Page 113 of Requiem of Silence

They followed Turwig into the house, where the front door was opened by a waiting guard. Security here was high, but with such tension against Lagrimari among the Elsiran populace, that was understandable.

“How did you all acquire this house?” Darvyn asked as they stepped into a large foyer.

“It was vacant. The former owner passed away during the summer. We are technically squatting here. Does the queen wish to remove us?” Turwig raised a brow.

Darvyn rolled his eyes. They walked across the tiled floor, passing rooms furnished in what he recognized as an old-fashioned Elsiran style replete with dark wood and lush, thick fabrics. A group of young men and women in a sitting room looked up, shock and awe rippling from them through his Song.

The Shadowfox’s appearance here was unexpected. His split with the Keepers was not widely known, but rumors had filtered down to him, questions about his low profile in recent weeks while the rest of the group had been so visible and vocal. A frisson of guilt speared him—he could be doing a lot of good here, if only he could still trust them.

Zeli followed silently behind him, even her footsteps were quiet on the ornate tile. Turwig led them to a bright room in the back of the house, an entire wall of windows displaying an overgrown garden, graying and shriveled in preparation for the cold season.

Overstuffed couches and armchairs were grouped into clustersaround the large space. Most of the leadership of the Keepers were gathered. Rozyl looked up at Darvyn’s entrance, a sense of relief from her hitting his Song. Aggar and Talida stared coldly from the corner. Four men he didn’t recognize sat with Hanko and Lyngar, speaking earnestly around a low table.

A graying woman shot from her seat to approach. “Tarazeli?” she called out, eyes wide.

“Gladda!” Zeli exclaimed, rushing over to be enveloped in the woman’s embrace.

“I’m so glad to see you doing well, child. What brings you here, and with the Shadowfox, no less?” The woman beamed over at him.

Darvyn recalled meeting her many years ago and was glad for the reminder of her name. He cleared his throat to address the suddenly quiet room. “I’ve been charged to relay a message from Queen Jasminda. She humbly requests the assistance of the Keepers in protecting the populace.”

The gazes of the others unnerved him somewhat, public speaking had not often been required of him, but he pressed on. “The True Father will attack again. He could strike at any moment—all of you either witnessed the wraiths or saw the aftermath of their assault. This plan that the queen and king are putting forth requires the assistance of every Singer we can get.”

“You expect us to believe that this child’s Song was restored?” Aggar scoffed, shifting his bulk in his seat.

“I’m not a child.” Zeli spoke gently but firmly. “And if I had no Song, how could I do this?” The wide armchair in which Aggar sat rose into the air. The man gripped the armrests and sputtered, kicking his legs out in panic. Darvyn couldn’t hide his smirk, though he managed not to laugh as the man and the chair lowered gently back to the floor.

“How do we even know your Song was taken, girl?” Lyngar grumbled, his well-lined face sagging further.

“I was there when she was sent to Sayya,” Gladda said. “I’ve know her since she was a child. Her parents were Keepers and friends of mine. She was shipped off for tribute far too young, and I comforted her when she returned, empty and broken.” She looked at Zeli with great fondness. “This is truly a miracle.”

Zeli shook her head. “Not a miracle. All who have lost their Songs can have them restored. Not just me.”

A chorus of disbelief rose as people broke into side conversations. There were questions, many questions, about the manner in which the Songs had been restored and what type of sacrifice would be necessary to ensure all Lagrimari would be affected. Few could wrap their minds around the idea of giving up fear.

Darvyn marveled at how calm Zeli remained, barraged by the group, and not everyone polite. She explained the concepts over and over again with a gentle patience Darvyn could never hope to master.

“We don’t know exactly what the sacrifice should be or if it is individual or collective,” she was saying, perhaps for the third time. “Should everyone make the same sacrifice or can they be different? None of us know yet. It is something we need to find out.”

“Why don’t we know?” someone asked.

Zeli pursed her lips. “When the Godd—whenOolaand Queen Jasminda created the caldera, the king stone, they did not do so with any intent for the Songs to be released. In the heat of the moment, with the True Father ready to steal Oola’s Song again, they acted only to remove the stolen Songs from him and render him powerless. Usually, calderas are created with a method forunlocking them. As this one was not, the task is harder. But the presence of my Song restored is proof that it is not impossible. We need your help to spread the word. The more who know about the sacrifice, the better it will be when I find the obelisk. Then I’ll be able to do the spell, but it will only be successful with the aid and cooperation of the people.”

Darvyn nodded. “And we will also need your help with the existing Singers, convincing them to go to the storm shelters around the city and help the non-Singers and the Elsirans during the next attack.”

Mutters of discontent were a soft roar around the room.

“Our Singers are happy to help those who have lost their Songs,” Talida said, “but why should any of us give aid to the Elsirans?”

“And who says the Elsirans even want the help?” Lyngar snarled.

“There will be those who won’t accept our offer,” Darvyn admitted. “But protecting them is good for us all. If there are fewer wraiths attacking, then all of us are safer.”

Reluctant noises of agreement sounded. Darvyn slowly met the gazes of everyone present. “We’ve been fighting the True Father for hundreds of years. This could well be the final battle. We have tools and the beginning of a plan, but we need your assistance to put it all into practice.”

A lump rose in his throat as quiet descended. He and Zeli had made their case, now it was up to the Keepers. One of the few men unfamiliar to Darvyn stood, drawing his attention. He, like the three others with him, looked to be in his early thirties and was unshaven with unruly hair. “I have no qualms protecting Lagrimari from the True Father and his unholy army. But I’ll not waste my Song on any Elsiran pigs.”

Darvyn’s jaw clenched. “And who are you?”

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