Side A – Yasgrid
Naosha seemed to be in no hurry to explain how she’d murdered someone. In anyone else Yasgrid would have taken that as a reflection of regrets lingering on years or decades after the fact, but if Naosha found the matter anything more that distasteful her demeanor didn’t reflect it.
“How did Elshira die?” Yasgrid asked, not entirely certain that the matter was truly as painless as Naosha made it appear to be.
“Poorly,” Naosha said. “It would do well for me to provide the proper context however.”
“Yes. If we’re going to stop her, we’ll need to understand as much about who she was and who she is now as we can,” Kayelle said.
Yasgrid had to admit that she was as eager to understand who Naosha had been as she was to gain a clearer picture of the history that had crafted Elshira into who she had become.
“Elshira’s story starts in the hearthome of the Lightbowers,” Naosha said. “They are a renowned clan and have produced some of the finest artisans the Darkwood has seen. They have also produced some of the most dire Troubles, though this fact is not widely understood.”
“Is that something the Fate Dancers track?” Yasgrid asked.
“Among others, yes,” Naosha said. “The source of the Troubles is not especially difficult to discern either. For all their renown, the Lightbowers, both the high and the low families in the clan, do not foster the most nurturing of environments in their creches.”
“The high families seek to retain only those who meet their rather exacting standards,” Kayelle said. “I lost a dear friend after she failed their coming-of-age tests.”
“They killed her?” Yasgrid asked, the idea seeming both appalling and plausible from a clan that generated dire Troubles.
“No. They demoted her,” Kayelle said. “After Entissa’s failures, she was sent away to live with relatives who ‘could provide the refinement she was so desperately in need of’.”
The contempt in Kayelle’s voice wasn’t surprising, but it was muted as though her mother’s presence lent her a measure of dispassion she might otherwise have foregone.
“I gather that Elshira did not fail those tests,” Yasgrid said.
“She excelled at them in fact,” Naosha said. “Though she paid for her success as much as she would have paid for failure. To be elevated among the Lightbowers is to be as removed from ties of familial caring and warmth as definitively as demotion is.”
“That does not sound like an environment that’s conducive to producing a particularly balanced Bearer,” Yasgrid said.
“It did not,” Naosha said. “By the time Elshira and I were introduced, she had already lost touch with her compassion and humility, but she wasn’t then the monster that she later became.”
“That must have come after she was chosen as Endings’ Bearer?” Yasgrid asked. “Did the responsibility or pressure corrupt her? Or did she fail to complete her vow?”
“Neither. I don’t believe her flaws precluded her from being selected,” Naosha said. “I believe they are why she was chosen.”
Side B – Nia
Nia wasn’t even seated at the Shatter Drum and her fingers were still tingling.
“When you’re ready, just start slow,” Pelegar said, kneeling on the other side of the Shatter Drum from Margrada.
Margrada nodded at the instruction without taking her eyes off the drum in front of her.
Nia burned to reach to help her.
But she didn’t need to. She could see it. Margrada wasn’t hesitating out of fear.
Margrada was afraid, of course. Because she wasn’t stupid. She was drumming a whole new song into existence. Sure, it was one that had been played before, but none of them had heard that performance. Margrada was going to be making up the rhythm from scratch.
And she could. Nia could see it in her eyes. Margrada had this. She wasn’t hesitating, she was listening.
Waiting.
For her heart to reach just the right tempo.
Her hand struck the drum at the only moment when it could.
Nia couldn’t have heard that on her own, but with Margrada as a guide, she saw how the song had to play out, one beat at a time.
Nia’s awareness didn’t disappear into the timeless moments of each of the beats. It wasn’t her song or her hands channeling the magic, but she could feel the magic ringing inside her nonetheless.
Each time Margrada’s hands struck the drum, Nia’s spirit rose, bourn aloft as the music flew to the heavens. She was light, almost weightless, held aloft on strong thermals, the winds her dearest friends and truest support.
For as much as the song pulled her away from herself though, it also pulled her in.
She could see the land below her, and knew exactly where the source of the song was. She could feel it’s pull, could sense the need of the one who played and was calling her, and, most importantly, could smell the offering that awaited.
Meat. Spirits. A feast.
The music called to her, and sang joyously within her, as rapturous as the widest of skies, but for the offering there was a price.
Service rendered for meat and drink given.
An exchange made with respect, and though it was offered by one who might have been prey, and might yet still be, it was the respect which proved compelling.
There was no debate, no pondering, or contemplation. The decision was made as soon as it was considered. Desire spurred action and action sent her sailing across the seas of wind, over and around the lazy clouds to descend to the source, to where the offering awaited.
“That’s it, they’ve answered,” Pelegar said.
“Answered and accepted,” Margrada said, still playing, though the beat was slowing and diminishing as it reached its natural end.
There was no more need for conversation. All that needed to be spoken had been communicated by the song with a precision and clarity Nia couldn’t hardly believe.
“What did you think?” Margrada asked, looking at Nia with a trace of nervous excitement she was trying to hide.
That I want to marry you, Nia forced herself not to blurt out, despite those being the truest words she could have spoken.