It made sense. The cutting all ties with family. The minimal belongings. The primitive-looking weapon, which bore no resemblance to the swords and knives worn by the guard. And Helaine could see why Nadja might choose to return to her people in a time of crisis, with them being a close-knit tribe.
She understood why Nadja would want to keep her background a secret, too. A Grenyan immigrant enrolled at the Music Conservatory was an oddity, but not unheard of. But a Wanderer, well, that was an entirely different issue. With their views on music so diametrically opposed to the rest of Amrantir, and to the Music Conservatory in particular, it was shocking.
She wondered what Nadja had to go through to attend. It couldn’t have been easy.
Helaine rubbed her eyes.
Not exactly what she’d been hoping to find, but it was something. It explained Pax and Grandmaster Kero’s secrecy. They knew the real story.
This realization pricked her heart. Why hadn’t Nadja felt she could trust her with the secret as well? Before Helaine had come to the conservatory, her closest friends had been her father and Na Na. Meeting Nadja and having someone she could call her best friend was a childhood dream come true. But maybe they weren’t as close as she thought.
And what about Nadja’s uncle? Helaine didn’t know much about the Wanderers, but she did know they rarely let in outsiders, which meant he was probably one too. If he and Nadja had gone to Grenyan, as she originally thought, it was unlikely he would have made it back to Cantio so soon. But, he would have had plenty of time to return after accompanying Nadja to the tribe. That would explain how Grandmaster Kero had spoken with him yesterday.
Helaine slipped the mirror back into the drawer and closed it. With no more avenues to investigate, her search for answers was at a dead end. Pax’s injuries still niggled her, but with him spending his summer at the Luthier’s Guild Hall, there was nothing she could to do about it. He had seen Nadja safely to her uncle, her uncle had taken her to her family, and Grandmaster Kero assured Helaine that Nadja was doing well. That had to be enough for now.
Chapter 8
Helaine hissed at the sour note. She tilted her head from side to side, ridding the tension from her neck and shoulders and sending another rivulet of sweat down her back. The tiny, windowless practice rooms were stifling in the summer, but there was nothing to do about it. Her own room would have been infinitely preferable, but with the amount of work she needed to do, she’d be a disturbance. Even with many of the students spending their summer studies away from the conservatory, intense practice sessions were restricted to practice rooms or out of doors. Given the nature of their music, one would rarely find a student rehearsing outside, anyway. There was too great a chance something could go amiss. The practice rooms, covered floor to ceiling in porous wedges, were miniature copies of the Dead Room, designed to absorb most of the sound before it seeped out through the door.
She pinched her violin between her jaw and shoulder, flexing and wiggling her fingers before bringing her arms back into position. This time, she slowed her tempo to a crawl and made it to the end of the passage without missing a note. Satisfied, she played it again, increasing her speed ever so slightly.
If she was going to convince the swarm to follow her, the song had to be perfect. Grandmaster Brightwater had made the task sound straightforward. She was finding it anything but. She returned to the beginning of the passage and played it again, faster this time.
Helaine wiped the back of her hand over her brow. The air in the room smelled stale, and she wished, not for the first time, for the comforting scent of the coming rain that her violin had always delivered. Now, a few weeks removed from her time in the infirmary, she was starting to realize how much a part of her the problem . . . gift? . . . was. Yes, it had its own issues, but it had allowed her to experience music in a way most other people never would. The relief she’d felt at the beginning had transformed into an emptiness. It was as though she had lost a part of herself—something that left her incomplete. For the first time, she admitted to herself she wanted it back.
She sighed. The sound disappeared almost as soon as it passed her lips. There was no more putting it off, and she didn’t want to. It was time to make good on the promise she’d made to Petrin and speak once more with Grandmaster Westbrook. But first, one more time from the top.
Her practice paid off, and this time she made it through to the end of the piece without missing a single note. Pleased with her progress, she wiped down her violin and loosened her bow before tucking them into her case.
She stepped into the hallway, sucking in a lungful of fresh air and flapping the front of her blouse, sending little puffs of wind up through the neck to fan her red face. It was not yet lunch time, and she hoped to find Grandmaster Westbrook in his office. Perhaps by supper Doctor Corinson would have formulated a solution, and she’d be on her way to recovering her lost ability.
Helaine’s determined stride halted when a door opened at the end of the hallway, and Vatara stepped out of another practice room. She tucked her trowhorn under one arm, and her face matched Helaine’s in both color and shimmer. She offered her friend a smile.
“I think I’m dying,” said Vatara, as Helaine approached.
“I know. But what can we do?”
“I don’t know about you, but next summer I’m looking for a project in the mountains. Maybe The Veil.” She fell into step with Helaine. “How far north can I go?”
Helaine laughed. “They send expeditions to the Palace of Infinity a few times a year. I’m sure they’d love a volunteer.”
“Too far, I’m afraid. I don’t think anything grows up there.”
“How did your shatudos turn out?”
“I’ve got two or three promising hybrids. Grandmaster Zephrys was kind enough to send over a Meteorology student to whip up a localized blizzard for testing, and all three did well. Now, I’ll just have to wait and see what happens this winter. Dov tells me you’re working in the apiary.”
Helaine’s eyebrows shot up. She’d barely managed to get three words strung together out of the tight-lipped beekeeper. “Dov talks to you?”
Vatara just shrugged. “I’m a good listener.”
And a good talker, too.
As if prompted by Helaine’s thoughts, Vatara said, in a voice that was honey-coated and pitched higher than it had been, “And how is Nadja? I haven’t seen her around since you were in the infirmary.”
Helaine was pleased to learn that Vatara knew even less than she did about Nadja’s situation. Anyone who knew anything must be keeping mum on the topic. And, as far as she knew, those “anyones” didn’t extend further than Grandmaster Kero, Pax, Petrin, and herself.
Helaine chose her words carefully. “She’s spending the summer with her family.”
“Oh?” Vatara kept her face forward but peered at Helaine from the corner of her eye. “I don’t know how I missed seeing her during our examinations. I hope she did well.”
That was another thing Helaine was wondering about, too. Grandmaster Kero had said Nadja’s spot would remain open until she returned, but passing her examinations was a requirement to advance. And, Nadja hadn’t taken them.
Helaine could tell when Vatara was fishing for information.
“Me too,” she replied. Not a lie, technically, since she really did hope Nadja would be allowed to advance. “She left in such a hurry, I didn’t have time to ask.”
“Why so rushed?” Vatara’s voice rose yet again.
Drat!
Helaine stuck with the story she’d been told. “Family emergency. But she is doing well. How is Selina?” Now seemed to be a good time to bring up Vatara’s own roommate.
Vatara stiffened just slightly at the question, but covered it with a smooth smile. “She’s also spending the summer with her family.”
“Really? I thought she was determined to work with that goldsmith she’s always going on about. What was his name? Something like ‘pumpkin-juice.’”
“Groombahyoos.”
“Yes, that’s it. Oh, I hope she’s not too disappointed.” And she really meant it. For as curious as she was about Selina’s mystery, Helaine only wished the best for her friend.
“Not at all. Just a change of plans.”
Their walk led them out of the maze of hallways and into the atrium. The sun beamed through the glass ceiling, leaving no corner of the room unlit.
“With examinations being so hectic,” continued Helaine, “I wasn’t able to wish her well before everyone went their separate ways. I tried to speak to you both at the picnic, but I don’t think you saw me. And the two of you seemed deep in conversation, so I didn’t want to pry.”
Something about Helaine’s words unlocked whatever had tightened Vatara’s jaw.
“Wasn’t that something?” she gushed, bringing them to a stop beneath the stained-glass panel. “I’m sorry we missed you. We were probably both still shaken from our interrogations.”
Vatara must have read Helaine’s questioning look. “That’s right. You were sick the night of the Heartstide Celebration performances. It’s probably better you were. At least you didn’t have to endure being treated like a suspected criminal.”
Helaine’s eyes widened. “Was it really as terrible as that?”
Stripes of red and yellow light swiped back and forth across the top of Vatara’s head as she nodded. “It was certainly nothing I’d like to repeat. They wanted to know all sorts of things: who we were, why we were there, what we’d performed, if we’d seen anyone suspicious. I hadn’t noticed anyone out of the ordinary. But . . .” Vatara leaned in, her face cracking open as if she’d just been presented with an eighteen-layer chocolate cake. “If I had known then what I know now, I would have been paying much closer attention.”
Helaine couldn’t resist the bait. “What have you heard?”
Vatara lowered her voice. “Weeell . . .” She drew out the word, obviously reveling in being the bearer of such a juicy tidbit. “I heard the guard are searching for a real-life Mevocali who was actually at The Hen and Harp that night.” She wiggled in her shoes, and Helaine thought she might have finished the statement with a “ta-da” if the idea had come to her.
“Oh, that again,” scoffed Helaine. “How long must those poor people be dead and buried before everyone else accepts it?”
“That was my first reaction, too. And you know I’d be the last person to betray the trust of a dear friend. But, let’s just say, I have it on very good authority the suspicions hold enough merit the Delegate Prime himself ordered the investigation.”
Helaine’s skin tingled. If that was true, this was a serious matter.
The Delegate Prime was a wild card of sorts. He represented the whole of Amrantir, not just a specific region. He would cast a tie-breaking vote if there was a split decision within the Delegation. And in the event an area became unexpectedly without representation, he was also responsible for temporarily filling the empty regional delegate position. But it was his rarely used power that gave Helaine pause. The Delegate Prime had the authority to make decisions for the safety and security of Amrantir in emergency situations without convening the Delegation.
If he ordered the investigation, he must believe the Mevocali threat to be real.
She peered through the rainbow of light to the scene depicted in the stained-glass panel. A Mevocali and a Man, hand to hand, in peace and mutuality. A far cry from what it had been in the end. But if Vatara spoke the truth, the end hadn’t come. And the implications of that made Helaine’s head spin.
“Can you imagine finding one after two hundred years?” said Vatara. “And where there’s one, there must be more. I could barely go to sleep last night for thinking about it.”
“I don’t even know what to say,” stammered Helaine.
Vatara nodded sympathetically. “It is a lot to take in.” She turned and led them out of the prismatic cocoon toward the staircases that led to the students’ living quarters. Helaine followed absently, still trying to process Vatara’s news. “I have some theories about where they’ve been this whole time.”
Helaine blinked and stopped suddenly, realizing where they were heading. “Oh. I’m sorry, I’m on my way to see Grandmaster Westbrook. Yes, I’d love to hear your theories, but perhaps later?”
“If I’m not in my room or one of the practice rooms, I’ll be in the aviary. I practically live there now.” Vatara rolled her eyes, but Helaine recognized the dramatic display for what it was.
The women parted ways, and Helaine turned back. She wondered how long it would be before the news became common knowledge. Tensions within the city already ran high with just the rumor of a Mevocali sighting. Who knew what kind of problems a confirmed suspect would create?
This was all assuming Vatara’s story was true.
If one person in the conservatory could give her confirmation, Grandmaster Westbrook could. Being the leader of Amrantir’s most valued asset placed him in a high-ranking position. He had the ear of the Delegate Prime and held as much influence as a regional delegate, if not more.
What were the chances of him sharing matters of national security with her?
Zero.
But she could ask.
Chapter 9
“Come in.”
Helaine entered Grandmaster Westbrook’s office carrying a knot in the pit of her stomach, much as she had the last time she’d come. Before, it was because she’d dreaded returning to the infirmary, and the testing, questioning, and study. With this visit, however, the knot held a fear that it would all come to naught, and she’d have to resign herself to a lifetime without her gift.
The grandmaster reclined in his armchair, book in hand, as if he hadn’t moved since her last visit. But this time tension laced the air, and the lines around his eyes seemed deeper.
“Miss Vastrof,” he said, setting his book aside and rising from his seat. “Grandmaster Brightwater tells me she’s put you in charge of guiding the swarms. An important task, indeed. How are your preparations coming along?”
“I believe I’ll be ready in time. Thank you again for guiding me in that direction.”
“My duty, and a pleasure. But, something tells me you’re not here to discuss bees.”
Right to it, then.
“My extra sense is still gone, and I think it’s time to inform Doctor Corinson.”
“Ready for another round in the infirmary so soon? There is no rush. Why don’t you finish out your work with Grandmaster Brightwater first? Then, we’ll see about informing the doctor.”
“No,” said Helaine, “please.” Her violin case was heavy in her hand. She wrapped her free arm across her chest and gripped her opposite shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I need to see him. I need to see if he can fix this. Fix me. I miss it, you know. I didn’t think I would, but I do. I’m not the same without it—the music isn’t the same. It’s there, but not completely, like a puzzle with a missing piece. I think it’s wrapped up with the joy. And I know the joy is secondary, but it’s important to me.”
“The joy is never secondary.” Grandmaster Westbrook’s words were clipped, and Helaine snapped her mouth shut. He motioned to the wooden chair. She placed her case on the floor and sat obediently.
“My dear girl,” he sighed, returning to his armchair and sinking down as if an enormous weight pinned him there. “All of Amrantir—the people, the animals, things both alive and not—live in harmony, held together by a symphony of sounds and balanced on the tip of your bow.” He paused, letting his words settle. Her shoulders slumped under the pressure. “And on the lips of every horn player, and in the palms of every drummer. I do not have to tell you that your talents are something to cherish and nurture. That you, and the other future masters and grandmasters, carry the burden of maintaining and even improving that balance in the years to come. You already know this. And perhaps that’s why you believe the joy is less important.”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his
knees as if he was about to share a secret. “I know I did when I was your age.”
His wistful smile drew the corners of her mouth up to mirror his own.
“Oftentimes,” he continued, “we forget what music really is. At its core, music isn’t a commodity. It is not a tool.”
Helaine’s eyebrows shot up, and Grandmaster Westbrook chuckled. “Yes, I said it.”
The merriment in his eyes faded with a sigh, and his words once more grew serious. “We may try to quantify it, but it will always elude us in the end. Ultimately, it is not about the technique, or the precise ordering of notes. Music is a rare thing of beauty. It speaks to the soul in ways in which mere words will always fail. It can move mountains and hearts alike. Don’t lose sight of that. An ape with a mallet can pull sound from a bell. But a musician with a joyful heart has more power in them than you can imagine. Hold tightly to it. And when you feel it slipping, because there are sure to be times that you will, do everything you can to get it back.”
Even as his words swished around her mind looking for a place to settle, Helaine felt her head nodding in silent agreement. The affirmation seemed to please the grandmaster who sat back and once more made himself comfortable. “When something beautiful becomes drudgery,” he added, “it ceases to be beautiful. Without joy, what’s the point?” His thoughtful gaze rested on her.
Then, he sucked in a sudden breath, his eyebrows stretching up. “But listen to me, rambling like an old man.” He chuckled and waved a hand as if sweeping away his previous words. “You came here seeking Doctor Corinson, and I’m afraid I can’t help you. It seems his skills are required elsewhere. He has left the Conservatory for the time being, though I anticipate his return before the end of the summer.”
Helaine’s insides turned to gelatin and jiggled with each breath. She didn’t want to wait. The initial thrill of being divested of her extra sense had faded to nothing days ago. She yearned to be whole again.
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