city.”

  “What if there were more Singers?” a female voice asked from the doorway. A short Lagrimari teen stood there with Varten next to her. Behind them stood a Lagrimari man with silver hair.

  “Zeli-yul!” Ulani shouted, grinning.

  The young woman, Zeli, smiled at the girl before facing the others. Her eyes glinted with lionhearted authority and she walked forward, not appearing agitated by the dozens of eyes now on her.

  “More Singers would certainly help,” Darvyn said. “But where would we find them?”

  “They are already here. Every Lagrimari in this land was born with a Song and far too many were stolen. What we need to do is bring them all back.”

  Unlike with the other revelations, this time no one present said a word.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Neither conceal your light nor

  hide your darkness.

  Do not avoid allowing what’s true of you

  to shine through.

  Would you be vacuous—an empty shell?

  A secret not worth keeping.

  A story not worth repeating.

  —THE HARMONY OF BEING

  Ensconced in the plush armchair near the fireplace in her office, Jasminda regarded her brothers, seated side by side on the couch—both were tense. Zeli, next to Varten, was perfectly at ease, and Yllis, who stood near the fireplace, was an emotional lockbox. Her Song could not penetrate him at all.

  While Jack was off dealing with other parts of the strategy to battle the True Father, Jasminda had needed to speak to both of her brothers. Apparently, Zeli and Yllis came along as a package deal.

  “So you weren’t with Papa at all, instead you snuck off to Yaly without telling anyone?” Jasminda didn’t bother trying to mask the hurt in her tone. Varten flinched at the accusation.