Page 39 of Requiem of Silence

Their final stop was an army base in the shadow of the looming mountains, where a dozen soldiers observed them stoically. Kyara disembarked from the vehicle with some trepidation, but a young man approached Ella and greeted her warmly. They began a rapid-fire conversation.

Darvyn leaned to speak in her ear. “Ella’s husband was a soldier here and has secured us a ride to the foothills along with additional supplies.”

“Her husband is friends with the king, right?”

“Yes. Benn is with Jack now visiting another country’s leader.”

“Then she must have many worries,” Kyara said, her heart aching. Husband out of the country, daughter nabbed and taken away—Kyara’s respect for the woman doubled.

Along with the soldiers marching about, intent on their tasks, refugees were still straggling into Elsira from Lagrimar. And surprisingly, though it really shouldn’t be so, a steady trickle of travelers were heading in the opposite direction. No doubt these Lagrimari had grown weary and disillusioned with Elsira and were now willing to face whatever remained in their own land. Likely there would be warlords or strongmen who’d risen in the wake of the True Father’s departure.

Kyara wished them luck. She had no desire to go back. Then again, she didn’t have a true desire to do much of anything. She turned at the sound of her name being spoken by the soldier talking to Ella. He passed the woman an envelope, and she frowned, looking down at it. The writing on the envelope was a childlike scrawl, written in Elsiran.

Ella’s voice was uncertain; Darvyn translated. “It’s for you. She thinks it’s Tana’s handwriting.”

“For me?”

He nodded and passed the envelope over to her. She ripped it open to find it empty except for a small, black stone humming with a hint of Nethersong.

“Mooriah made a caldera,” Kyara said, voice biting.

“A message?”

“A way to find them.” Certainty filled her as her jaw clenched. Mooriah knew Kyara would come for the girl.

She sighed deeply. “I need a knife.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

To witness joy without jealousy,

celebrate without resentment,

applaud without lament,

is to harmonize in tune with the ultimate

accord.

—THE HARMONY OF BEING

Zeli’s steps grew slower as she reached the entrance to the Blue Library. Two soldiers walked by, locked in conversation. She stopped suddenly, then turned to stare at the tapestry on the wall, pretending an intense interest in it. When the men’s footsteps receded, she released the breath she had been holding.

The fear was stupid, she knew. She was often sent on errands taking her all around the palace, and sometimes around the city. No one would look twice at her coming to the library. But theweight of what she was doing, added to the secrets she was already keeping, was immense.

When she entered the room, Varten was already there, bouncing on his toes with anticipation. For the past three days, they had been meeting together—usually in that old, dusty parlor in the unused section of the palace. The night of the birthday party, when Varten had stolen the journal from her and begun reading it, the revelations he discovered set both of them on this uncertain path.

“Do you think this is what the Goddess was concerned about?” Varten had asked that night as they reeled from shock.

Zeli’s body had jerked at the thought. “I hope not. Why would She be? Restoring our Songs would be wonderful. It would change everything. Go on, keep reading.”

He flipped the ancient pages carefully. “This is all about experiments, I think. The author has theorized about restoring Songs, and spends a long time trying to get it to work.”

As his finger traced the text, Zeli watched him, her mind too busy to focus on the words on the page. In concentration, he looked different. Serious, almost scholarly as he frowned down at the antiquated language. Still not like a prince—though she had no idea what a prince should look like. Once upon a time she’d thought she’d known, butthatprince had turned out to be a monster.

“There’s mention of the cornerstone of the Mantle—and of obelisks.” He looked up. “Kyara told us of an obelisk she encountered in a strange city in the desert. The buildings were all built by ancient Earthsingers out of sand and glass.”

Zeli tilted her head, intrigued.

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