Page 69 of Requiem of Silence

The Tinker steeredLeggsyover the other vehicles. It walked over busy intersections, ignoring the electric semaphores that guided the traffic. “The coppers don’t like it when I do that,” he confided, “but there’s no law against it. Laws don’t take into account vehicles like this. Special dispensation.” He tapped a certificate taped to the wall. Varten couldn’t read it, but it looked official.

And then they were out of the city and in the countryside, and this is when the Tinker abandoned the roads completely and picked up more speed, quickly reaching an all-out run, racing over the fields and over hills. Splashing through streams. Outrunning any wheeled vehicle. He could see how this could be as fast as a train, without needing any tracks.

“You don’t get into trouble for racing over people’s land?” Varten asked.

“For all her weight,Leggsy’s light on her feet. Don’t leave any damage. Some folk don’t like it, but they’d have to catch me to do something about it.” His chuckle was unreserved, and Varten actually cracked a smile.

“We’ll get there by morning. Ye don’t want to miss the opening ceremonies of a Rumpus! No, ye don’t want to miss that at all.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Who suffers if a bird’s call goes unheard?

Are they chirping into the emptiness?

Does the Void swallow their voice or

do they sing

because they have a song?

—THE HARMONY OF BEING

The first step in learning to master Nethersong, according to Murmur, was to commune with the Mother. Kyara held herself back from issuing a snide retort when he said this, but still wondered how exactly one went about communing with a mountain. Mooriah was evidently attuned to her mood and shot her a censorious glare. Kyara held her hands up; she hadn’t said a thing.

At Murmur’s insistence, the Nethersingers would have their lessons in a cave set high in the large chamber of the undergroundcity. Ella and Ulani were able to watch from a ledge a level above, but, according to the ancient man, couldn’t be in the same room.

Ella agreed to this, as she still had a line of sight on her daughter. And Kyara silently vowed to protect Tana from any surprises that should crop up along the way. She eyed Murmur warily as he led them to their new classroom.

Inside the small cave, the temperature was almost uncomfortably warm. A fire had been set up in the center of the space and some sort of herb was burning, making the air smell sweet. However, a thick humidity hung around them, so different from the rest of the city.

There was little furniture, just a few woven mats around the fireplace and some chipped pottery. A cistern in the corner collected water from a slow drip down a long, pointed rock formation hanging from the ceiling.

Once she, Mooriah, Tana, and Murmur were seated on the mats around the fire, Murmur instructed them to close their eyes. “Open yourself to the embrace of the Mother,” he said in a droning voice. “Quiet your will and she will invite you in.”

Kyara had never tried to meditate before. In Lagrimar, the Avinids—a fringe group who worshipped the Void—were proponents of the practice, and that was enough to keep her far away from it. But Mooriah claimed that being embraced by the Mother was as easy for a Nethersinger as connecting to her power.

“It should be like using your other sight,” the woman said, which for Kyara was as simple as changing her shoes. Even entering the World Between had not proved truly difficult, now that she knew she could. It required focus, but she found it similar to tying a complicated knot. Listening to the Mother, however, was not so easy.

She tried to relax her body and soften her will, but that justmade her feel droopy and boneless. She attempted to empty her mind, but the effort gave her a mild headache. Frustrated, she repositioned herself on the flat mat, which provided no cushioning against the hard stone beneath.

Something in the cave sizzled, and she opened her eyes to find Murmur sprinkling a powder onto the fire that caused the flames to pop and hiss. The thick air grew smoky and the sweet smell intensified.

Kyara’s eyelids grew heavy; her body turned weightless, like she was flying. She struggled against the sensation—Murmur was drugging them. Anger fought its way to the surface; she couldn’t let herself succumb. Then her limbs were suddenly dense, made of lead, and she was falling.

When she was finally able to open her eyes, the cave was completely dark. “Hello?” she called out, disoriented. When she got her hands on Murmur, she was going to throttle his old jelly neck.

She could actually sense her physical body, still seated on the ground in the cave, but whatever or wherever she was now, was different. Weightless, she had the odd disconnected sensation of both sitting and standing at the same time.

“Kyara?” Tana’s voice held fear.

“I’m here.” Kyara didn’t see anything at first, and then the girl appeared beside her, a slightly ghostly sheen to her the only thing to indicate that she wasn’t a physical presence. Mooriah and Murmur became visible a moment later. Murmur wasn’t solid like the rest of them. Perhaps since he wasn’t a Nethersinger by birth, his form here was far less substantial. Like a replication of a replication, soft and fuzzy. Kyara longed to rail against the ancient man, but didn’t want to alarm Tana.

“Where are we?” the girl asked.

“Inside the Mother.” Murmur’s voice creaked with age.

“Weren’t we there before?”

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