And of course, he’d promised his father he’d join him on one of his fishing trips. He wouldn’t miss that for the world.
“I think,” Mark said, meeting Lily’s gaze, “that there’ll be enough adventure to keep me happy here until you get back. Besides,” he added, “I’ve been struggling for sixteen summers. I think I’d like a quieter year.”
Lily nodded, understanding.
“Well, I suppose it’s time to go…” she said, looking over his shoulder. “Laud looks as if he’s going to explode if I don’t hurry up.”
Mark couldn’t suppress a grin.
“You know why that is, don’t you?” he said. Lily raised an eyebrow. Mark pointed to where the reds and pinks of dawn were visible on the horizon. “Come on, this is Laud. He knows how to sell an image. He wants you to sail away into the rising sun.”
Lily looked out over the waves. And she laughed.
“Well, he’ll be lucky,” she said, turning her back on the sea. “Honorius said it might take hours to get all those sail ropes working…”
“You watch, Laud will have them all ready,” Mark laughed, as they began walking back toward the Cathedral.
“Anyone would think you were calling my Laud all style and no substance…”
“Well, you’d know…”
“You see, this is why we’re not taking you with us…”
And laughing, chattering, and for all the world feeling as though nothing important was happening at all, Mark and Lily walked down from the cliff, the light of the dawn shining behind them.
And, as far as Mark was concerned, that was exactly how he wanted it to be.
Epilogue
THE RED SAIL disappeared out of sight over the horizon. Theo let out the breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding.
He squinted against the high morning sun and saw Mark, still standing and waving at the edge of the dock. Theo thought about going over, but decided against it. There would be plenty of time later for reminiscing, for admitting how much they would miss their friends. He didn’t want to interrupt Mark’s moment.
Theo drew his dark, silver-laced jacket around his shoulders. The sun was bright today, but it was still only a few days from the Gisethi Spring Festival—and the breeze was cool. Perhaps he should return to the Cathedral. His days in Agora were so busy now, and the Cathedral was a place of blissful quiet, now that Wolfram and his supporters were gone. Even Wulfric, their rather wild-looking new porter, knew when to leave him to his thoughts.
“Director…”
Theo looked down. Verity was standing beside him. Her eyes were wet, but she was bearing up well. Lily had talked to her for a long time before she left. Perhaps, one day, Theo would ask what she had said.
“You know, Verity,” he said, gently, “you don’t need to call me Director, especially here. I still can’t get used to that title.”
Verity looked up at him, shaking her head, fondly.
“And believe me, that’s why you’re the best Director Agora has ever had,” she said. Theo shrugged.
“Well, I don’t think Snutworth was a hard act to follow,” he admitted, hoping to make her laugh.
To his delight, there was a slight trace of a smile. That was enough, for now.
He looked back at the dock. Mark had stopped waving, and was staring out to sea.
“Would you like some time alone?” Theo asked Verity, gently. “I could wait up at the Cathedral.”
She shook her head, firmly, but with a sad smile.
“No. Keeping busy always helps.” She reached into the pocket of her jacket. “That reminds me—the monks wanted you to have these, as a symbol of the new friendship between Giseth and Agora.”
Verity pulled out a small drawstring bag, and dropped it into Theo’s hand. It made a slight clinking noise. Curious, Theo undid the knot, and poured the contents into his other palm.
“What are they?” he asked, prodding at the gold and silver metal disks. “They look like those decorations that cover the Cathedral.”
Verity nodded.
“They are,” she said. “Apparently, when the ship originally arrived, all those years ago, the sailors who survived thought they were the most valuable thing aboard the ship—more than food or water. The new Bishop pried a few loose for us. He thought we might want to take them back to Agora.”
Theo held up one of the disks, engraved with the head of a long-forgotten man. It was only a little piece of gold, but something about it seemed dangerous.
“You know,” he said, “I’m not entirely sure that would be a good idea.”
Copyright © 2013 by David Whitley
Published by Roaring Brook Press
Roaring Brook Press is a division of Holtzbrinck Publishing Holdings Limited Partnership
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
mackids.com
All rights reserved
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Whitley, David, 1984–
The canticle of whispers / David Whitley.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: “In the final volume of the Agora trilogy, Mark and Lily lead the revolution to unseat the powerful elite and discover the answers to their questions about their origins while confronting the dark and twisted nature of their destinies”—Provided by publisher.
ISBN 978-1-59643-615-2 (hardcover)—ISBN 978-1-59643-845-3 (ebook) [1. Prophecies—Fiction. 2. Fantasy.] I. Title.
PZ7.W5915Can 2013
[Fic]—dc23
2012013789
eISBN 9781596438453
First hardcover edition, 2013
eBook edition, February 2013
The Canticle of Whispers Page 36