Echoes in the Dark (46 page)

The
masts rose majestically. Sails, lines, blocks and tackles, threaded themselves,
arrayed themselves.

An
idea had occurred to her, an extra defense for the ship. Something she hadn’t
spoken to anyone. Too many things about this invasion were too well-known, too
few things were secret.

She
was a twenty-first century shipbuilder and twenty-first century woman, so as
all the others gasped in awe at a ship like the planet had never known, she
used that awe, the surprise, the out-rushing of feeling and Power, every last
mote of water and air and earth and fire and spirit to coat the ship, protect
it, with a layer that could be activated at the right moment.

Raine
Sang on.

33

“W
ait here,”
Luthan said to Jikata and the volarans. Jikata knew none of them would obey.
They were all too curious.

Luthan
went to stand behind a man slightly shorter than he with striped
black-and-white hair. Carefully, Luthan placed his hands on the man’s shoulders
and Jikata knew at once they were brothers and that Luthan’s presence hadn’t
surprised the man, nor had his becoming a part of the ritual. That was Bastien,
then, the husband of Alexa. The woman next to him, the small one with white
hair and an attitude, was Alexa herself, not looking much like the holograms
Jikata had seen.

Luthan
Sang.

Jikata
was caught in the moment, in the Song, then realized that the main Singer was
flagging. Her voice was clear and true and still had incredible Power in it for
the task, but she tired.

The
rhythm was of a sea shanty and the main purpose or element was
creation—physical building. Not surprising since the deck of a ship was
settling on lower structures inside the boat. Ship.

Jikata
shouldn’t disrupt this great spell, but she could help. Matching the note, she
added her voice.

Luthan’s
head jerked up and he looked at her, but no one else seemed to notice. She was
just part of the chorus, a melding of voice and Power. It had been a long time
since she’d been satisfied with that, but she was now. She felt unusually shy.
All these people gathered together for one purpose, trusting each other to
practice Power together and Sing and make a great thing.

Togetherness
and trust.

She
hadn’t had much of that in her life except the recent days with Chasonette and
Luthan and the volarans. If she wanted to do a “poor little me” she could cast
a glance back at her life and think that there hadn’t been a feeling of real
togetherness since she’d lost her parents. Ishi had been an emotionally
isolated person. As was the Singer.

Her
gaze went to the five Caucasian women, one at each cardinal direction and one
in the center of the circle. The Exotiques. All the Power of the others flowed
through them. Every single person there—even the Friends—trusted these women
implicitly. The personal Songs woven into the pattern also resonated with
affection, admiration for them. Personal knowledge of each other was of a depth
that Jikata hadn’t even had with her own touring crew.

She
wanted that, hadn’t earned it yet.

But
melding her voice and her strength and her range and her Power into the Song
was a good start.

She
blinked, thinking that the bluish atmosphere surrounding the Ship held a new
sheen.

And
suddenly she heard more than the soundtrack, the setting around her, the
voices. She
heard
the mental contact of the women.

That’s
enough for today,
the voluptuous redhead with a gleaming gold band around her forehead said.
Marian, the Circlet.
We would do better to save the masts and rigging and
sails for tomorrow.

The
woman in the middle, arms raised, gave a slow shake of her head.
No! Today,
now. I feel…
She flung her arms wide and Jikata
heard
her Song take
on strength and Power. With surprise, Jikata realized that the woman had
connected with Amee and the planet was pouring Power into her. A minuscule
amount for Amee, a thread too thin to see, but huge to the woman. Her Song
gathered strength, her expression became beatific. A ripple went around the
circle of Singers and more Power pumped from them. Jikata strengthened her
voice, slowly moved to stand behind Luthan. No one was looking at her. All were
focused on the woman at the center who glowed like a goddess.

Her
fingers moved gracefully, tiny swoops, and more planks for a top quarterdeck
flew into place, snicked together. Jikata saw several layers—coats—of energy
slide over the construction, into each fiber of the wood. Huge masts rose,
settled with efficient thunks into the boat, rigging threaded like embroidery,
sails slowly unfurled.

Jikata
yearned to be a part of this, to contribute more. Gently, gently, finger by
finger, she set one hand against Luthan. He trembled. The man in front of him
arced, but the Power surge was regulated, swept around the circle, by strong
minds.

Teamwork.

Many
of these, including Luthan’s brother, were intricately entwined in a team that
had worked, fought together. Life and death. They knew their Songs, their
limits, their strengths. Jikata nearly gasped in amazed pleasure at the link,
but kept her voice steady, and curved the fingers of her left hand around
Luthan’s waist, helping modulate the Power herself.

Song
was all.

R
aine should have
been tired and hoarse—she had been. But then she’d been sucked downward deep
into the dark heart of the ocean. Darkness! She struggled against it, then
discovered it wasn’t the darkness of evil, but the blackness of the absence of
light. No more evil than the brightest sunburst.

The
dark of the true deeps, the bottom of the ocean where water glided over the
lowest crust of the planet. She accepted this darkness, this water, this Song.
And connected with Amee. She knew it couldn’t be anything else, such a surge of
Power that washed exhaustion from her, made her stronger.

The
other Exotiques had spoken of their connection with Mother Earth, and then
their connection with Amee, but Raine had never been certain of that. Now she
knew. Mother Earth had a saltiness to her water, a faint metallic harshness
from all the years man had used machines. A taste Raine’d grown up with and
knew. Now an underlying sweetness, from the planet’s nature, she thought,
flowed through her.

She
smiled, feeling
Powerful,
in every way. And she noticed a couple of new
voices added to the mix running through her. Luthan’s, just recognizing his
individuality now. Another, the…strongest, most flexible. She welcomed them but
concentrated on her work. The Deauvilles and other sailors had wanted some
carving on the rails, the inside panels of the ship, around the deck and below,
so she let them direct her. She worked fast, this energy connection with Amee
could burn her out if she let it. So she added pretty carved flourishes.

Her
hair went damp as she lifted the figurehead—a statue of a woman whose image had
just come to mind.

It
was a gigantic ship. It had to be to accommodate the volarans, though they had
informed her that since the ship would travel at volaran Distance Magic speed
at night, they would rotate off it so they might be free of constraints that
hampered wingless humans.

Greater
than anyone on Lladrana had ever seen.

Then,
as her breath faltered and the sun hit the middle of the sky and beamed bright
and shining on the sea, she Sang the last of the ritual, her voice alone, and
added the name to the side of her ship, in fancy Lladranan and in English.

The
Echo.

All
she knew, all she had, she sent into the ship and she let the dimness of
exhaustion, sparkling with the fading bits of Power, claim her.

S
omehow Jikata
was drawn to the center, along with the other four who’d been part of the
circle. Their knees gave out at the same time as Raine uncurled her fists and
let the Power sustaining them all go. The women tumbled into a heap, Jikata
felt soft body parts under her arms, she thought her head was pillowed on
Raine’s thigh. With her last puff of breath, she said, “This isn’t the vision I
had of us meeting.”

Then,
with careful steps, Luthan was towering over them, breathing deeply but
raggedly. “Not my vision, either. We met on a road. Alexa accused me of
betraying the other Exotiques for not bringing you immediately to them.” His
voice changed from flat to almost wondering. “I gave that vision a ninety
percent chance of happening.”

A
chuckle came near Jikata’s right elbow. She didn’t have the strength to look
down, but when Luthan’s brother strode up, then hauled up the small woman by
her waist, Jikata saw silver hair and an upside-down face. Alexa. The
Swordmarshall was flipped into her husband’s arms and she leaned against him,
but grinned at Luthan. “Just goes to show that not all your visions come true.
Not even those in the ninety percentile.”

Luthan
gave her a slightly wobbly bow. “You reassure me.”

“It
reassures us all,” his brother said and kissed his wife.

“Welcome
back, Luthan,” said another man and Jikata couldn’t guess who he was. “This
must be the famous Jikata.”

She
was so limp, she could only snort inwardly.

“Time
to clean up this heap,” said another man. “Where’s my Bri? I can’t see Raine,
either. Raine, I congratulate you on an excellent piece of work. Everyone is
still here admiring it.”

Which
meant everyone was still here seeing the famous Jikata, the Exotique Singer, in
a heap. She was amused at herself for thinking of her image. Just in these few
moments she received the impression that the other Exotiques had formidable
reputations but not sophisticated ones. Though if this is how they all usually
ended up after a great performance—ritual—that was understandable.

There
were a couple of gleeful chuckles, a child’s piercing shriek that had Jikata
flinching. A small foot hit her in the shoulder blade as a little girl
scrambled over the pile of them with great cheerfulness and disregard.

“Calli?”
said a man in a voice that held the timbre of a good singer. “Sit up, the
children are concerned.”

Jikata
recalled Luthan had told her that Calli, the Volaran Exotique, had adopted
children. The little girl thought all this was a fine game, but an older boy
radiated desperation.

“Sitting,”
a woman said in a slurred voice that held a bit of western twang.

Jikata
decided she should right herself and her image and rolled to hold out an
imperious hand to Luthan. He took it and smoothly pulled her to her feet, kept
a hand under her elbow. She was the focus of many gazes, so she stood
straighter.

Alexa’s
green eyes scanned Jikata up and down and she smiled impishly. Still leaning
against her husband—more for love than for support, Jikata thought—Alexa held
out a hand. “I like your work.”

That
was said at the same time another hand was offered and another voice said, “I
admire your work greatly.” The tall, voluptuous redhead, Marian the Circlet
Sorceress.

“Thank
you,” Jikata said in a composed tone that was at odds with her sudden inward
nerves. In an impulsive gesture, she took both their hands and a
snap
sizzled through her—them.

Bastien
grunted and stepped back, Marian caught Alexa’s hand and closed the circuit of
energy that whirled through them.

“Let
me in there,” said a light voice. “And, Marian, I’ll remind you that you didn’t
have any songs by Jikata on your PDA, but I did on my music player. I’m Bri Drystan
Masif and you’re just as gorgeous in person as you are on stage and in videos.”
Jikata’s hand was detached from Marian’s and taken by another, a vivacious
brunette with hazel eyes. The circle was connected again, though the energy was
dampened.

Marian
said, “Bri and Raine have an affinity for the water elements. I’m fire, like
you.”

“Just
as well I come between you, then,” Bri said, grinning and squeezing Jikata’s
hand.

Jikata
should have been withdrawing into her public persona, but she wasn’t. The sheer
connection she had with these women, the bond she seemed to share, was a
wonderful feeling she didn’t want to give up. It was as if she were meeting
sisters she hadn’t known before. And, again, that feeling should have dismayed
her, would have on Earth, but here on Lladrana it felt right and natural. She
returned the squeeze of fingers to Bri, passed it on to Alexa. “Thank you,” she
said for Bri’s compliment.

Then
Jikata turned her head and her attention to the performer of the day. “Raine?”

A
startlingly handsome man was helping her to her feet, kept a possessive arm
around her.

“Fabulous
dress,” Jikata said, even the Singer had nothing like this one. Especially
since Jikata sensed it had been made with affection and love. It must have been
a long time since anyone felt affection and love for the Singer. Admiration,
devotion, respect…many of the cooler emotions that Jikata had been the
recipient of herself, but she wanted more, and here on Lladrana she could get
it.