by Anne C Miles
He leaned in to kiss her. “Happy Valentine’s Day. You ready?”
Sara nodded. Happiness fizzed within her like champagne. The Song burbled within her heart. She fidgeted with the sequined gauze that floated over the form-fitting silk of her gown, unused to bare shoulders. She stumbled, tottering as Peter helped her out of the car. “I never should have borrowed these from Rilla,” she complained, bending to inspect the Manolo Blahnicks her twin had insisted she wear. “I’m used to Chucks.”
Peter held his hand up. “I thought you might feel that way. Just a sec.” He opened the trunk, returning with a black shoebox. The box was adorned with a huge pink bow. “Size seven, right?”
Sara gasped and grabbed the box. A pair of high-top sequined Chucks nested within. She squealed, hurriedly stepping out of the four-inch heels. Peter knelt on one knee and held out a sneaker. “Better than Cinderella,” said Sara. “I can’t believe you did this.”
Peter bowed over her hand, kissing it. “As you wish.” He laced her shoe as she stepped into the other sneaker.
“How do I look?” Sara twirled.
“Breathtaking,” said Peter, seriously.
He claimed the box and discarded shoes, stowing them away, and returned to offer his arm. “Shall we?”
“So gallant.”
“I’ve been practicing for this most of my life,” Peter said, grinning. “All those dragon flicks are great training for knighthood.”
Sara rolled her eyes. “Nerd.”
Peter clutched at his heart. “You wound me, madam.”
She pulled him toward the skywalk that led to the reception. “I think you’ll live.” Sara rolled her eyes as Peter muttered under his breath.
“Only a flesh wound.”
The atrium glowed with candlelight, reflected by the far wall, which was entirely glass. Moonlight filtered through onto the stage set before it. The stage held three shrouded sculptures.
Sara tried to ignore them. One was hers, to be unveiled when the winner was announced. The finalist’s table was set before the stage, so they could be on display.
The room was cavernous, forty feet tall with a floating stairway along one wall. Beneath it, a sea of round tables set with linen and crystal accommodated guests. The floral arrangements were sculptures in their own right, calla lilies and greenery. Tree branches had been wrapped in fairy lights, leading the way to the adjacent gallery where the other entries stood. Sara glimpsed them through the hall, people swirling about them like birds, chattering and dispersing. She gulped and edged toward the tables. Her heart tap danced before settling into a hard gallop. She stopped, took a breath.
Peter squeezed her hand. In front of her, a face came into focus. A sneering face. Chantal Goddard. Her hair was upswept, makeup perfectly applied. She wore a simple black gown with oversized pearl jewelry. Sara felt gaudy, overdressed in her gold, by comparison. She lifted her chin, forced a smile, and waved. Chantal rolled her eyes and looked away. Peter followed Sara’s gaze and huffed when he saw her rival. He leaned in to Sara’s ear so she alone could hear him.
“She looks like she’s going to a funeral. Ignore her. Come on.”
Peter led her to the finalist’s table, seating her as far from Chantal as he could. Miranda Vine’s smile was genuine as Sara slid into the seat beside her.
“Good luck tonight,” Sara said.
“You too. I’m so nervous. Can’t stop fidgeting.” The tall redhead grinned conspiratorially. Her dress, a green chiffon A-line, made her skin glow like cream.
“You look fantastic,” said Sara. She scooted her chair and displayed her sneakers. “Pete saved me from tripping all night.”
Miranda laughed. “I’m jealous.” She turned to her own date, an extremely tall black man and pointed to Sara’s shoes. “Aren’t they great?”
“Love it. I had to be me as well,” he said with a slow, wide grin. He pulled up his trouser leg to reveal royal blue socks and winked. Sara laughed.
Peter nudged her and whispered, “Your friend is a rebel. That’s Tae King. Basketball player for our rival team. All-American. He’ll go early in the draft.”
Waiters placed salads before them as a quintet in the corner began to play. Sara settled in, focusing on the food, the music. She looked up, blinking, once or twice, only to find Peter there with a quip or comment to relax her. In the deepest recesses of her mind, the Song thrummed, a whiff of Dane’s happiness echoing her own. She had almost forgotten her nerves by the time Bastien Crowe approached the podium with Polly.
A hush fell over the room as Polly gave the opening remarks. She introduced Bastien to polite, but sincere, applause.
His crooked grin enveloped everyone as he waited for silence. Bastien cleared his throat and leaned forward.
“Last month, my production company, the Wryneck Workshop, issued a challenge in the hopes of finding a special person to work with us on our new venture here in the Commonwealth….”
Sara’s eyes drifted to Chantal, seated next to Scott. She hadn’t even registered he was there until now. Chantal whispered something to him, her head huddled close. Rude.
“The lucky winner receives a paid internship with my company for a period of one year, after which they are welcome to remain with us and negotiate a pay raise.” He winked. The audience laughed.
Sara’s eyes wandered to the sculptures, Bastien’s speech not truly registering. Black-clad figures removed shrouds while he spoke. Someone lit a flame. Her sculpture blazed to life.
“The winner will work with directors as great as Spielberg to tell stories that will change the world.”
Chantal’s weeping woman sculpture elicited sympathy, and Miranda’s horse sculpture stood guard, impatient to gallop away. Made from wire and found objects, it evoked a joyful spirit of freedom.
But Sara’s signet pulsed with an energy that dominated the room.
“The winner, Sara Moore.”
The crowd erupted suddenly into enthusiastic applause.
Peter squeezed her hand. “You’ve won, Sara. He said your name. It’s you.”
The room rose with her, granting Sara a standing ovation as she approached the podium. Sara blinked rapidly, fighting tears. She saw her parents, with Marilla and Jane, on the other side of the room.
Bastien smiled down at her. “Well done.” He handed her a glass plaque engraved with her name and shook her hand before offering her the podium. Sara stepped up to it and stood on tiptoe to thank everyone, now wishing furiously for the discarded four-inch heels. She mentally counted back from ten and threw up a silent request for help as the applause died back.
But the Song rose and wrapped her with joy, a calming embrace. It rang in her mind.
Not alone. Beloved.
And she was free.
Sara smiled and began her acceptance speech.
Bastien extricated himself from the crowd of local and state dignitaries who descended after Sara finished her remarks. He found a quiet corner, grateful for a respite, but his eyes remained on his new protege, considering.
“Has she crossed over yet?” The elderly gentleman who appeared at Bastien’s side nodded toward Sara.
“Almost certainly, sir,” said Bastien. “I feel the Song from her piece. Very strong, as you can see. Its nexus alone is compelling.”
He gestured to the signet that still shone on the stage.
“She’s still new to this. Raw and untried. It will be fascinating to see how the master bends her. The effect she will have, when he is finished.”
“Odd for the enemy to have chosen a young woman, don’t you think?”
Bastien shrugged. “Despite what they say about Him, He has done it before.”
“Bring her to Los Angeles soon.”
Bastien opened his mouth to reply, but the elderly man was already gone.
LEXICON
AERIE: PRONOUNCED [AIR-ee], villages of the Chymaera, forbidden to other races to enter; usually on top of mountains or trees, named by its sigil
/> Anach: pronounced [Ay-nack], the ancient citadel of the Majesterium
Apokrypha: the sacred writings of the Conclave
arc: the Moon, it didn't exist before the War of the Wyrm. The Wyrm is said to be imprisoned within it. For this reason it is sometimes called "The Wyrm's Eye." The moon waxes and wane like Earth’s, but It always contains an arc shape within it as well
Arcanum: the teaching of the Conclave regarding the Song
Canard: a world within an alternate universe that all Earthlings visit when they dream. Those attuned to the Song on Canard can see these dreamers, and refer to them as fae.
Canting: usually a singsong chant that imparts some effect on the person enchanted. Also used in the Camber services to strengthen the Song and support the cyntae.
Camber: Conclave worship services. The general population attends once a week on Moonday. There are services twice a day, every day.
cantors: the priests of the Conclave
Caprice: pronounced [ Kah-prees], mysterious oracles in Siarad
Chymaera: pronounced [ ky-MEER-ah], elusive race of shape-changing humanoids bound to the Song
Communion: speaking heart to heart, directly sharing thoughts and emotional states psychically. This is considered insulting if forced, as you are questioning the honesty of the one you demand to commune with. It is very intimate and an honor shared with those you deeply trust or consider family otherwise.
Conclave: ruling religious order founded by the Arcantor, Modric. He was the last majister, the only majister remaining after the War of the Wyrm
Cyntae: pronounced [ Seen-tay], the First Ones, immortal protectors. First beings to be made by the Creator, their voices joined with His to begin the Song. The Conclave teaches that when the Storm King sacrificed himself, the cyntae took over sustaining the Song. They need support in this which the Conclave provides with their endless Canting.
Cyntaf: pronounced [SEEN-tov], one of the four sigils of the Chymaera. Also the huge statue that dominates the songpitch in an Aerie. The cyntae can manifest to a sigil by animating the Cyntaf, much like the Song animates a Speaker
deema: pronounced [deem-ah], term of endearment, title for a gnomic guardian
deemae: pronounced [ dee-may], - generic term for a human whose family is protected by a gnome
deemling: those under a gnomes protection, a term of relationship. Bell is Jax's deemling; also plural, more than one deemling is deemling
Derbyn: [dar-bun] Accepted, a chymaera that can transform. The Wyn transform into gryphons. There are other sigils that transform into other forms, but all have wings. You will sometimes hear the Derbyn referred to as "winged." when they gave transformed and "unwinged" in their humanoid state.
dewin: pronounced [day -oo-in], wizard. It sounds like divine
Dissonance: dissonance is a destructive or harmful force, directly opposing the Song. Its presence twisted and inverted creatures, making them Shadowkin or Shadowborn. Dissonance could ultimately destroy the World Tree, the Song and all of creation. Lies feed it and give it power, as does any evil action.
Domini: first of the Cyntae, the greater.
Doran: Eighth of the cyntae, the lesser in the octave. Doran is identical to Domini in power and strength, though not in tone. The only cyntae to appear at a sigil since the War.
Draig: pronounced [ DRAY-g], one of the four sigils of the chymaera (transform into winged drakes)
Equis: pronounced [EK-wiss] one of the four sigils of the chymaera, also known as March (transform into winged horses)
fae: the Lost Ones, ghostlike beings in Canard, known for their mischief and magic
faisant: pronounced [fay- SOHN] a fae who has been Grounded by and harmony bonded to a dewin. This bond elevates a dewin's powers and makes him a majister
Faron: Fourth of the cyntae, sometimes called Father Time.
flashing: the state of a fae who is not physically present in Canard
gargoyle: In architecture on Earth, a chimera or grotesque is a fantastic or mythical figure used for decorative purposes. Chimerae are often described as gargoyles, although the term gargoyle technically refers to figures carved specifically as terminations to spouts which convey water away.
gnomes: smaller than dwarves, this race of small humanoids is rarely seen outside Dohnavur. Some believe they no longer exist. They are known for their crafting, their ability to walk through stone or earth and their friendship with animals. They move in a cadence and rhythm which is very obvious when two or more are together. Usually very talented musically, they are sought after to play or sing by human musicians. If they adopt a human family they are known as deema. They are very strong and can lift many times their own weight. They are fun-loving pranksters.
grotesque: pronounced [ GROW-tesk], an animated stone figure made by the chymaera. There are three types of grotesques in Canard; Watchers, Speakers and Takers. Takers and Watchers are fixed, Speakers can move from place to place. Speakers only function in the Sundered Cities and in the aeries. Takers have no power to speak, they serve as refuse removal with limited observational power.
grounding: the act of bringing a fae physically into Canard.
Harmony Bond : bond between a majister and a fae that transforms a fae into a faisant and a dewin into a majister
heartfire: the central essence of the chymaera
Lalo: Sixth of the cyntae, always seen with Solimon
Lorica: The sacred book of the majisters, written in refrains. Lost after the War of the Wyrm and replaced by the Apokrypha
March: one of the four sigils of the chymaera, also known as equis.(transform into winged horses)
Matins: pronounced [ MAH-tun], morning song service
Miah: Third of the cyntae
pitch: octagonal space where a chymaera works
Profi: [PRO-vi] Unproven, chymaera that cannot transform yet
Pryf: pronounced [ pruf], outcast from the chymaera, unable to transform, vermin
Renato: second of the cyntae
Shadowkin: swarm of miniscule black particles that can bond together to form other creatures or simply appear as a shadow. They strip flesh from bone if they attack and can burrow into flesh and devour from within. Destroyed by songsteel. Shadowkin are controlled by powerful Cantors
Shadowborn: general term for creatures that were twisted or jnverted by Dissonance. Also refers to creatures that embrace dissonance like the giants.
Siarad: pronounced [ SHA-rod], the former headquarters of the Majesterium, the Tower of Anach was here
Sigil: pronounced [sih-gel] loosely translated, a tribe. A representation and servant of particular cyntae
Signet: the stone vessel of a chymaera
sign of the arc: gesturing to form a crescent over your head from your right shoulder to your left. It represents the arc of the moon and protection.
Solimon: Fifth of the cyntae
Solfeggio: Do re me fa sol la ti do
Speakers: animated stone creatures (grotesques) made by the chymaera. They function as guards and guides in the Sundered Cities and can walk about, unlike Watchers. The only grotesques with the power of speech, they are not found in human communities outside of Cimaehne and Ciclaehne. There are many of them in the aeries.
Storm King: A form of the Creator. Called the Storm King because He has been seen in clouds, lightning or fire. The Conclave teaches that He is dead, sacrificed on the World Tree to save Canard and the Song from the Wyrm. He exists in all worlds, though his name changes.
Takers: animated stone creatures made by the Chymaera. They function as a plumbing system in human cities. These are what you might think of as gargoyles, though they actually feed on waste and refuse. There are many of them in the aeries. These do not move from their base where they are set. They can also act as monitors.
Tieson: Seventh of the cyntae, the diminished.
tunebell: sacred flower that enhances the Song.
Vespers: evening songs
Watchers: animated s
tone creatures (grotesques) made by the chymaera. They function as only as monitors for the Conclave. Watchers generally only move their heads in order to observe. What one watcher can view, all watchers all can view as well. They can transmit images to sandtables or directly to a chymaera.
Wyn: pronounced [oo-win], one of the four sigils of the chymaera They transform into gryphons.