The Singers of Nevya (60 page)

There is no place for her to go,
Sira answered sadly.
Who will take her in now?
She sat down across from Zakri, easing herself gently into the chair as if her bones hurt.

But she is right
, he sent.
Cantor Ovan is still at it.

How is that possible?

He is better at anger than at
quiru
.. The moment the
quirunha
was over it began again.

Zakri made no apology for eavesdropping, and Sira did not chide him. She rubbed her eyes with her fingers.
We cannot shield her at every moment.

Zakri thought for a moment, then rose from the table.
I can distract him, at least. I will go to the great room, to have my mid-day meal.
Sira eyed the now-empty tray. Zakri grinned.
I can manage a few more bites. I will draw Ovan’s attention to me. We have not spoken at all, and he will be surprised when I send to him. I doubt he is so strong he can attack two of us.

I will stay with Isbel for a bit,
Sira sent.
Then I must speak to the Magister. And we must hold Cantoris hours sometime today.

As Zakri left the apartment, Kai appeared in the doorway. His expression was grim, and Zakri gave him a sympathetic glance as they passed each other.

“What is happening, Houseman?” Sira asked.

“My family has refused us. They say I’ve hurt my House, and they’ll have nothing to do with me. The Housekeeper won’t talk to me. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Sira clasped her hands before her and rested her forehead on them. She felt trapped. There was only one place on the entire Continent where she felt sure of her welcome, and that was all but impossible to reach.

If they could only hold on until summer . . . she suddenly longed for Theo as acutely as she had the first day after their separation. If they could manage until summer, she and Zakri and Isbel, and if she could reach Theo from Ogre Pass, someone would come for them. Observatory needed people, needed House members. They would not care that one was a disgraced Cantrix.

Sira raised her head. “I have a thought, Houseman. I will talk to the Magister once again. Go in to Isbel now, and keep her company. I will be back after Cantoris hours, and after I have seen Magister Edrus.” She stood and leaned on her hands, looking into Kai’s face. “I know a place,” she told him, “but it is far away, and we cannot go yet.”

“Where is it?”

“Have you heard of Observatory?”

His eyes widened. “Only in fables. They tell us it’s just a story.”

“So I thought.” She straightened. “But it is real enough. The problem is to find it.”

Kai stared at her in confusion. She only gave him a tired nod. She would have to explain later. She picked up her
filhata
and tucked it under her arm. Perhaps there would be a way. She could only hope so.

“The
quirunha
this morning was wonderful,” Magister Edrus said. He looked as if he had not slept since the revelations of the day before. “I am grateful.” He held the door for her and she went into his apartment, bowing briefly as she passed him.

“We must protect your House, of course.” She laid her
filhata
on a low table. “I will hold Cantoris hours, too, Magister, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

Edrus indicated a chair, but Sira shook her head. She needed to move, to pace as she talked. The idea that had come to her brought a brief surge of energy that thrust away the weariness of the last hours. “You need me here, and I need something as well. There may be a way to get through this without harm to your House, but we will need to work together.”

Edrus sank into a chair, his shoulders slumped. “I blame myself for this disaster. I should have foreseen it.”

Sira ceased pacing to stare at him. He said, “I know Cantor Ovan was having some sort of trouble. His work was suffering, but I thought . . .” His voice trembled, and he swallowed. “I thought Cantrix Isbel could manage. I see now how unfair that was, too much for one so young and inexperienced.”

“You have not held your Magistership for very long, have you?” Sira asked.

“That is no excuse.”

“I do not believe you need one.”

“You are kind. You know, Cantrix Isbel is—she became, in any case—such a fine healer. I thought she would heal whatever was wrong in my Cantoris.”

“She has always had empathy,” Sira said. “It makes for strong healing, but it also makes the Singer vulnerable.” She resumed pacing, short strides to the window and back again. “Your House members will probably be disappointed in my own healing,” she added with a humorless laugh. “But I will do my best.”

She came to stand before Edrus once again. “You need me in your Cantoris. Cantor Ovan is barely capable even of assisting in the
quirunha
. What I need is to continue training Singer Zakri, and also to make provision for Isbel and her babe. I propose that your House allow me to do both things in exchange for my service, until the summer comes.”

“It’s little enough.” Edrus spoke slowly, thinking. “You know that Cantor Ovan will say you’re simply doing your duty.”

“He will not be wrong. But I ask your indulgence just the same.”

“You shall have it.”

Sira bowed. “I thank you. I think also we must notify Conservatory. I hope that by summer they will be able to send you a Singer, and I can take Isbel away, to a place where she can live and raise her child in peace.”

“Where would that be?” Edrus asked. “Her position seems a most untenable one. For myself, I would gladly have her here, but I can’t protect her from Cantor Ovan’s anger, or from the resentment of other House members.”

Sira agreed. “It would never be a comfortable situation, though it has been done before. But I hope to take her to the House which is home to me. To Observatory.”

Amazement chased all weariness from Edrus’s face. “Surely you don’t—you can’t mean—truly? All my life I’ve believed such a place to exist only in stories.”

Sira turned to look out the window. The snow had stopped, and the sky was a clear, blazing blue. The landmarks around the House were folded away under blankets of white. Ice crystals caught the sun and dazzled her eyes. She yearned to be away from all this, riding off among the pristine hills. She took a resigned breath and turned her back on the beauty beyond the glass. “Observatory is hidden in the mountains southeast of Ogre Pass. It is impossible to find without a guide. They have kept to themselves for a hundred summers, only coming down from their mountain when they are desperate. They need people—House members—more than anything. It could even be that Isbel’s Gift will return to her there, if the Spirit wills.”

“Let it be so, then,” Edrus said. “But I should tell you there is pressure from the Magistral Committee because I allow you to stay here.”

“Will they withhold a Singer from you because of me?”

Edrus shrugged. “So they say. But I can hardly let my House freeze because of that. Surely now they will see things differently.”

“Conservatory should have dealt with Ovan before this. Magister Mkel was not ignorant of the problems.”

“Conservatory has its own difficulties,” Edrus observed. They regarded each other for a moment, in perfect accord.

“I am much relieved,” Sira said.

“And so am I.” The Magister stood and bowed formally to his new Cantrix. It was all the welcoming ceremony there would be. Sira picked up her
filhata
and tucked it under her arm before she bowed in return. She went out of the apartment with a firm step, down the broad stairs to hold her first Cantoris hours at Amric.

Since when does an itinerant presume to send to a full Cantor?
Ovan stared at Zakri over the heads of the House members in the great room. His eyes blazed in his dark face.

Zakri gave him a wicked grin.
Since yesterday. Since Cantrix Isbel needed my help.

She is no concern of yours!
Ovan turned his face away, as if to speak to someone.

Zakri sent very strongly,
All the Gifted concern me, Cantor Ovan. Even you. Actually, now that I think of it, especially you!

Ovan froze, his mouth open, his chest heaving as if he gasped for breath. He turned a suspicious gaze back to Zakri.

I know what troubles you,
, Zakri sent, very clearly.

Ovan stood, scraping his chair noisily on the floor.
Nothing troubles me except upstart itinerants with no respect for their betters!
He tried to shield his mind, but it was a weak and unstable barrier that bothered Zakri not at all.
Leave me alone!
Ovan sent, stumbling out of the great room.

Zakri sat where he was, but he did not release the contact. He stayed with Ovan as the older man hurried to his apartment. Only when Ovan was inside his rooms, the door shut tight behind him, did Zakri get to his feet. Concentrating, following Ovan with his mind, he hardly knew where his body was. He stubbed his toe on a table leg and jostled a Housewoman as he made his way out of the great room into the corridor.

Ovan’s need was so overwhelming that he was hardly shielded at all, and he no longer recognized Zakri’s presence in his mind. Through Ovan’s eyes, Zakri watched the Cantor’s shaking hands reach to open a cupboard, to take out an ironwood jar with a carved stopper.

With sharp strength, Zakri sent,
Even now, Cantor Ovan? Before Cantoris hours?

Ovan started violently, and Zakri seized his chance. He made a supreme effort, lashing out with his psi, using Ovan’s own psi as a weapon–a whip, or a club. Before Ovan threw up his shields in desperation, Zakri saw the jar of wine fly up to shatter against the cupboard door, splattering the wall and the floor with red. Ovan succeeded in breaking the contact then, pulling free with a tremendous effort.

Zakri, suddenly weak, leaned against the wall outside the great room. He laughed silently as he waited for his strength to return. The very side of his Gift that had caused him so much trouble had been a useful tool just now. Exhaustion was a small price to pay. He had in his hands just the weapon he needed, the information that could protect Isbel and assist Sira. He gave no thought to the unethical way he had acquired it. The stakes in this game were too high for such distinctions.

Feeling much better, he straightened, and hummed a cheerful tune as he watched people file out of the great room, until Sira came along.

Come and observe,
she sent.
I would like you to try to follow during the healing.

Zakri hid his grin with a bow.
Yes, Cantrix. I will try my best.

Chapter Thirty

Isbel huddled beneath her bedfurs, alone in her room. Ovan no longer tormented her, but still she heard his accusing voice sounding in her head. The names he had called her were both vicious and accurate. They whirled unendingly in her mind. Slut. Harlot. Whore. And the worst, the one that was most true and most shameful. She was a traitor, a traitor to her House and a traitor to her calling. The pain that now racked her seemed a fitting punishment. She welcomed it, gave herself up to it without protest.

She bore the torment dumbly, until the claws of pain tore so deeply into her belly that consciousness receded. When she cried out, it was a gasping scream that brought Kai and Yula hurrying to her bedside. She opened her eyes, when the pain subsided a bit, to see their frantic faces above her.

“Quick, Yula,” Kai cried. “Find Cantrix Sira!”

Isbel tried to push a refusal past her lips, but the claws rent her once again. Her awareness turned inward, and the world faded away from her. Pain was her universe, and she needed all her energy merely to comprehend it. She had earned it, she deserved it. Whore. Traitor. She could do nothing now but accede to the agony, welcome it. It was her redemption.

When Kai tried to take her hands, she thrust him away, and returned to her fate, her punishment, her sentence of pain.

Zakri watched, biting his lip, as Sira ran her hands over Isbel’s tortured body. The
filla
lay on the bed between them. Kai and Yula waited in the outer room, but Zakri knew they suffered with Isbel. Sira knelt, her eyes closed and brows drawn hard together, her hands moving. Zakri held back, afraid and repelled. A musky odor filled his nostrils.

Sira’s eyes opened suddenly.
Follow me
, she commanded.
This is bad. I will need you.

She reached for the
filla
, and closed her eyes once more
.
Obediently, Zakri knelt beside her, putting aside his reluctance. He shut his own eyes and let his psi spin out to join Sira’s.

Before she began, she sent,
I am sorry you have no experience, but there is no help for it. It shocks you, but you must try to ignore that.

He sensed her own unease, and he resolved to be unaffected by anything he might find.
I am with you.
He followed as she began her
Aiodu
melody.

Aiodu
was for examinations. That much he had already learned. Its clarity, the simplicity of its progressions, was to help the Singer to see, to understand what was happening behind the barrier of the flesh. With Sira leading, their joined psi found the curled form of the infant in Isbel’s womb, and felt the strain as the womb contracted around it.

Isbel’s pain was beyond anything Zakdi had known before, and he gasped before he could catch himself. He realized at the same moment that the
filla
had ceased playing, and the contact was broken.

He opened his eyes. Sira was still on her knees, her hands covering her face. The
filla
lay at her elbow.

What is the matter
? he asked.

She raised her head.
I am not the healer I should be. When I feel Isbel’s pain, it is like a door slammed in my face.

Zakri stared at her.
But she needs us!

Isbel groaned between compressed lips. Sweat matted her hair and wet her tunic. Sira nodded, looking at her.
I will try again.

Zakri saw that her fingers trembled as she lifted the
filla
.

Cantrix Sira
, he sent. She stopped, looking at him. Amazed by his own daring, he held out his hand.
I will do it,
he sent.
I can do it, if you show me.