Page 42 of Requiem of Silence

“Well, salt engines were notoriously inefficient compared to solar or even diesel”—she shuddered—“but the tech was a big leap forward for its time.”

Zeli leaned into him, and for a moment, Varten was distracted by the warmth and closeness. Then he heard her whisper that Ani was talking too fast, and he translated for her.

She sat back, pulling away from their contact. “So… the saints. They are real?”

Ani shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone believe their gods are real? I don’t know if Myr ever walked the seas like the legends claim, but there must be some truth to the myths. Look at the Goddess. Afew months ago, who could have predicted She’d be real enough to touch?”

“And this Rumpus starts next week?” Varten asked.

Ani jogged over to the table with the newspapers and riffled through them until she found the one she was looking for. “Yeah, just saw it here. A group of Yalyish musicians, expats living here, are headed over to play at the celebration. This article says they’re raising money in Portside for the trip down.” She came over and tossed the paper on the table in front of them. Varten scanned the brief article.

Ani leaned next to him, tapping her fingers against the end of her abbreviated arm. “The partying is supposed to be legendary. I’d hate to wait another ten years to see it, but I just don’t think my seller will stick around.” She returned to Roshon’s side and lay her head on his shoulder, frowning in annoyance at the circumstance.

“It’s okay,” Roshon said. “The frog thing sounds… interesting.”

She elbowed him, good-naturedly. “Until you’ve been hit in the face with a flying frog, you can’t judge.” He held up his hands in surrender.

Zeli stared at the newspaper, though she couldn’t read it. With great effort, Varten pulled his attention away. He didn’t want his brother to suspect that he and Zeli were doing anything other than studying the language, both for his and Ani’s safety and another reason that Varten couldn’t share. Roshon had a new life at his fingertips, a plan for his future. The only things Varten had for himself were the journal and the hope that he and Zeli could restore the lost Songs of the Lagrimari. It wasn’t a life plan, but it was something no one else in his family could lay hold on, at least for now, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“Is no one else hungry?” Ani announced just as her stomach growled.

Roshon snorted. “That reminds me, we’ll need to stock something other than jerky and dried seaweed on the ship.”

“Picky, picky,” she muttered.

“Lunch sounds good to me,” Varten offered, nudging Zeli. “Let’s go see what they have ready in the kitchen.” She looked up and nodded quickly, then rose. He knew that she just wanted to learn as much as she could about Saint Gilmer and the Rumpus, but it would have to wait until they were alone again.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The passing days turn tart to sweet.

But pluck too soon for

bitter tastes.

Leave it too long, the fruit will burst

there on the vine.

Keep the right time.

—THE HARMONY OF BEING

Jasminda pressed her fingers to her temples. She should be able to heal her own headache, but as of yet she had not been able to, not with this one. The voices rising in the auditorium only made it worse. Some part of her wanted to silence them. She could use Earthsong to do that, couldn’t she? Perhaps utilize Darvyn’s trick of solidifying the air around her to block out all sound?

She opened her eyes a fraction, hoping the harsh overheadlighting didn’t spear her brain. Gripping Earthsong to her like a lifeline, she tried again to ease the pounding in her skull—to no avail. Perhaps her ailment had some other source, maybe it was all in her mind.

Voices dripping with bitterness rose, buoyed by strong emotion. Their elegant Elsiran speech grated against her skin. What was this force that had entered her body, making the language sound like arrows nocked and ready to be unleashed on an unsuspecting target?

She opened her eyes fully, ignoring the pain, to survey the packed assembly hall. Three-fourths of those attending the community meeting were Elsiran, many of them well-to-do in starched shirts or fashionable, expensive dresses. Though the rougher clothes and careworn faces of working folk were liberally interspersed.

The Lagrimari refugees sat on one side, separate from the rest. It made sense for them to be close together for the sake of the translator, but she still hated to see it.

Jasminda shifted her attention to the stooped and bent old man standing in the aisle. A glittering gold watch chain glinted in the light against his patterned vest. He clutched a gold-tipped cane in his hands. The man droned on and on, but she attempted to tune back in. Fortunately, one of the city aldermen, serving as moderator for this meeting, interrupted. “Master Banios, you have had your say, sir. We have heard your complaints, now it is time to allow someone else a chance to speak.”

“But you are not listening, andsheis not listening.” A gnarled finger pointed in Jasminda’s direction. She coolly raised a brow. “This infernal curfew is making me lose hundreds of pieces a day. My boys can’t make their nighttime deliveries and our business is suffering. Not to mention the hit being taken by the pubs I own. Times are lean enough and it just isn’t right to punish us all.”

“Thank you. I think there’s time for another comment?” The alderman turned to Jasminda, who nodded for him to continue. She would stay for another citizen’s tongue lashing. She’d only come to this community meeting because it was something that Jack would do. Hearing from the people was exhausting and she wasn’t convinced it was productive. She’d hoped that the discussion would center more on the unification and referendum, but it was the curfew that had people up in arms.

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