Page 14 of A Fractured Song

Marieke snorted. “They’re hoping people just won’t notice that they’re frantically dispatching investigative teams the moment news of any calamity reaches the capital?”

“Well…” Solomon smiled reluctantly. “I guess they are, but I doubt anyone really thinks no one’s noticing. Unofficially the prevailing theory seems to be that these fires and storms and the like are further evidence of the land’s deterioration. The next step in whatever ailment is making Oleand fail.”

“It’s a logical conclusion,” Marieke said slowly. “But my account doesn’t fit with that, does it? The magic I felt makes it look more like sabotage than an aberration in the power of the land.”

Solomon nodded. “Which is why Instructor Oriana thinks—and I agree—that the council will be very interested in what you have to say.”

“That would be quite the change.”

Her muttered aside brought Solomon’s head snapping toward her, and she grimaced internally. She’d only half intended for him to hear.

“Well,” she forced her voice into a brighter tone, “it looks like we’ll be traveling together again.”

“Yes,” said Solomon, still considering her thoughtfully. “It looks that way.”

Chapter

Five

In spite of his genuine curiosity about the parchment, Zev felt faintly cowardly as he entered the barn and saddled up his preferred mare. He could only hope it hadn’t been too obvious to Azai that he had the secondary motive of avoiding being questioned by their father regarding matters of magic.

Azai wasn’t the only one who’d been a little off in manner toward Zev since his return from Oleand. They didn’t know the half of what had passed between him and Marieke, and it was still enough to make them edgy.

It all just reiterated Zev’s opinion that his family’s judgment of Marieke was unjust. He simply couldn’t recapture the confidence he’d once felt in his father’s wisdom—the same confidence that made Azai so sure that the older man would know how to handle this latest development.

By the time he rode out of the farm’s gate, the parchment had a sizable head start, but Zev didn’t doubt he could catch it. Sure enough, he was only halfway down the length of his property when he encountered it again, drifting along the boundary line. The way it moved was so unnatural, itsent an unpleasant ripple up the back of his neck. It reminded him of a puppet, jerking and jumping disjointedly as its strings were pulled. Except whoever was pulling those strings couldn’t be seen.

Zev’s thoughts flew to the member of the Aeltan Council of Singers whom he’d met when he’d accompanied Marieke to the capital, Tarandon. He’d been as insufferable and self-important as Zev had always imagined council members to be. It was easy to picture him smugly pulling on invisible strings, controlling the country as he liked.

Once the parchment reached the end of Zev’s property, it picked up speed. It had apparently given up trying to enter their holdings, but it didn’t continue on toward Sundering Canyon as Azai had predicted. Instead it turned west, heading toward the farm belonging to Ramsey’s family.

Zev urged his horse onward, noting that the parchment slowed down again once it neared the boundary of Ramsey’s property. It was as though it already knew where each farm began and ended, which was an unnerving amount of knowledge for an inanimate object. The parchment ignored the farm’s gate, instead soaring up and over the small stand of spruce trees to one side of it. Unlike on Zev’s farm, it had no problem clearing the trees. Zev had caught up enough to get a glimpse of the paper as it whooshed upward. There was definitely more writing on it than there had been when it had been tangled in the branches across from his own gate.

Frowning, Zev turned away, making for the gate rather than pushing his way through the trees like a common thief. He felt an obligation to let his neighbors know that an unknown magical object had entered their property.

It was no surprise when Ramsey strode across the yard, eyes bright at the sight of his visitor. Zev had assumed the cheerful, talkative farmer would be there. It was rare for anyonein the region to go far from home, which was why Ramsey had been so unashamedly eager to join the group traveling to Oleand a short time before.

“Zev!” The younger man waved a hand enthusiastically over his head. “What brings you here?”

“Hello Ramsey,” said Zev, swinging down from his horse. “I’m not entirely sure how to answer.”

Ramsey raised an eyebrow. “Being cryptic, Zev? Does that mean Marieke is here somewhere?” He did an exaggerated sweep of the area with his head before returning his gaze to Zev, a grin on his lips.

Zev grunted, unimpressed when Ramsey’s smile widened. Of course Ramsey couldn’t resist baiting him—Zev had no difficulty recognizing the veiled reference to Marieke’s complaints that Zev spoke to her in riddles.

Ramsey’s banter didn’t bother him. What bothered him was the possibility of Ramsey seeing how affected he was by the mention of Marieke.

“I’m not being cryptic,” he said. “I don’t know how to tell you what brings me here because I can’t identify the item in question.”

Ramsey frowned. “What item?”

“Some kind of magical parchment,” Zev said. “It came to my property, then I followed it here. I just watched it fly over your property line and onto your farm.”

“Show me,” said Ramsey, his brows still pulled together.

He glanced around, spotting another man walking across the yard and summoning him with a whistle.

“Look after Zevadiah’s mare, would you?” He sent Zev a swift smile. “Harvest is so good this year, Father’s hired some extra hands.”

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