Page 57 of A Fractured Song

“I should have known better,” Trina added sadly. “Of course it was too absurd to think that Gorgon could somehow control the land itself. No one could do that, not even singers.”

Zev held himself as still as possible, even his breathing feeling strangely conspicuous.

“Yes, that’s not how magic works,” Marieke agreed. “Or at least, not the magic I know. But Gorgon mentioned a different kind of magic. Did he talk to you about heartsong?”

Trina’s confusion looked genuine. “What’s heartsong?”

Marieke leaned back, resigned. “Never mind. I thought Jade had learned about it from your community, but that seems unlikely.”

Zev silently agreed. He’d reached the same conclusion Marieke no doubt had. Based on Trina’s account, it seemed probable that Gorgon had learned about it from Jade, not the other way around. And all that was apparently years ago. The puzzle wasn’t making much sense even to him, the only person in the room who actually knew what heartsong was. The magic that tied him and his family to the land didn’t seem to bear any relation to Gorgon’s plan.

“So Jade was the one who put ideas of cursed land into Gorgon’s head,” he mused aloud.

“I’m sure she didn’t intend for him to use the information to target and kill random people,” Marieke said, her voice as defensive as Trina’s had just been. Zev raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged. “I feel a sense of connection with Jade,” she said. “We’re on the same path.”

“The idea of the land being cursed didn’t just come from Jade,” Trina reasoned. “It’s also just what we’ve heard. They say that Oleand is dying.”

Zev caught Marieke’s wince.

“Dying is strong,” she said. “But it’s in trouble. I don’t know if it’s under a curse, but something is eating away at Oleand. And that wasn’t caused by Gorgon.”

“No, it was just a convenient backdrop to make his scheme more convincing,” Trina agreed.

“Just like it makes the current disasters—which are also fueled by magic—seem like the land is rising up,” Marieke said.

“Current disasters?” Trina asked. “You mean, since Gorgon died?”

Marieke nodded, but didn’t expand. “It’s a shame it isn’t safe to communicate with the elves. It seems likely they know something about what’s going on, at the very least.”

“It’s not exactlysafeto communicate with elves, but it’s perfectly possible if you’re smart about it,” Trina interjected. “You just have to be careful not to commit to anything with your words, and don’t let yourself be swindled into bad bargains. And don’t put yourself in Rissin’s power. Find a better elf.”

“I don’t think we can trust any of them,” said Zev frankly. “If they answer to no one, how can we rely on their integrity?”

“I don’t know if I’d quite say they answer to no one,” Trina said. “They have a power structure of sorts. I don’t know much about it, but there’s some kind of leader—called the Imperator. And of course, they answer to the magic. If you make a bargain with an elf, the elf is just as bound as you are.”

Zev considered this information, not certain it was reassuring. He had no interest in being magically bound to anyone, elf or otherwise.

“It must be my turn to ask questions,” Trina said. “I want to know what it’s really like up there. Is it true that both Oleand and Aeltas are poorly run and the people suffering?”

“Honestly, not really,” Marieke said. “Oleand is deteriorating for reasons no one can figure out, and it’s definitely making things harder. But that’s only in the last few years. Prior to that, we were as prosperous as Aeltas still is.” She glanced at Zev. “Well, perhaps not quite as fertile as some parts of Aeltas, like Zev’s area. But we were doing fine. And even now, many people’s lives are continuing as normal.” She looked at Zev. “I can’t really speak as to the state of Aeltas, of course.”

Zev took a moment to reply. “Our land thrives,” he said simply. “I wouldn’t say our people suffer. But it’s far from perfect. The Council of Singers is not truly representative of the population, and it makes decisions with reference to its own wisdom, not always what’s best for everyone.”

“I’m not claiming that our council is perfect, either,” Marieke said quickly. “Or that its decisions are always right. And I think the decision to hide the truth about how the first Council of Singers came into power is inexcusable. But I truly believe that they generally want to run the country well. They keep order, they do what they can to help the harvest thrive, they make provisions for the vulnerable.” She shrugged. “I suppose those who are in power like the position of influence and wouldn’t readily give it up. But I don’t think they’ve given any reason to think they’re corrupt and power-hungry, at least not in my lifetime.” There was a challenge in her eyes as she met Zev’s. “Do you disagree as relates to your own council?”

Zev folded his arms across his chest. “No,” he admitted. “They do try to run things well. But the whole structure is flawed, with singers far too heavily represented, and not nearly enough opportunity for most of the population to be heard. And while I don’t have any reason to think our council members are lining their pockets or anything like that, their authority is still based on lies about the past, which is a form of corruption in itself.”

“You have a point there,” Marieke said. She sounded too weary for her years. “And I’m not trying to make excuses.”

“I know you’re not.”

Zev’s voice was softer, and he found his hand straying to her shoulder. He squeezed gently, trying to communicate without words that he didn’t blame her for the crimes of the singers of the past. Ever since she’d gotten her first hint that history had been rewritten, she’d shown over and over that she wasn’t like them, that she wanted to know the truth and to make things right.

“Shall I give you some privacy?” Trina’s cheeky question made him drop his hand, not sure whether to be irked with the young girl or entertained by the color now staining Marieke’s cheeks. “But seriously,” Trina pushed on, “would it be madness for someone like me to try to forge a life up there? Would I be dooming myself to poverty or famine, or be persecuted for my origins?”

“Not at all,” Marieke said. “You wouldn’t have to tell anyone your origins if you didn’t want to, and there are plenty of things you could do to sustain yourself, especially if you’re willing to learn useful skills and not too proud to take mundane work.”

Trina nodded, her expression thoughtful. Zev got the sense that Marieke’s words were very different from the picture the community leaders had painted for their young folk of life on the surface.

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