The Canticle of Whispers (18 page)

Verso leaned heavily against the stone wall, and mustered a smile.

“This cart appears to have been left to provide the only way onward. Perhaps I might be allowed to inspect it? Unless you would prefer to walk?”

Verso met Laud's gaze, and again, Mark thought he saw a flash of steel behind those amiably polite eyes. Laud closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

“Fine,” he said, through gritted teeth. “You'd better get to work.”

*   *   *

A few hours later, the four of them stepped from the cart on unsteady legs. It hadn't been a bad journey—the corridor was straight, and the cart rode surprisingly smoothly—but the speed had taken them by surprise. They had never moved so fast in their lives. Mark was sure they must have been halfway out under Giseth by now.

But although the rails had come to an end, the stone tunnel had not, and there was no option but to continue on foot.

They made slow progress—partly out of caution, and partly because Verso could not walk very easily. In fact, the farther Verso went, the shakier his steps became. Perhaps it was the strange crystal light, but the wrinkles on his face looked deeper than before. Despite this, Laud continued to press on, striding forward with burning purpose, often barely waiting for the others to catch up. And it was quiet, so quiet that all Mark could hear was the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

Without warning, Benedicta stopped.

“What is it?” Laud asked. Ben looked around at them all. In the faint light, she looked puzzled, but not frightened.

“It's probably nothing, but—our footsteps aren't making any sound,” she said.

Mark stared at her. Of course, now that she said it, it was obvious. He looked at the stone that lined this tunnel. It was black and dense, of a kind he had never seen before.

“This rock feels normal,” Ben said, touching the walls, “but—look.” She knocked the edge of her lantern against the black rock. Or rather, they saw her do it, but the metal lantern made no noise at all.

“Right,” Laud muttered. “Glowing crystals, sound-absorbent rocks. Do you think it's time for the monsters to arrive?”

As if on cue, there was a sudden rasp. Laud spun around, brandishing his lantern like a weapon, but Ben was faster, and stopped his hand.

“It's just Verso,” she whispered, as the old man broke into a fit of hacking coughs. Ben hurried over to Verso, and gently patted him on the back.

Mark eyed Laud's lantern.

“You think that would help in a fight?” Mark asked. Laud shrugged.

“Not perfectly,” he admitted. “Burning lamp oil can't be pleasant, but it rather makes me wish I'd brought something a bit more threatening.” He looked farther up the tunnel. “I thought I heard something up there, a moment ago. Shall we scout it out?”

Mark looked back at where Benedicta had sat Verso down, his back propped up against the wall.

“I don't think Ben should stay with Verso,” Mark murmured. Laud raised an eyebrow.

“I don't imagine that the old man would be particularly dangerous. And Ben's dealt with much bigger threats than eighty-year-olds who can barely stand.”

Mark shook his head.

“It's not that. I want to ask him a few questions. I think he was about to tell me something during the descent.” Purposefully, Mark raised his voice, loud enough for Ben to hear. “So that's settled, you and Ben go on ahead. I'll stay with Verso until he's rested.”

Laud looked at the old man curiously, but didn't object.

“Come on Ben,” he said, “it can't be much farther.”

“You realize that now you've said that, we'll be walking for hours,” Ben replied, deadpan, as she joined her brother.

“Sarcasm doesn't become you, dear sister…”

“Well, I suppose it runs in the family…”

Their voices quickly faded away down the tunnel. Faster than usual, in fact, probably due to the black rock.

Mark sat down beside the old servant. Verso's wheezing was still very bad, and he continued to rub his wrists through his gloves. The old man turned, but didn't quite meet Mark's eye.

“Did you want something, Sir?” he asked.

“Answers would be nice,” Mark admitted. “Look, I appreciate you bringing us down here, I really do, but I can't trust you. In fact I think you've gone out of your way to make us distrust you.”

Verso frowned.

“I'm not sure I entirely follow you, Sir…”

“You've been acting mysteriously since the moment we met,” Mark interrupted, firmly. “You obviously know more than you're telling. All those secrets you hint at, all those little pauses. You told the Sozinhos you only know about this place because you'd researched their family history, and then you turn around and tell us that you used to work as a servant to the Last. You don't add up, Verso, and sometimes I think you're doing it on purpose.”

Verso continued to rub his wrists, thoughtfully, giving nothing away.

“So, do you trust me, Mr. Mark?” he asked, at last.

Mark thought for a moment.

“I don't know. I probably shouldn't, but if you'd wanted to betray us, you could just have lied about the way down.”

Verso turned away. His eyes were unfocused, as though he were remembering.

“Lying would be easy,” he said. “It always is. But truth, now that is a difficult thing indeed. I have known so many truths. From tiny facts to huge secrets, and every one is a burden. But this is a place where truths must be faced.”

Mark looked into Verso's eyes. For a few long moments, he examined the old man, trying to get into his head. There was something he was missing here, something obvious.

“You know a lot for someone who's been a servant all his life,” he said.

Verso chuckled, which turned into another attack of coughing.

“Servants have a great deal of time to think, sir,” he said, once he got his breath back. “We have little else to do, without the freedom to make our own decisions. I know many secrets, yes, but I can do nothing with them. Every action I have taken, every choice I have made, has been determined by greater forces.”

Mark put his hands behind his head.

“That sounds like an excuse to me.”

Verso turned to him, sharply.

“What do you mean?”

Mark shrugged.

“A lot of people use that excuse—‘I was just doing what I had to.' Those are usually the people who are too scared to try something new.” He studied Verso's face, carefully watching the old man for a sign of weakening. “There's always a choice.”

Verso twitched.

“You understand nothing, boy. The years still stretch before you, full of possibility. You haven't even seen sixteen summers yet. What do you know of duty, of sacrifice, that fills a whole lifetime?”

“Not much,” Mark interrupted, with a slight smile. “But I know I was right about one thing. That wasn't the speech of a lifelong servant.”

Verso looked straight at Mark then, and Mark felt the force of his stare. But it was an oddly approving look.

“I would like to tell you all, Mark. I would. And you will know the truth, soon enough. But I am here for my own reasons, and you are not my confessor. First, I must—”

“Mark! Verso! Where are you?”

Ben's shouts drowned the old man's words. She was running down the tunnel, breathless and excited. She was closer than she seemed, another effect of the strange black rock—Mark had not heard her approach.

“Ben, what are you—?” he managed to stammer out before she reached him, grabbed his sleeve, and pulled him to his feet.

“We've met them! And they know where she is! Come on! We've found her!” Ben pulled at him, babbling. Mark yanked back his arm.

“Slow down, Ben. Who are you talking about?”

Mark stopped speaking, realization stealing over him. There was only one person she could be talking about.

“Lily?” he said. Ben laughed.

“Yes, Lily! Who did you think?” she said, mockingly, hitting the side of his head in a playful tap. “Laud's with the people who live down here now … They're a queer bunch…”

But Mark was no longer listening. He and Ben raced back along the corridor, leaving Verso struggling to catch up.

The other end of the tunnel opened out into a large cave, filled with tables, cooking pots, and a crowd of people. Mark registered a confused, chattering mass of white hair and bright, garish clothes. But one—a portly, round-faced man—was deep in conversation with Laud, who looked happier than Mark had ever seen him before.

“Is she…?” Mark asked, trying to get his breath back. Laud nodded, furiously.

“Down in the lower caves. The Conductor, here, has been explaining it to me. He's been very obliging, but don't offer to shake his hand. I thought he was going to faint.” Laud pressed his hands to his temples, as if trying to shake his thoughts into some kind of order. “Apparently, they have to offer assistance to anyone who comes out of the silent tunnel, so they're going to take us to her right away…” And for the first time ever, Mark saw Laud's face split with a genuine grin of delight. “No tricks, no traps, they're going to help us because of some ancient rule. At last these old secrets are working for us!”

Behind them, Verso finally caught up, wheezing but excited.

“Well, my boy, are you going to wait here all day?”

Mark snapped into action, turning to the portly man, the one Laud had called the Conductor.

“Can we go right away?” Mark asked, eagerly. The Conductor swallowed, nervously twisting a baton behind his ear with his free hand.

“Yes, but … she has asked not to be disturbed…”

“I really think she'll make an exception for us,” Mark said, laughing.

The Conductor bowed his head, obviously giving up on his attempt to understand what was going on.

“Follow me,” he said.

*   *   *

Mark barely registered the wonder of Naru as he followed the Conductor. He, Laud, Ben, and Verso were led through caves of extraordinary splendor, past towering pillars of crystal and fathomless depths. He didn't even stop to look at the people, with their huge, dark eyes and curious chatter. He caught Benedicta's eye, and saw in her the same thing that he was feeling—relief. Wondrous, blissful relief. In the end, it had been strangely easy to track Lily down. It hadn't taken months of perilous travel; they hadn't had to fight their way through the Order of the Lost. And now, at last, he could admit all the things he had been fearing. She wasn't dead. She wasn't alone, or mad, or captured by enemies. She wasn't suffering because she had gone chasing after him. It wasn't his fault.

The Conductor led them to a small, dark tunnel, sporadically illuminated with crystals. Mark could make out steeply descending stone steps.

“She is down here,” the Conductor said, anxiously. “But, she is listening to the Canticle. Perhaps you would rather wait…”

Mark didn't hear the end of that sentence. As one, all four of them were already clattering down the steps.

Ben and Laud hurried forward, determination in their eyes. Behind him, Mark heard Verso struggling down the steps, leaning against the wall for support. Despite his eagerness, Mark turned back to ask if the old man needed any help.

“No, no,” he gasped. “You go on. I'll catch up.”

Mark nodded and, free of his charge, he flew down the steps, passing Laud and Ben. Up ahead, Mark could hear a strange sound. A haunting, floating kind of music. And all around them, there was another sound, just out of hearing—like a thousand whispers, speaking all at once. But still, they pressed on, deeper and deeper, with the sounds growing ever louder, until their ears rang.

And then they were at the mouth of another cave, and they saw her.

She was sitting with her back to them, at a strange harpsichord, made of polished, black wood. Her hands were frantically moving across a series of spinning glass bowls, producing wild music. Her head was thrown back, every inch of her body was tense, moving this way and that with the flow of the whispers that raced around the room. She was so totally absorbed she seemed almost part of the sound itself.

“Lily?” Ben said, astonished, but Lily didn't hear her.

“Lily!” Laud shouted at the top of his voice, but there was no reaction.

Scarcely knowing what he was doing, Mark ran forward, knocking over a discarded plate of food, and dashing a lantern to the ground. He reached the instrument.

He caught a glimpse of Lily's eyes, and faltered. They were fixed, ecstatic. She was mouthing along to something he couldn't hear, filled with passion he couldn't guess at. She looked extraordinary. But she looked nothing like his friend. She was barely human.

He slammed his hands down on the spinning bowls.

There was a shrieking discord. And the whispers fled.

Lily convulsed as though struck by lightning. Mark reached forward, but Laud was already there to catch her as she fell back, and Ben took her hand as she flung it out.

She shook, babbling something about truth, and secrets, and being so close.

And then, to his relief, her eyes began to focus.

“Get off me … I need to go back … I need to … what … I…?” She peered at him, as if through a haze. And then her mouth fell open. “Mark? Mark!” She flung herself forward, grabbing his face. “It … I … what?”

“Glad to hear you've been practicing your oratory,” Laud said, in a tone that mixed humor and tenderness so perfectly that Mark barely recognized it. Lily twisted her head around, and laughed in delight.

“Laud!” she cried, clasping him in a hug.

“Do I have to insult you to get a mention?” Benedicta asked, warmly. Lily turned her head, her smile broadening.

“Ben! I can't believe it … how did you find me? I thought I knew everything here, but … how?”