by Ros Baxter
“Well, the problem was I didn’t see them searching for Imogen, not at all. I kept going to Kraken to find out what they were doing, and he was getting more and more vague. I had thought mind-altering would leave the way clear for them to look, and maybe to ask people without them being on guard, but nothing seemed to be happening. He was hiding something.”
“So you went to the land? To search yourself?” Not such a hard deduction.
“Yes, after I found out that Carragheen had been to see Cleedaline. I wondered if he had been able to learn anything from her. I wanted to see what I could find out myself.”
I was confused. “But how did you know Carragheen went?”
Zorax shot a quick look at Carragheen and then frowned a quick frown of realization, and sadness. “One of your father’s aides told me, Carragheen,” he said quietly. “He was a seeker as well. I don’t know how he knew. He heard me beg The Triad to do more to find her, and he took pity, told me you, Carragheen, had been to see Cleedaline. That maybe you had discovered something. Even told me where she was living.”
Carragheen was silent, and I watched his face as he put the pieces together. His father’s people knew that he had told Cleedaline about Imogen’s disappearance. They knew where she lived. And then she had died. There was no point asking how. How they had known Carragheen had gone to her. Or how they had known where Cleedaline was placed, when no-one was supposed to know. Kraken was the High Priest. Everything was his to know.
“But why, Zorax?” I was still confused. “Why did you keep chasing Imogen? Why not leave it to the Council? What was it to you?”
At this, all of Zorax’s tenuous hold on his composure crumbled.
He was sobbing, great silent sobs, like an infant at the apex of a howl. My mother was standing silently, supporting him, patting his shoulders as though he was a child.
“He loves her,” she supplied for him. “They are lovers.”
“No.” I knew this wasn’t true. I’d been to Cleedaline’s apartment. I knew Cleedaline and Imogen had something special. Anyway, it was horrid. This old man, with the beautiful Imogen. And she was his student. It wasn’t right. Surely there was some code against it.
Zorax had recovered sufficiently to argue with me. “It is true,” he insisted. “We have been lovers for a year. I don’t know why she chose me. I know I’m old, and not beautiful. And I know it was not the right thing, me being The Choirmaster. But she loved me. Loves me. We love each other. There was nothing either of us could do. She does love me, you know. Just before she disappeared, she gave me this.”
He opened his palm and revealed the silver locket.
“After she disappeared, I kept it always with me. I even found a way to take it through the hydroport, using a special song. Don’t you see, I loved her so much…”
I watched him try to convince us, but he didn’t need to.
“Her voice is so beautiful, like an angel. She is the best in the whole choir, you know, the best of all those beautiful voices. The only one who even comes close is Lecanora.”
“Anyway,” I reminded him. “This is hardly the time for a who’s who of the choir. What about Cleedaline? I thought she and Imogen—”
Zorax interrupted me, shaking his head. “That’s what everyone thought. Because of the secrecy between me and Imogen, I guess, and because they were so close. And also…”
He paused, trying to find the right words.
“Because Cleedaline loved Imogen,” I supplied for him. “The way you do.”
My heart broke cleanly for Cleedaline as I said it. I saw her beautiful apartment, a shrine to the love she could not have, her life-long friend.
“Yes,” he breathed gratefully. “Yes, Rania. Imogen felt so guilty, she worried that was why Cleedaline had taken the year on the land. Because of us. And now… now she’s gone.”
Finished with his tale, Zorax broke down, leaning against Mom and sobbing quietly.
I looked over at Carragheen, and tried to imagine how Zorax felt. I could see how he was hurting, afraid for his lost Imogen. I imagined if Carragheen and I were lovers, how frantic, how delirious I would be. Whether it would twist my judgement the way it twisted Zorax’s, when he helped Kraken and deceived a nation. I hoped not, but who could be sure?
Looking at Carragheen, I could tell he did not feel as I did, sad and sorry for Zorax.
His face was hard and closed, those full lips a tight slash in his jaw.
Maybe it was the involvement of his father, another thread in a tangled web.
I was trying to think it all through, wondering whether the thing, the sound weapon that they were using, was some application, some extension of the effect that Zorax had discovered, the effect he used with the choir, and then on me.
“Did anyone else know? About the effect?”
He scratched his chin slowly. “No. Although one night I did see Kraken arguing with Epaste. It was in the beginning, when I was telling him about my experiments. Before Imogen disappeared. Kraken told me later that Epaste had been checking on him. And that he disapproved.”
Epaste the Pious, again.
“Zorax,” I said. “We need to go and find them, the girls. We think they’re alive, but hurting. You need to tell us what you know, what you can do. If there is any way at all, you need to help us.”
Carragheen looked mutinous, but I saw realization dawning slowly across his features. Maybe Zorax had something we could use, as we went out there to face down this thing.
“What do you mean?” Zorax looked eager to help, now his tale was out, but unsure as to how he could.
“I don’t know,” I offered unhelpfully. Then I thought for a moment. “There is something, some kind of weapon, that uses sound to cripple and to kill. They have it, and they will use it against us if we try to find the girls.”
Zorax looked even paler at this news.
“It’s what they used to kill Cleedaline. So you owe it to her, Zorax, to think carefully about what you know that might be able to help us.” I wasn’t above using guilt to achieve my ends. “They’ve used it on me, several times now, but one time, the worst, my Mom did something that helped.”
I encouraged my mother with my eyes, and she tried to tell Zorax, as best she could, about what she did that night with the singing, about how she saved me.
He listened intently.
“I don’t know about any weapon,” Zorax pleaded. “I swear I do not. But what you’re talking about, what your mother did, the protection spell. I think I might understand a little.”
“Teach us then,” I commanded him. “You have exactly ten minutes before I’m leaving here to go and get these girls, whether I have any defenses or not.”
Zorax made full use of his ten minutes.
I could tell he was desperate to help, and not just because of the dark, murderous looks he was being treated to by Carragheen.
He had to make this good. For Imogen. And for his own conscience.
Sweet mother, what would Imogen make of him when she found out what he had done?
A foolish old man, blinded by flattery, playing mind games on the citizens she loved.
“I fear it all leads back to Kraken. I am sorry, Carragheen,” he said, nodding towards him. “But something about your father, it terrifies me. If he was involved in Imogen’s disappearance, then I do not know what will have happened to her.” He beseeched Carragheen with his eyes. “I know most people find Epaste the most menacing of the Triad, but I do not. I just…” This time he entreated me. “I do not trust Kraken. He is like a… beautiful sea snake.”
It was why Zorax had told Kraken about his discovery. The Priest had come to the Eye of the Goddess for their annual planning session, preparing for evensong, and Zorax had filled the empty spaces between Kraken’s cool assessments with chatter. Chatter that had ended in Zorax telling him what he had learned.
So Zorax talked, about the connections between song and action.
He was the Choirmaster. He ha
d spent a lifetime studying sound in pursuit of beauty, and a higher truth, and worship of life. So he could talk about the subject forever if it was required. It was his life’s work, and his sole passion. Or it had been. Until Imogen.
So he talked.
He talked about how some things were already known, the physical possibilities of sound, of song. How it could be used to shatter glass on the land, for example, or transmit messages hundred of miles through water. How it could beach the hugest of whales and enable the tiniest of fish to find each other across the vast expanse of the sea. And he talked about how he had come to realize, through careful study, that sound, properly constructed, carefully arranged, could shape minds. Lead to forgetting, perhaps even bend wills.
His experiments had been basic, until the evensong episode.
As he spoke, trying to explain what he knew, I watched Zorax watching us, Carragheen and me. I could almost smell him becoming more and more distracted as he tried to tell his tale.
Eventually, I’d had enough. “What is it?” I was hissing with frustration.
“Rania,” Zorax whispered, his chubby little face drawn and suddenly very old. “Carragheen. I am so sorry. That I tried to turn you against each other.”
Really? This? Now? Save it, Zorax. You’ve got bigger transgressions than that to apologize for, once all this is over. I waved a hand at him in silent dismissal.
But Zorax was not to be deterred. “I see it, the way you consider each other, the fire that burns for the other. There is much that lies between you. I see that, but it is still there. A light you hold, purely for each other. It is rare, especially down here in the frigid oceans.”
Silver tears streaked from his eyes. “If only Ran will grant a reprieve and save my Imogen, I will dedicate my life to her, and to using what I have learned to help us all.”
Carragheen was unmoved. “Thanks for the pep talk, Zorax. And the resolutions. But back to business. This sound weapon, could it be the culmination of your experimentation?”
Zorax shook his head, but less in denial than disagreement. His rich voice was thin and reedy. “You think my discovery was the reason Imogen was taken? And the Princess? I have known and coached her since childhood. I could not bear it.”
Carragheen lost hold of the thin thread that had anchored him to civility. He reached out and circled one large hand around Zorax’s throat. “I do not care less what you cannot bear,” he spat. I watched Zorax turn red under Carragheen’s hand, and I touched Carragheen lightly on the forearm. He tensed under my touch, but loosened his grip a little. “Just tell us what you know.”
“I believe the moment when Lunia saved you, Rania, she uttered exactly the correct collection of sounds, at precisely the right pitch, to cast a spell of protection over you, to counter the sound that was threatening to destroy you.”
He explained quickly that the word spell was merely shorthand, that it was simple physics really. One sound blocking another, stifling it. But what was not simple was how Mom could have known the correct arrangement to utter. Therein, Zorax insisted, lay the magic. He talked about how he believed that a perfect collection of sounds, a song, could achieve anything. After all, it was the basis of hydroporting.
Zorax believed it was essentially possible that it could move matter, shape new worlds.
It was simply a matter of finding the right patterns.
I needed more. “How can we find them? The right notes? If we find the girls tonight, if we get blasted with that thing, what do we sing?”
Zorax shrugged, and seemed genuinely remorseful that he could not provide the answers we sought. “I do not know, Rania. For me, evensong was the product of a long, careful series of experiments. You do not have the liberty of that time.” He considered Carragheen’s still-furious countenance and rushed on. “There is something, I don’t know if I’m right. The fact that your mother was able to find the right pattern at the right moment, it makes me think…”
“What?” Carragheen’s tone was sharp, insistent.
“It makes me think that if the right person, or perhaps people, sing from their heart at the right moment, with the right emotions, they may produce the correct pattern.”
“That’s a lot of mights.” Carragheen sounded far from impressed. “Too many, to my way of thinking.”
“I’m sorry.” Zorax held up his open hands. “It’s all I have to offer you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sighs and Songs
Carragheen’s Pool
Mom, Carragheen and I formed a group.
Mom was utterly focused on the search, so I didn’t even contemplate discussing Kraken with her, even though there was now more to discuss. I mean, bad enough that Mom never told me she used to have a hot and heavy affair with the High Priest of Aegira. Then there was the nuts stuff he’d been spouting back at the meeting.
And the new information from Zorax.
Had Kraken always been a little psycho? Is that why she ended it? Or maybe he ended it ’cause she wasn’t nuts enough for him? And what the hell was the Queen going to do about him? I mean, it was pretty clear (to me at least) what he’d meant back there at the meeting. Whether he was responsible for Imogen’s disappearance or not, he obviously had some whole other evil agenda going on. An Armageddon for the land-dwellers.
Someone needed to rein the nutjob in, and, after what Carragheen told me about poor Leisen, I’d happily be just the someone to do it.
But I needed to know what Mom knew first.
Our group was allocated the southern quadrant of the city. We were to search it in rata, ever-widening swimming circles used for foraging and ceremonial parades. I didn’t tell anyone at the meeting about the cave. But I knew exactly where I was going, as soon as I could shake the others. I wasn’t having any hangers-on this time. Our small party split up, and I used the opportunity to disappear, kicking back the way we came and heading for the cave. But before I even begin to lengthen my strokes, Carragheen was at my side.
I know where you’re going. He was swimming with my rhythm. Let me help.
Yeah, you were so useful last time. I spat the words into his brain like barbs.
Something about the look on his face made me wonder. Had he seen something? Something new? Something I should know about? With that other kind of sight that I now knew he had. I needed to know, even more than I needed to hurt him. Do you think she’s alive?
He didn’t skip a beat. I don’t think it, I know it.
Don’t offer me empty comforts, Carragheen.
Rania, I am not. I know she is alive. I can feel it.
I suddenly realized from the serious expression on his face that Carragheen was talking about that whole other kind of knowing. And I seized his hand. You have seen her? In visions?
No, not quite. No. But sometimes I… feel things. Sense them. Since the visions started. It’s like they, the visions, have… turned me on somehow.
I thought again about Mom’s words. Evolution. Another awakening.
He stopped and turned to me. This has happened to you too?
I nodded, and he asked the next logical question. So, have you felt her out there too?
I felt myself flush. No.
The flush spread. Why would Carragheen have knowledge of Lecanora, my Lecanora, and not me? I thought about Mom, how I had last seen her, moments ago. I wondered if how I felt about the Princess was the problem. I knew when I worried about Mom I could hardly see straight. I certainly can’t be logical, or careful. I wondered if this was the same.
Carragheen read my thoughts. I wonder if we should try together.
I still wanted to kick him, still didn’t know if I could trust him, but I wasn’t exactly knee-deep in other people having visions right now and the idea made sense. I remembered that my mother was able to protect me with her song, when she was so afraid for me, and so focused.
Maybe together, with this thing we both had, Carragheen and I could locate Lecanora.
I nodded, and Carrag
heen led me down and over to a resting place between some homes. He sat close to me, and I was reminded momentarily of the action on the sofa the night before. But this time the vibe was very different. I got down to business. How do we do this?
I have no idea. But he smiled at me encouragingly and picked up my hands. Think about her, think on her. But not about this, your fears for her. Just... the fact of her. Do you think you can do that?
I nodded meekly, taking his hands in mine. He squeezed them, and I tried.
It was strange, but it was like I could feel Carragheen’s very mind inside mine as I looked for her. Like his mind was watching mine, joined to me somehow. Suddenly he tensed.
“I’m feeling her,” he said.
I tried not to feel like I was in an episode of Ghost Whisperer.
I concentrated harder, freeing my mind of all that was not Lecanora. Focusing on the energy of the man beside me. Feeling like a kick to my stomach his strength and the power of his mind. And imagining Lecanora’s mind too, out there somewhere, waiting to be found.
Like a lightning bolt inside my head, it happened. I felt her too.
“I have her,” I breathed.
Oh sweet mother of us all, I did have her, and she was crying.
She was crying out for me.
But not with her voice. No. She was crying out in some private place in her brain. Or maybe not crying. She was… what was she doing? Oh no. She was hoping. Hoping I would come for her. And she was not alone. She was with Imogen.
Lecanora was trying to tell me something, but her brain was weak and feverish. I could see muddy pictures. She was looking for something when she was taken. Ah, I saw it now. She was searching for some lighsa weed, on the south-western ridges, to take to her mother. To aid her journey back to strength, and vigor.
I concentrated harder, trying to look right into the deepest places of her brain.
Singing. She was talking about singing. She was telling me that I must sing, that somehow this was the answer. I must sing to find her, and sing to save them both. What could she mean?
I felt Carragheen stiffen beside me.
“Oh no,” he groaned. “It’s her. Lecanora’s the second one. This is what I saw. Exactly as I saw it. I had it the wrong way around. Imogen was the first. Lecanora is the second.”