The Canticle of Whispers (15 page)

“I don't know what to make of all this,” the Signor muttered. “You come here unannounced, burst into our parlor, drip water on the harpsichord,…”

The Signora nodded, making an answering sign, and both she and Benedicta quietly got up to leave the room.

“Lily's life could be in danger, and you're thinking about water stains?” Laud shouted.

Mark, shaking his head, followed the women out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He found the pair relaxing in a pair of armchairs in the anteroom, being served tea by the old servant. The servant barely looked up when Mark approached, but silently filled a third cup. Benedicta smiled.

“Glad you joined us, Mark. It was getting a little tiring in there.”

Mark winced, apologetically.

“I'm sorry, Signora,” he said. “I don't think Laud was in the mood for conversation.”

The Signora smiled, sadly.

“My husband will let no one talk to him at the moment. He worries too much about the current situation,” she shook her head. “A dreadful time is coming. There is already conflict in the streets. Such times are not good for musicians who rely on the elite. I cannot see us composing revolutionary anthems. So my
carissimo
was ready for an argument. As for your brother, Ben,” she looked toward the door, where Laud's shouts were growing louder by the second. “I think he needs to let some of his anger flow; it is how he expresses his concern.”

“He's very worried about Lily,” Mark said. “We all are.”

The Signora nodded, a curious smile on her face.

“Perhaps, but not in the same way, I think…” she said, thoughtfully. “A lot of memories are coming back today.” She looked at Benedicta. “The language of signs … I remember that. Not a happy memory.”

“We always knew how to talk without speaking,” Ben said, simply, and then leaned over to touch the Signora's hand. “Signora, we really do need your help. Lily helped you, when you thought you had no future. Can't you do the same thing?”

Mark watched the Signora's face. She seemed to be fighting some inner restraint. And then, quietly, she spoke.

“It is such a strange tale,” she said. “My husband told me when we were first married, but I never truly believed it.”

Mark reached to pick up his teacup.

“Believe me,” he said, adding sugar, “you get used to that feeling quickly when we're around.”

The Signora laughed.

“That is true.” She looked up and around at the room. “You would think that this fine house would be enough for the Sozinhos, no? Perhaps it is, for we do not live in the other two houses that we own. One of them, I did live in, for many years.” She frowned, drawing her shawl a little tighter as though a cold wind had started to blow. “That was where you first met me, dear Benedicta, where I spent those unhappy years, away from my
carissimo
. But the third is the oddest of all.” She frowned. “It is an old house, ancient as my husband's family, full of endless corridors and secret doors. But family tradition says that its greatest secret is a way to leave the city itself, and travel down to Naru.” She shook her head. “I have never been to that house myself. Neither has my husband, except to check that the locks are secure. But perhaps…” She brightened. “Verso, one of our servants, worked in the University libraries for many years. He tells me that he spent some time researching our family history. Maybe he would know if there is any truth in the tale.”

Mark felt his heart sink.

“And where do we need to go to find him?” Mark said, wearily predicting another slog through the rain, another obstacle before they could start to do some good.

“Not terribly far away, sir,” said the old servant.

Slowly, Mark turned his head. He hadn't really looked at the servant before. He was an elderly man; he must have seen more than eighty summers, and was clearly not in the best of health. But there was a lively intelligence in those rheumy eyes.

“Can you help them, Verso?” the Signora asked, quietly. “I wouldn't be surprised if it was nothing but a story.”

Verso bowed, slowly.

“No story, ma'am,” he replied.

Signora Sozinho looked at her servant and sighed, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“I am glad to hear it,” she said. “Take whatever time you need.”

Verso bowed again.

“May I see the page, ma'am?” he asked. Signora Sozinho got up, passed it over, and then withdrew into the next room, as though glad to be rid of the responsibility. Verso read over the page once, and then held it up to the light for a moment. He frowned, pursing his lips. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, slipping the page into his pocket. Then he looked from Mark to Ben, appraisingly, rubbing his chin with one gloved hand.

“You wish to go to the Land Below?” He said, his voice a little less deferential than before. “Legends say that it is a dangerous journey, but the rewards are high. They say that every secret in the world is hidden there—quite a treasure trove, such power…”

Ben interrupted him.

“We don't care about that,” she said, bluntly. “We're going there because Lily's there, and she'd do the same for us.”

Verso stared down at them, a curiously searching look for an old steward. Most servants were worn down by a lifetime of submission.

“You would risk such a journey for one person? Risk descending into a world that might not even exist, on the word of a single sentence and a servant who, for all you know, may be senile?” He frowned. “You would do that for her?”

Mark wanted to explain. He wanted to talk about how she had crossed a country to rescue him, when he had been taken. He wanted to explain how they had grown closer during their time in Giseth, and how he had no focus without her. He wanted to say how much she had done for Agora, how much the city needed her back.

He didn't. He said the first thing that came into his head. Which also happened to be the truest of all.

“Of course. She's our friend.”

The old man nodded, pleased.

“Then might I suggest you pack some belongings for an expedition? I fear it is not likely to be an easy journey…”

 

C
HAPTER
T
EN

Thoughts

T
HE CAVE WAS SMALL,
claustrophobic, and deep beneath the Oracle's throne room. It was also surprisingly cluttered with statues, ornaments, and wooden chests. The Conductor put down his lantern on the floor, casting his shadow across the room.

“What is this place?” Lily asked, uneasily.

“A memorial,” the Conductor replied, “a place of remembrance.”

Lily shivered. The crushing disappointment of her audience with the Oracle two days before was still fresh in her mind; she was burning to start her search for the unknown secret, and the Conductor had brought her to a place that appeared to be a tomb.

“At least, I believe it is,” the Conductor said, almost casually. “No one has been buried here for years, and truth be told, no one but the Oracle herself knows anything about those who rest here, but that is not important. At the moment, this chamber is the best place in all Naru, outside of the Resonant Throne, to hear the Canticle. The Canticle drifts around the lower caverns, but it often rests here.” The Conductor gave a half-smile. “Perhaps it finds the atmosphere appropriate. Listen.”

Lily waited, but she could hear nothing but the thudding of her own heart. Idly, she began to look around the cave. Now she could make out the brass plaques, set at intervals around the walls. The first few were heavily tarnished, the later ones gleamed, but all but the last bore the same inscription. A name, and two dates. The span of their lives. Lily wandered closer to look. The newer plaques bore only one name and a sign, just like the engraving on a signet ring. But the oldest had two names, like her father, and like her, of course, though she had only discovered that a month ago. Before her father had signed his name on his last letter, she had never heard of anyone having more than one name. It seemed that it had been more common, long ago.

The last plaque was blank, and looked relatively new. Lily breathed on it, and traced her own name in the cloud. “Lilith d'Annain, 129–…” A morbid thing to do, but that felt appropriate here, among the dead.

And at that moment, she heard it.

It was like a sigh at the very edge of hearing. Normally, she would have been amazed, perhaps even thrilled at the prospect of the Canticle of Whispers, of hearing others' thoughts. Among these grave markers, though, that was not a sound that she particularly wished to hear.

“You can listen for as long as you want,” the Conductor was continuing, oblivious to her mood. “You won't be disturbed. No one has been down here for years.”

Lily looked around the room. Many of the chests were open, and much of the contents were spread out beneath the glow of the crystals set into the walls.

“No one?” she said, arching an eyebrow. The Conductor wandered over to a large shape in the center of the room, covered with an embroidered cloth.

“No one but me,” he admitted. “I was curious. We see so few objects from the world above, and this chamber has some spectacular wonders—I was sure that their former owners wouldn't mind a little investigation.” He turned back, his round, sad face illuminated by the light. “I do not think that they would have wanted to be forgotten.”

Lily knelt down beside one of the chests. This one was small, and inlaid with rosewood. She saw that, among the jewels, there was a small, wooden rocking horse. She couldn't guess how old it was, but the paint was barely chipped. It had never been played with.

“I suppose not,” she said, frowning. “You really don't know who they were?”

The Conductor began to pull away the cloth from the object in the center of the room.

“I did ask the Oracle, once, when I was first made Conductor. But she refused to tell me. She said that it would be revealed only when the time was right. Now, talking of wonders,” with a final heave, he pulled the last of the cover away, “what do you think of this?”

Lily stared. In the light of the lamp, it looked like a large, strangely shaped harpsichord. But as she came closer, she noticed that there was no keyboard, and that something in the main body of the instrument was shining in the lamplight. It looked like a series of glass bowls, lying on their side, each slotted inside each other.

“Well?” the Conductor asked, proudly. “What do you think of the glass armonium?”

“Well…” Lily replied, not certain what to say. “It's very … impressive, but what does this have to do with the Canticle?”

The Conductor smiled, seating himself on a stool in front of the instrument and pumping a pedal, setting the glass bowls spinning.

“Listen,” he said.

With careful precision, the Conductor licked his finger, and touched the edge of one of the bowls.

A single, pure note rang out. Lily knew that sound. She had heard it often, when she had been cleaning glasses, and amused herself by running one wet finger around its edge. It hummed and sparkled, all at once. The Conductor spread his fingers to touch more of the spinning bowls, and the tones joined together in a chord.

Then, he began to play.

Lily scarcely noticed what he played. Anything would have sounded haunting on that strange instrument, with its ghostly tones. But as the music rang through the cavern, something else happened. The whispers began to grow clearer.

It was almost as though they were attracted by the armonium, or maybe its tones were sharpening her hearing, focusing her on the right sounds. Whatever it was, the voices grew clearer, skittering through her head in sudden, furtive bursts.

Can't do that, no, that's dangerous … What if he finds out? No, he's too busy with his guests … She seems pleasant, but who knows what she must have suffered … I'll find her, I have to find her …

Lily clutched her head. Other people's thoughts were singing in her mind. She felt her heart leap and her skin prickle. She smiled. This is what she'd been searching for, all this time. This was what had propelled her out of Agora, and through Giseth. There was so much truth here. So many answers … if only she could grasp them …

What's the point, why should I go on?… I love him, I know it's wrong, but I love everything about him … stupid man! He'll get himself killed, and I'll be the one to do it …

The Conductor stopped playing. The whispers faded back into an incomprehensible hiss. Lily rubbed her aching temples, the new thoughts already slipping from her mind.

“I have no idea how it works,” he said, getting down from the glass armonium. “I think that it was left here as part of the grave goods. But something about this instrument's sound seems to resonate with the Canticle, and make it easier to hear.”

Lily didn't reply, unable to get away from the exhilarating experience of the Canticle surging through her. It felt like having pure information running through her brain, crisp and undiluted, but tantalizingly incomplete, like a burned parchment.

A burned parchment …

An image of the fragment of the Midnight Charter that Lily had found back in Agora swam into her mind. That piece of parchment had started everything. Nothing had been the same for her since that night—since she had found a few incomplete sentences that seemed to rule her life. In all this time, had she just been looking to fill those blanks?

So be it. She knew what she needed to search the Canticle for. It wasn't likely that the Oracle's one unknown secret would be anything trivial.

“Thank you, Conductor,” she said, and meant it. “I think I can carry on from here.”

He did not argue. She had a look in her eyes that could not be resisted, but as he shuffled to the exit, he did look back.