The Tenth Power (32 page)

Today was to be her last day in Antaris, and Calwyn did not know how long it would be before she returned. She was on her way to bid farewell to Mica, and to Marna. She was dressed in a blue tunic the same colour as the pale spring sky, and she slipped off her soft-soled shoes for the pleasure of feeling the grass underfoot. There were small white flowers in the coronet of her dark hair, and though she was unaware of it, the aura of strong magic sparkled all around her.

Barefoot, Calwyn ran across the wooden bridge that spanned the river.The water churned white as it roared below, only an arm’s-span beneath the bridge, and her feet were splashed with spray. Once, that would have terrified her, but now she felt only delight at the cool water on her skin.

Tomorrow, before dawn, they would begin the long journey back to Merithuros. Darrow had been away too long, and they had all agreed, as they sat talking in the great hall the night before, that Merithuros needed their new knowledge more urgently than any other land in Tremaris.

It will be a great joy to see life breathed into that dry land.
Halasaa had smiled.

‘I’m so glad you’re coming,’ Calwyn had replied. ‘I thought you might go back to the Wildlands with Briaali and the others.’

I could not be parted from my sister so soon. I only hope I will not be
in your way.
His smile broadened.

‘Never,’ said Darrow. ‘And if you are, we can soon be rid of you.’ With a throat-song of chantment, he tipped Halasaa’s straw hat abruptly over his eyes.

‘You make sure you do get in their way, Halasaa,’ growled Tonno. ‘I don’t want to see these two mooning around
Fledgewing
, tripping over ropes and staring in each other’s eyes. Nothing worse than a pair of lovers on board ship.’

‘Then you’d better be careful yourself,’ said Darrow, with a pointed glance toward Keela. She was deep in conversation with Lia in a far corner of the hall, earnestly discussing matters of statecraft; as if she’d heard her name, she looked over and gave them a smile that lit up her face.

‘Don’t know what you mean,’ mutteredTonno, but a scarlet flush spread up his neck and turned his ears red.

That’s enough!
warned Calwyn quickly, but it was too late. Trout had scrambled up and walked out of the hall.

Tonno shook his curly head. ‘Curse my tongue!’

‘I can only imagine how I would feel if – ’ Darrow stopped. ‘I didn’t know that he loved Mica so much.’

‘He didn’t know it himself,’ Calwyn had said softly.

Time will help him
, said Halasaa soberly.
It will not dissolve his
grief, but it will help him to bear it. It will help us all.

Calwyn had said nothing. But she knew, and she had felt it freshly as she stepped through the Anary graveyard; her own grief for Mica was a wound that would never heal. It was lodged inside her like a dark stone.

They had buried Mica next to Marna, beneath the whispering spander trees with their drifts of white blossom and soft mist of new leaves. The bees were frantic among the blossom, as if to make up for the time they’d lost. It had seemed wrong, at first, to leave Mica here, so far from the ocean that she’d loved. But as Calwyn gazed out across the valley, she saw it rippling with wave after wave of wildflowers, dark blue and white and green. Every spring, at least, Mica would be near the sea. And to mark her grave Trout had built a special which-way, whose arrow would point forever to the Isles where she was born.

CALWYN
SAT DOWN
on the sun-warmed grass. There were plenty of wildflowers, but only the goats could eat them. The hard times were not over yet forTremaris; many people would go hungry before next harvest. But that harvest would be a good one. They had held two more Dances of Becoming in the sacred valley, and with each healing ceremony, the land seemed to stretch and purr like a roancat soaking up the sun. Everywhere she looked, Calwyn saw life bursting from the soil, shoots thrusting eagerly upward, leaves uncurling. Lia would continue the Dances after they had gone, a new ritual to add to the calendar of the Goddess.

And now that Briaali was bearing knowledge of the Dance back to the Tree People, there would be rituals performed again in the cave by the Knot of the Waters. A handful of priestesses had gone with the Spiridrelleen to call up the healing magic.
Perhaps the gift of Becoming will be born in our children
anew.
Briaali’s eyes had glittered at Calwyn when she’d said goodbye.
Or you might send your daughter to us, or your son.
She’d laid her hand briefly on Calwyn’s belly, and her eyes wrinkled with secret amusement.
In time, child, in time!

Calwyn stretched her legs in the soft grass. ‘We’ll name our first daughter after you, Mica,’ she whispered, and stared away across the sea of flowers to the mountains on the horizon.

There was so much to do.Taking the news of the Dance of Becoming to every corner of Tremaris was the most urgent task. But there was also the work of bringing back chant-ments of all kinds to daily life, finding the chanters in every land who had been despised and scorned and feared for so long, teaching them to be proud, teaching them the songs that were almost forgotten. And there was a new power to teach, not just to chanters but to everyone: the Tenth Power, the Power of Signs. As Darrow had said the night before, ‘There is a lifetime’s work ahead for the Singer of all Songs.’

Everyone had gone and for once they were alone. Calwyn had leaned against his shoulder. ‘I thought – I thought when I became the Singer, that everything would be easier. But it’s harder with every step. Lia won’t say it, but she’s angry with me; she thinks I should stay in Antaris and be High Priestess, as Marna wanted. And Sibril still doesn’t believe we’re right! He’ll go back to the forests and tell the Spiridrelleen that I’m arrogant, a false prophet, using the magic of the Tree People without any right.’

‘For every Sibril, there is a Briaali, and a hundred others, to contradict what he says. Don’t worry about Sibril.’

‘I’ve made so many mistakes already.’ She fell silent; there was no need to mention Mica. She said in a low voice, ‘I think I did wrong, when I sent Samis – sent the ship away. There were so many records, chantments and histories, so much knowledge we could have used.’

‘We will make our own records, we’ll replace what’s been lost. Trout must invent a way of writing for us, a better way than scratching on stone, or tablets of wood.We will travel all over the world, recording the knowledge of every land, and sharing what we learn.The portent of the star was a true one. This is a new day for Tremaris.’

‘But – ’

Darrow shook his head. ‘Everyone makes mistakes, my love. Even the Singer of all Songs. If you hold back for fear of making a mistake, you will never accomplish what you must. And with each challenge, you will become stronger. I will help you, we will all help you. Even Keela – she has her own wisdom, you know. After all those years scheming in the court of Merithuros, she is as shrewd a judge of character as anyone. You will see.’ He smoothed back a strand of her hair. ‘Do you know what Gilly is telling the younger ones? That you are the Goddess, come down from the skies to dwell with mortals.’

Calwyn sat up. ‘I never heard anything so ridiculous! How can Gilly talk like that, when we grew up together?We shared a washing-basin, we threw rotten apples at the goats, and Tamen gave us such a scolding! I’m no more the Goddess than she is!’

Darrow smiled his crooked smile, and raised her hand to his lips. ‘Perhaps there is something of the Goddess in everyone. Only in you, it is easier to see.’

‘It would be a lonely fate, to be the Goddess,’ said Calwyn.

‘But you are not alone.’

‘I know.’ Calwyn leaned back, and they had sat for a time in silence.

But for this morning she was alone, with no sound but the breeze rustling through the grasses. This might be the last solitary morning of her life. She had seen how Darrow, when he became Lord of the Black Palace in Merithuros, was besieged by petitioners and officials, people wanting something from him, people wanting to do something on his behalf. It would be the same for the Singer of all Songs. She shrank inside; she had never felt comfortable in crowds.Well, she would have to learn.

All the peoples of Tremaris were her people, now: Tree People andVoiced Ones, chanters and those who did not sing. Those who sang would become dancers, too. Those who neither sang nor danced would watch and listen. Everyone could play a part in weaving the health of Tremaris, if they chose. But Calwyn knew that the most important responsibility was her own. She reached up and plucked a spray of white blossom from the spander tree, and laid it across the grass of Marna’s grave. ‘I will do my best, Lady Mother,’ she murmured.

Samis had pointed out to her that every new kind of chantment was easier to learn than the last. She knew that she still had many lessons to learn, lessons of judgement, and compassion, and persuasion, and reflection. She was not at the end of her journey; it had only just begun. For an instant she wished it could always be spring, the beginning of everything, fresh and new and unspoiled…But then the wish passed from her like a petal of blossom drifting on the warm breeze.

The memory of Samis reminded her of something else that troubled her. Had he pulled off one last tremendous bluff on that final night? Even now, she scarcely knew why she had sent the ship away: it was part ruthlessness, part pity. But perhaps she had done what he wanted after all. Perhaps he had tricked her one last time.What if he learned to sail the silver ship? She spoke aloud, as if Marna could answer. ‘What if I was wrong?What if he does come back?’

In her own mind, she seemed to hear the echo of Marna’s voice.
You have the dark chantments, little daughter. If you must, you will
defend yourself, and all chantment, and the well-being of the world.

Calwyn could not say that she would never use those chantments again, that the secrets would die with her. That dark magic, too, was easier to use each time.That was another lesson. The dark was a part of her now, as well as the light.

There were times, when Darrow kissed her, that she could feel the ghostly print of Samis’s lips on hers, and the phantom touch of his hand on her hair. Those memories, too, would always be a part of her, however she might try to wish them away.

Something caught her eye overhead: a swift dazzling flash of white. Before she could focus her gaze, it was gone. She shook herself. The Singer of all Songs could not shy like a startled bird at every little thing. No doubt it was only the sunlight on a scrap of cloud, or the white belly of a snow-throat flying over the valley. But somehow she knew that as long as she lived, she would always be glancing at the sky.

What if Samis managed to sail all the way to the home of the Ancient Ones, hidden between the stars? What if he brought the ship back to Tremaris, laden with strangers from another world, for a second invasion?

For they would be strangers: the Ancient Ones who had arrived here so long ago were not the same people as the Voiced Ones who lived in Tremaris now. The Voiced Ones belonged here as much as the Tree People; Tremaris had changed them, claimed them as its own. From now on, the peoples of Tremaris would find their way together.

Calwyn looked up and saw a figure walking toward her across the wide, rippling valley. She stood up and waved to Halasaa as he came nearer, and he raised his hand to greet her. His arms were spread wide, his fingertips brushing the blue and white flowers. He threw back his head to gaze at his sister where she stood beneath the trees, at the pale green buds that danced to and fro above her head, and beyond, to the dim silver shadows of the moons on the wide blue sky. Steadily he came wading through the ocean of wildflowers, and the breeze carried a sound that Calwyn had never heard before, and had never dreamed of hearing. She began to run, faster and faster, down the slope toward him.

In a husky voice, unpractised, but surprisingly clear, Halasaa was singing.

Acknowledgements

I WOULD LIKE
to thank Rosalind Price and Jodie Webster from Allen & Unwin for all their help; Lyn Tranter from Australian Literary Management for her support; Jan, Bill and Hilary Constable, Joy Taylor, and Richard Evans for allowing me extra time to work, and Richard for the whirlpools; Heather Evans and Oslem Ozmetin, for the dancing; and Michael Taylor, as always, for believing.

Chanters of Tremaris series

BOOK ONE
and
BOOK TWO