Song of the Dead

by Sarah Glenn Marsh

  Noting the silver band on his right ring finger for the first time—a sign of another ring soon to join on the left—I grin. “You two were busy while I was gone. Will Jax be acting as Witness for the ceremony?” I peer into the back of the room, half expecting to see him. I would have thought, given his skill with a blade, Valoria might encourage him to stay close. “Where is Jax, anyway?”

  “I can fix this, if you like,” Danial murmurs, distracted from my question as he rubs a thumb over the little scar on my head. Mild amusement coloring his voice, he drops it to a whisper to add, “Unless your lady finds you more fanciable this way, of course.”

  Shaking my head at him, I step back while Meredy gives him a hug. They spent much of the battle together, which seems to have forged a bond between them.

  Up on the dais, Valoria and her two ladies-in-waiting have their heads bent close together.

  As if sensing my gaze, the girls draw back and study me with unfathomable expressions. The one on Valoria’s left, a petite girl with freckles in many shades of brown sprinkled across her face, sweeps her long raven hair over her shoulders as she meets my eyes.

  A shiver runs through me: Her irises are a rich shade of amber, a color so rare, it isn’t present in any of Vaia’s five faces. I’ve never seen the like, not even in Sarral.

  As we stare each other down, the edges of her figure start to blur. For a moment, I wonder if I’m going to pass out. But nothing’s wrong with me. Danial would have noticed.

  The freckled girl’s body contorts, her ears lengthening and her fingernails becoming claws as she hunches over on the marble floor. She tugs at her lavender robe, loosening it, as her bones poke out at odd angles and her skin stretches to accommodate them. A quiet groan escapes her as her mouth reshapes itself into a whiskered snout. Suddenly, in her place is a silvery, black-spotted cat with shaggy fur, bigger than any I’ve seen before. It flicks its long tail, shoving away the discarded robe, still staring me down with the girl’s amber eyes.

  Behind me, Meredy whistles long and low. She’s impressed. “Is she a beast master?” she asks Valoria, nodding to the big cat. “She’s got to teach me how to do that.”

  Valoria frowns as she answers Meredy. Apparently I’m not the only one who’s earned her anger for leaving. “Bryn is her own sort of mage. She doesn’t have a name for her magic—yet.” She strokes the cat’s speckled fur absently. “She came here to attend the new mage school, in the hope of meeting others like herself, or at least drawing them out of hiding.”

  I arch a brow, and at my curious look, Valoria adds, “The cat she changes into is called a lynx. I’d never seen one before I met Bryn. Nobles in their home province of Oslea have hunted them almost to the point of extinction—something I intend to challenge them on, if they ever deign to meet with me in person.”

  Meredy gives a nod of approval at that.

  While she’s talking, Bryn turns back into a girl. Her bare shoulders have a multitude of freckles, too, I notice. I quickly raise my eyes to her face as she wraps herself back in her lavender robe without the slightest hint of shame.

  “I’m Sarika, by the way,” the other girl at Valoria’s side adds without prompting. Her eyes are just as unusual as Bryn’s. They shift through hues of blue and gray, then brown and hazel, then green as she takes a step closer, her irises seeming unable to settle on just one of the five usual colors. She winks, and as she twists a heavy-looking silver locket on a chain around her neck, her wavy dark brown hair lengthens from her shoulders to her waist and turns as blue-green as the sea.

  Valoria blinks a question at her, and she smiles sheepishly. “What? Bryn was showing off, so I thought I might as well, too.” The blue-haired girl beams at me as her hair darkens back to brown. I wonder if that’s its real color, though. “There’s no name for what I do, either, but I call myself a mimic. I can make myself look like anyone I’ve seen.” With a wink at Bryn, she adds, “Changing into a big cat would be way more interesting, but I can only impersonate other humans.”

  “She’s an excellent spy for me,” Valoria says, frowning again. “Not that I ever wanted to have to resort to that. She’s even been brave enough to attend a meeting with some hostile southern nobles while impersonating me.”

  She puts her arms around Bryn’s and Sarika’s shoulders. They seem to be more than just her ladies-in-waiting—they’re her replacement friends.

  “Look, it’s great to meet you, Freckles.” I nod to Bryn, a sour taste in my mouth. “Sunshine.” I nod curtly to Sarika. “But we need to get back to that pesky little matter of Karthia’s safety, Valoria. I know the city is restless—more than—but won’t you at least consider raising an army? Talk it over with your council, just in case the Ezorans ever decide to look our way?” As she purses her lips, I add, “Please. I understand that you’re mad we left, but you know me. You know I wouldn’t lie.”

  “All right. I’ll do it,” she says at last, holding my gaze, and my shoulders relax. It’s nice to know there’s still trust hidden beneath all her hurt and anger. “But my people’s needs still come first. It would be hard, if not impossible, to fight an outside enemy while we’re divided from within.”

  “We should start right away, as Odessa suggested,” Danial says in his gentle manner, somehow managing not to sound like he’s questioning his queen’s choices. “This is a new Karthia, as you often say, and we need to protect ourselves like the rest of the world.”

  Valoria grabs her cane and slowly descends the dais until she’s face-to-face with Danial and me. “Then how do you propose I inspire anyone to fight for me?”

  “Everyone should want to learn how to fight, so they can protect their homes and their families. You’ll be doing them a favor by training them,” Meredy says firmly, moving to my other side and propping a hand on her hip. She’s so cute when she’s trying to look stern.

  “You’re assuming we can convince them of the need for an army in the first place,” Valoria counters, pushing up her glasses like she’s thinking hard about something. “Besides, they won’t fight well enough to win, if it ever comes to that. Not for a queen they don’t believe in.” The shadows on her face are deep and dark as bruises, especially around her eyes, as she seems to struggle to stay standing even with the help of her cane.

  Bryn and Sarika rush to grab her elbows and support her, but she gently shakes them off and squares her shoulders. That’s the Valoria I know.

  In a calm, clear voice, she says, “Still, we’ll try it.” She looks to the mimic. “Sarika, please head to the rookery and tell Scribe Oren to send ravens to every province, asking for volunteer soldiers.”

  As Sarika slips away, Danial asks, “And who’s going to train these brave volunteers?”

  Valoria actually grins. “You are, of course . . . General.”

  Danial’s brows shoot up. “What did you—?”

  “You heard me,” Valoria cuts in. “In light of the recent uprisings and what Odessa and Meredy have told us, you’re being promoted, General Swancott. The Karthian army”—she pauses, making a sour face—“pathetic as it will be, is yours to command.”

  Bowing low, Danial murmurs, “I . . . well then. I won’t let you down, Majesty.”

  Valoria squeezes his shoulder, encouraging him to rise. His eyes glisten slightly as they meet hers, and he stands taller than before—not weighed down by this new title, but rising to embrace it.

  “Now that’s settled,” Valoria says briskly, looking from me to Nipper, “I want to hear everything about your new companion. But first . . .” She reaches for my hand, then, after setting down her cane, takes Meredy’s with her other. Her touch is cold, as is usual for her. “I know I didn’t give you two the warmest welcome,” she says, “but I hope you still consider me a friend.”

  “Always,” Meredy and I answer, almost in unison.

  “Good.” Valoria smiles, and that simple gesture se
ems to take years off her face, turning her back into the enthusiastic inventor I know and love. “Odessa, when the first volunteers arrive, I want you to train them on how to wield a blade. Meredy, if you could teach them archery? I understand you’re a decent shot.”

  That understatement earns a grin from Meredy.

  “There’s one last thing,” Valoria says, her eyes narrowed in thought. “Odessa, I’d like you to meet me at the Temple of Change tomorrow after breakfast. That’s where the mage trainees have been living and studying for the past few weeks. There are a handful now. Maybe they can help us think of another way to defend Karthia from any future threats—wherever they might come from. Besides,” she adds with a wan smile, “I think some of them could learn a lot from you.”

  We agree to meet there tomorrow, first thing. I know Azelie is more than ready to see the reason she came here.

  “Just promise me you’ll get some rest tonight, Valoria,” I say in a stern voice, or as stern as I can manage when I don’t think I’m in a position to lecture anyone on their sleeping habits. “You’re as pale as something from the Deadlands.”

  “Whether you like it or not—whether anyone likes it or not—we all need you,” Meredy adds, letting the concern in her gaze shine through.

  “And while you’re at it . . .” I drop my voice. “Promise us you won’t start taking any potions.” As I take a breath, fighting not to sink into memories of the bitter blue liquid and the pain it helped me escape, Meredy lightly touches the small of my back. Finding my voice again, I continue, “Nothing stronger than tea leaves, all right?”

  “Promise,” Valoria echoes softly. She stands taller and adjusts her glasses as a hint of mischief flickers in her eyes. “That is, if you promise me you’ll both help me test out my new air balloon design whenever I get back to it.”

  Exchanging a grin, Meredy and I agree. For the moment, at least, things feel normal between the three of us.

  “Now that’s settled,” Danial says, craning his neck to get another glimpse of Nipper, who’s apparently still being chased by Lysander over the cheese. “Would anyone care to explain what that giant lizard is and where it came from?”

  XI

  We barely come within sight of the Temple of Change when shouts erupt from inside.

  Recognizing at least one of the voices—there’s no mistaking Jax’s deep growl for anyone else’s—I run toward the large white stone building that, after centuries, is finally being scrubbed of crude drawings and random phrases. Its crumbling columns are in the early stages of being restored, the boards have been stripped from its once-sightless windows, and the creeping vines that covered it have been partially hacked away, allowing the harsh morning sun to pierce the building’s shadowed heart.

  A crash echoes in my ears, a brittle sound like breaking porcelain, quickly followed by more voices joining in the shouting. I quicken my pace, breathing hard as I come within reach of the door, trusting Azelie and Valoria will catch up eventually—even if it takes a little longer for Valoria with her cane.

  The guards stationed around the temple nod a greeting, but despite recognizing a few of them, I don’t stop to say hello.

  As I grab the gilded door handle that resembles Change’s wizened face and push my way inside, a strange sight greets me: On an ornate carpet, surrounded by dusty bookshelves and the shattered remains of an ancient vase, Jax and another young man about his age sit across from each other, breathing hard. The stranger’s nose is bleeding, and Jax has a split lip, making his expression when he sees me look more sinister than welcoming.

  Still, I run to him, past the curious stares of several boys and girls I don’t recognize, and a few adults as well. Dropping down beside Jax, I throw my arms around his work-hardened shoulders, wincing slightly as the dark stubble coating his copper skin brushes my cheek. My breath catches in my throat as he stiffens at my touch, and I draw back.

  It seems I left a lot of damage in my wake when I went to sea.

  “I’ve missed you,” I say anyway, catching Jax’s crystal-blue eyes with mine so he’ll know I mean it. He nods but doesn’t return my embrace, and my chest aches as I remember the way I used to fit in his arms at night—never quite perfectly, but close enough that I could pretend it was right and sink into him.

  Movement out of the corner of my eye draws my gaze. A boy is helping the student with the bloody nose to his feet. “It’s not so bad, Karston,” the boy assures him. Touching his own face and grinning slightly, he adds, “Although, that shiner on your eye is even bigger than the one from when you went sleepwalking into the kitchen and got attacked by the frying pans last week.”

  Karston turns his back on the boy, ignoring him, which is a lot kinder than what I’d do if someone was loudly telling embarrassing stories about me to a busy room. When Karston moves past a window, no doubt on his way to clean up his face, the sunlight catches on more blood glistening almost darker than his black skin. Just below one of his blue eyes is another injury sustained from a heavy fist.

  I glance back to Jax in alarm, inhaling the musty scent of books from centuries past. “What did he do to you, anyway?”

  Jax shakes his head, apparently lost for words.

  It’s Simeon who answers as he hastily strides into view from around a bookcase. “Nothing that merited an old-fashioned ass-kicking from his teacher, that’s for sure.”

  “Teacher?” I blink, more stunned than I was the first time I saw a dragon. If there’s one thing Jax loathes, it’s being responsible for other people. “Jax? You’re a—really?”

  Simeon quickly closes the distance between us and kneels, pulling me into a fierce hug. He murmurs an explanation, keeping his voice soft despite all the commotion happening around us. “Since raising the dead is forbidden now, Jax and I are teachers here. Or, we’re supposed to be . . .” He sighs. “Valoria asked us to instruct people in the noble art of necromancy. Any age, so long as they have the desire to learn. We don’t have many students yet—”

  “Of course not. This school isn’t exactly popular right now,” Jax interrupts, disgust for this view evident in his tone. “Why should anyone want to join our ranks when we represent the thing everyone fears most?”

  He glances upward, toward the mural of Change that decorates the high domed ceiling.

  “Karston joined, though. He’s one of us.” Simeon sighs, giving me a pained look as he ends our embrace and offers Jax a hand to climb to his feet. “So you can’t punch him in the face just because he’s getting on your nerves. You’re supposed to teach him, not pummel him.”

  “He doesn’t respect me!” Jax snarls, standing up unassisted and wiping the blood from his mouth with the edge of his black shirtsleeve. “Learning can’t happen without some respect between student and teacher. I’m sure Master Nicanor would’ve agreed.”

  Simeon crosses his arms. “Your problem isn’t Karston. Your problem is that you don’t want to be here.”

  “Damn right I don’t!” Jax turns as if to leave.

  Simeon rubs his temples, like they’ve had this argument before and he isn’t in the mood to relive it. I stop Jax instead, roughly grabbing his shoulder. I don’t like the hurt look he’s put on Simeon’s face.

  “Why not? Why don’t you want to be here?” I demand, though I think I know the answer. Jax must feel as lost as I do now that necromancers are no longer needed the way they used to be, and this place is a glaring reminder of that. When Jax says nothing, I lean into his space, my chest pressed against his. “Talk to me. Then you can storm off.”

  “Fine, Sparrow.” Jax shakes his head, mutters a curse, then says, “I don’t know about you—actually, I do, and I’m sure you feel the same.” He leans closer, bowing his head so we’re almost nose-to-nose, like he doesn’t want anyone in the busy room overhearing us. “I can’t do the job I was born for, the job I trained half my life for. I couldn’t even protect Valoria f
rom those Shade-baiters and the monster they set loose, not until we’d almost lost her. Lately, it’s like I’m completely useless.”

  I wrinkle my nose. I’m still not happy with him for upsetting Simeon, but I understand what it’s like to feel helpless and lost. Unmoored. “I see your point. But there’s still work for you to do, like preventing any more Shades from being made by patrolling the gates and cemeteries—”

  “I know,” Jax interrupts, his handsome, narrow face tightening in a grimace. “And that beats being stuck in here. In fact, I wouldn’t come here at all if we didn’t owe Valoria a favor for letting us keep our rooms at the palace and everything.” He runs a hand through his dark curls, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Anyway, I don’t know why I even bother showing up when Simeon handles this place just fine on his own. I’m off to patrol.”

  With that, he twists out of my grasp and storms toward the door. I’m not surprised. It’s exactly what I would do. I’d run after him right this minute if I didn’t realize that, like me, he’ll want to be alone for a while to clear his head.

  The students scatter to either side, creating a path for him. Azelie nearly collides with him by the door, looking slightly winded, her cloak’s hood still drawn up.

  Something else stops Jax’s hasty exit when he reaches the threshold. Over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of blond hair in the sun. Valoria. Shifting slightly for a better view, I watch her talk to him, one of her hands resting squarely on his chest as if to hold him in place, the other on her cane. Her voice is so low, I can’t make out what she’s saying, but something in her seems to calm him. After a while, Jax’s shoulders relax.

  Valoria finally steps aside, her expression pained as Jax walks past, although his stride is much less hasty and his posture less rigid than before.