The Canticle of Whispers (14 page)

“How can you be certain?” Wolfram asked, clearly ruffled by the Director's calm. The Director sat back behind his desk.

“Because of a page from a very old book, Wolfram,” he said, quietly. “If I am right, it will do a great deal of our work for us.”

Greaves looked from the monk to the Director. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, and that worried him. But then again, he had nothing but worries nowadays.

“I must say, Director,” he said, “I would be grateful for such a page. If I may ask, what did it say?”

The Director looked at him then, but if there was a secret in those inscrutable eyes, Greaves could not see it.

“Nothing at all, Chief Inspector,” he replied. “At least, nothing that would appear significant. And that is the beauty of it. If used at the right moment,
nothing
can be the most powerful thing in the world.”

Greaves looked at the Director, the man who had been a servant just a few years ago, and now sat behind the mahogany desk, ruler of Agora. If anyone knew about power, it was him.

It was not a comforting thought.

 

C
HAPTER
N
INE

The Legend

M
ISS VERITY
was just as Mark remembered her.

She had arrived at the Temple without warning, in the midst of a fierce downpour, clutching Pete's note, and asking to be hidden from the receivers. By the time Ben had fetched Mark, she was already sitting quietly in the cellar room with Laud and Theo, dry but still shaking, as though her world had fallen apart.

Mark stared. She looked so like Lily that he was amazed he hadn't noticed the resemblance the first time they had met. She was a little more disheveled than he remembered, and definitely more apprehensive, but she was still the woman who had freed him from his cell, and banished him from his home. The same woman he had seen in Lily's dreams, the aunt who had brought her to Agora. The woman who had, in her own way, started it all.

To her credit, she didn't waste time. As soon as Mark had closed the door, she began to talk.

She spoke softly, but clearly—without trying to justify her own actions, or excuse them. She told them about her role as the Director's secretary, and how the Directory had changed ever since Snutworth had taken over. She talked of the receivers training for battle, and the increasing number of secret meetings. But most importantly, she talked about Lily. About how she had made it to the Cathedral of the Lost, and how she had vanished from the face of the earth.

“Vanished?” Laud asked, sharply. “You don't mean…”

“Father Wolfram said that she had gone somewhere called ‘the Land Below,' and the rest of the Order would not let him follow her. Wherever she is, I think she is safe, for now.”

“Wolfram is here?” Mark said, his heart sinking. Verity nodded.

“Yes, though he no longer abides by his vow of silence. To be honest, I'm not sure if the Order would recognize him as one of their own any longer.”

That gave Mark little comfort. All this time, he had been picturing Snutworth alone as his enemy. But Mark remembered Wolfram. He remembered that hard, unfeeling stare that seemed to drag out your inner thoughts, that absolute belief that only he knew what was truly right. Snutworth was disturbing because Mark had never been able to fathom his true motivations, but Wolfram was the opposite. His beliefs were his whole life, and right now, it seemed, he believed in Snutworth's cause.

“Never mind about that!” Laud said, testily. “One man makes little difference. Tell us about this ‘Land Below.'”

Verity nodded, but it was Mark she turned to.

“I was the old Director's private secretary for years,” she began, confidentially. “In all that time, he mentioned this land only once, after I had fetched him a certain book from the oldest library.” She reached down and pulled up the hem of her floor-length skirt to reveal a large patch sewn onto the inside, making a pocket. Carefully, she pulled out a single page, torn from a book, and held it out to Mark. “I think this might help.”

Mark took the page. It was old and worn, covered in faint ink. He squinted at it.

“Sugar … barley…” he blinked, trying to make out the words. “Is this a recipe? What does it mean?”

Miss Verity smiled.

“Some things need a little illumination, before they give up their meaning,” she said. “Hold it up near the lantern.”

Cautiously, Mark did as instructed. As soon as the light shone through the old parchment, a few dark shapes that had looked like water stains resolved themselves into clarity.

The Sozinhos possess both the door and the key to the Land Below, although they recognize only one.

It seemed ridiculous. The Sozinhos weren't involved in any ancient conspiracies—they were just musicians. This message made no sense at all.

But it was a clue. At last, they had somewhere to start. And that was all they needed.

*   *   *

The rain was fierce as Mark, Laud, and Ben trudged through the sodden streets of the Leo District an hour later, cloaks and coats pulled up around their faces, their boots soaked through. Mark glanced at his companions, a little way ahead of him. It had been all they could do to keep Laud from setting out instantly, without coat or hat, despite the terrible weather. Even now, his walk was full of tension, and though Ben was calmer, she was no less determined to follow this up. Theo had wanted to join them, and nearly had until Ben had pointed out that someone needed to mind the Temple. As they left, the doctor had been asking Verity to repeat her story, just in case there was anything they had missed.

Then again, their sudden energy was hardly surprising. Mark was already frantic with worry, and for him, it had been barely two months since he had last seen Lily. But for those at the Temple, their friend and leader had been lost for nearly a year and half.

Mark adjusted his hat, trying to prevent a trickle of water finding its way down the back of his neck. It was not particularly cold—this was late spring rain—but it was pervasive. To Mark's surprise, he thought of it as “growing rain.” In Giseth he had welcomed storms like this, knowing that the following day he wouldn't have to water the crops. It was a strangely happy memory, one of the few times in his recent life when everything had been very simple.

No, now that he thought about it, his life had never been simple. Not since he had first met Lily, when they had both been nothing more than servants, back in the tower of Count Stelli. Even then, it had looked like his life was mapped out, as the apprentice of Dr. Theophilus—until the day they had exchanged lives. It had been such a simple decision at the time; Lily and he had swapped masters because he was scared to venture out into the city, and Lily longed to escape the Astrologer's Tower. That had been the first time they had parted since they had known each other, the first time their lives divided onto two paths that had never quite become one again, even after all the time they spent together in Giseth. What would have happened if they hadn't swapped places? Would Lily have had his life, and been the prodigy who fell from grace, giving Snutworth the keys to his power? Could Mark have started the Almshouse, and inspired Crede's revolution? Somehow he doubted it; most likely they would have both been unrecognizable by now. Perhaps the Directory would never have noticed them, and they would be leading dull, predictable lives, with no more knowledge of prophecies, charters, and other lands than most of Agora. Perhaps some other children would have taken their place, or perhaps nothing would have happened, and Agora would have continued on the same as it always had, waiting for the Judges who never came.

The trouble was, Mark wasn't entirely sure which life he would have preferred.

The Sozinhos' large, comfortable house loomed through the driving rain. Mark banished his musings to the back of his mind, and hurried to catch up with his friends, just as Benedicta pulled the bell cord.

The door was answered by an old servant, and once they had introduced themselves, he quickly ushered them in.

“The master and mistress will be pleased to see you, Miss Benedicta,” the old man said as he took their coats. “I hear they have been missing your visits.”

“This is rather more than a social call,” Laud muttered.

“In which case, sir,” the servant said, with unflappable calm, “perhaps I should show you in right away. I am under instructions not to disturb their rehearsals, but I suspect that they will make an exception on this occasion.”

They followed the old man through the corridors of the grand house. As they progressed, Mark began to hear the sound of singing, one deep baritone, the other a pure, high soprano. Something about it comforted him and even seemed to soothe Laud's nervous energy. By the time the servant pushed open the doors to the practice room, Mark felt more ready to be sociable.

Signor and Signora Sozinho were sitting side by side at the harpsichord, both singing, their voices swooping and caressing each other. As they sang, their hands darted in and out on the keys. Even the rain drumming on the windows was reduced to a gentle patter that seemed to provide an accompaniment all its own. Mark knew that he should speak, that there was no time to lose. But just for a moment, he was lost in the music, and wouldn't have broken it for anything.

The old servant coughed. The music stopped; Signora Sozinho turned her head, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“
Carissimo,
look!”

Her husband blinked, and then a great smile came across his face.

“Miss Benedicta, Mr. Laudate, and…” he stopped, and stared. “By all the stars … Mr. Mark! I thought you had vanished from the city forever!” He jumped up, smoothing back his graying hair with a flourish. “You should have given word that you were coming! We must have tea fetched. I shall ring for the maid…”

“Thank you, Signor, but—” Mark was overwhelmed. He had liked the Sonzinhos well enough when he had known them, but that had been long ago, in a different life. He had expected Ben to do all the talking.

“We never believed in your disgrace,” the Signor interrupted. “No doubt you have been in hiding. Very wise. After this little trouble with Crede is over, the city will be ready for a bright future.”

“I think it is terrible that so many of the elite believe that the Temple and the Wheel are no different,” the Signora added, turning to Ben. “As if we would be patrons of Crede's army! Of course, we understand now why you haven't been visiting, Crede must be causing you so much trouble…”

“Signor, Signora,” Ben said, trying to stop them. “We appreciate this, but we need to ask you about—”

“Yes, yes, of course,” the Signor said, “we want to hear all of your news, but we must sing the rest of this song for you first. We have written it especially for the latest gala, but we'd much rather have the opinion of people who are not trading for our services—we get a much more honest reaction…”

Laud closed his eyes, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Hastily, Mark reached into the inner pocket of his coat, and pulled out Verity's crumpled page.

“Signor Sozinho, we've got to ask you something. It's about this page, we think—”

“Not that we object to the employment,” Signor Sozinho continued, blithely. “The elite are holding more and more parties nowadays. I believe they are attempting to ignore the Crede situation, but it is only a matter of time before…”

The Signor didn't get any further. In one movement, Laud yanked the page out of Mark's hands, grabbed a lantern from a wall bracket, and pushed both into the Signor's face.

“Read it,” he said. “Please.”

Puzzled, and temporarily silenced, Signor Sozinho took the paper and looked at the hidden writing, as Laud held the lantern. Slowly, all of the good cheer left his face.

“Leave us,” he said to the servant, who swiftly withdrew. He beckoned to his wife, who also read it over his shoulder, her confused frown growing deeper.

Laud looked at them both, putting down the lantern.

“We need to know how to reach the Land Below, Signor, Signora,” he said, levelly. “We think Lily is down there.”

Mark watched the Signor's face. He was obviously trying to keep all emotion out of it, but he looked deeply troubled.

“Lily is in Naru?” the Signor said, dully, sitting back at the piano stool. The Signora fumbled with the edge of her sleeves.

“I had thought that it was only an old family legend,” she said. The Signor smiled, sadly.

“Ah,
carissima
, it is. A bedtime story. The land of Naru, a world of secrets deep beneath our feet. A wonderful fantasy.” He looked up at Laud, regaining his composure. “I'm sorry, but whoever has given you this is playing a trick on you. It doesn't exist.”

Laud's expression darkened.

“I have the greatest respect for your musical talents, Signor,” Laud said, “but you are a terrible liar.”

A flash of anger crossed the Signor's face.

“You think I would lie to you? After all I owe to Lily? This tale is a fantasy. Everyone knows that there are no lands outside the city.”

“Everyone is obviously mistaken,” Laud replied, sharply. “
Everyone
should be prepared to accept that there are stranger things going on in this city than
everyone
thinks.”

“Laud, perhaps we should…” Mark tried to interrupt, but the young man waved him aside. The Signor's lip curled in response.

“If you are going to be childish, Mr. Laudate, perhaps we should wait for another occasion so we can discuss this like adults.”

“Because, of course, claiming that Lily is trapped in a fairytale land is entirely plausible…”

As Laud and the Signor grew more heated, Mark noticed Benedicta out of the corner of his eye. She seemed to be making signs with her hands, while staring significantly at the Signora.