“Stay here.” The Lady Rowan entered the room and bent next to the cot, touching the gladiator’s forehead gently. Behind her Rhapsody could hear the door of the building open. The two young men entered and joined the Lady by Constantin’s bedside. They were carrying a crystal beaker and several sharp metal implements and glass tubes that Rhapsody did not like the look of. She opened her mouth to speak but her question was choked off before she could utter it by a sharp look from the Lady Rowan.
A moment later, the Lady took the instruments from the men and arranged them on the table next to the cot. The men took hold of the gladiator’s feet and wrists. The Lady Rowan nodded to her assistants and turned back to him, a long awl-like needle in her hand. As Rhapsody watched in horror she plunged the needle into Constantin’s chest. He awoke in agony, screaming.
Rhapsody tried to run into the room but found her way barred by an unseen force. She struggled against it futilely and banged on the doorframe, producing no sound; she cried out, but her voice was silent as well. She could only stare in dismay as Constantin writhed in pain, pleading with his tormentors to stop. The tears that ran down his face were mirrored on Rhapsody’s own.
The procedure seemed to last forever. Finally the Lady held up a thin glass tube filled with red liquid, a slash of black in the middle. She nodded to the assistants and removed the implement from the gladiator’s chest, causing him to shudder in anguish once more. Then she handed the tube to one of the men and carefully bandaged the chest wound, speaking softly to Constantin as he lay on the cot, weeping. Rhapsody’s heart wrung in sorrow. Pain great enough to reduce the gladiator to sobbing must truly be unbearable, given what she knew about Constantin’s life and profession. The Lady Rowan bent to kiss his forehead; his shuddering stopped and he fell back asleep immediately. The Lady came out of the room and took Rhapsody’s elbow, leading her back to the empty room. The Singer was shaking.
“This is the procedure that we will have to perform every day, on each child, to separate them from their father’s blood,” the Lady Rowan said simply, ignoring the Singer’s tears. “It must be removed directly from the heart. As you can see, it’s extremely painful.”
Rhapsody choked. “Even the baby?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Rhapsody stammered, fighting nausea. “Please.”
“The alternative is far worse, isn’t it?”
Rhapsody stared at the Lady in silence, then bowed her head. “Yes.” The Lady Rowan watched her intently; Rhapsody could feel the woman’s eyes on her. “For how long?”
“Years. At least five; probably seven. To do it faster would mean to take more heart’s blood, and that might prove fatal. If they die before the separation procedure is complete, they will join their father in the Vault of the Underworld, for eternity.”
“Gods,” Rhapsody whispered. She looked over at the table, at the instruments identical to those that had been used on Constantin. “Please, tell me there is another way.”
“There is no other way to separate out the blood,” said the Lady Rowan directly. “There is, however, something you can do, if you choose to.”
“Whatever it is, I will do it,” said Rhapsody quickly. “Please tell me how I can help.”
The Lady Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “You are rash, child; that is not good. The children will need you to tend to their daily needs for love and comfort; you should not be agreeing to something you have not heard yet.”
“I’m sorry,” said Rhapsody humbly. “Please tell me what I can do.”
The Lady looked at her evenly. “You can take the pain for one or two of them, if you should so choose.”
“Take the pain?”
“Yes. You are a Singer, a Namer; you can make their namesong your own, and keep the pain for yourself. It is much to ask, and much more to give. If you should choose not to do so, no one would blame you. I know you seek to be a healer; it will teach you much. It will make you empathetic, make you able to heal others by taking their injuries yourself. But you will feel the pain in its fullness, sparing one or two of the children the daily suffering you have just witnessed. It will be agony for you.”
Rhapsody stared at the floor. “One or two? How on earth could I ever choose?”
A sympathetic smile crossed the Lady’s face. “That will not be easy, either. It may seem to make sense to choose the smallest ones, but suffering is suffering, no matter who experiences it, as you have just seen.”
Rhapsody considered her words. “And will it do me damage physically?”
“No. It is only the pain you may take, not the procedure; you will not have a wound or a scar.”
Rhapsody’s eyes cleared. “I’m not concerned about any scarring except that which the pain will inflict on those children’s souls,” she said. “And if I light the candle, is that the promise to sit vigil for a child, to take his or her pain?”
“Yes.” The Lady smiled at her. “Are you going to do so?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. Shall I set aside one candle, or two?”
Rhapsody smiled back at her, and took two candles out of the nearest box. She set them on the table. “Here?”
“Yes. You are very brave.”
“Do I light them now?”
“Yes, but then you must name the children for whom you are going to sit.”
Rhapsody extended her finger and touched the first candle. “Aria,” she said softly. The flame sparked to life between her thumb and forefinger, snapping for a moment, then glowed on the wick. She moved to the next candle. “Mikita,” she said, lighting the second taper. She turned back around to face the Lady, who nodded approvingly.
“You should lie down here now, child. I will give you such herbs as I can to ease your pain, but I should warn you: I gave them to the gladiator before the procedure as well. I must tell my assistants to retrieve those two children.”
Rhapsody reached into the box and pulled two more tapers forth, setting next to the lighted ones. She touched the first one. “Jecen,” she said as the candle began to glow. “Aric.”
The Lady Rowan reached out and seized her wrist. “What are you doing, child?”
“You said it would not harm me physically, that I am just agreeing to take their pain.”
“Yes, but—”
Rhapsody pulled her hand away and lit two more tapers. “Ellis. Anya.” She looked back at the Lady. “How can I possibly choose? Having to let even one of them go through agony like that would be the same as experiencing it myself anyway.”
“Don’t underestimate the combined effects, child. Your heart may be willing, but your body will be racked. You are still healing from the effects of the exposure on your journey here; I don’t think you understand what you’re doing.”
Two more flames appeared. “Marl. Vincane.” She smiled at the Lady Rowan. “No doubt, but I have nothing better to do while I’m here. Besides, which of their mothers wouldn’t have agreed to do so? They aren’t here, so someone has to.”
“But you are not any of these children’s mother.”
Rhapsody’s eyes glowed in the light of the brightening room. “Quan Li.” She looked up. “No,” she said, smiling. “I’m their grandmother. I have much to atone for in my life. Perhaps this will serve as a beginning.” The last candle sparked to life.
“Constantin,” she said.
39
The sound of merry shrieking filled the sleepy glen. Rhapsody smiled as the children charged her, swarming like excited bees, clamoring for her attention and talking excitedly all at once. She put her hands over her cars.
“Goodness, calm yourselves,” she said, laughing. “I’ll go deaf.” She closed the door of her hut behind her and walked out into the light of late morning, dressed in her clothes for playing with them and carrying a burlap sack. Eight of the children were there, with the eldest and youngest absent. Her goal today was to learn more about their individual needs for education, both physical and intellectual. To that end she had been
up most of the night making toys to test their agility. They were playthings of Lirin design, known to the Liringlas as anklesingers. She took one out of the pack now.
“Here, I have something for you.” Rhapsody held out the anklesinger and the children crowded around, eager to examine it. It was crudely made, but smooth, and delighted voices rang through the forest as it was passed from child to child.
“How does it work, Rhapsody?”
“Give it to me and I’ll show you.” She took it back and held it up for them to see. It consisted of two wooden rings joined by a length of twine, one of which was hollow and pierced by small holes. Rhapsody sat on the grass and extended a leg, slipping her ankle through the solid ring. Then she stood.
“All right, move back, lads and lasses, and I’ll give it a try. I haven’t done this since I was little.”
“You still are little,” said Vincane. Now that he was within the realm of the Rowans he had lost much of the sharp look and streetwise nature that had made him such an adversary in the world beyond the Veil of Hoen. Now he just appeared to be a boy on the threshold of adolescence, taller than she and full-bodied; Rhapsody laughed at the look of insolent mischief on his face.
“Very well, I haven’t done this since I was young. And Vincane, don’t confuse ‘big’ with ‘tough.’ If you want, I’ll show you what I mean later. We can go another round as we did in the tile foundry, if you’d like.”
“No, thank you,” said the boy hastily. Rhapsody smiled; she knew he had hidden and watched her training that morning.
“This is how it works,” she said. She hopped over the string and swung the ring around her ankle in a circular motion, jumping over the twine each time it came around. After a few rotations it was humming smoothly around her foot, and she was leaping over the cord with each pass. The second ring began to vibrate, then whistle, finally producing a clear, sweet tone. The children laughed and clapped, clamoring for a turn.
“Here, don’t grab, I have one for each of you.” Rhapsody let the anklesinger come to a halt. She pulled it from her foot and handed it to Jecen, who squealed in glee. Rhapsody turned and went back to the burlap sack, bringing out a handful of the toys. She dispensed them to the clutching hands and stepped back, watching in interest as the children put them on and tried to make them work. Some were more nimble than others, and it was a good measure of their agility; Rhapsody made note of each child’s ability, devising a mental plan to train the competent children and work with the more clumsy ones specially.
“You’ll find your names carved on them,” she told them when they grew tired and came to a stop. “Each one makes a different musical note, and once you get used to them you can play songs if you work together. Now, I can hear Cyndra calling you; it must be time for noonmeal.” Happy shrieking echoed through the drowsy glade again, and in a flurry of kisses and hugs the children were off, leaving Rhapsody alone, smiling and breathless.
She rose and, brushing the leaves and dirt from her trousers, walked back toward the white buildings where the children were cared for, listening for birdsong as she went. Behind some trees not far away she felt an alien vibration and concentrated on it; she recognized the signature—it was Constantin. He had been watching her with the children, and now was following close behind her.
Rhapsody did not change her pace, but continued toward the compound. She felt him adjust his path to intersect with hers, and kept walking, a strange sense of security washing over her. As she reached the edge of the woods he stepped in front of her, cutting her off from her destination.
He had recovered from the ordeal, and appeared in fit condition and good health, though somewhat thinner. The gladiator was clothed in a white cambric shirt and pants, and as he interposed his body into her path, Rhapsody stopped reluctantly.
Constantin’s arm came to rest pointedly on the tree before her, blocking her egress, and he stared down at her with a piercing look that made the small hairs on the back of her neck tingle. She returned his stare placidly, without any aggression or fear, and waited to hear what he had to say.
Moments passed, and still he did not speak, but watched her with an intense stare. At the edge of her vision Rhapsody saw a slight movement, and, turning her head, she noticed the Lord Rowan leaning against a tree, observing their interaction. She exhaled, relief filling her lungs. Unlike the night before, the robes he wore seemed to be of forest green, as if he had more substance than when she had first seen him. Finally she spoke.
“What is it, Constantin? What do you want?”
He glared at her a moment more, then finally spoke. “You.”
“Excuse me?”
“I should have you,” he said, his voice low but unpleasant. “You tricked me; and you owe me. I should have you.”
Rhapsody felt color rising from her neck to her face. “I’m sorry about tricking you,” she said, checking to make sure the Lord was still there. “There really was no other way; it was not my intention to lead you on.” He laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. “I needed to bring you to this place, and I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings.”
His head moved closer to hers, and she could feel his breath on her neck. “Oh, you have. I am very hurt. But you can fix that, you know. You have just the right medicine for me, Rhapsody—that’s your name, isn’t it? Pretty; it suits you. You really are amazing, you know. I’m glad I never had to fight you in the arena. You come off as fragile, helpless, but you’re not, are you? You play on a man’s sympathy, but you are stronger than most, and that’s when you take advantage.”
“Stop it,” Rhapsody said, becoming annoyed.
“What’s the matter—you can swear to speak the truth but are unwilling to hear it? You lied to me, in a way. You came to my bed and made yourself available to me, dressed for seduction. You said you had been sent by Treilus, the whoremaster. What was I supposed to think?”
She looked away. “Probably just what you did.”
Even without looking at him she could feel him smile. “Good; then you agree that I came to the right conclusion.”
Rhapsody’s gaze returned to him. She thought about arguing the facts, reminding him what she had actually said, how she had only indicated she was there to massage him, but the words were too heavy to utter. Llauron had known all along what Constantin would think she was there for, and she had been foolish beyond measure to believe otherwise. She hung her head.
The gladiator bent forward until his lips were just outside her ear. “You owe me,” he said quietly. “Perhaps just once, but you owe me, and you know it. Without speaking, you promised me a night with you in my bed. Surely you will not go back on your word—a Namer? I know you are one, by the way; last night I heard you whisper my name deep in my soul, and the most wonderful feeling came over me. Would you like to guess where it was most outwardly obvious?”
She blinked but said nothing. He had undoubtedly felt her light the candle and pledge to sit vigil for him, to guard him from pain at her own expense.
The gladiator’s smile grew more confident. He reached out an enormous hand and carefully slid his index finger into her hair, drawing it down along the lock nearest her face. When he reached her cheek he caressed it with his rough fingertip.
“Come with me,” he said soothingly. “I am no longer angry; I will be gentle with you. You have nothing to fear; I won’t put it in all the way. Pay your debt, Rhapsody.” He leaned forward on the tree, his breath warming the side of her neck. “I must have you,” he said.
The Lord Rowan appeared, to her left and nearby. Both Rhapsody and Constantin looked and noted his presence, then Constantin dropped his arm and turned to leave. As he did, his lips brushed the top of her hair.
“I will have you,” he whispered. “I promise.”
As he walked away, Rhapsody felt her voice return. “Constantin?”
He looked back at her; there was no fear in her eyes, and her face was placid again.
“You may be right,” she said directly. “But if
you do, it will be only because we both want it to happen. Do you understand?”
He stared at her for a moment, then he was gone.
Rhapsody felt a warm hand touch her shoulder, and in that moment, peace such as she had never felt coursed through her, filling her with a longing to sleep.
“Are you all right, child?” the Lord Rowan asked, his voice silky as warm wine.
“Yes, m’lord,” she replied, turning to face him.
“I will speak to him.”
Rhapsody opened her mouth to explain. As she did, she felt the despair of the Future return, the hideous knowledge that she might be doomed to repeat her same mistakes eternally, watching the consequences of her actions for all Time. Exhaustion flooded her as Ashe’s words of long ago came back to her: You will never die. Imagine losing people over and over, your lovers, your spouse, your children. Rhapsody felt more tired than she ever remembered being. She looked into the stern face of the Lord Rowan, and from deep within her tears came, unbidden.
“Why do you weep?”
“It’s not important,” Rhapsody answered, looking into the black eyes. “M’lord Rowan, will you grant me a favor? Please?”
“What is it you wish?”
“Will you come for me one day? Please?”
The solemn face flickered with the hint of a smile. “Fascinating,” he murmured. “Usually I only hear prayers asking me to stay away, though you are not the first Cymrian by any means who has prayed for my assistance. You are the first one in the bloom of youth, however.”
“Please, m’lord,” Rhapsody implored. “Please say you will come for me one day.”
The Lord Rowan watched her for a moment. “I will if I can, my child. That is the only promise I can make you.”
Rhapsody smiled through her tears. “It’s enough,” she said simply. “Thank you.”
40
Evening shadows were starting to lengthen in the peaceful forest. Rhapsody stopped before the door of the small hut and breathed deeply for a moment, trying to remain calm. Then she knocked.
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