Читать книгу Echoes in the Dark - Robin D. Owens - Страница 12

Luthan strode in. Bastien lounged in his chair, sipping brandy. It was good to see him there. During the two years they’d lived together, after Luthan had put aside his wild ways, the seat had conformed to Bastien’s butt. That was years ago and Bastien was a hardened warrior now. He was even a Marshall like their father, not a troubled young man with strange and spiking Power that went with his striped black-and-white hair.

He was grinning, watching his bondmate pace the room. Since Alexa was an Exotique and smaller than Lladranans, and the shortest one, too, it took her more paces than it would have anyone else. Luthan noted that Bastien watched her butt. “So what’s so wrong about the Singer Summoning the next Exotique?” Bastien prodded his wife.

She scowled and stopped in front of him, fingering her jade baton, her best magical weapon. That would have made Luthan nervous except Bastien was a good judge of his wife’s moods. Bastien continued, “You just wanted her to bond with you and the rest of the Exotiques first, before you handed her over to the Singer. Raging curiosity, lover.”

Alexa pouted then plopped herself on Bastien’s lap. He wrapped an arm around her, and Luthan felt a stinging surge of envy.

Bastien met Luthan’s eyes, his expression unusually sober. “Fact is, we Marshalls have been working as a group on the complex Summoning spell. We had the chorus harmonies right, but…” He shrugged. “We lost Partis, and his was the voice with the strength and timbre and heart that brought the Exotiques through the Dimensional Corridor.”

Luthan froze as he noticed tears dribbling down Alexa’s cheeks. He didn’t think he’d ever seen the strong woman cry.

Bastien cradled her against his chest, gave her a cloth.

“It was Partis’s voice that drew me,” Alexa said between quiet sobs. “He comforted me for the loss of my friend. He was so strong and so gentle. Such a serene man.”

“An amazing quality in a Marshall. They tend to be fierce and passionate,” Luthan said, pouring her a cup of the tea she favored and that he kept on hand, dumping in a couple of lumps of sugar and stirring it.

She sniffed, took the cup with watery eyes, steady hands and a crooked smile. “A compliment, thanks.” She drank, then sighed. “We Marshalls are determined.” She patted Bastien’s cheek. “Even him.”

Bastien’s arm tightened on her. “Determined that you aren’t going to face the Dark alone. I am your Shield.”

The Shield was the defensive person of the Marshall Sword-Shield pair, though Bastien had many years of outright battle as a Chevalier himself. He tucked her head under his chin. “We were training Marwey for the main solo, but she didn’t have the range. There’s a young Chevalier we were encouraging to test for Marshall.” He rubbed Alexa’s back. “Just as well the Singer brought her over. Mirror magic, you said?” He raised his brows.

“From what I saw.” Luthan squinted to bring details back. “The Singer called the cave the ‘Summoning Cavern’ so—”

Alexa continued, “—Other Singers have brought people through. She had some sort of crystal that showed Calli this world when she was growing up on Earth.” Alexa shot Luthan a dark look. “I’m still mad at you for hurting Calli and Marrec.”

Luthan closed his eyes.

Bastien said, “It was more than a year ago, give it a rest. And he made a mistake, didn’t you?” he asked Luthan.

Luthan opened his eyes and stoically met Alexa’s frowning gaze. “No. It wasn’t a mistake. I followed the Singer’s orders.” He walked to a table and poured himself a short brandy, downed it. His jaw flexed. “I am sorry for any upset I caused—”

“To Marian and Jaquar and Bossgond and me and Bastien—” Alexa obviously still kept a list and a grudge.

“I didn’t upset Bastien,” Luthan protested.

“You upset me. My upset disturbed Bastien,” Alexa ended frostily.

No way to escape this. Again. “I am sorry for the upset I caused, but looking back, I believe that Amee, and destiny, was well served by my actions.” He sank into a large, comfortable chair. “The Singer was right in that instance.”

“I don’t think so,” Alexa said. “I think that if she, or you, had considered the matter, you’d’ve found a better option.”

Luthan shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps.”

“It’s past,” Bastien said.

“But, I am done with being her representative,” Luthan said.

Both Alexa and Bastien straightened. Bastien nodded. “Good.”

“Good!” Alexa echoed.

“When she first requested I become her liaison to the Marshalls and other segments of Lladranan society, I thought it was good the Singer and Friends would be less isolated in the Abbey. At first she kept me well informed and I knew why she gave the orders she did and followed them, even if I did not agree totally with her. The past year or so, though…” He shrugged. “After that last illness…she’s become secretive, autocratic. I’m done with her, and will tell her so…soon.”

“Hmm.” Alexa finished her tea and set the cup on a side table. “Now the new Exotique will be the one to integrate the Singer and her Friends into the rest of Lladranan society. What did you say her name was, again?”

They hadn’t been introduced, but Luthan thought back, recalled the trilling of the bird’s mental voice. “Jikata.”

Alexa gasped. Her mouth dropped open. She put a hand on her heart. “The Jikata?”

Luthan frowned. “It’s a title?”

Alexa was shaking her head. “No. She’s a singer.”

“Of course,” Luthan said.

Alexa hopped off of Bastien’s knees and strode over to Luthan. “I mean she’s a popular singer in our world.” Her hands waved. “A local star going national—international.”

That was gibberish to Luthan.

Alexa began pacing again. “A…a well-known troubadour?”

Luthan shared a glance with Bastien, for Alexa to be impressed meant the lady was someone.

“Wait, wait,” Alexa muttered. “Didn’t I hear…yes!” Her eyes went bright. “I read that she had a four-octave voice.”

This time they all shared a glance.

“The requirement for the City Destroyer spell while unloosing Marian’s weapon knot,” Bastien murmured.

“Wait ’til I tell the others! Especially Marian.” Alexa settled onto Luthan’s lap, looked up at him with a winning smile. “She’s from Colorado, too. How did she look? Tell me all about her.”

He met Bastien’s gaze over Alexa’s head. His brother smiled and raised his mug to him.

So Luthan told Alexa all he knew of the Summoning.

Luthan waited up after Alexa and Bastien went to bed, prepared to convince Circlet Marian and her husband Jaquar that Jikata should remain with the Singer.

He sat in his firelit study. Like all the other rooms in the small manor, it was comfortable but worn. The walls had faded to an even duller color than the original beige. The sturdy wood and leather chairs showed nicks and scratches. Occasionally there was a settee or couch with a dim pattern reflecting his great aunt’s taste.

He still liked this place. Couldn’t imagine living in the great, cold castle where he and Bastien had been raised by a whining, disinterested mother and a dictatorial father.

Since Bastien had formed an unexpected bond with their father before his death and told Luthan about their father’s foreknowledge of his own death, Luthan understood the man better. Luthan didn’t despise his father anymore, but he would never be able to respect his sire.

Tonight the Sorcerers—Circlets—would come, Exotique Marian and her bondmate Jaquar. Since the weather was clear with only a few drifts of mist, they wouldn’t ride lightning, but fly on volarans. He didn’t know what experimentation they might have been conducting when they felt the Summoning, but they’d been on their island in Brisay Sea. His stable master had been alerted.

Luthan would wait for them, get the confrontation out of the way when there were only two of them, no matter how formidable. Taking the Exotiques one at a time was the best strategy.

Besides, he didn’t want to go up to bed. Bastien and Alexa tended to be noisy in their lovemaking. He didn’t begrudge them that, but it did remind him of his loneliness, his single state. The invasion of the Dark’s Nest was preliminarily scheduled for less than three months from now, perhaps as little as a month, determined by the building of the Ship and the trip. Though they hoped they’d survive, they were all prepared to die.

He’d never thought he’d die single, always had believed he’d find a bondmate—was that fantasy or wishing or a vision that had gone awry?

It was near midnight when the doorharp sounded. He rose from the chair where he’d been dozing and went to the door. Beyond the thick wood he sensed great Power. Marian and Jaquar were here.

With a low whistle, he set the spell torches lighting around him in the entryway, then opened the door and bowed. “Salutations.”

Marian, the Exotique Circlet, was tall and voluptuous with long, dark red hair, blue eyes and a slightly olive tone to her complexion.

“Salutations,” Jaquar said. He was tall with silver streaks of Power at both temples and eyes a little darker blue than Marian’s. Some old strain of Exotique blood was in his background.

Neither of them appeared angry, but both looked as if they had prickly questions.

“Come into the sitting room,” Luthan said. “I have brandy and mead.”

“Prepared as usual,” Marian murmured. “I don’t sense the new Exotique here.”

The skirmishing had begun.

Luthan continued to the sitting room, poured brandies for Jaquar and himself—he was drinking more tonight than he did in an entire month—and Marian the mead she favored. As the couple sat together on a loveseat, Luthan caught a half smile on Jaquar’s face. The Exotiques’ men were enjoying him trying to handle their women, and Marian could literally be a force of nature. She was a weather mage like her husband.

Thankfully, she began sipping her mead. She leaned against Jaquar and closed her eyes for an instant. Like the new Exotique, Marian had shadows under her eyes. Ayes, she was interesting with her blue eyes and red hair, but not lovely like the new Exotique. Jikata’s delicate features, long dark brown hair with black, tilted brown eyes and complexion close to the golden of the Lladranans appealed to Luthan more.

Best to begin. “There are many reasons why the Singer Summoning the last Exotique was best. Time is of the essence and the Marshalls were not prepared to do the Summoning, since they’d lost Partis.” Luthan lifted his hands as Marian sizzled a glance at him. “No, I did not know the Singer was going to do so. She did not inform me, nor did she ask me to participate. My taking her orders is at an end, but I haven’t cut the association yet.”

Frowning, Marian said, “I’ve been concentrating on the City Destroyer Weapon Knot and the Songspell to untie it, training my voice with others. I knew Partis was the lead singer of the Marshalls, and of course knew of his death, but I didn’t…” She shook her head, and a distant expression came to her eyes, recollection of when she was Summoned, Luthan supposed.

“He was a strong, quiet man, a Shield to his Lady’s Sword, more important than we all knew,” Jaquar said.

With a watery sniff, Marian nodded. “I should have paid more attention to Alexa, or she should have told me. The Tower community has several good teams now, including good Singers…between all of us, the Castle and the Tower and the Chevaliers and the Cities, we could have forged an excellent team.” She shrugged. “Well, the Singer took advantage of our distraction and inaction.”

Jaquar put an arm around her waist and squeezed. “It is our duty to figure out the Weapon Knot.”

“And you have?” Luthan asked.

“Pretty much,” Marian said. “It’s for an ensemble of at least three and no more than fifty, and the lead solo must have a four-octave range.”

“The Singer would Summon no one with less,” Luthan said. “And she’s the best to train such a range since she has it herself, and since the spellsong will be complex and difficult—” he raised his brows in question and Marian nodded, “—the Singer is the best to train anyone in Power made by the voice alone.”

Jaquar shifted. “Her voice isn’t the only Power of the new Exotique, is it? All the signs indicate that the lady will be strong in prophecy, too, like the Singer herself. And you.”

Luthan didn’t want to recall the visions he’d had in the caves. “The new Exotique is Powerful, and like all the other Lladranan communities, the Singer would have requirements for the one she Summoned.”

“Which would include prophecy,” Jaquar pointed out.

“Which would include prophecy, though I wasn’t with the lady long enough to gauge her Power,” Luthan said, then told them every detail of the Summoning, his talks with Bri and Raine and Alexa.

“Hmm,” Marian said at last. “This Lladranan cockatoo, I’ve never heard of one.”

Another squeeze from her husband. Jaquar said, “You all have animal companions, why shouldn’t she?”

“If you consider the feycoocus animals,” Marian said. “They are more beings of pure magic.”

“Who take various animal forms,” Jaquar added. He looked at Luthan. “Was this cockatoo a real bird or a feycoocu?”

Luthan hadn’t considered the matter. He went with his gut. “A real bird.”

Marian sighed. “Looks like my feycoocu will be mostly bird in the future, along with his mate and the baby, since Bri has the roc. I must admit I prefer mammals.”

“Birds may be more useful during the trip,” Luthan said. “A Lladranan cockatoo comes from the forests of the southeast, a beautiful, intelligent bird.”

“Ah.” Marian yawned, stretched and rose.

“One last thing,” Luthan said. “Alexa recognized the name of the new Exotique.”

Marian tilted her head.

“The new Exotique’s name is Jikata.”

Marian stared at him for a long moment. “I can’t believe it,” Marian said. “What is she doing here? And why would she possibly want to stay?” She seemed shocked.

Jaquar stood and put an arm around his bondmate’s shoulders. “With that attitude, perhaps it’s wise that the Singer has charge of her.” He glanced at Luthan. “For now.”

“For now,” Luthan agreed.

But tears shone in Marian’s eyes, and she clutched Jaquar’s biceps with both hands. “But we all know that the Snap to return an Exotique home doesn’t come until after she finishes her task. If she’s a four-octave Singer who’ll lead us in the City Destroyer spell, that means her task—”

“Is to go with us when we invade the Dark’s Nest and kill it,” Jaquar finished.

“The most dangerous task of any of us. Does she have any free will at all?” Marian asked.

Singer’s Abbey

Jikata awoke, stretched luxuriously, smiled at the velvet canopy above her head. The Ghost Hill Hotel was lovely and she had the Presidential Suite.

But what was truly excellent was the music. She didn’t know what radio station the hotel carried, but it was primo, something she thought she’d never find in Denver, though that public station in Greeley came close.

The piece was new-age ambient, full orchestral with rich, intricate melodies, and the acoustics of the room were wonderful since the sound surrounded her. Better than her home system. She’d get her sound engineer here to talk to the management.

She frowned, rubbed her face. She had ended a tour yesterday, that meant the crew was officially on vacation and—

She was due at her great-grandmother’s at ten! She scrambled up, shoving the binding covers down, bad dreams again.

Weird dreams—

Ishi would never forgive her for being late.

Ishi was dead.

That came flooding back, along with all the regrets and emptiness of her life. She fell back against fat pillows.

A flash of scarlet and there was a beautiful red bird sitting on a perch near the bed. It trilled a liquid melody. We are in Lladrana, where we belong.

Jikata blinked and blinked again. Cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon?” Her voice was raspy. Everything seemed slightly off.

The bird fluttered to the bed next to her. Jikata wrinkled her nose but didn’t smell musty feathers or bird manure. She smelled lavender.

I am Chasonette. We are here, we are home, we will triumph!

A mind-singing bird. Not slightly off…way off.

Music all around. Jikata concentrated and thought she could hear music coming from the very walls of this place and that sent a little shiver down her spine.

Harp notes rose and fell, then came the creak of a door, followed by the wonderful smells of eggs and bacon, freshly baked bread. Saliva pooled in Jikata’s mouth. A plump young woman walked in bearing a tray, obviously breakfast. Jikata shouldn’t eat so heavily…but she was coming off a long, stressful tour.

She noticed the food first then her gaze went from the red lacquered tray to the woman and she stared in disbelief. Music streamed from the maid in simple, repetitive notes. Jikata shook her head hard enough to dizzy herself. But when she stopped, the woman’s music was still there.

Chasonette fluffed her feathers. The bird, too, emanated music without one warble from her throat, a high lovely tune that seemed to pierce Jikata’s heart.

Jikata recalled the notion that she had a soundtrack for her life. True again this morning. More disturbing now. Surely it had to be in her mind, but she could live with it.

The woman dipped a curtsy and flushed a little. Jikata scooted back, wary, but ready to be served. She didn’t keep servants herself, but had stayed at homes of both old wealth and nouveau riche where maids were common.

After a tour she treated herself to resorts where she could be pampered. Perhaps this was just one and she’d forgotten the travel, or the Philberts had arranged for her transport. She wondered what sort of spa facilities this place had.

Speaking in a Frenchlike patter—or perhaps patois—Jikata didn’t understand, the serving woman set the tray on Jikata’s lap. Chasonette nipped half a slice of bacon and after crunching a chunk, dropped the rest in a small china dish on the corner of the tray that held a mixture of seeds.

The bird was going to eat from Jikata’s tray? That couldn’t be sanitary. Chasonette buried her beak in the bowl.

A word from the woman caught Jikata’s ear with the rising inflection of a question. “Po-tat-oes?”

Jikata stared and the servant repeated it. “Potatoes?”

Potatoes for breakfast! Glancing at her plate, Jikata saw scrambled eggs with cheese decorated with pepper and dill, and two strips of bacon. She shouldn’t even be having this. An egg-white omelet with fresh vegetables and a touch of cheese, an in-season fruit cup. Nothing like this. The thought of the cheesy eggs on her tongue made her mouth water all over again.

“No,” she said. “No potatoes.”

The woman’s eyes sharpened. “Ttho. Ttho potatoes.”

Jikata shifted in her bed, she’d been hoping that despite everything, this really was Denver. Pushing down panic, she decided to go with the flow a bit until she could discover more.

With a steady movement, the servant pulled all the bed curtains open and tied each section to the carved bedpost. Jikata gasped. In front of her was a wide rectangular window. The near distance was a field of white stone towers and spires, some embellished. Beyond that was land of a green that Colorado rarely saw except for a couple of weeks in a very rainy spring. Nothing like California, either. Or the tropical island she’d planned to recuperate on.

In the far distance were hills of various shades of green, highlighted by golden streaks of sunlight, a blue, blue sky and puffy, white castle-clouds. It all had an exoticness that spoke nothing of the rocky hills and rockier mountains around Denver.

Jikata’s mouth dried and she swallowed. She needed something to drink.

As if on cue, another woman and a man entered, both older than the first plump maid, who was dressed in yellow. The woman wore blazing red and held a beautiful folding table. The man wore rich blue and carried a tray loaded with fabulous china in a wildly colored chintz pattern on the tall coffeepot and fluted cups rimmed with gold.

The fragrance of jasmine tea rose from the spout of the pot and Jikata’s nose twitched.

None of the three had a bone structure that Jikata could quite place, not northern Chinese, or Mongolian, Korean, Thai. Definitely not Caucasian. Gorgeous all the same. And they all had streaks at their temples, the younger one silver, the older ones the color of spun gold. Jikata recalled that the old woman last night—the Singer had pure gold hair. Those streaks and that hair must mean something. Another frisson slid through her.

The older woman in red set the table beside Jikata’s bed, stepped back and folded her hands, but her sharp gaze scanned the room as if checking to ensure everything was correct. Jikata had seen that professional housekeeper’s glance before. The man poured the tea, lifted the lid of a sugar bowl as if in question.

Jikata shook her head, then remembered the word, ttho.

With exaggerated movements the younger maid shook her head and said, “Ttho.” Then nodded vigorously, smiled and added “Ayes.”

“Ayes,” Jikata said faintly.

Everyone echoed her, and the sound of the word was sometimes eyes, or ice or even ah-yes.

Deciding that her language lesson had progressed well enough and not wanting to think or talk about it further, Jikata fed her rumbling stomach. The first mouthful of eggs nearly melted on her tongue, with a nice garnish of spice, and a small bite of what might be something like paprika or even chili.

She was famished, as if she hadn’t eaten in days—or after a major performance, which was the truth.

“Velcome,” said the older woman and bowed.

“Velcome Lladrana, Exotique Singere,” said the man with a self-important incline of his head.

Since her mouth was full of soft buttered bread giving joy to her taste buds, Jikata merely nodded in return. He reminded her of a thin-nosed agent who’d rejected her and now was probably regretting it. That gave her a warm feeling, too. Always did.

He gestured and the younger woman came forward, took the tea and handed the thin china cup to Jikata. She sipped it. Great tea, but she could have done with some strong coffee. She wondered if they had coffee…not thinking about that!

The man spoke in halting English. “Ven yu dun, she weel take yu Singer.” He pointed rudely at the maid, whose eyes flashed, but she bowed her head.

Jikata nodded again and continued eating, said nothing to his raised brows. He swept from the room, followed by the housekeeper, who sent a last look around the chamber and lowered her own brows in a stern gaze to the younger maid.

With a sideways glance at Jikata the maid stood tall and sang a perfect round C. The door swung shut.

Jikata choked.