Echo in Amethyst

by Sharon Shinn

  “I am just stunned and grateful for the chance to speak at all,” I said. “I never expected to have any conversation with any other human being for the whole of my existence.”

  “You will have more,” he promised. “I don’t know how or when, but you will.”

  “I will look forward to that.”

  “But one thing I have to know,” he said, speaking in a rush. Even I could tell that the musicians were producing a lively swirl of notes that signaled the conclusion of the piece. We were lucky it had lasted so long. “Do you have a name?”

  I stared at him. It had never occurred to me that I might need one. “No,” I said blankly.

  “I thought of one that might suit you. It just came to me.”

  “What is it?”

  Before he could answer, the musicians crashed out three final chords and abruptly stopped. There was a moment of absolute silence in the ballroom. No one could speak a word without everyone in the whole place overhearing.

  Then a few people laughed and a few applauded, and nobles murmured compliments as they offered their partners final bows and curtseys. Jordan kept his eyes on mine as he bowed over my hand and whispered, “Hope.”

  The prince had barely released me when Elyssa descended upon us, a bright smile pasted on her face to cover her mortification. “What an interesting experiment that was!” she said lightly. “I cannot decide if your echo was the worst conversationalist I have ever met or the best one. On the one hand, he didn’t offer a single observation, which made him very dull. On the other hand, he allowed me to prattle on about myself without interruption, which made him the perfect companion!”

  Jordan turned his attention to her so completely I was momentarily disoriented. He had been focused on me so intently that I had forgotten there was anything to look at but his face. “Yes, I had much the same experience with your echo,” he replied. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.”

  “I saw your echo’s lips moving, so I thought you must be speaking to mine,” Elyssa said.

  “I couldn’t seem to help myself,” he said. “She looked so much like you. And yet she was nothing like you at all.”

  “Let’s keep this a secret between us, shall we?” Elyssa said, still lightly, but I was certain she desperately wanted Jordan to agree. Everyone would think Jordan had intended some insult by choosing her echo over her, and there was no way he could counter with the truth.

  “I have no intention of telling anybody,” he replied solemnly—as much to reassure me, I thought, as Elyssa. “We have a pact.”

  Servants began circulating through the crowd, bearing trays of refreshments, so it seemed as if the dancers and musicians would be taking another break. I could use one, I thought faintly, to mull over everything that had just happened, but I didn’t think the ballroom was the place for quiet musing. I would need a long night of solitude and silence to fully absorb what it might mean to have caught Prince Jordan’s attention—perhaps to have gained him as a friend.

  Jordan flagged down a servant distributing glasses of wine, and the seven of us nearly emptied the tray. Dezmen and his two echoes approached, carrying wineglasses of their own, and the three originals engaged in a few moments of light banter. Then Jordan asked, “Are either of you hungry? They’re setting up tables of food under the balcony.”

  “I’d love something sweet,” Elyssa said.

  “That sounds good,” Dezman responded, but he seemed distracted. He nodded toward the main doorway. “I wonder if something’s wrong. The inquisitor just showed up, and the look on his face says he has bad news.”

  Jordan swiveled around to get a look. Sure enough, the unsettling man we had met in the queen’s chambers was hovering on the threshold, glancing around as if trying to locate someone. I saw Cormac already working his way over to him, cutting a dark wake through the colorful sea of dancers. Many of the other revelers had already noticed the inquisitor’s appearance and watched apprehensively as Cormac reached Malachi’s side and said something in a low voice.

  “I don’t know,” Jordan said in a grim voice. “But Malachi tends to stay invisible. If he’s come here so openly tonight— Here, take my wine.” He handed his glass to Dezmen, made a brief bow to Elyssa, and met my eyes for a fleeting moment. “I’ll go see what’s happened.”

  He strode off, his echoes moving purposefully behind him. He was only halfway across the dance floor when we saw Cormac reel back in shock and then turn to look urgently through the crowd, probably searching for his brother. A moment later, Jordan joined him at the door and heard whatever terrible news Malachi had brought. The three of them exchanged a few more sentences, then disappeared into the hallway without a word of explanation.

  “Well!” Elyssa exclaimed. “What do you suppose that was all about?”

  “I don’t know, but nothing good,” Dezmen answered, frowning.

  Most of the other dancers began to cluster in the middle of the room as

  people gathered to share surprise and speculation. Dezmen sketched a bow and went to join the others, while Elyssa looked around for her best source of information. It was already wending its way in her direction—Lord Deryk, the most inveterate gossip in the Seven Jewels.

  “What do you know?” Elyssa demanded.

  He leaned down to whisper his answer, although the only ones close enough to overhear were the echoes. “Lord Jamison has been found dead.”

  “Dead! How?”

  “Drowned. In a lake near some backwater town off the Charamon Road.”

  “What happened?”

  “No one knows yet. The inquisitor is going to organize an investigation.”

  “I can’t pretend anyone will miss Jamison, but how inconvenient that he should die just now!” Elyssa exclaimed. “Cormac can hardly go on as if nothing has happened.”

  “Perhaps he will disband his little party,” Deryk said. “Bad news for you and sweet Marguerite, still standing around hoping for royal proposals.”

  She swatted him on the arm, though she didn’t seem too offended. I often thought that she liked Deryk precisely because he said the most atrocious things—things she herself was probably already thinking. “It will be most awkward,” she said. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing we can do about it tonight.”

  “No, I very much fear the evening’s entertainment is over,” Deryk agreed.

  Sure enough, women began streaming for the doors, though some of the men remained behind to discuss the matter at greater length. Elyssa opted to leave early, since there was no point in staying, and we found Gretta waiting in our room.

  “My lady!” the maid exclaimed. “Have you heard the news?”

  “About Jamison, you mean? Yes,” said Elyssa, reaching up to pull off her earrings. “What are they saying down in the servants’ hall?”

  Gretta moved behind her to begin undoing the many buttons of the lavender gown. I sat on a divan beside the injured echo, and the second echo sank down beside me, all of us awaiting our turn to be undressed. Normally we would have taken refuge behind our screen, but I didn’t want to miss a word, and the other two echoes seemed content to follow my lead. Elyssa, surprisingly, didn’t seem to notice us at all.

  “No one knows anything yet,” Gretta said. “But the footman’s brother is one of the inquisitor’s assistants. He says he’ll know everything in a few days.”

  “Well, let me know anything you find out,” Elyssa said. “Servants always learn what’s going on in a house long before the guests do.”

  Gretta smirked at her in the mirror. “Yes, my lady, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  After that, there was almost no conversation. Elyssa was quickly in her nightclothes, and then Gretta turned to the echoes and me. She was out the door barely a half hour after we had arrived.

  The four of us lay on our beds in the darkened room, thinking our very different thoughts. Even though Elyssa had released us, I retained enough connection with her to realize that she was uncertain
and a little anxious; she moved restlessly under her covers and lay awake a long time. Something about Jamison’s death had disturbed her, though I couldn’t guess what. Maybe just the fact that his passing would change the tenor of this whole visit and definitely turn Jordan’s attention away from her.

  Like Elyssa, I had much on my mind and found it even harder to fall asleep. What a night this had been! I had spoken to another living soul—to Jordan, of all the people in the Seven Kingdoms—he had seen me and heard me and recognized me as a separate, functioning, independent human being. It was almost unfathomable. I felt as if his notice had entirely transformed me. As if, because Jordan acknowledged me, I was real in some way I had not been when I was the only one who knew I existed.

  I didn’t put much credence in his notion that other echoes might have come to consciousness before and won their way to freedom. I couldn’t imagine such a fate might lie in store for me—and, truthfully, I couldn’t bear to wish for such an outcome and then spend the next fifty years of my life chained to Elyssa’s side. It was better to accept my circumstances than to allow myself the terrible betrayal of hope.

  Hope.

  It was the last word Jordan had said to me, the name he had offered me, and now I had to decide if I would lean into that benediction. Hope.

  I couldn’t afford it. I knew that. It would leave me famished when it was snatched away from me; it would crush me under the weight of its unfulfilled expectations. Hope.

  I had never had it. I had only ever had pain and awareness and a small growing sense that what I thought and felt and did was mine and mine alone. I had only had this shadowed, guarded, silent space inside my own head that no one else, not even Elyssa, could touch.

  Could I possibly allow myself to believe that there might be a world outside that fragile garden?

  Could I possibly turn down any gift of Jordan’s making?

  I could give myself another name. I could create one for myself, put together a string of syllables that I found pleasing, as I had created my very self out of thoughts and reactions and memories. I could, in the privacy of my mind, call myself whatever I wanted.

  But if Jordan called me Hope, I knew I would answer to that name.

  I wrapped my arms around my body and hugged to myself the memory of his intent eyes, his warm hands, his insistent questions. Perhaps no one else would ever look into my face and see the person behind the deliberately blank eyes—but Jordan had seen me, once, and that was enough.

  I smothered a sigh and turned to my side, amused to note that the other two echoes turned when I did. It didn’t take much thought to realize that—however intrigued Jordan had been by our conversation tonight—in the coming days he was not going to have a minute to spare to think about a strange sentient echo and any half-promises he might have made to her. His brother had been found dead, and he and his family would be shocked and full of grief. All his attention would be taken up by this crisis; there would be none left to spare for me.

  But I had had an evening. I had had one conversation. One dance. I thought those things would last me a lifetime.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The mood in the breakfast room the next day was a strange mix of excitement, uncertainty, and gloom as everyone continued to discuss the news of the previous night.

  “I simply do not know what to do,” said one of the noblewomen with a heavy sigh. “It seems callous to pack up and go home, but it seems intolerable to stay here and expect to be entertained.”

  “I think we must all stay a few days, showing faces of earnest concern, and then graciously excuse ourselves,” said a lord named Nigel. “At the very least, we must stay long enough to offer our condolences directly to the king and his sons—which means we must wait until our hosts make an appearance again.”

  “In the meantime,” said one of the Banchura women, “I suppose we must find ways to amuse ourselves.”

  “Well, it’s a big city,” Elyssa drawled. “Surely there must be things we can do.”

  Indeed, about half of the visiting nobles arranged to go on a shopping expedition later in the day, but from what I could tell, no one bought anything and no one enjoyed the outing. Dinner was subdued, and most of the guests disbanded as soon as it was over. Gretta, whom we found awaiting us in Elyssa’s room, was the most animated person we’d encountered all day.

  “There’s been news,” she said self-importantly as she began undressing Elyssa.

  “I can’t wait to hear it.”

  “The footman says his brother says that the inquisitor says the bastard prince was murdered.”

  Elyssa was so astonished that she jerked around to stare at Gretta, causing the maid to murmur that she’d almost ripped out a button. “Murdered! Why would he think that?”

  Gretta was wide-eyed. “I don’t know, but he heard Malachi say it.”

  Elyssa slowly faced forward again and Gretta continued her work. “Well, plenty of people disliked Jamison,” Elyssa said thoughtfully. “Half the brothers and fathers in the Seven Jewels probably would have liked to drown him! But I wonder—” She fell silent.

  Gretta lifted the gown over her head. “Wonder what, my lady?”

  “Nothing. Never mind. Let’s just finish up here and then—I want you to lay out a simple morning dress for me to wear tomorrow. I have an errand I need to run.”

  Gretta’s face was alive with curiosity. Elyssa never ran errands. Never did anything that wasn’t either pleasurable or guaranteed to bring her some kind of personal return. “Yes, my lady,” she said. “Shall I come with you?”

  “Oh, no. This is something I need to do by myself.”

  The following morning, Elyssa, the uninjured echo, and I were all downstairs and crossing the wide, polished floor of the foyer before any of the other nobles appeared to be stirring. The vigilant housekeeper, Lourdes, intercepted us at the front door and offered to send a footman with us. Elyssa merely said, “I know my way,” and brushed past her without a backward look.

  She moved at a brisk pace through the city, clearly focused on heading directly to her destination, but I glanced around eagerly, trying to take in the sights. I was impressed by the tall buildings, the wide streets, the orderly traffic, and the jumbled clatter of horses, humans, and carriages. The day was warm but the air was not oppressively humid, making the energetic walk more enjoyable than it might be at a later hour.

  Not until we arrived at our destination did I have any clue where Elyssa was headed. But as we approached a huge, open gate set at the entrance to an extensive parkland, I suddenly remembered the conversation Elyssa had had with the mysterious Marco a few days ago. Marco had told Elyssa to meet him at the botanical garden if she ever needed to get in touch. She had agreed without much enthusiasm—but I could only assume that the death of the bastard prince had made her eager to learn whatever Marco knew.

  She paid a fee at the gate and we were all admitted onto the lush property. I admired the well-tended flower beds, the sculpted bushes, the trees of every height and shape, but Elyssa didn’t seem interested in our surroundings. She continued at the same rapid pace until we reached what I had to think was the center of the garden, where a pretty reflecting pool was watched over by a larger-than-life bronze statue. The figure wore a crown and flowing metal robes, so I assumed he was some past king of the Seven Jewels.

  A pair of lovers stood at one end of the pool, murmuring secrets in each other’s ears, but no one else was around. Elyssa frowned and glanced down nearby paths, but they were also empty. With a small sound of annoyance, she made her way to a convenient bench and flounced down on one end. The echo and I perched on the other end, settling in for a wait.

  We might have been sitting there only ten minutes, watching the lovers kiss and the early-morning risers hike along the paths, before we spotted a figure hurrying in our direction. Elyssa straightened up as she recognized Marco, and a few moments later he dropped down on the seat beside her.

  “I have been here every day thi
s week, hoping you might come looking for me,” he said. “But you only show up when you think I might have news. You don’t care about me, you only care about what I might know.”

  “Of course I care about you,” she said sharply. “But I must be careful about meeting strange men in public venues.”

  “Then you must be desperate if you’ve sought me out now.”

  “I came to learn what you know about the drowning of the bastard prince,” she said. “None of the royal family members have bothered to share information. But the rumor is that the inquisitor thinks Jamison has been murdered.”

  Marco nodded. “I have heard the same rumors.”

  “How could anyone tell such a thing from a dead body?”

  “They found him in a lake, stripped of his outer clothing and weighted with rocks and branches,” Marco said. “If he had fallen in accidentally, surely he would have been dressed. And he wouldn’t have had heavy objects stuffed down his underthings.”

  Elyssa drew a quick breath. “No. I see that. Do they have any idea who might have wanted to kill him?”

  “Anyone who ever met him?” Marco asked in a sardonic voice.

  She met his gaze steadily. “Did that include you?”

  He loosed a crack of laughter. “Oho! That’s the real reason you’re here this morning, is it? You want to see if I’m tangled up in this mess.”

  “Well, you’re the one who’s been threatening to assassinate a prince,” she fired back.

  “Not this one,” Marco said. “Not such an insignificant target as the bastard who has three legitimate heirs between him and the throne.”

  “So you were not involved in his death,” she said evenly.

  His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his expression, but there was a sneer in his voice. “If you really think I killed Jamison, you have boundless courage in meeting me here.”