Page 130 of The Seeker
She held her hand out. “Come with me. I have a rising song to sing.”
He watchedher from the edge of the field as Meera sang facing east, the rising sun just below the horizon. The song that Ata had taught her was simple and beautiful, a quiet melody that blessed the morning and welcomed the Creator’s magic onto the land and into the hearts of those who dwelled in it.
It was completely beside the point of her magic, but Meera’s voice was lovely. It soothed Rhys’s mind and soul.
It wasn’t long before Ata was standing next to him. Gone was the ceremonial dressing. She was the simple, powerful presence he’d come to know in the bayou.
“She remembers.” Ata’s eyes were on Meera.
“She remembers everything.” And he was just beginning to grasp the weight of that burden.
“Why did you call me here?”
Rhys turned to her. Ata was a direct woman, and he’d offended her with his machinations to draw her from her sanctuary. The least he could do was honor her directness with his own. “We needed to be mated to learn the magic used to kill the Fallen, but I didn’t want Meera to miss the blessings of her family so that I could accomplish my goal. Bringing you here—”
“Forcing me here.”
“—blesses our union. We’ll also be able to learn the magic we need. That’s why we brought you here, and I’m sorry I wasn’t more forthright from the beginning. We could have asked you.”
Ata shrugged. “I would have refused.”
“I know. That’s why we didn’t ask.”
The edge of a smile touched her lips. “I don’t want to like either of you.”
“But you do.”
“I like you a little. Her?” Ata motioned to Meera and shook her head. “I cannot. I honor her. I admire her. I need her. I cannot like her.”
Rhys’s heart broke a little, wondering how many times and in how many ways that same sentiment had been expressed to Meera. “I don’t know if I understand that.”
“She is the living embodiment of our victories and our failures,” Ata continued. “Our lives and our deaths. She holds all memories, scribe, not just the good ones. Thesomasikaraexist in a direct line from the first singers. They are our mirrors and our reminders.” Ata turned to him. “No one can be friends with their true reflection. It is too painful.”
Rhys couldn’t take his eyes off her. “The Irin have nothing like this, so I can only understand a little. I just want to protect her. Love her.”
“The scribes have no such thing because you write your memories into stone and onto skin, etching them into strict control. But the Irina?” Ata shook her head. “Our memories live and breathe like our magic. We are our memories.”
“Which is why we need yours. Now more than ever.”
She frowned. “Tell me bluntly. Does it have to do with the Fallen?”
“Not the one you saw.” Rhys took a deep breath. “Bozidar approaches. Meera and I want to kill him.”
“Bozidar is an archangel.”
“Yes, like Nalu.”
“And he’s in the city?”
“We think so, but he knows where this haven is. We need to draw him here and kill him.”
Ata lifted her chin and pointed it east. “Why not hunt him in the city?”
“Among the humans? We can’t count on a shield of protection around us like we had in the Battle of Vienna. No angel fights with us in New Orleans.”
“What about that one posing as a raven?”
“He’s… unreliable,” Rhys said. “At best.”
