Page 20 of A Fractured Song

“Hm.” Marieke eyed him as they made their way out of the yard. “Do you think that’s why you couldn’t convince your friends to study combat with you? No one wants to sign up to be outshone.”

“Whoa.” Kaine gave her a look. “That must have been an insightful question. I actually felt that.”

Marieke stared at him, bewildered. “What do you mean you felt it?”

“I felt the magic of it,” he said. “You know that feeling, when the magic of the land sort of concentrates under your feet, ready for you to access it with song?”

“Yes,” Marieke said slowly. “I know that feeling. I don’t know what it has to do with my question, though.”

Kaine shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve noticed your questions having that effect. Magic pooled toward you when you asked about my friends. You weren’t calling it on purpose, preparing to draw it out?”

Marieke shook her head, completely nonplussed. “Not at all. I have no idea how my questions could make magic pool. I’ve never heard of anything like that before.”

“I have,” Kaine said. “I believe it’s a branch of storytelling song. You really haven’t studied that skill? You must be a natural if you’re doing it unconsciously. Did you take storytelling song?”

“Only the introductory course,” said Marieke regretfully. “I wanted to continue, but the class was full.”

Kaine raised an eyebrow. “That’s unusual. I thought hardly anyone did storytelling. When I was at the academy, there were only about half a dozen students in that class at any given time. I can’t imagine Instructor Oriana turning anyone away who wanted to study it. She was always trying to get extra students interested.”

Marieke frowned, confused. The class had been equally small when she’d been a student, but she didn’t remember ever hearing Instructor Oriana try to recruit more. She’d been under the impression that six was the absolute limit for the class. She vaguely remembered someone explaining that due to thecomplexity of the skill, the teacher needed significant one-on-one time with each student.

Kaine’s experience and her own didn’t quite add up.

She was so distracted by the mystery, she barely heard herself as she thanked him for his time and peeled away toward the council building. She made her way through the guest quarters, pleasantly surprised to discover that a meal had been delivered to her room. Along with it was a note requesting her to present herself in the council audience hall the following morning. Her heart jumped a little with nerves, but on the whole she thought it was good to get it over with.

She had difficulty falling asleep, her mind still turning over Kaine’s comments. Had she really drawn magic toward her simply by asking a question? She hadn’t been aware of it. But then, she found magic to sometimes behave unpredictably in the land beneath her feet, gathering and dispersing with no apparent logic. Was it possible she’d had more to do with that process than she’d realized? What a pity that she’d been unable to pursue storytelling song! Her questions might have been answered in that class. Her questions about her questions, she thought humorously, her mind growing foggy as sleep approached. There was a certain irony to it all, given her reputation during her studies of always asking too many questions.

When Marieke woke, the prospect of appearing before the council drove other considerations aside. After eating the simple breakfast provided to her, she made her way to the audience hall, bracing herself to face the scrutiny of the Council of Singers.

To her relief, however, the ordeal was much less intimidating than she’d expected. Last time, the whole council seemed to have gathered. This time, it was only three members who were waiting, along with Instructor Oriana, Solomon, and a handful of others from the group who’d traveled to BullCreek. And they were all seated together around the large table on the floor of the room, the raised seats remaining empty.

Marieke’s shoulders had barely relaxed when tension returned to them as she scanned the group and realized that Instructor Rafael was one of the three on the far side of the table. The Academy’s Head Instructor was a member of the Council of Singers by virtue of his office. He was also the man Zev had warned her against. He’d urged her not to trust the council completely.Especially the Head Instructor, he’d said, offering no explanation whatsoever for his warning.

Typical Zev.

Marieke had come promptly at the time stated on the note, so she was surprised to find so many people already there. After the greetings had been exchanged and Marieke had sat down, however, it quickly became clear that the meeting had been in progress for some time. For whatever reason, she hadn’t been invited to attend from the beginning.

Instructor Oriana was giving a report on the team’s investigation, but she’d barely started speaking again when Instructor Rafael interrupted.

“Since Marieke has arrived,” he said, not meeting her eyes, “how about we hear the information she has to share? Then she can be free to go. No need to take up her whole day when the rest of our proceedings are irrelevant to her.”

Especially the Head Instructor.Zev’s words sounded again in Marieke’s ears, accompanied by the image of his handsome face creased with concern, and something resembling anger.

Zev had apparently read the older man well. Of everyone in the room, the Head Instructor seemed by far the most concerned about keeping information away from Marieke. Why make such a point of secrecy if he had nothing to hide?

But of course he did have something to hide. The whole council did. They were hiding the true details of the coupduring which the singers of old had overthrown the monarchies of the two kingdoms. The real question was how that secret could be threatened by Marieke gaining whatever information was being discussed in the present meeting.

“Certainly.” Instructor Oriana smiled at Marieke. “I don’t mind ceding the floor. Marieke is the only firsthand witness among us, after all.” She gave her an encouraging nod. “Go on, Marieke.”

“All right.” Marieke cleared her throat, wiping her hands on her skirt under the table. Her palms were suddenly sweaty. “What do you want to know?”

“Just recount the events of the fire as comprehensively as you can,” one of the other council members chimed in. “We’ve been given to understand that your observations are of particular interest.”

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” said Marieke, smiling weakly.

Clearing her throat again, she told her story, doing her best to explain the magical side of her observations in detail. It was gratifying to see that her descriptions made more sense to this audience than they had to her father. The brows of her listeners, which had lowered in displeasure at hearing of the angry magic that had seemed to fuel the fire, rose in surprise when she explained that when the wind finally stopped fighting her control, something magical snapped in the process. They understood the significance of what she was saying.

“So if you’re right that magic started the fire, whoever manipulated that magic must have actually been right there,” one of the council members said, one eyebrow still aloft. “Close enough to be urging their enchantment to fight yours.”

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