Page 21 of Requiem of Silence

“Then write down this address.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

We are harnessed to one another,

connected by the chorus and the verse.

Bonds strengthened when we choose to rehearse.

For practice is the key to Harmony.

—THE HARMONY OF BEING

“I’d expected the Shadowfox,” the driver said as Kyara settled into the backseat of the town car idling in the driveway. He was an older Lagrimari man and almost entirely bald, except for a few stubborn patches of white clinging to the sides of his head.

“Sorry to disappoint,” she said, shutting the heavy door. Nerves racked her as he turned in his seat to study her. She tensed, waiting for a gasp of shock or horror, but he didn’t seem to recognize her.

“Not disappointed. You’re a sight more pleasant to look at.” Hisgrin was gap-toothed as he turned back around to put the car in gear. “Erryl’s the name,” he said as they pulled onto the dirt road.

“Kyara. Thank you for the ride.”

“It’s my job.”

“You’re a settler?”

“Aye. Been here since the Sixth Breach. Learned to drive from some Sisters a while back and helped with their deliveries. It’s peaceful work.”

The ride was serene, and Erryl remained quiet as they headed toward the city. The sun had dipped below the horizon and dusk painted the surroundings with a glowering pall. The winding road bordered the ocean on one side with a seemingly endless stretch of browning grass on the other. As they crossed into the city proper, a fenced-in field full of flickering light stole her attention. She leaned forward for a better view. It had been nighttime when she’d left Rosira, so she hadn’t noticed whatever this was the last time she’d been on this road.

Fragments of glass stuck out from the ground at even intervals—mirrors. Rows and rows of mirrors, some big and some small, extending far into the distance.

“What is that?” she whispered in confusion.

Erryl looked over at what had her captivated. “Cemetery. Elsirans bury their dead and mark the grave with a mirror over the head of the deceased.”

“Why would they do such a thing?”

He chuckled. “They believe their loved ones can use the mirrors to view the Living World. They want to give them something to look at before they join the Eternal Flame.”

It was bizarre, as many of these Elsiran practices were, Kyara was finding. But the automobile zipped past the cemetery and intothe outskirts of the city. The colorful houses they passed seemed to mock her with their gaiety and beauty. Rosira was a nearly picture-perfect city, at least for its citizens. Anyone not like them, whether they looked different, spoke a different language, or possessed magic, had been unwelcome in this land for a long time.

Erryl pulled to a stop in the middle of a row of tall, narrow houses, their stucco exteriors painted in bright colors. The greens and yellows and oranges of the buildings made the quiet, well-kept street feel very homey. It reminded her of the Windy Hill neighborhood back in Sayya, though far more beautiful.

“This is the address?” she asked, staring out the window.

He turned back to her again, brows raised. “It’s what you gave the dispatch. Is it not what you expected?”

“I don’t know quite what I was expecting.” A refugee camp, she’d supposed. What sort of Lagrimari child would live here?

“Do you want me to wait?” Erryl asked.

She was about to refuse, but then thought better of it. “Yes, if you don’t mind. I don’t know if this will take long or not.”

“Not a problem. I’ll be right here.”

She exited the car, still gaping up at the house. The street number Mooriah had given her belonged to a pale green house with flower boxes under the window—empty now since the weather had turned. As she approached, the front door opened and two constables exited.

They stood on the front stoop replacing their billed caps atop their heads. A sandy-haired woman appeared in the doorway, eyes red and face tear-streaked. She dabbed at her cheeks with a handkerchief as she spoke to the men. Kyara wished she understood the Elsiran words, but whatever was said did little to comfort the woman. A crime must have taken place here, perhaps a robbery? They must not be uncommon in such a nice neighborhood.

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