“He’s the Director’s enemy, so that makes him our friend,” Cherubina said, loftily. “Crede said I’m too valuable to let anything happen to me. He already knows where we live. I’ve seen some of his men watching me as I come home. He’s keeping me safe.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Mark insisted. “He isn’t really out to help people. He’s after as much power as he can grab. You think he really cares about you?” Mark took her hand. “By all the stars, Cherubina, this isn’t a game! I thought you did some growing up over the past year…”
Cherubina snatched her hand away, furious.
“Don’t you dare talk about that dreadful time again. Don’t you dare treat it like a joke!”
“Then you shouldn’t treat our hiding like it doesn’t mean anything!” Mark snapped back, barely trying to keep his voice down anymore. “We’re hiding from him, Cherubina, from Snutworth! Even if he doesn’t really care, he’d take you back out of spite—you know he would.”
“That’s why I need proper protection,” she said, scornfully. “You think just because Crede’s got vision he’s stupid? He understands everything. He was just telling me before you arrived, now that Snutworth’s the Director, we have to plan carefully…”
Cherubina trailed away as she saw Mark’s expression.
“You told Crede about Snutworth?” Mark whispered. “You told him who you are?”
Cherubina crossed her arms, defiantly.
“It’s my secret,” she said. “I can tell who I want.”
Mark stared at her, marveling.
“Do you have any idea what he could do with that kind of knowledge?” Mark said, quietly.
“Of course I do,” Cherubina said, intensely. “He told me himself. Right now, the people are scared of the Director—they think he’s a myth, all powerful.” Mark detected a hint of Crede in her tone, as though she were repeating something he had said. “But as soon as they know that he’s just an ordinary man…”
“An ordinary man?” Mark interrupted, putting his head in his hands. “A few years ago, he was my servant, and now he’s the ruler of the city! There’s nothing ordinary about him, and you know it. And anyway, that hardly robs him of his power—or have you forgotten about the receivers? Dad says that they’ve stepped up their training. Some of them are even practicing with swords, not truncheons. You really believe that Crede’s army of thugs is going to be able to fight them?”
“So you think we should just do nothing?” Mark was amazed to see that Cherubina’s eyes were wet. She seemed to be almost crying, but her voice was still dangerous. Mark gingerly laid a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m saying you shouldn’t be getting involved in this. I hate Snutworth as much as you do, but you can’t keep obsessing over him. You’ve escaped—you need to live your own life…”
Cherubina met his gaze.
“And how can I do that?” she asked, softly. “By doing everything you say?”
Mark pulled his hand back, stung, but Cherubina was unrepentant. She turned her back, stiffly.
“I need to get back,” she said, pointing to the crowd, still ignoring them, enraptured by Crede. “He wants to introduce me to some of the new recruits.”
“You’re just a tool to him,” Mark protested, feebly. Cherubina didn’t turn around.
“Maybe,” she admitted, “but at least he’s doing some good. He’s not sitting at home, waiting for Daddy to visit. He can keep me safe.” She glanced over her shoulder. Her anger seemed to have gone; now she looked sad, almost disappointed. “Why don’t you go? Crede is handing out bread, and we don’t have much to trade. I’d ask you along, but he only gives handouts to men of action.”
And then, before Mark could reply, she walked away, mingling in the crowd.
Mark couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Not as he left the smoky bar, the sound of Crede’s speeches ringing in his ears. Not as he crept through the streets, and returned to their lonely house.
Not even that night, when the receivers walked past, ringing the new curfew bell. All he had was a jumble of thoughts about Cherubina’s safety, and his own inability to decide what to do. But by then, it didn’t really matter.
Because, by then, it was clear that Cherubina wasn’t coming back.
CHAPTER FIVE
Harmonies
LILY DIDN’T KNOW where she was anymore.
Every time she woke and lit her lantern, the rocky passageways disappeared into darkness on either side. She began to wonder if they went on forever.
It was hard to tell how long she and her new friends had been traveling; they hadn’t seen their pursuers once since that first encounter. They had slept fifteen times, that was certain, but whether this had any bearing on day or night it was impossible to say. She was tired most of the time, but considering the constant walking and stone surfaces where she was forced to sleep, that was hardly a surprise.
On the second “day,” they had found a cache of lantern oil, and Lily had been given her own lantern. She had taken to keeping the flame low after she woke up, and then raising and dimming it through the day, making her own sun. She found it strangely comforting.
It wasn’t that the tunnels were dull. Often they opened into caverns of breathtaking beauty, with rock that rippled across the walls like water. Or they would find a cave full of quartz shards that burst through the floor to make scintillating forests of crystal. Even when they had to crawl through spaces barely wide enough to breathe, the rock under their hands and knees was mottled with a hundred different tones, textures, and colors. Under normal circumstances, Lily would have been fascinated.
But she found herself longing for the real forests of Giseth, or even the crowds of Agora. There was no chance of meeting anyone new down here. If they heard the sound of approaching footsteps, they had to hide. Lily had tried to get Septima and Tertius to explain again why they were on the run, but all she got for her troubles were veiled comments about the evils of the Conductor, and increasingly suspicious looks.
That was the other problem. She could cope with sleeping on rock floors, with nothing but her pack for a pillow—she had suffered worse. She could cope with being lost, and the lack of light and stale air. But her companions were another matter. She was beginning to suspect that accompanying Tertius and Septima anywhere was not a good idea.
If anything, their behavior became even stranger as time went on. Unless Lily mentioned it, they seemed to have forgotten that they were being chased. In fact, they couldn’t seem to latch on to one thought for more than a few minutes. They chattered continuously, but never about anything of importance. Occasionally, they claimed to be fleeing to a secret rebel encampment, but they seemed to have little idea of where to go. If anything, their journeys were simply from one concealed food parcel to the next, and even that was strangely convenient. At first, they claimed that they had left the food there, in cases of emergency. But it soon became clear that it never even occurred to them to take any of the food with them. In fact, they carried no supplies at all, apart from their lanterns. They slept, sprawled on the floor, without any need for comfort, brushing the dust from themselves in the morning, and washing in the pools of water that formed in the damper caverns.
Above all, they didn’t seem to have any plan. On the seventh day, Tertius led them on a breakneck chase through a maze of tunnels, only to show them a smooth, egg-shaped nugget of crystal growing out of a wall. Septima stared at the amber stone in delight, watching the light of her lantern play off its surface.
Lily leaned against the wall of the tunnel, thinking of all the similar crystals they had seen, growing from the walls, in their journeys through the tunnels. She remembered her own tiny crystal, the one that had led her here, still buried in the depths of her pack. It was one of the crystals that Verity, her father’s sister, had brought to Agora. She had thought it so strange when she had first found it; she could never have imagined that she would find a whole land of them.
But in Nar
u, they were everywhere. Some glittered beneath her feet, barely larger than a fingernail, others covered whole caverns with splendor. No two were the same; they were of every color and shape, but all shared a kind of shifting translucence. Stepping into a whole cavern lined with them was an unsettling experience, as though the solid rock around her was dissolving into smoke.
But that wasn’t the oddest thing about the crystals. She hadn’t discovered that until she had tried to sleep.
The crystals whispered.
They were very quiet, too faint to understand, like the distant babble of the Cacophony. But in the silence, she could hear them, the sound rising and falling like a million echoes a long way away.
“Can’t we get moving again?” she asked, testily, trying to conceal her unease. Septima didn’t bother to look at her.
“Not until we’ve examined this one,” she said, still gazing intensely at the egg-shaped crystal, which pulsed faintly in the light of her lamp.
Lily shifted. She was sure that she could hear more whispering coming from this amber gem, but her ears could just be playing tricks.
“What’s so special about these crystals anyway?” she asked, trying to cover her unease.
Septima turned around, her expression smug.
“Shall we tell her?” she asked Tertius. He shrugged, sourly.
“I’ll show her. This one is good to look at, but it’s too garbled to be useful.”
Septima giggled in delight. She was clearly enjoying knowing more than Lily. Lily refused to rise to her bait.
“You wanted to know how we know so many facts about the world above, when we’ve never seen it?” Septima asked. “Come here, and put your ear to this crystal.”
Lily approached, tentatively. The smooth gemstone seemed to be glowing with its own light. Tertius noticed her hesitation, and smirked.
“It isn’t hot. We shine our lanterns on these crystals, and they take in the light, but not the fire.”
Tentatively, Lily bent her head, and pressed her ear up against the crystal’s smooth surface.
“What am I supposed to…?” she began, but Septima shushed her.
Tertius began to sing.
When speaking, his voice had been harsh. But now, it emerged in a sweet, high series of notes—no real words, just an oddly haunting melody. Lily was so surprised that she didn’t move, keeping her ear against the crystal. For a moment or two, all she could hear was Tertius’s voice, resonating inside the crystal, gaining overtones that hummed and sparkled.
Then, suddenly, she began to hear words. But these weren’t coming from Tertius. This was a different voice altogether, swimming up from the depths of the crystal.
She recognized this new voice. It was her own.
What’s so special about that crystal?
She pulled her head back in surprise. Tertius stopped singing and laughed, but Septima cleared her throat in an exaggerated way.
“These crystals rule our lives,” she said, as if reciting a lesson. “Something about them allows them to resonate for years, maybe even centuries. We think that every word spoken, every sound made in the world above is captured by seams of crystal in the stone beneath your lands.” She traced a path across the rock wall, revealing a line of glittering stone leading up to the crystal. “And the resonance builds, passing from crystal to crystal, until it reaches the caves of Naru. After that, it’s only a question of sifting through the noise to find the secrets. Every crystal unlocks new treasures for us.”
As if to demonstrate, Septima sung a sudden top note, bright and clear, and the crystal rang in response, its light growing. At first, Lily heard only a burst of unintelligible echoes—like a crowd far away. Septima changed notes, singing up and down a scale. As she did, some of the voices faded away, and others rose to the surface.
Don’t be offended by being called a rat, my friends,…
A man, making a speech.
You going to order a drink or what?
Another man, sour and ratty.
All my life I’ve been a prize, used by other people. Not anymore.
A woman. Lily craned forward; she was sure she recognized that voice. If she could just listen for a few seconds more …
Septima stopped singing. Almost instantly, the voice faded into nothingness, and the light within the crystal guttered and failed.
“Of course, sometimes all you get is nonsense,” Septima said, airily, apparently not noticing Lily’s disappointment. “But find the right crystals, and you might hear anything ever spoken in the lands above.”
Lily marveled. Back in Agora, the Director would have longed for a tool as powerful as this. To be able to listen in on any conversation ever held, any word ever uttered. It was extraordinary, amazing.
No, she realized. It was terrifying.
“Anything?” she said, aghast. Tertius scratched his chin, nonchalantly.
“Well, in a lot of the crystals, most of the echoes are too faint to hear, of course,” he said. “The best ones are back at the Hub. Out here you usually only get little pieces of worthwhile knowledge.”
“Speaking of worthwhile knowledge,” Septima said, turning her back on the crystal. “That was a lot of answers we just gave you, and I don’t remember you answering many questions for a while. You’d better tell us something new soon, Wonder.” She frowned. “Anyway, there’s nothing worth listening to here anymore. Let’s go.”
And completely ignoring the crystal that had so fascinated her moments ago, Septima strode from the cave, leaving Lily even more confused.
After that, Tertius and Septima were unusually hostile for the rest of the day. Lily tried talking to them, but they had soon wrung her dry of trivial facts about Agora, and the more time she spent with them, the less keen she was to share anything more personal. And as soon as she stopped talking, their interest began to wane.
For three days after that, they were sullen and moody. But it wasn’t until they awoke on the eleventh day that either of them would say what was wrong.
“I don’t think much of this wonder anymore, Tertius,” Septima announced, suddenly, as they were eating. “She hasn’t told us anything new for a while. Why do you want to keep feeding her?”
Lily swallowed in alarm, not sure whether to be frightened or insulted. Tertius smiled, enigmatically.
“You need patience. She’ll reveal more if we give her time. She’s one of the Orchestra, remember? They’re not like us.”
“You’ve mentioned the Orchestra before,” Lily said, anxious to change the subject. “Who are they?”
Septima glared.
“Questions, questions, all the time, and never any knowledge to pay for it,” she said, darkly, and then rolled her eyes. “The Orchestra! You know … up there.” She waved her hand toward the stone ceilings. “The world above. The Orchestra provides the music, while the Choir,” she gestured to herself and Tertius, “sings the song. You can have that for nothing, that’s common knowledge.” She sniggered. “You’re right, you know; she’s pretty tuneless.”
Tertius began to giggle. After that, Lily couldn’t get any sense out of them for an age. Every time they looked at her, they dissolved into laughter.
On the twelfth day, she decided to put her foot down.
“Where are we going?” she asked, suddenly. Tertius looked back, an expectant look on his face. Lily sighed. “All right, you want some knowledge first?” She took a breath. “The village of Aecer is the nearest Gisethi village to Agora, and its leader, the Speaker Bethan, used to be the village’s tale-spinner. Now can I ask a question?”
Tertius pulled a face.
“What’s a tale-spinner?”
Lily felt her fists clenching in frustration.
“A tale-spinner is something between a teacher and a storyteller. And that’s all you’re getting until you tell me where we’re going!”
Tertius exchanged glances with Septima, brushing his long white hair out of his eyes.
“We’re running away,�
�� he said, as if she were simple. “Away. Not toward anything. We’d hoped to find a wonder, but since that didn’t turn out right,” he looked down his nose at her, “we’ll just have to keep going until we find another one.”
“And what will you do if you find one?” Lily asked, used to ignoring the insults by now.
Septima looked at her nails, thoughtfully, pointedly refusing to answer. Lily leaned back against the wall. How could she make this work?
“Tell me, have you two ever heard of the Midnight Charter?”
Septima’s head snapped up.
“What do you know about that?” she said suspiciously.
Lily smiled.
“Quite a lot, considering I’m mentioned in it. And I’m willing to share.”
Tertius frowned, and leaned closer to Septima. He whispered, but because he had to whisper loud enough for Septima to hear without getting too close, Lily also heard every word.
“That’s top quality information. Only the Oracle knows about the Charter.”
“She could be lying,” Septima replied with a glare. “You can’t trust the Orchestra—everyone knows that.” Tertius pulled on his hair in frustration.
“She needs us. Think! If we found out something the Oracle didn’t know…”
“Who’s the Oracle?” Lily asked.
There was a stunned silence. Septima looked as though her eyes were going to pop out of her head.
“The Oracle is … the Oracle,” she said, stupefied. “She knows everything. They say, if you can tell her something she doesn’t know, she’ll reveal every secret in the world.”
Lily smiled. Finally, a plan had presented itself.
“All right, this is the deal,” she said, stepping closer to them to make them uneasy. “You take me to the Oracle, and before I tell her my secrets, I’ll tell you. Then we share the truth. Deal?”
Tertius and Septima exchanged glances again.
“You could be lying,” Tertius stated, flatly.
“What have I got to lose?” Lily replied, keeping her voice level. She couldn’t back down now. This Oracle sounded like a much better place to start finding answers than these two.
The Canticle of Whispers Page 5