The Canticle of Whispers

by David Whitley

  Every time she had caused suffering, every time she had been too weak, or too stupid, to stop another’s pain—the Canticle summoned them all. Lily stood absolutely still, an expression of horror fixed on her face as the darkest moments of her life returned in mocking, rushing echoes. The air was split again by the memory of Wolfram’s dying scream.

  “See yourself, children,” Snutworth said, his voice resonating around the cavern. “See yourself as you are. Liars, murderers, destroyers…”

  Mark knew what was coming, but even so, as Lily’s voice was replaced by his own, he couldn’t help gritting his teeth.

  You know your way out, Gloria … It’s not my fault … I’m not going to ruin my reputation to make you feel better … Stupid old man, what does he know…?

  “That isn’t the truth!” Mark shouted, trying to drown out his own voice. “That’s me at my worst. I’ve been better than that, we all have. You say you understand people, but all you can see is their failings.”

  Lily opened her eyes wide, a new confidence spreading across her face.

  “That’s it! Don’t you see, Mark, that’s how he sees the world.” She looked straight at Snutworth. “That’s why the Canticle sounds so angry. You can’t hear it properly, can you? All you can hear is what you believe in. You think you’re showing us the Truth about ourselves, but all you’re revealing is the truth about you. You’re empty, Snutworth. You don’t see people—all you see are their weaknesses, their strings that you can use to manipulate them. But the rest of us are so much more than that.”

  Snutworth straightened on his throne.

  “I don’t need to listen to this,” he said, his calm starting to fray. “You know nothing of the world, nothing of my design…”

  “We know more than you,” Mark said, defiantly, moving to the edge of the causeway, so Snutworth couldn’t avoid his gaze. “We see people as they are, not as a set of weaknesses to exploit.”

  “Try it, Snutworth,” Lily continued, pointedly. “Try listening to everything.”

  Snutworth hesitated.

  “Do you think to surprise me with love, or kindness, or friendship? I know of these things—how else would I have known how you would react when I took Mr. Mark’s emotions.” He leaned forward, intensely. “Can you never admit when you’ve lost?”

  “Maybe there’s something you don’t know,” Lily whispered, her voice nearly blending with the Canticle. “Maybe you need to listen.”

  Mark barely dared to breathe. As long as Snutworth saw the Canticle as a tool, as something he could use to his own ends, he could control it. But if he really opened up to it, if he really tried to listen to everything, then maybe their plan could work.

  For a moment, Mark thought Snutworth wouldn’t take the bait, that he would laugh and banish them from his presence, that this last, tiny chance would vanish forever.

  But once, Snutworth had been Mark’s servant—Mark had known him better than anyone else in the world. And if there was one thing he had learned, it was that Snutworth never wanted anyone else to know more than him.

  Snutworth closed his eyes.

  The volume and power of the Canticle began to increase. Snutworth clenched his jaw, concentrating, as it thrummed through the air. The whole chamber was beginning to shake, the ground rolling beneath them.

  “There is nothing here I do not know,” Snutworth said, triumphantly, his voice splitting into a hundred, buzzing echoes. “Just the same old banalities, the same petty concerns, a million times over.”

  “Exactly,” Mark shouted over the noise, staggering to maintain his balance. “The same. A million people, all as complex as the next, each with good points and bad, and so much in between…”

  “Or are they all different?” Lily picked up the argument, dropping to her hands and knees as the chamber rocked, and dust fell from new cracks in the ceiling. “All filled with a thousand thoughts that pull them every way, until you can’t tell which one will carry the day?”

  “You want to know why the Librans wanted two Judges?” Mark called out, everything falling into place in his mind. “Because there’re always two sides to everything. Always a hundred different ways to see. And that’s why you’ll never control the Canticle. Because you think too small. You hear all these people?” He shouted. “Listen—every one of them is wonderful.”

  “Every one of them is terrible,” Lily added.

  “We’re devils,” Mark said.

  “We’re angels,” Lily said.

  “We’re simply human…” Mark screamed as the Canticle rose into a wail.

  “… and that’s the most complex thing of all,” Lily concluded. Snutworth’s breathing became ragged. Mark could feel the vibrations in the air; the throne began to hum with a deep tone.

  “No…” Snutworth exclaimed, his calm tone trying to reassert itself. “I am apart from this. I am pure. I see … everything … I understand … all…”

  “You could have had a life, Snutworth,” Mark said, almost pitying him. “You could have made your own way, but instead, you’re just everyone’s shadow. An empty man whose whole life is based on controlling others. It doesn’t matter how many times you pull the strings, you’re not part of our world. And you never will be, now.”

  “Our world!” Snutworth spat. Mark saw that Snutworth had thrown off any semblance of his old calm—dredging up these thoughts was taking its toll on him. “A falsehood—a tissue of lies to prove an old argument. Agora, Giseth, Naru—none of it is real, no one can have a real life here. We are nothing but dreams.”

  “We might have been like that once…” Lily said, powerfully, the echoes beginning to cluster around her. “But not anymore. No one told us we were supposed to be an experiment; no one said that we were supposed to think a certain way. And now, we don’t. We’ve changed; we’re human. We have lives of our own that don’t depend upon prophecies or ancient plans. We’re our own people, and we always will be.”

  “But what are you, Snutworth?” Mark said as the Canticle began to rise again, stronger than ever. “Have you found your place?”

  “Is it here, with all these old secrets?” Lily continued, driving her point home as firmly as any knife. “Why do you want all this knowledge? What will you do with it?”

  “I … I … control…” Snutworth gasped out, his voice barely seeming his own anymore, it carried so many half-heard echoes.

  “Control what?” Lily continued. “What do you get out of it? If everyone is so stupid, out for whatever they can grab, why do you want secret power? Why don’t you want the glory? Why hide here?”

  “You’re nothing,” Mark said, and meant it.

  “No…” Snutworth said, his voice barely human.

  “At least the Oracle did what she did out of a sense of duty,” Lily shouted. “But you, you’re empty. Just a little boy who never knew when playtime was over.”

  “All you have left are dead thoughts, Snutworth,” Mark said, his voice filling the chamber. “We’re not your playthings anymore. The world’s outgrown you.”

  The Canticle screamed.

  A million echoes filled the air, their whispers frantic and meaningless. The whole cavern was vibrating now. And in the midst of it all, Snutworth stood up from his throne with a jerk, as though it had burned him.

  “Help … me…” he said, so softly that Mark could barely hear him. But it was too late.

  Great shards of the ceiling crashed down, shearing off more of the walkway. Snutworth looked around him, suddenly clear-eyed, and terrified. Above him, there was a dreadful cracking sound.

  “The Hub!” Lily yelled. Mark looked up. The Hub itself was vibrating, faster and faster, until the chamber rang. Any second now, it would fall. Lily and Mark scrambled backward as the walkway crumbled beneath their feet, and Snutworth stared around, looking for any way out.

  But there was nothing. The gap that he had made was too wide. Too wide for him to escape, even if he used his rope. Too wide to jump. Mark, standing in the entra
nce, saw the moment that Snutworth realized this. Saw the understanding in his eyes.

  And then, Snutworth turned, and sat back down.

  Softly, he rested his hands on the arms of the Resonant Throne.

  And he smiled. A smile that would live in Mark’s memory for the rest of his life. It looked, at last, as though he were at peace with himself.

  The Hub shattered.

  The Cavern of the Oracle collapsed.

  Darkness fell.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The Judgment

  LILY COUGHED DUST into the air.

  She tried to sit up, but there was a crushing weight on her chest, and she hadn’t the strength. Still winded, she wriggled her arm, trying to loosen the rubble, and touched something that felt like a hand. She turned her head, blinking to get the grit out of her eyes. She made out Mark, lying on his front, half buried beneath loose pieces of stone. He didn’t look too bad, though he was covered in rock dust. They had been lucky; they were standing in the entrance when the Chamber collapsed so they had escaped the worst. But Snutworth …

  She had seen the Hub splinter as it fell. Seen the largest shard as it plunged down toward him.

  He was gone. And the Canticle had gone with him. For the first time ever in Naru, she heard nothing but the beating of her own heart.

  Beside her, Mark stirred. He raised his head, and mustered a smile.

  “Well … that worked,” he said, weakly. He heaved himself up onto his elbows, and looked back at the former entrance to the throne room. A small piece of tattered curtain was still visible under the rubble. He frowned. “That’s it, then?”

  Lily nodded, slowly. She had to admit, it didn’t feel much like a victory.

  “Do you think we should have … I mean…” Mark hesitated. “Wolfram … Snutworth … Did we just kill them?”

  “Wolfram was mad,” Lily said, shakily. “If we’d hesitated, he’d have killed us both. And Snutworth trapped himself over there; he has only himself to blame.”

  “Yeah…” Mark said, “but…”

  “We needed to break his connection to the Canticle,” Lily said, ignoring the pang of guilt. “We didn’t know it would bring down the whole chamber.”

  Mark met her eyes.

  “No?” he asked. Lily looked away. The truth was, they’d both known it was a possibility. They both remembered what had happened when the Oracle had become upset; the whole of Naru had shaken. Lily sighed. She didn’t think she would be losing much sleep over either of them. She just hoped that none of the Naruvians had been hurt.

  “I … I don’t care about Snutworth,” Mark admitted. “But Wolfram … he had his beliefs, Lily. We all have those.”

  Lily frowned.

  “We live for our beliefs. He tried to kill us for his,” she sighed. “I know, it’s not perfect, but I’m willing to live with it if you are,” she said.

  Mark nodded, uncertainly.

  “All right,” he agreed. There was a silence.

  “So…” Mark ventured, “home now?”

  Despite herself, Lily laughed, coughing again.

  “That’s it?” she asked. “All those plans and prophecies, leading up to this?” She thought about it for moment. It did have a certain appeal—it was definitely the last thing the old Librans would have imagined.

  She heaved at the stones. Miraculously, she didn’t think she’d broken anything, but the lower half of her body was pinned under the rubble, and she couldn’t move. Every time she tried, she felt the rocks shift ominously.

  “You too?” Mark groaned, struggling. “You think anyone will come if we call for help?”

  Lily listened. In the distance, she heard shouts, and a storm of approaching footsteps clattering on the stone.

  “Actually, I don’t think we need to.”

  Mark twisted around to look, just as Septima and Tertius came into view. Their normally bright robes were streaked with grime, and they looked wild-eyed. As soon as they saw the rubble, though, they stopped dead. They stared, speechless as other Naruvians caught up with them, until, eventually, the Conductor arrived, red-faced and panting.

  “Why have you stopped?” he wheezed. “We must make the vessel tell us why our land is wracked with torment…” he trailed off. For a long minute, he stared stupidly at the rubble, until Lily couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “Conductor, aren’t you going to dig us out?” she asked, as politely as she could manage, coughing up another gout of dust. The Conductor didn’t respond. All he could do was look at the pile of stone that had once been the entrance to the Oracle’s chamber. Lily looked at Tertius and Septima, but they seemed equally dazed.

  “The harmony is gone,” Septima whispered. “The Hub is cracked, and the crystals are silent…”

  “Where will our knowledge go?” Tertius added, panic beginning to set in. “What will we do? How will we live?”

  “We’ll help you,” Mark said, hurriedly, “we promise. But please, you’ve got to get us out of here…”

  A few guardians at the back, still swathed in gloves and masks, looked to the Conductor. He gave them no instructions. There was no color left in his face.

  “You have destroyed everything,” he said, numbly. “We have nothing. Nothing but empty, silent caves … for ever and ever …

  Lily shut her eyes. She did feel sorry for him, of course she did. But every second that passed, it was getting harder to breathe. She didn’t have time to be gentle.

  “Conductor,” she said, firmly. “Our so-called vessel is gone. That means we’re in charge again, right?”

  This stern tone got a reaction; the Conductor frowned.

  “I’m not sure. There was no guidance on this, and the former Oracle is refusing to talk to me…”

  “Then you’re going to have to make this decision yourself,” said Mark. “The plans are over, the prophecies are gone. This is just you, Conductor. What do you think should happen?”

  The Conductor passed a hand over his brow. He looked lost, as though he were waking up from a long, peaceful dream.

  He looked down at Lily. She stretched out her hand to him. He jerked back, but she kept her arm extended.

  “It’s a new world, Conductor,” she said. “New life. New ways. Don’t be ruled by the past.”

  The Conductor glanced back at his people. They were silent, their large, dark eyes fixed on him, and Lily.

  He steeled himself.

  And he took her hand.

  Amazed whispers rippled through the crowd. One or two of the Naruvians sank to the floor, looking ill. But the Conductor held on, shaking only a little.

  “Guardians!” he said, suddenly. “Clear this passage. The Judges need our help.”

  The guardians worked quickly. By the time the Conductor had pulled Lily out of the rubble, Mark was already standing. Lily’s knee twinged alarmingly; Mark had a nasty cut across his back, and both were bruised all over, but for now, they could move.

  As soon as Lily could stand on her own, the Conductor withdrew to a safe distance, wiping his hand on his robe. He looked a little queasy, but oddly proud.

  “Thank you,” Lily said, not quite sure what else to say. She could feel the stares of the Naruvians all around her. She wondered if she should apologize, but what could she say? She and Mark had changed their world forever; it would hardly matter to them that they did it for the best of reasons.

  “What are your commands now, Judges?” the Conductor said, with dignity. Lily met Mark’s eyes. He looked as tired as she felt.

  “I think…” he said. “I think we need to go home. Is the way clear back to the Last’s Descent?”

  The Conductor nodded, silently. But Septima was not so dignified.

  “You can’t go!” she cried. “You’re the Judges!”

  There was a clamor of agreement from the other Naruvians, but Mark shook his head.

  “You don’t need us anymore,” he said, raising his voice over the hubbub. “You need someone who can send yo
u supplies, or help you contact the other lands. And when we get back home, we’ll try to do that. But we can’t do anything more from down here.”

  This seemed to only add to the Naruvians’ confusion. But it was Tertius who stepped forward, looking directly at Mark and Lily.

  “But … who will tell us what to do?” he said, hesitantly.

  Lily and Mark looked at each other. For a few seconds, Lily was tempted. This was an extraordinary opportunity. Every person in Naru was looking to them. They could change anything they wanted. They could remake this place with everything they’d learned. They could turn it into a paradise.

  But that had been Snutworth’s plan, not theirs.

  “That’s up to you,” Mark said, gently. “This isn’t our land; it’s yours. You have to decide what you want to be.”

  “But,” Lily added, “if you’re looking for somewhere to start, I wouldn’t look to the world above.” She looked around at the confused Naruvian crowd, and to her own amazement, managed to smile. “There are more than enough wonders right here.”

  And without another word, Mark and Lily set off to climb the stairs away from the cavern of the Resonant Throne. There was still a long way to go to the Last’s Descent.

  As they turned the corner, they noticed the Naruvians had begun to talk to each other, earnestly. They noticed the Conductor was gathering others around him, a new sense of purpose in his bearing.

  And they noticed Tertius take Septima’s hand. She didn’t pull away.

  * * *

  They didn’t speak as the mine cart whisked them back to the Last’s Descent, nor as the metal platform slowly winched them back up toward the surface. Lily knew that once they started, there would be too much to say. And right at the moment, all they needed was rest.

  So it wasn’t until they were nearly at the top that they started to wonder aloud if what Snutworth had said about the rebels taking over had been true. Were they about to emerge in the Virgo District as they had left it, full of locked doors, scared merchants, and wandering receiver patrols? Or would it be a violent storm of revolution? Either way, it was with some trepidation that they emerged from the secret room in the Last’s house, padded through the corridors, and pushed open the iron-bound front door.