The Sapphire Flute

by Karen E. Hoover

  The pants fit snugly around the ankles, were extremely baggy, and much too long in the leg, but Sarali showed her the trick to them by rolling the top down several times, then securing the inside flap with a lace that traveled through loops and tied in the front.

  Sarali pulled the laces running down the outside of the leg, knitting them in a series of ‘x’s. It was actually quite pretty to look at by the time she was done, and the pants fit as though they had been made for her. Sarali tied the ends around Kayla’s ankle. After the pants, the blouse was easy. A wide sapphire sash, wrapped around her waist twice and tied in the back, ends tucked inside the sash itself, finished her attire. It was mind-boggling how at ease Kayla felt in such strange clothing, and not just physically but emotionally, almost as if she were born for these clothes.

  T’Kato knocked on the partially closed door and entered the room with a large leather backpack, Kayla’s knife, and tall, black boots. He had added to his outfit since she’d left him, and now wore a leather breastplate, with metal guards on his forearms. He tossed the backpack on the bed and dropped the boots at her feet.

  “Here’s your knife. I gave it a new sheath. The other one was just begging for stealing.” He held the knife out for her to take. “I’ll teach you how to use it later. It would be a good fighting knife, and not likely to break.”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Kayla objected, putting her hands behind her back.

  “Oh, yes, you will,” T’Kato said in much the same tone. He knelt and tied the knife to the x’s on the right side of her pants. Kayla watched his nimble fingers, impressed by his dexterity despite the size of his hands.

  “Is that too tight?” he asked, looking up. Kayla bent at the knee and leaned forward, flexing her thigh. She could feel the knife, but it was not uncomfortable.

  “No, it’s fine, but what I’ll ever use it for besides cutting fruit . . .” She trailed off at the look on his face.

  “It never hurts to be safe, Kayla. I’ll teach you a bit about using that thing when we’re out on the road, and I hope you’ll never need it. Now, I took measurements from your other boots and shrunk a pair of mine down for you. Try them on and see how they feel, and we’ll adjust them as needed.”

  T’Kato knelt, and Kayla slid her foot into the boot. She balanced on her left foot and slid the other into the buttery leather, stamping down once to settle her foot.

  “How’s that feel?” he asked as she stomped around the room in one boot.

  “Pretty good. There’s a slight chafe in the heel, and it’s a little too wide, but overall they’re great. How do you shrink down a pair of boots?” He didn’t answer at first, just prodded at her foot to find the spots she mentioned. Kayla looked at the embroidery around the upper edge of her boot. Blue again. She was afraid blue was going to be known as her signature color, now that she was becoming known as the guardian of the flute, but she didn’t really mind. It was one of her favorite colors, though it would be nice to have a little variety.

  “Well, we can fix that easily enough, though Sarali’s touch is a bit softer than mine in the details.” The big man folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching as his wife knelt at Kayla’s feet and prodded with deft fingers.

  “Yes, I feel the air where it shouldn’t be. We’ll fix that right and proper. Just hold still for a bit, would ye, lass? That’s it now.” Kayla felt a surge somewhere in her soul. The boot tightened slightly on the sides and flared at the heel to fit her snugly, like a second skin. It was incredible. A practical use for magic! She’d never thought much of the application other than for keeping her room warm or cool, or for exchanging notes like she had with T’Kato.

  “That’s amazing!” Kayla blurted, bringing chuckles to husband and wife. She reddened, but continued. “I’ve never had a more comfortable pair of boots in my life.”

  “Good. Ye’ll be doin’ a lot of walkin’ in them, so they’d best be comfortable,” Sarali said, helping Kayla into the other boot and repeating the process.

  “Walking? We’re not taking horses?” Kayla was dismayed. She thought of her new creamcolored mare while balancing on her other foot. The duke’s gift had been a dream to ride, almost like flying, and the thought of not being able to ride made her very aware of the reality of her banishment. It felt like she was being punished for something she hadn’t meant to do. Her stomach was sick with the thought.

  T’Kato chuckled. “No, lass. Can you imagine a horse that would fit me? We’ll find mounts for the three of us elsewhere, but I had planned on following water wherever we can. Perhaps a boat would serve us better.”

  He looked down at his wife, and something passed between them, though Kayla wasn’t sure what it was. There was some special significance to his words, she was sure of it, but she shrugged and let it go. They’d tell her or they wouldn’t.

  “We’d best be headin’ out, T’Kato. It’s nearly full light. Both flutes are packed in the bag, lass, along with the pretty sheath you can use for barter, one change o’ clothes, and a bit o’ food. Do ye have any money?” Sarali asked, walking through the doorway and shrugging herself into a hooded cape.

  “A little,” Kayla responded, wary. After all, she hardly knew these two and had only their word as to the truth of the flute. A shiver of fear went through her. What if it wasn’t true? What if they were taking her to the slave traders? Or were going to ransom her to her father? Her thoughts must have been apparent on her face because Sarali snorted at her.

  “We aren’t going to rob ye, girl. We’ve got a bit o’ money, but it won’t be enough to get far. If ye’ve got some to pitch in, let us know, or we’ll have to work for food, more than not.” She stepped through the curtain and donned her backpack.

  Kayla realized that if she was going to leave with these two, she had to trust them or it would be a miserable journey for all. She could not go halfway. For a brief moment she wavered in her determination. It was so tempting to forget about the danger, forget about her guardianship, and return to the old life, but there was that stubborn part of her that said no. She would not run away from her duty to the flute any more than she had run from her duty to her mother. She would trust these two and go.

  Kayla dug in the waistline of her underthings and untied the money belt she had hidden there, then moved through the doorway and offered the money bag to T’Kato. He froze in mid-shrug and stared at her, surprise registering on his heavy, hair-free features. He slowly shook his head, a soft smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

  “I don’t need you to give it to me, Kayla—we just needed to know if you had any. I’ll trust you just as you trust us, though we‘ll have need of that, I’m sure.” He settled the backpack on his shoulders, adjusting the straps, then came forward and held Kayla’s shoulders in his great hands.

  “Thank you for trusting us. We’ll not lead you astray.” The tattooed man looked around the room. Kayla’s eyes followed his glance toward the trunk standing in the corner. She had one final twinge of regret for her dresses, but the comfort of her new clothing made it easier to leave the old things behind.

  “Let’s go.”

  T’Kato moved forward into the dark, pausing only long enough to let their eyes adjust as they went deeper into the bowels of the cellar. He took the lead and walked with measured steps tailored to the shorter stature of the women, though he still moved quickly through the darkened rooms.

  “There’s a passage down here that tunnels under the moat and emerges at an abandoned cottage outside of Dragonmeer. We’ll exit there and make our way across the fields toward the forest,” T’Kato said over his shoulder.

  Kayla blinked. A hidden passage? She wondered if Brant knew of its existence. She wouldn’t be able to ask him now—not until she returned. Her heart ached at the thought of her fiancé. She was going to miss Brant and hoped he truly would wait for her, but she was surprised to realize that of all the people she was leaving behind, it was hardest to say goodbye to her mother.

  Kayla ha
d asked Brant to deliver a note to Lady Kalandra before the sun began to kiss the eastern peaks. She only hoped her mother would understand, and Brant had promised he would explain things to her. He had also reassured Kayla that the king promised that her title would be waiting for her when she came back. It would not be rescinded, despite her mistake with the flute, and for that she was extremely grateful. Her mother would be cared for, no matter what happened.

  The sound of dripping water got louder, and at last T’Kato led Kayla and Sarali into the farthest room. There was a large mirror in the wall—so large that as children, no matter how Kayla and Brant had tried, they could not get it to move. They’d always thought it strange to have something as frivolous as a mirror in this forsaken corner of the cellar, but nobody could answer their questions, and after a while it no longer mattered.

  T’Kato pressed the bricks to the left and right of the mirror in what seemed a random pattern. When he pressed the last one and stepped back, the mirror and part of the wall sank inward and slid aside.

  The secret passage.

  A thrill of fear and excitement shivered through Kayla. She’d never been down a hidden passage before, but the adventure soon wore off when she realized that it was a hall like any other, except it was much wetter.

  The puddles rose to mid-calf and higher—dirty water that stank of unspeakable things, debris floating across the top. She was reluctant to take a close look. Rats paddled by, nibbled at the legs of her boots, then left upon finding she was not edible, though she still jumped every time one bumped against her.

  The tunnel seemed to go on forever, but eventually sloped upward, leaving the smelly water behind. They reached a rickety wooden ladder. T’Kato gestured for Kayla to go first. The wood looked half-rotten with age and ready to collapse at the slightest bit of pressure, but when Kayla put her hand on it and gave a testing pull, it held. She climbed quickly to the top, stepping onto a landing and near the back side of another hidden door.

  T’Kato placed his eye to a small hole in the wall. He scanned left and right, then pressed his ear to the wood. Evidently satisfied, he pulled a latch to his left. The panel slid open to reveal a dusty bedroom with moldy blankets and a ceiling full of cobwebs. The windows were boarded up, but still the light beamed into the dust-filled room, motes dancing in the rays. Kayla coughed as the dust stirred. She looked around to get her bearings, and everything clicked into place. She knew where she was.

  The haunted cottage.

  Children always avoided this place except on a dare, and though Kayla had never entered it, she now knew why the youngsters thought it haunted. The place was old and creaky. The wind howled through the tunnel and sounded very ghostly to a childish imagination.

  T’Kato led the two women through the bedroom and pried the boards from one of the empty window frames, then helped Kayla and Sarali into the open air. He didn’t attempt to board the window back up, and somehow that bothered Kayla, though she knew it was silly.

  The sun was now fully up, and the field stretched out before them, a long distance from the trees. T’Kato looked over his shoulder at the two of them, checked their backpacks, and motioned with his head that it was time to go. He took off at a slow jog and picked up speed quickly, Sarali and Kayla following.

  There was no way Kayla could keep up with his long-legged sprint for the trees, and she fell farther and farther behind. Sarali stayed with her for a while until Kayla waved her on, and the serving girl took off in a lope that was astounding. No one should be able to run that fast.

  Just before she reached the tree line, Kayla had to stop and suck in some air before she fell over. She was not used to such physical exertion, and she had to learn how to breathe all over again.

  She gulped in and out, trying to slow her pounding heart. Eventually it began to work. She knelt on the ground a few minutes longer, enjoying the smell of the morning dew evaporating from the field, then stood, filled with excitement and fear. It was a new beginning—a change that both thrilled and terrified her. She had a feeling the flute was either going to bring her great success or terrible pain. Of course she hoped it would be the first, but even the threat of the latter held a kind of thrill. She was no longer held by the rigid rules society had forced on her. She was her own woman, sacrificing comfort and success to save her small world. It helped to think that.

  Kayla looked over the tall grass, trying to spot her guides. She caught a glimpse of Sarali standing just inside the line of trees, T’Kato at her side. They beckoned, impatience and fear obvious in their near frantic waving. Kayla gathered her breath and stretched against the pull of the pack. She was about to run and join the others when she caught a sound she could not quite identify—snapping, like the wind-filled piñons high on the keep walls, but lower, deeper. Or footsteps snapping rotted wood, or the banging of water inside a trough. Kayla looked up, but saw nothing. Clouds had settled so low in the sky, she couldn’t pinpoint the sound’s origin.

  There was no one near, but the sound continued. Chills traveled up and down her spine, an eerie tap dance of ghosts upon her soul. Something bad was coming. She could feel it in her very bones. The dread she felt was so strong, it gave her the energy she needed to finish the run. With a burst of speed, she took off for the trees and the new friends she could see waving to her from the forest’s edge.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  For the second time in as many days, DeMunth woke Ember with his wordless singing. His voice haunted her dreams in the best of ways, so when her eyes cracked open, it was with a wolfish grin and a lightened heart. She lay in silence, watching and listening as he knelt in the same position as the morning before, his arms outstretched and head thrown back. In anyone else, it would have seemed a prideful challenge to the heavens, but in DeMunth, it was an attitude of humble servitude, as if he were giving every piece of himself to the Guardians through his song.

  Ember was more than a little fascinated with him. She hated to admit it, but just being near him made her stomach jump. He was handsome enough, she guessed, but it was his energy, the intelligence, and talent he kept hidden except in praise, that drew her to him. He reminded her of the best parts of Aldarin and Ren, with something uniquely his own added to the mix. Too soon, his song was done and Ember sighed. She hated to have it end.

  She closed her eyes as she looked at him, then snapped them open again just as quickly, a sharp yip escaping her as she jumped to her feet. There was more to DeMunth than could be seen with eyes alone. He stared at her now, his face a mixture of confusion and fear as she immediately went to full defensive mode, a low growl rumbling in her chest.

  “What is it?” Shad asked, all calmness with still-sleepy overtones.

  “He glows,” she answered, not sure how to express what she’d seen. The man was a miniature sun. It hurt to blink in his presence, though why she hadn’t noticed it the day before, she wasn’t sure.

  Instead of answering, the two men laughed. Ember’s hackles rose higher with the indignity.

  DeMunth slowly got to his feet and approached her, his hands open and out, a sign that he meant no harm.

  Still, her fur stood on end as he came close. She couldn’t calm the uneasiness that settled over her at the sight of his glowing form.

  “There’s nothing to fear,” Shad answered. “DeMunth, you might as well tell her. If she’s anything like her mother, she won’t trust you until she understands.”

  What was that supposed to mean?

  DeMunth settled on the log in front of Ember and began his story in his clear mind-speech. Again, he sounded as though he spoke with his lips, but Ember watched and was sure they never moved. His mouth drew down at the corners, his brow furrowed just a bit. Evidently it was a painful subject. She sat down slowly and waited.

  “At the age of five, my mother took me to the priests of Sha’iim to be raised as one of their own. Why she did this, I am unsure, and it does not matter. I had not one father, but seventy-three, and nearly one hundred brothers
. I had no time to miss my mother, nor did I often feel the lack. I was well cared for, loved, and rose quickly in my studies.

  “By the time I turned fifteen, I was in training to become a full priest and taught classes to the young acolytes. It was predicted that I would become Father of the order by forty, and it may well have been, if not for the dream.”

  Completely immersed in the story, Ember didn’t even bother to scratch as a beetle climbed slowly up her leg. DeMunth continued.

  “At seventeen, I had a dream, but it was unlike any other dream I’d known. A man came to me as I slept, a man who wore sunlight the way I wear clothes. He shone so brightly, it would have burned my eyes had I been awake. I doubt I would have survived the experience if he had not changed me in some way.” DeMunth’s face shone, not with light, but with peace and joy as he relived the experience.

  “He spoke of a breastplate I was to find and protect. It was a keystone created by the Guardians to hold Rasann together after the battle between S’Kotos and Mahal nearly tore our world apart.” This was all new to Ember. Evidently that was obvious, for DeMunth addressed her directly then, pulling himself from the story. “You do not know of the teachings? Have you not heard of Mahal, Klii’kunn, or Hwalan?”

  Ember shook her head. The names were foreign to her. DeMunth sighed deeply. “Your education has been much neglected. We will rectify that. The Guardians were the creators of our world, brothers, all of them. There were a hundred to begin with, but after the fall only seven remained, one of whom became The Destroyer. S’Kotos.” DeMunth nearly spat the name.

  “It was Sha'iim who visited me that night. He is the Guardian of Light. He is the guardian of light, holder of the yellow magic, and it was his creation that lay in peril—the Golden Breastplate. He told me where it could be found, and as soon as the light faded from my dream, I awoke with the knowledge of where to find it, and how it could be retrieved.