Fairest (11 page)

By the third line, everyone was silent, listening. By the beginning of the second stanza, many were holding hands and swaying. The duchess was swaying but not holding anyone's hand. She wasn't a hand holder.

My melody was intricate, but I hoped it wasn't daunting. I wanted Amonta to sound idyllic and remind people of their home villages. I wanted my song to reach the king and remind him of his loving subjects beyond Ontio. That might strengthen him.

I finished with a tricky trill. Most of the hands in the hall went up. Prince Ijori's hands were up, and he was smiling. Even Frying Pan near the door raised hers.

Ivi's hands were up, but her expression was angry. She was jealous of my voice! Jealous, even though she needed my voice for her voice.

I left the stage. The next singer took my place. I reviewed Ivi's song and discovered that I couldn't remember one of the sentences. A complete sentence! Ivi would have to leave it out. But how could I tell her, here in the middle of the Sing?

The missing sentence returned to me. Everyone would hate it. I reviewed the song again. And again.

Eventually I came out of my fright and heard the remaining songs. Some were adapted healing incantations from Ayortha's primitive past. Some were remembrances of the king. Some were exhortations to him to rise and defeat his injury.

My favorite was the physician's. This is a bit of it:

My second favorite was the choirmaster's. Sir Uellu sang that he'd been unable to sing when he heard the news. Now his voice cracked twice. The cracking, unintended and heartfelt, only added to the beauty of his song.

After the choirmaster it was Prince Ijori's turn. I smiled encouragingly at him, as if my encouragement would matter.

This was how he began:

I wept. It was hard to bear, to think of the king in pain. He ended with:

Oh! I didn't wish that. I wished no one had been hurt.

After Prince Ijori's song, Princess Elainee sang. Ivi was next. My throat was closing.

Someone would catch us. I'd never mislead them all.

When the princess finished singing, Ivi rose. She didn't seem frightened. She'd do her part perfectly, but I'd fail. We'd both be disgraced. I'd go to prison.

My throat was dry. I swallowed, but no saliva came. I couldn't sing with a dust-dry throat.

She held her arms at her sides, palms out, as the other singers had done. She threw back her head and opened her mouth.

I came in on time. I gave her Mother's voice, bell-like and clear as mountain air. It was as delicate as Ivi herself, with unexpected reserves of force and air.

Sir Uellu dropped his baton.

I stayed with her on every word. She caught my eye and smiled as she sang. I blushed.

Several people swayed and nodded. Sir Uellu picked up his baton. I sensed his ears almost vibrating with the intensity of his listening. I didn't let my voice waver—or my mouth move—but my jaw felt like ice.

The swaying slowed. The words were what a child might write.

Fewer and fewer people swayed or nodded. She began the part that didn't sound like her.

I saw people exchange looks. She was no longer singing about the king, and nothing in her words would help him get better.

At the mention of Kyrria I felt the mood in the hall turn angry.

My gaze happened to fall on Frying Pan, who looked like a pot about to boil over. A few people dared to stamp their feet.

Ivi smiled her most dazzling smile. She must have felt everyone's response. I would have run off the stage, but she continued to mouth words. I sang the ending.

She held out her arms, as though receiving a tribute. She turned from side to side, including everyone. Then she left the stage, not hurrying, still smiling.

P
RINCE
I
JORI AND
I followed Ivi out of the Hall of Song. As soon as the door closed behind us, she stopped smiling. She stormed through the corridor.

“They should have loved my song. They shouldn't have hated it. I said I miss Oscaro.”

The prince and I hurried to keep up. Oochoo trotted between us. My shadow and the shadows of Prince Ijori and Oochoo merged into a shapeless splotch on the corridor wall. Ivi's shadow, thin and wavery, bobbed ahead.

“I said my grief trails—”

Prince Ijori broke in. “Your Majesty, perhaps—”

She whirled on him. “Why did you let me say the wrong things?” She whirled on me. “Why did you?”

I said nothing. I'd seen guests in rages at the Featherbed. The only sensible course was to wait out the fury.

He said, “But Your Majesty, if you—”

“Don't contradict me!”

We marched on. After a few minutes we reached Ivi's door. Oochoo sat, wagging her tail.

“You needn't come in. Aza, I think I remember how to disrobe.”

I curtsied and Prince Ijori bowed. Ivi went inside, slamming the door behind her.

We left her chambers, a dispirited trio. Even Oochoo's tail was down.

We heard a crash. She'd thrown something. I hoped it hadn't been Skulni, the hand mirror. Oochoo ran away, down the corridor. A moment later we heard Ivi weeping. I couldn't pity her. We hurried after Oochoo.

When we were far from her door, Prince Ijori said, “I trust you'll be silent about the queen's outburst.”

“Of course.”

We reached the Great Hall. It was dim, illuminated by only a few lanterns. Our heels echoed on the tiles. Prince Ijori guided me to a table where a candle burned. On the table were several unlit candles in candleholders.

He lit a candle for me. “Can you find your room from here?”

“I think so.” I wished I could have news of the king before I tried to sleep. “Do you think your uncle's condition might have changed?”

“I was intending to visit him. You may come if you like.”

It was a grudging invitation, but I wanted to go with him and learn whether the Sing had harmed or helped.

He took a candle for himself. We entered a new corridor.

When he spoke again, his voice was strained. “Tomorrow I'll draw up the papers to make you a lady and the queen's lady-in-waiting. You cannot join the nobility unless your family owns land. The queen is graciously giving you a parcel of the crown's land, fifty acres. It is excellent—”

“Pardon me.” I stopped walking. My knees felt weak. “Did you say land? Your Highness, did you say fifty acres?”

He waited for me. His voice was a shade friendlier. “Yes, and your wage will be ten gold yorthys a month.”

I touched the wall to steady myself. Ten gold yorthys a month! Fifty acres! This would mean everything to the Featherbed, to my brothers' and Areida's futures. I murmured, “We're rich!”

“There's also a gallon of rendered boar fat on the first day of winter.” His face was in shadow, but his tone was amused. “The fat is customary.”

Ivi was paying me well for my crime. I began to walk again.

He added, “My uncle chose Lady Arona to be the queen's lady-in-waiting. Arona knows the ways of the court.”

And I knew nothing.

I wanted to promise him that I'd serve the queen faithfully, but I didn't know what faithful service to her would mean. I wanted to promise I'd serve Ayortha faithfully, but I was engaged in duping the entire court. After a moment I said, “I'll do my best to serve her honorably.” I would try to do that. I would try to serve her well in spite of herself, in spite of my fear, in spite of my anger, in spite of my duplicity.

“I hope you will. I hope you'll serve Ayortha honorably, too.”

I think my heart stopped beating for a full minute. I heard Oochoo's panting.

He changed the subject. “Your song comforted me.”

Without thinking, I said, “Yours made me weep.” At home that was a compliment. Was it a terrible thing to say here?

“I saw. Thank you. But your song—It was a comfort to know that your family, so far away, would feel as keenly for my uncle as we do here.”

“We love the king at the Featherbed. Father collects reports of him from our guests. Every year, in honor of his birthday, Mother and Father and my brothers and my sister and I write a song to celebrate.”

“I'd like to hear you all.”

If only he could! “We'd give you the Peacock chamber, where the duchess stays.” It would seem shabby, compared to the rooms here.

“What would your cook serve?”

“Hart with fire peppers.” I sang,

Then I blushed. At least it was too dark for him to see.

He laughed, really laughed. Oochoo jumped up on him.

He sang,

I wanted to sing him every silly song of my childhood. I was pleased at taking him out of his sadness for a bit.

As we turned into a new hallway, he said, “Perhaps the queen chose well in choosing you. She may prefer a companion to an instructor. My uncle would understand that.”