The Stillness of the Sky (17 page)

“Get up! Get up, Jack!” Prudence squealed as she pounced on me, waking me from deep within a dream.

I sat up with a shout, knocking her back on the bed with rolling giggles. “Spirits take me, you scared me half to death,” I said, trying to slow my racing heart.

She sprang forward on all fours, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “The festival starts today. How can you still be asleep?”

Per the clock beside my bed, it was barely past seven. I groaned and rubbed my eyes. “It’s been a long few days. I was tired.”

“Well, you’re up now,” she said, bouncing off of the bed. “Daniella put some clothes over there for you, so if you get changed, you can come have breakfast with us.” Prudence bounded over to the door, happy as ever. “If we hurry, we can get to the festival grounds in time to see the musicians setting up.”

The door closed noisily, and I sighed.

When I arrived at the Minkov residence the night before, I was met with smiles and hugs all around. It had taken Mrs. Minkov an extra hour to get Prudence to sleep, but I waited it out to speak to both her and Mr. Minkov in private. I didn’t give them the full story, but they listened raptly as I explained what I’d discovered about myself and who I was looking for. I gave a brief demonstration to prove my claim, explaining that my fine lute had been a gift from my first host. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but I felt badly for keeping the rest from them.

“I thought perhaps Prudence could show you to the festival today,” Mrs. Minkov said over breakfast. “I’ve not heard tell of any Bards in town as yet, but word has it at least two or three are en route. I’d take you myself, but I need to put the final touches on the king’s doublet for the closing gala. I’m due to present it to him in three days, so I’m on a bit of a deadline.”

I swallowed a bite of eggs. “Of course. I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble on my account. It’s kind enough of you to allow me to stay here for a few days. I’m more than happy to spend time with Prudence.”

“It’s really very fortunate you arrived when you did,” Mr. Minkov said. “Prudence has been begging to see the festival grounds for a week, but we’ve been so busy with requests from the palace, there hasn’t been time to take her.”

I grinned at Prudence as she anxiously picked at a pastry. “I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful time, won’t we?”

Her little face lit up, beaming at me. “Definitely!”

“You should eat up, then.” I pointed my fork at her barely touched breakfast. “Likely as not, we won’t eat again until lunch, and the sooner you finish, the faster we can leave.”

It was all the prompting she needed to shovel her food in at a pace that horrified her mother.

The streets of Torell were even more crowded than the evening before, and I reminded Prudence several times not to let go of my hand as we wound our way around the city. I caught glimpses of the occasional rat, however, prompting my frown. The main festival grounds were on the far side of town, opposite from the enormous gates, with smaller stages erected at several open squares along the way. People were everywhere, though something felt off about their smiles.

The longer I considered it, the clearer it became. While everyone seemed happy enough, it was only for their company, usually family, with no time spared for those they passed by. No one greeted one another. No one made eye contact. Even with the distraction of the festival, there was no kindness anywhere to be seen. I looked closer. Men bore battle scars, some missing limbs. Women wore exhaustion like a shawl, clinging tightly to whoever was nearby. Even the children seemed more subdued than they should.

The shadows of war crowded around me, constricting my lungs as Prudence dragged me through the streets. No matter where we went, specters nipped at me, dancing in my peripheral vision. By the time we reached the festival grounds, tears pricked the corners of my eyes and my heart was bursting with the need to bring comfort to these people burdened by over two years of needless, ceaseless battle. What could I do for them but bring a small bit of sunshine into their darkened lives?

The sight of the royal palace served as a little distraction from my feelings of futility. As I paused to look up at the grand spires of the castle rising from the top of the mountain, the familiar ache of an unkept promise poked at me. I didn’t know how long I could hold out before announcing myself to the royal family, but I would as long as possible. Sometimes anonymity was a blessing. My conversation with Crilla and her unwavering determination not to speak of my mother left me feeling as though the longer I kept my head down, the less danger I’d have to avoid in my search. Eventually I’d have to make myself known, though what would come of it was anyone’s guess.

“Come on, Jack,” Prudence whined, pulling at my hand. “We’re nearly there. We might still find seats.”

Breaking away from gazing at the palace, we continued down the far side of the city’s slope. It wasn’t long before the wide expanse of the grounds came into view at the bottom of the hill. I imagined the place was typically used as a market, but at that moment it was filled with brightly painted stands, circles for dancing, and a long stage set inside a pavilion of raised benches. Aromas of all sorts of sweets and roasted meat twisted together, combining with the scents of horses and humans to create something alive, tangible with energy. Shouts of merchants hawking their imported goods drifted over the broken strains of carts rattling by and songs unable to fully rise over the din of chaos. Streamers in bright colors hung from every pole and line strung between structures, flagging in the gentle breeze of morning. I took every second of it in, wide-eyed. Not even in Breen had I seen such an amazing gathering of life.

The shadow of war crept into my admiration again, however, and I hatefully acknowledged it. I despised it for ruining the event for myself and the others in attendance. What a wonder it would’ve been to experience during peaceful times.

To Prudence’s chagrin, we were far too late and not noble enough to command seats in the grand pavilion. We contented ourselves with a decent vantage point to the side and knowing we’d be entertained soon enough.

A trumpet fanfare preceded a clownish oaf that tripped and tumbled across the stage, welcoming one and all to the first inaugural kingdom-wide celebration of song and dance. Giant plumes of smoke erupted behind him, sending him rolling to the floor once more. Prudence couldn’t contain her giggles as he righted himself and promptly slipped on the colored confetti raining down from the rafters above him. With a final “all hail King Ivor,” the first act of many took the stage. The crowd half-heartedly cheered the king, but the applause was genuine for the troupe of musicians hurrying into position.

I clapped along in time to the first three songs, my mind soaking in every note and word. My world expanded further and further, each singular tone sending my brain down melodic spirals of possibility. For the first time in what might have been my entire life, I was utterly enthralled in the absorption of knowledge.

Halfway through the fourth song, an easy lowlands ballad I’d heard as a child, I paused, listening. Something about the piece felt off, strange. My smile faded as I scrutinized the musicians on stage. Each looked to be playing the correct notes, but something else nagged at me. In my study, I caught the barest glimpse of furry movement from the corner of the stage. Closing my eyes, I focused, tuning out the voices and instruments one by one.

That was when I heard it.

A flute with a tone I couldn’t place had found its way into the song, a coarse, venomous sound that made my blood run cold. I opened my eyes, scanning the crowd and performers for the source.

It came from behind the stage, louder now. A frantic urge to warn everyone overtook me, but what could I do? If I screamed and babbled nonsense about this hidden melody, I might’ve caused a panic. The crowds would stampede to get out of danger, hurting who knew how many people and destroying the festival grounds and anything else in their way. The last thing they’d concern themselves with was the small girl grinning beside me.

Behind us and to the left, a tall pole connecting streamers from all directions rose out from the center of a sturdy wooden crate, likely filled with stones. The flute was steadily growing louder, and soon the audience would hear it as I had. The magic woven between the notes was unquestionably bad for everyone, though what it would do for sure, I couldn’t say.

Not wasting another second, I grabbed Prudence’s hand and dragged her back to the pole, ignoring her cries of protest. Without explanation, I lifted her up, setting her atop the crate.

“Stay here until I come to get you,” I shouted over the crowd. “Promise me.”

“What?” she asked. “Why? Where are you going? Is something wrong?”

The flute trilled over top of the drums.

“Cover your ears!” I yelled. When she hesitated, her eyes drifting to the stage, I set my hand on her shoe. “Prudence, do it now!”

Confused, she complied nonetheless. I pointed at her, then mimicked my hands on my ears as well. “Don’t move,” I mouthed, and she nodded, eyes wide with anxious fear.

The crowd stirred restlessly as I pushed my way to the front of the standing area. The troupe continued to play, but in a different way. Their movements were mechanical, like marionettes, their tune devoid of any spark of emotion. My mouth fell open as I watched a slow trickle of blood ooze from the ear and nose of the fiddler closest to me. His eyes were glazed over, unquestionably bereft of life.

A woman in the front row screamed as she stood and pointed. Others joined her cries of alarm, some already trying to escape the moving death on display.

But it was too late.

The flute’s horrific tune burst forth at full volume, sending everyone within twenty feet of the stage to their knees, howling. Without further thought, I shrugged out of my pack and freed my lute. When the mystery musician stepped from the shadows of the curtain, I was ready for her.

White blonde hair flowed down her back, the ends drifting away, caught up in the current of the spell she wove. The gold buttons of her deep green vest sparkled in the morning sunlight, coupling with the shine of her knee-high boots to give her a glowing appearance. My fingers eased onto the strings of my lute. The woman might’ve been twice my age, but I’d not let her bring more harm without at least trying stop her.

People around me fell to the ground, clutching at their skulls as the Piper pressed on. I stepped around them, calmly moving to the center of the pavilion, to let her see me, let her direct her magic at one with some defenses.

I stopped. With slow, easy breaths, I closed my eyes, focusing on the construction of the chaotic melody of the flute. It spun around me, tearing at me, flinging great claws that wished to sink deep inside me and burrow until I bled.

“No more,” I whispered.

The tune broke off, and my eyelids lifted, meeting her icy blue gaze through a dense fog I recognized all too well from my nightly dreams.

“Ah,” the Piper said, her voice a silky hiss. “There you are. You must be the one who sent my rats running.”

“You killed those people,” I replied. “Has this kingdom not seen enough death for you?”

She sneered at me. “You live your way, and I live mine. When you disturb my livelihood, you deal with me.”

I swallowed nervously, but held my ground. “I’ll give you one chance. If you don’t leave now—”

“You’ll what?” she interrupted with a haughty laugh. “One itty bitty Bard barely old enough to hold a lute doesn’t frighten me. I’ve met with Bards twice your age and none have matched the power of my flute. You think you can best me, child? I’ll bet my head you lose yours before I’ve played half of my song.”

“You have one chance to walk out of here and change your ways.” My voice trembled slightly, but I stood my ground. “If you refuse, I can’t promise you such an offer when we’re finished.”

Her laughter echoed from the stage rafters, and I shivered. “We’ll see, baby Bard.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled, bringing the flute to her lips. Though my feet itched to run, I refused them and set my mind to work. Something she said niggled at me, but what?

The song burst from her pipe as a tornado, ripping across the prone figures scattered between us. The notes slammed into me with physical force, each note bashing against me as I fell to a knee.

Think. I had to think. There had to be a way to stop it, some weakness in her magic, but my vision blurred and spun so quickly that my thoughts escaped me. What had she said to me? What spirit granted her the power to bring such misery to—

Even as my skull threatened to split wide open under the piercing pitches bombarding it, a single moment of clarity struck me as a slap to the face.

“None have matched the power of my flute…”

The flute. The magic was in her flute. Whether she was Bard or not, I couldn’t say, but where she wielded a single blade, I could command three at once. I began with words.

Let the lakes run dry

Let the stars burn out…

I dove deep inside myself, pulling at every shred of strength I possessed to find the song, pushing through the relentless, battering trill of her pipe.

Let the moon crumble up above…

I staggered to my feet, my fingers finding the strings of my lute of their own accord.

You will never find

A love truer than mine

And a heart freer than the sky.

A sway, a spin, and I loosed the full torrent of myself upon my target. The words and melody flowed around me, wrapping me in sweet serenity like gentle armor. A song like I’d never known poured from my lips, exploded from my instrument as a great symphony, and sprung from my steps and twirls as spring bursts from winter’s icy grasp.

Let the clouds rain fire

Let the fields turn to stone

Let the earth split in twain

You will never find

A love truer than mine

And a heart freer than the sky.

Spirits above