The Armor of Light

by Karen E. Hoover

  Jayden glared at Jihong, hatred filling his eyes like a black cloud. It worried Kayla. He was too young to hate so much, but the boy nodded, went around to the front. and evidently clambered up to the driver’s seat, for the boxcar began to move once again until it circled and stopped in a field just outside of the village.

  Graylin jumped down from the side of the driver’s seat and approached Kayla with a tin cup in hand. The boy, Jayden jumped down and ran into the village almost before the wagon came to stop. He still looked angry from his earlier reprimand and she doubted she’d be seeing much of him during this stop.

  When Graylin reached her, he spoke. “And now the fun begins,” he said. “Are you ready?” He took a swallow from the cup, what looked like plain water, then set it down on a stump and pulled out a multitude of instruments from compartments beneath the wagon. A guitar, a lap harp, a pennywhistle, and many more. “You never know what you’re going to need,” he explained when he saw her eyeballing the instruments. “It’s all about feeling the crowd’s energy and knowing what their soul desires. I’m sure you know what I mean.”

  Kayla’s heart pounded, but not with fear. Actually, she found herself rather excited to perform again. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it until that moment. She nodded her head in answer to his question, and he grinned at her.

  As Graylin pulled out the instruments, Hadril and Jihong were busy pushing the side of the wagon out and locking it into place with sticks so that it formed a canopy. The countertop that was their workspace under normal circumstances became a sales counter for the apothecary. It was a rather ingenious arrangement, actually. Everything seemed to have a dual purpose.

  Once he had everything he seemed to need, Graylin handed Kayla a couple of instruments and moved away from the boxcar. He used a tree stump to prop up his larger instruments and laid the smaller ones upon its surface, then turned to Kayla. “Now, this is the way it’s going to go. We’re going to set up magelights to draw the people once it gets on toward dark. They already know we’re here, I’m sure, and will be coming soon to make their purchases from Hadril. They will also be bringing things for repair, which means I’ve got to leave my instruments and do some business. Can I trust you to watch them until I return?” he asked.

  Kayla was almost indignant in her response. “But of course you can. What kind of person do you think I am? I know the value of an instrument, and I am not speaking only of monetary value.”

  Graylin put his hand on her shoulder and met her eye. “I know you are not, and your answer was as I had hoped and believed. I shall make business as quick as possible. In the meantime, feel free to play the instruments, if you so desire. Or warm up on your own. Anything we can do to draw people to us or announce our presence will mean more earnings for all of us.” He patted her shoulder once more, then took off for the boxcar at a jog. It looked like two sets of steps had been set up before the counter, one on each end of the boxcar. Kayla assumed one was for the apothecary and one for the tinker.

  Kayla’s belly grumbled, as per usual. It seemed she was always hungry, despite how thin she stayed. She had often wondered if her father’s evahn metabolism made her burn her food as quickly as she ate it. She could think of no other explanation. But as she always did, she ignored the grumbling stomach and distracted herself. She picked up the smallest flute. It was transverse, like her own, but was about a third of the size. She put it to her lips and blew. A deafening squawk came from it. She pulled back, startled, then, determined to master the thing if it killed her, she tightened the positioning of her lips and tried again. This time, a very high-pitched sound came out, something akin to her flute, but high enough and loud enough to make the dogs of the village start to howl.

  Grinning, and feeling like she was getting the hang of it, she began to play the opening notes to Darthmoor’s Honor, then transitioned into something of her own, her fingers moving faster and faster across the keys, and within just a few minutes, she was almost as comfortable with the miniature flute as she was her own. People began to gather. One or two children at first, dashing across the field as fast as their short legs would carry them, and then they stood and gawked as if she were some strange animal on display.

  For some reason, it tickled her, and so she danced among them, weaving in and out of the people as the crowd increased, and they began to laugh and relax with her vibrant tunes. Breathless, she finished off her playing with the highest note she could hit, then twittered down to the lowest, then pulled the small flute from her lips with a flourish. The people laughed and clapped so hard, she was afraid they would hurt themselves.

  “Thank you. Thank you,” she said over and again. They just wouldn’t stop clapping. She made a motion with her hands, hoping it would make them stop. It had the effect she wished for, but then they stood there staring at her as if expecting her to play again. Surprised and tired, she put the small flute back where Graylin had left it and pulled out her own silver flute. She played something slow this time, giving herself a chance to catch her breath, and she was amazed when just seconds into her song, a voice joined in, giving words to the emotion she tried to play. Without looking, she knew Graylin had come to join her.

  The song he sang was not the song she played, but it melded and fused with her tones so perfectly, it was as if the writers of the different pieces had meant for them to go together. It was amazing, and Kayla herself was lost in his voice, though she continued to play. How she wished she could sing like that. She could sing—all evahn could—but not like Graylin. His voice was angelic—as if the Guardians had come and put the gift of sound into his voice box. Together they ran through several more verses, he coming to join her, then walking amongst the people as he sang, his hands as full of expression as his voice. He was such a fascinating man. Why did he travel with an apothecary? Was Hadril his only family? And then he stopped singing and nodded to her. The song was done. She finished up the melody she had started, her final note fading away into nothing. The crowd was silent and still after this performance, as if applause would degrade the music they had just made. Instead, they bowed their heads to the performers and whispered something Kayla could not understand, but evidently Graylin did, for he bowed and whispered to them in return. Kayla curseyed, not knowing what to say. Graylin nodded his approval, then walked slowly to her. “Why don’t you let me take it from here for a while? I’d like to use you again, if you don’t mind, but I’d especially like for you to play the blue flute as a final number. Are you willing?”

  She almost said no, but strangely found herself nodding at his request. As she walked back toward the boxcar and Graylin began singing again, accompanying himself with one of the guitars, she wondered what in the world she was thinking. The Sapphire Flute was nothing to be toyed with. It was not created for entertainment. It was created with a purpose in mind. It had power—dangerous power. But something inside told her it was okay—the village needed to hear its voice, even if it wasn’t to battle evil or heal anyone individually. They, as a group, were in need of the light of the flute—and so she said yes.

  When she got to the boxcar, she went around and sat on the tailgate, still thinking on the Sapphire Flute, but the voices of Hadril and Jihong quickly distracted her. They were like the barkers in Darthmoor’s shopping district, selling their wares. Who would have thought a prince of the royal sea court could be such a convincing salesman? She shook her head.

  Brant chose that moment to sit down beside her and take her hand. She was irritated for a moment. Hadn’t he held her hand long enough on the trip here? But then she chastised herself. He was her fiancé, her love, and best friend. If he wanted to hold her hand, he had a right.

  “The show is about to begin. I heard you playing out there. You were magificent,” he said, all in a rush.

  Kayla pulled back and looked at him, her head cocked. “Brant Domanta, are you nervous?” she asked, feeling the sweat of his palms. He wasn’t holding her hand out of love, but instead, for c
omfort. She saw him redden under her gaze and he stammered a denial. She grinned. “You are! You’re nervous!”

  He reddened even further, then hung his head, looking up at her through his lashes. “You always did know me too well. Yes, I’m nervous. T’Kato is big and strong and he’s been trained with weapons since he could stand. I will be like a fly under a hammer to him. I’m not just afraid of getting hurt—I’m afraid he’s going to bash my head in!”

  She was kind enough not to laugh in his face, but instead took both his hands and looked at him square on. “Love, T’Kato is one of the most gentle men I’ve ever known. Yes, he knows how to handle himself, and yes he’s big and scary and strong, but he would never hurt you. He knows that if he did, I would have to kill him.” She was only half joking, but it had the effect she wanted and Brant grinned. “Now, go out there and put on a great show. You’re going to be fine. I promise,” she said, praying to whatever gods or Guardians were up there that she was telling the truth.

  She needn’t have worried. T’Kato was practiced enough to make it look as if Brant were a challenging opponent, though she knew he truly was not. It was all for play. They sparred back and forth, first with swords, then with axes and daggers, and then with long poles. T’Kato even let Brant snake in a hit or two that she knew would never have bothered the man, but it was kind of him to let Brant seem the better in their battle. It also did a lot to hide T’Kato’s true strength and power if they were attacked. A very smart move on his part.

  After the battle show, there was a lull in the entertainment while the people went back to purchasing things from the apothecary or bringing their broken items to the tinker. Kayla walked around the group playing softly, a little nudge in her playing to send people scampering home for those items they’d forgotten were in need of repair. It was a small thing she figured would help both the tinker and the villagers.

  After about half an hour, Niefusu and Jihong came out to the center of the clearing, riding on the backs of their water horses. As soon as the people saw them, they began to murmur, and Kayla heard more than one gasp of appreciation. The two just sat there, their backs straight, as if they were living statues for a minute or so. It seemed like forever, and then, as if they had timed everything perfectly, they began to move at the same time. They rode past each other in a straight line, then turned quickly so they both rode in a clockwise circle, the water horses picking up speed as they rode equally opposite one another. When the transparent animals had reached a speed that seemed impossible, they turned and raced toward one another. The princes leaped to the bare backs of the animals, balancing with one foot on the mount’s shoulder and another on its rump. It looked as if the horses were about to collide. The tension in the air was nearly palpable, and then at the last second, the brothers jumped from the backs of their animals, met in mid air and took hold of each other’s shoulders, then shoved away, landing on each other’s mounts, backwards, still standing as they had been before.

  The tricks increased as the night wore on, and in a final act, the brothers raced toward one another and leaped, transforming into their MerCat forms at the last second and landing on the ground. They spun and stalked toward each other like mountain lions, stopping mere inches apart. A woman screamed, and just before they reached one another, they transformed into their human shapes again and embraced, laughing, then turned and bowed to the crowd.

  The villagers, awed by the show, applauded and laughed as the tension diffused, and the princes walked away from the circle, their water horses following them without any bridle.

  And then it was time to finish up, with music once again. Graylin met Kayla in the middle, the magelights having gone into the air long before, casting a blue glow over the scene.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his voice somehow carrying to the far reaches of the crowd, “We would like to give you three final numbers before we bid you good night. Mistress Kalandra has agreed to accompany me on the first two numbers, and will finish with a special number for all of you,” he said, calling her by the name they had agreed upon. It wouldn’t do to call her Kayla when they were in disguise, though what she was about to do with The Sapphire Flute may just give her away after all they had done.

  “Can you sing?” he asked beneath his breath while leaning close to her.

  Surprised, she wasn’t sure how to answer. “Well, yes, but not like you,” she said.

  “It doesn’t matter. Do you know Still She Be?”

  Kayla had first heard that song at Brant’s home, sitting upon the landing when they should have long been in bed, and she had loved it ever since. She nodded. Graylin moved to the center of the circle, his head hanging. Stillness gathered around him as he sang the first note, a wordless note that grew in a minor key. He sang the first verse then, telling of a woman he loved, a woman he longed for while he was off to war.

  Kayla’s palms began to sweat as she waited for the second verse, her cue to take over. She had no problem playing the flute in public, but this was her first public vocal performance and she wasn’t sure how it would be. But then it was time to begin, and she no longer had time to think. Instead, to overcome the nervousness, she put herself in the shoes of that woman waiting for her man to come home, not knowing if he would return dead or alive. She put the longing and heartache she would feel into the song, just as she would have with her flute, and then the third verse came and she and Graylin blended together in harmony so sweet, she could barely stand it. It nearly overpowered her with emotion, performing with this man. He was too good for her, and she finally understood how Brant felt when she asked him to play his flute with her. She felt so completely inadequate, and yet so thrilled to share in Graylin’s gift. And before she knew it, the song was done.

  The people responded as they had before. Not with applause, but with tears, bowed heads, and murmurs. It seemed a sign of the utmost respect, and Kayla found that she preferred it to raucous applause.

  With hardly a pause, Graylin picked up the lap harp and strummed a note that immediately let Kayla know what he wished to play. There was only one song that began with that chord. It was another quiet number, one usually sung to children before bedtime. One Kayla’s own mother had sung to her. Emboldened by her moment of singing with Graylin, she kept her flute in her bag and sang again, this time carrying the melody while he hummed a harmony and played counterpoint on his harp. It was beautiful. Haunting. Everything music could and should be, and long before she wanted it to end, it was done and Graylin gave her the floor, gathering his instruments around him so he could sit on the stump.

  Kayla pulled the case for the Sapphire Flute from her bag and set everything but the instrument itself on the ground. The villagers gasped at the glowing instrument. For a panicked second, she wasn’t sure what to play, but then she realized that so often, it was that way. She didn’t know what would come from the instrument until she placed it to her lips and created sound. All she knew was this village was in need of something, and all she could really do was give breath to the instrument and let it lead her into what it needed to play.

  With that thought deep in her heart, she closed her eyes, brought the instrument to her lips, and blew. It was soft, just as her performance for the people of Darthmoor and King Rojan had been. Merely a breath of sound that grew to something more and pulsed with a life of its own. She put her thoughts on the villagers and her heart into the flute and the instrument took over. She didn’t know how she played it, but the song was simple and incredibly complex at the same time. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to play it again, but the images that came to her mind as she played were those of earth and water, love made, and heartache healed. It was of corn grown tall and strong, and strength in the villagers—strength of heart, strength of body, and strength of mind.

  It seemed the villagers had lost hope with the drought and the loss of their crops. Kayla was leaving a blessing from the Guardians with this village. She could feel it flowing through her, and i
f anything had made her know that the Guardians were real, it was that moment, as they poured their love and healing through her and the flute. She suspected she glowed with the power of the instrument once again. She could feel her hair flowing around her, though not a breeze stirred. She wished she could see it, because if she looked anything like how she felt, it had to be beautiful.

  Eventually the song was done and it faded as it had begun, with barely a breath of sound. It reminded her so much of that moment in Darthmoor, but this time, there was no sound when she finished. No collective sigh or breath. Nothing, but the occasional sob of a villager. When she opened her eyes, they were all on their knees, and not a single dry eye could be found. Even Graylin had tears streaming down his cheeks.

  It was he who finally moved. He stood, propping his guitars on the stump once again, and came to her. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, then took her shoulders in his hands and kissed her gently on each cheek, whispering a single phrase as he neared her ear. “Thank you.”

  His action began a cascade of reactions from the villagers, who came to her and did the same. They embraced her, kissed each cheek, and gave her their thanks, sometimes still sobbing. Kayla hadn’t realized how many people were in the village. She lost count quickly and was overwhelmed by their response. She wasn’t used to being touched or appreciated or thanked.

  Near the end, a large man approached her, tears still flowing down his cheeks as he repeated the same gesture, but his thanks were a bit different than the others. “Thank you,” he said, and then added, “Please, Mistress Kalandra, may I provide you a place to stay and food to eat at my inn? It is a small service to repay what you have given us.”

  Kayla’s stomach growled again at the mention of food. It had been a long night and she’d forgotten how hungry she was. Without even consulting the others, she accepted. “Thank you, sir. I don’t have much to offer but some entertainment, but I would welcome a bed and some food.”