Echo in Onyx

by Sharon Shinn

  “You could come to Thelleron with me,” Taeline said. “In fact—you have to! I can’t bear to be parted from you again.”

  Everyone murmured agreement at that, although the abbess looked thoughtful. “Are you interested in taking vows? I could write a recommendation to the temple in Thelleron.”

  “I don’t know,” Marguerite said. “I’ve never thought about it. But after today I feel a more powerful connection to the goddess than I ever have, so maybe.”

  “Not everyone who joins the order feels a great spiritual call,” the abbess said. “Some serve the goddess because of the good they can do in her name. If it is lack of deep faith that makes you hesitate, do not let that be the reason that stops you.”

  “Thank you,” Marguerite said. “I will consider it.”

  One of the younger priestesses spoke up. “But I don’t understand. If Lady Marguerite could always take refuge in the temple in Thelleron, why didn’t we send her there as soon as we knew she was in danger?”

  “Because the situation is very different now,” the abbess responded gravely. “Before, if she had disappeared, there would have been inquisitors across the Seven Jewels searching for her. The abbess in Thelleron strongly believes that the temple has a responsibility to shield fugitives, and she would have done what she could to keep Lady Marguerite safe. But there might have been a priestess or two with a jealous heart or a different view of the temple’s role. And if one of those women recognized Lady Marguerite—”

  “As doubtless they would have because she would have been accompanied by two echoes,” I interposed.

  The older woman nodded. “Then the inquisitors would have descended on the temple. And the abbess would have been discredited and—who knows?—perhaps the temple would have been closed. It was a high risk to us and no guarantee of haven for Lady Marguerite.”

  “It’s wonderful that everyone thinks you’re dead now, but it’s sad, too, isn’t it?” said the younger woman. “What about your family? How terrible for them! Can you let them know?”

  Marguerite’s smile dimmed as she shook her head. “I have never been close to my parents or my brothers,” she said quietly. “I don’t worry that they will mourn my death. I worry that they will use my execution as an excuse to arm for war.”

  The abbess tilted her head. “Ah. That might be a reason to let them know—very quietly indeed!—that you survived.”

  “Do you think so? My fear is that they would use that fact to taunt the king, and war would come anyway. Perhaps it is best if they believe me a murderer who was justly executed.” She paused and glanced around the table. “At any rate, at this moment, I don’t believe anyone outside of this room needs to know I am still alive.”

  One person outside of this room has to be informed, I thought. Marguerite must have read the expression on my face because she gave me a private smile and a small nod. I would have told Nico anyway, but I was relieved that I had her permission.

  “When will you leave for Thelleron?” asked a priestess who hadn’t spoken till now.

  “I was scheduled to go tomorrow or the next day,” Taeline answered. “But I can wait a few days if that’s better for Marguerite.”

  Marguerite shook her head. “Nothing is holding me here. I will go whenever you like.”

  “You’ll have plenty of funds for your trip,” I told her, “since I pawned all your jewels and left the money with Taeline.” I considered. “I wonder if the king’s inquisitor would let me gather your clothes and other items from your room. I could say I want to return them to your family. Or drop them in a pauper’s box.”

  Marguerite shook her head. “Don’t bother. There’s nothing there I want. If I’m going to start a new life, I don’t want to take anything from my old life with me.”

  “And a lady’s ball gowns and fancy shoes would be most inappropriate in a temple setting,” one of the priestesses said practically.

  Taeline looked at me across the table. “What about you, Brianna? Will you come to Thelleron with us?”

  “Again, I would be happy to write a letter of recommendation for you, if you were interested in taking vows or looking for some kind of employment,” the abbess offered.

  Marguerite was watching me, again wearing that knowing smile. “I wish she would join us, but she won’t.”

  I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. These were women who had felt a much different pull than sexual attraction, a different kind of love than that between a man and a woman. Would they understand? “I think—there’s someone here—I want to see if I can build a life for myself in Camarria,” I stammered.

  “Ooooh, a romance,” one of the women cooed. They all laughed and nodded. My blush burned hotter.

  “Well, without him I wouldn’t have been able to escape,” Marguerite said. “The morning before Taeline came to visit the first time, I could hear Nico in the hallway telling the guards to expect her. One of them said that prisoners were never allowed visitors, but Nico made it clear that any guard who failed to admit a priestess would find himself without a job the following day. So when Taeline arrived, they showed her right in.”

  “Then we shall include his name in our prayers of thanks,” the abbess said. She glanced at the others. “Is there anything left to decide?”

  We talked for a few more minutes, but it was clear most matters had been settled. We all rose to our feet, and the other priestesses headed off to their normal duties, but Taeline and Marguerite and I lingered in the room.

  “I still can’t believe I am here—and safe—and talking about my future,” Marguerite said. “I keep thinking it must be the night before the execution, and I’m just dreaming.”

  “I never could have imagined a dream this good,” I answered.

  Marguerite pressed a hand against her chest. “As grateful and joyous as I am, I also feel devastated and lost,” she said. “I miss them all—my echoes—there is so much pain in my heart that I don’t think it will ever go away. I felt the arrows strike them. I felt the pain in their bodies as if it was in mine. I could tell the minute each of their lives ended. Even Purity’s, and I only knew her a couple of hours. I think I will mourn them forever.”

  “As you should,” Taeline said. “But you should celebrate them as well. Keep them alive by honoring and remembering them.”

  “And who knows?” I said, trying to cheer her up. “Maybe you’ll wake up some morning and there will be a new echo in your room. Or two. Or three!”

  She laughed shakily. “Oh, I hope not! How would I explain that to the abbess of Thelleron temple?”

  “You would say it was a gift from the triple goddess, as of course it would be,” Taeline said with a smile. “But I admit it would be simpler if such a thing did not occur.”

  “You’ll have to stay in touch with me,” I said. “I suppose you cannot use your own name, but you’ll have to send me letters. Let me know how you are. I can come here every day and see if you’ve written again.”

  “If I’m not using my own name, I can send the letters to wherever you happen to be living,” she pointed out. “Where do you think that might be?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m not very popular at the palace right now.”

  “Why? Oh—because I denounced you?” She frowned. “That might make life difficult for you,” she agreed. “What will you do?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I repeated. “But I’m looking forward to finding out.”

  Marguerite pulled the triskele ring off her finger and handed it to me. “I can’t tell you how much it meant to me to receive this and know why you sent it,” she said. “But it belongs to you and you must have it back. Now when you look at it, let it remind you that your mother is not the only one who loves you.”

  That made me cry again, and I hugged her, and I hugged Taeline, and scrubbed my sleeves across my face to try to wipe away the tears. “I don’t know why you think I’d need a ring to remind me of that,” I said, trying to sound jaunty. “I’ll never forget.”
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  I spent the rest of the day at the temple, keeping Marguerite company and taking the chance to store up conversations against the days and months and years we would be apart. I promised to come visit her in Thelleron sometime, though she couldn’t make a reciprocal vow. And I promised to come back tomorrow so that I could see her one last time before she left the city.

  It was dusk when I finally left, slipping out the door for mercy. I paused before the statue positioned there and placed one of my hands on her outstretched palm. It was warm from the summer heat; I could almost believe that I touched a living hand. Goddess, hold my life in yours, I said silently. Keep me and the ones I love safe for ever and ever. Amen.

  I dropped my hand and turned toward the narrow white bridge. I had just set my foot on the first wooden plank when I realized there was someone standing in the middle, waiting for me. Nico.

  “I figured this was where you must have gone,” he said.

  I walked slowly up the bridge, trailing one hand along the smooth railing. “How long have you been here?” I asked.

  “An hour or two.”

  I guessed it was actually closer to four or five. He looked tired and sad and worried and very dear. “Why didn’t you come in and find me?”

  He looked even wearier. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me. Because I was there—because I didn’t do anything to—because—” He let a shrug complete the sentence.

  I just kept walking until I walked right into him. I put my arms around his waist and rose to my tiptoes and pressed a fervent kiss on his mouth. He responded with alacrity, wrapping his arms around me and drawing me close, but after a moment he broke the kiss and looked down at me, puzzled.

  “Why aren’t you more upset?” he asked. “You don’t even seem like you’ve been crying.”

  I kissed him again and then, with my lips still against his, I whispered, “She’s alive.”

  “What? But I saw her. I was right there. The arrows—”

  I nodded and kept my voice to a whisper, though there was no one nearby to hear. “Three bodies. Three echoes. The woman dressed as a priestess was Marguerite.”

  His expression was dazed. “Three echoes? But—the body in the lake—”

  “Marguerite’s echo. Yes. But last night, while she slept, another one appeared in her room.”

  His hold slackened as he stared down at me. I saw the disbelief on his face slowly give way to comprehension. “Like King Edwin,” he said. “Like Queen Toriana. I didn’t know it was really possible.”

  “I didn’t, either. But it is because Marguerite’s alive.”

  He shook his head, then he laughed, then he scooped me up in a ferocious hug before dropping me to my feet again. “Well, that’s an ending I never could have predicted,” he exclaimed. “And she’s not even a fugitive, since everyone thinks she’s dead.” He thought about it. “She probably shouldn’t stay in Camarria, though. And I’d advise against returning to Oberton.”

  “She’s already making plans to leave.”

  Now he looked worried and his hands tightened. “Are you thinking of leaving with her?”

  I shook my head and leaned up to kiss him again. “She’s taking someone else with her.”

  “Another echo?”

  “No—someone who loves her more than I do. I’m not going to tell you who, though, so don’t ask me.”

  “So then what are you planning to do next?” he asked. I could tell he was trying to keep the question casual, but he didn’t even come close to succeeding. “Will you return to Orenza—or stay in Camarria?”

  “There’s nothing for me in Orenza except my mother’s posting house, which I already left once,” I pointed out. “So it looks like I have to stay here.”

  He leaned his back against the railing of the bridge and drew me close to him. I wrapped my arms loosely around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. “That’s good news,” he said. “Though I suppose you’ll need to find an occupation.”

  “I’m not too worried about that,” I said. “I can cook and clean and sew, and the abbess said she would write me a letter of recommendation, so I think someone will hire me. But I’m not sure where I’ll live. Since I won’t be welcome at the palace much longer.”

  “We could rent a place,” he suggested, “while we figure it out.”

  I craned my neck to look up at him. “You’re still welcome at the palace.”

  He absentmindedly began running a hand up and down my arm. “Maybe,” he said. “But I don’t think I want to stay there much longer. After today—” He hesitated and then plunged on. “Watching Marguerite die—or, rather, watching her echoes die. Knowing I couldn’t save her. Knowing that, in some other situation, it might be my words and my investigation that causes somebody’s execution. I’m just not sure how much longer I can keep on doing this job.”

  I was silent a moment. That was a powerful realization, and I imagined it had hurt him to come to the point where he questioned the worth of everything he had worked for so far. “Your uncle will be disappointed if you leave,” I said softly.

  “I know.”

  “But I will be relieved. I always thought you were too good a man to be an inquisitor.”

  “Thank you,” he said, managing a shaky laugh. “I suppose.”

  “So then what else will you do with your life?”

  He sighed. “Like you, I don’t really know. I have some skills and abilities, so I imagine someone will hire me. But I would like to think about it awhile before I tender my resignation. I would not like to be wrong twice.”

  “I imagine most people are wrong more than twice in their lives.”

  He pulled back enough so that he could gaze down at me, putting one hand under my chin to make sure I was looking up at him. “At the moment there’s only one thing I’m sure I’m right about,” he said. “That’s you. If you’ll stay with me—”

  “I will.”

  “And figure it out alongside me—”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I don’t think it will be so hard.”

  “Or even if it’s hard, it will still be wonderful.”

  That made him laugh. He kissed me again, then drew me back against his body, and we stood there, embracing on the bridge, for a very long time. My mind was busy with thoughts of the future. I would return tomorrow to see Marguerite, but after that there were almost limitless possibilities before me. Maybe I would look for work, but maybe I would open a boutique of my own. I had developed a flair for designing floral headdresses for fashionable ladies; maybe I could turn that into a business. I would make arrangements with my favorite flower vendors and buy scrap fabric from the milliners’ shops. Maybe I would first set up a stall at the flower market, just to see how well my products sold. After that I could investigate renting a more permanent property.

  Maybe Nico and I could find a small shop with a tiny apartment situated above it. We would hardly need much space, not at the beginning. Neither of us had collected many possessions in our lives so far; we were both used to turning our attention and our energy outward. That might change, though, when we had a place of our own to furnish and a relationship of our own to tend. When he wasn’t his uncle’s assistant and I wasn’t Marguerite’s shadow.

  When we were living our own lives, chasing after our own dreams. Who would we look like then, who would we be? What griefs would color our days, what joys would shape them? We could only find out the answers by living.

  “I wonder what you would think of this idea,” I began, but suddenly I realized I had lost his attention. He had pushed himself away from the railing and was staring at a young man who was racing in our direction. The boy clambered noisily up the bridge and came to a halt before us, almost doubled over in his effort to catch his breath.

  “Nico!” he panted out. “Come now! Malachi needs you!”

  “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Nico demanded.

  “Someone tried to kill Prince Cormac! He’s alive, but he’
s injured.”

  Nico muttered an oath. “Who did it?”

  The boy shook his head. “No one knows. And he escaped out a side door of the palace before anyone could catch him.”

  Nico turned to stare at me and we shared a look of mutual dread. “Someone from Orenza avenging Marguerite?” he said.

  “Someone who merely hates the king?”

  “I have to go.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  The young man gestured impatiently and started back across the bridge. “Well, don’t argue about it! Malachi wants you now!”

  Nico grabbed my hand and we followed the boy away from the serenity of the temple, into the clamor of the city. Was Marguerite right? Would her death be the catalyst for war? What could be done to stop it?

  I couldn’t guess what might come next. Six months ago, I never would have predicted where I would be right now. All I knew was that, whatever happened, I would face it at Nico’s side. I tightened my grip on his hand and quickened my pace, and soon we were almost running through the streets, never stopping, never asking questions, holding on to the one thing we were sure that we would keep.

  Be sure to read the next Uncommon Echoes book, Echo in Emerald.

  A Misfit and a Mystery

  In the royal city of Camarria, a street urchin named Chessie lives by her wits, always attended by her two faithful friends, Red and Scar. What no one realizes is that the “friends” are really echoes, creatures who look exactly like their originals but who possess no volition of their own.

  Echoes normally are only born to high nobles, and Chessie doesn’t want anyone to start asking questions about her past. So she’s developed the ability to move between bodies so rapidly that she can maintain the illusion that she and Red and Scar are three separate people.

  After someone tries to murder the crown prince, Chessie gets entangled in the investigation when she comes to the aid of Lord Dezmen, the high noble who’s trying to solve the crime. From the back alleys of Camarria to a society party to a rural province, they track down clues.