Volinette's Song (12 page)

“Are you saying,
Apprentice Jendrek, that Janessa used spellcraft to alter the living memory inside the relic room at the Hall of Wonders?”

“That’s exactly what he’s saying, Maera,” a new voice said from the direction of the doorway. Their heads whipped toward the door in unison. Adamon was standing there, his cloak pushed back away from the holster on his belt. “And she did a particularly crafty job of it. Not good enough to fool me, mind you, but enough that Olin wouldn’t have given it a second thought.”

Volinette felt as if she’d been dumped in a rushing river. The current was carrying her along, bouncing her off rocks before she could fully comprehend what was going on around her.

“I didn’t do it,” Volinette said again. It seemed to be the only thing her mind could process with any certainty.

“No,” Adamon agreed. “You didn’t. Now, thanks to my investigation and young Apprentice Jendrek here, we know conclusively who did.”

“What happens now?” Volinette and Baris asked, almost in unison.

“Nothing for either of you.” Adamon shot a knowing look at the Head Master. “I think it’s time to recall Olin and the other Inquisitors. If she’s willing to meddle with the fabric of the Ethereal Realm, I’m not sure we can trust her not to do something more dangerous.”

Maera sighed.

“Send for the Inquisitors, Adamon. Find Janessa and bring her to me.”

They were dismissed then, and Volinette and Baris shot from the room as if fired out of a cannon. They bypassed the lift entirely, instead pelting down the stairs as fast as their feet would carry them. It wasn’t until they were outside the tower that Volinette turned on Baris, punching him lightly in the arm.

“If you saw everything, what took you so long to come find me?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Baris asked with a snort. “Break you out of the dungeon? Kick Adamon in the shins and steal you away? I thought Maera was the most likely person to see reason, so I bided my time.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. Thank you.”

Baris shrugged. “You’d have done the same. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Twelve

A leaden sky hung over Blackbeach, as if it, too, was brooding over the events that had so recently transpired under its watchful gaze. Volinette shivered. She was wearing an undershirt, her tunic, and had her cloak cinched around her neck with the hood up. Even so, she was cold. Every time the wind whipped across the choppy waves, it pierced her like a dagger. As uncomfortable as it was on the breakwater, it would have been ten times as bad within the Academy walls. The
Inquisitors were still looking for Janessa and the Prism, and Volinette didn’t want to be anywhere nearby when they found her.

Glancing at Baris told her that he wasn’t fairing their voluntary exile much better. His teeth were chattering and he looked as if he might freeze solid at any moment. He wore only a plain tunic. Volinette had offered him her cloak, but he’d brushed her off with an indignant eye. He was fine, he swore. He didn’t need her mothering him.

“I’m f-f-f-f-ine!” he snapped.

“I didn’t say anything,” Volinette retorted. “And besides, if you can’t say the word without stuttering, then you’re not fine.”

Baris launched himself off the breakwater, dropping with a certain boyish grace and landing on the balls of his feet. He extended his hand to Volinette with grave courtesy. She gave him an appraising look before she took his hand and dropped into the fine black sand below.

“What are we doing, Baris? I know that look in your eye. We don’t need any more trouble right now. We’ve got trouble in droves.”

“You worry too much,” he said before dragging her along the wall. “We won’t get in trouble, trust me.”

Volinette had some choice words to say on that score, but she held her tongue. In truth, Baris was one of the few people she could count on to always put her wellbeing before his own. Well, if not before, at least alongside. He was a good friend. Volinette didn’t know many, any actually, people who would have burst into the Head Master’s office and declared her innocence. It was an act of either incredible bravery or incredible stupidity. Though she’d never tell him so, Volinette figured that it was probably equal parts of each.

They were both glad to reach the stone cobbles that made up Blackbeach’s main streets and avenues. Trekking through the sand on the beach was exhausting, and the abrasive particles got everywhere and took forever to get rid of. They leaned on each other, taking turns knocking the worst of the sand from their breeches and from inside their boots.

“Where are we going?” Volinette asked, only to find her request again f
all on deaf ears.

Baris led her through the alleys and back streets of Blackbeach as if he’d mapped them himself. “Just one quick stop first,” he’d said, dragging her down a narrow fissure between two buildings that she wouldn’t have gone down in broad daylight, much less this overcast day. And at night? Forget it. No chance.

Refuse was ankle deep, and more than once Volinette spied the beady eyes of a hungry rat appraising her before turning tail and fleeing out of sight.

“Gee, Baris, you sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

“Grow a sense of adventure, Volinette. It’s not like I’m leading you into the Warrens.”

Volinette opened her mouth to reply and found that she had nothing witty to say. The last time she’d embraced her adventurous side, she’d ended up in the custody of the Grand Inquisitor and fighting for her future with the Head Master of the Six Orders. She closed her mouth and said nothing, following Baris in silence.

The door the boy stopped in front of was black with age. The iron banding that held the wood together was rusted lace. It looked as if a strong knock would bring the whole thing down, but that’s exactly what Baris did. A moment later, the door opened a crack and a dirty face peered out. Eyes that reminded her of the rats darted from Baris to Volinette and back to Baris.

“Yeah?”

“I need one bag,” Baris said, rummaging around in the front pocket of his breeches.

“Hold on.”

The door closed and Volinette gave Baris a sharp look.

“I thought you said we weren’t doing anything that would get us in trouble.”

“Would you trust me?” he asked, looking pained. “Just a little? Sheesh.”

A moment later, the door was opened a crack and a grubby hand thrust out. Baris dropped the
Half-Crown coin he’d dug from his pocket in the dirty palm, which disappeared as if by magic. It reappeared with a small leather pouch, which Baris caught deftly as it dropped. The door snapped shut and they heard the sound of a heavy bar being dropped.

“What was that all about?” Volinette was feeling less and less comfortable about this adventure by the minute.

“Trust, remember? Come on.”

It was hard
for Volinette to trust anyone, but she decided that if there was anyone in Blackbeach who was unlikely to sell her out, it’d be Baris. After all, his record was exemplary when it came to standing by her side. She decided that it was okay to trust him and try to enjoy herself. After all, he wasn’t Janessa.

More winding through hidden roads and back alleys led them somewhere Volinette recognized. They’d entered the courtyard of the Great Library through an almost hidden gate that she’d never noticed. The entry was so overgrown with hanging moss and ivy that it was almost like parting a curtain to gain access to the courtyard proper.

“See?” Baris asked with some exasperation. “Nowhere that you’re going to get in trouble. Will you relax now?”

Volinette felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She ducked her head, unable to meet his challenging eyes. He was right, she knew, but it didn’t feel good to be called out on it. Tears that she’d been fighting for days sprang to her eyes. She didn’t cry, but the tears still made their escape down her cheeks.

“Aw, jeez. C’mon, Volinette.” Baris shifted from one foot to the other. “Don’t cry, I didn’t mean it. I know it’s been right shit the last couple days, but it’ll be alright.”

Awkward as it was, Volinette appreciated the pat on her shoulder that Baris managed to produce. It was hardly a natural action for him, but at least he was trying to make things better, which is what he always did. If nothing else, he always tried to make it better. She wiped the tears away with the back of her hands and looked up at him, even managing to summon a tentative smile.

“There you go!” he exclaimed, brightening. “Trust me, it’ll be okay. Especially when you see what I’ve got to show you.” He dangled the leather pouch in her line of sight. “C’mon…we need to go. Before he leaves.”

“Before who leaves?”

“You’ll see.”

The Great Library always reminded Volinette of a sacred temple. Though she hadn’t been to many clerical services when she’d been traveling with the family, there were the customary Spring Solstice and Yuletide rituals that most people in the Imperium attended. That same sort of hushed reverence is what Volinette felt when she walked into the towering stacks of volumes older than she was by hundreds or thousands of years.

Volinette took a deep breath, relishing in the smell of old paper and parchment. That was the smell of time’s passage, a hundred-thousand lifetimes worth of knowledge and emotion frozen in time. Waiting, ready to be called upon at any moment, just by picking up the tome and flipping through the pages.

Baris groaned and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her past the reference desk at the front of the ground floor
and toward a staircase in the corner that curved skyward as far as the eye could see. They trudged up the stairs. Every time Volinette thought they’d finally reached their destination, they climbed ever upward.

They disembarked on the highest level of the library
, and Baris led her down a narrow hall to a narrower door that looked older than the one they’d seen in the alley. He knocked once, a gentle rap of his knuckles, and then twisted the knob, pushing it open. Resigned to see this madness through to the end, Volinette followed.

The small office was unremarkable, save for the vast and impressive piles of paper, parchment, and writing implements that crowded every surface. Tall shelves were festooned in paper. Small cabinets seemed bursting with the stuff. A wide desk, standard issue for
Quintessentialists in the Orders, was nearly buried under it.

Behind the desk, a wizened old man was nestled in a chair. His head was thrown back as far as his thin neck would allow. The snores that issued from his open mouth were at least twice as big as the man they came from. Baris shot Volinette an impish grin and rapped on the desk, hard, with his knuckles.

“What? Who?”

“Good afternoon, Master Archivist Jotun
,” Baris said loudly.

“No need to shout, you young scamp. I may be ancient, but there’s nothing wrong with these.” He tugged at the loose lobes below his ears so hard that for
a moment, Volinette thought they might stretch like hot taffy. “Who is this that you’ve brought into my domain?”

Baris pushed the door shut with one hand and dumped a pile of paper onto the floor from a chair with the other. He plopped down in the newly vacant seat.

“This is Volinette.”

“Oh?” Jotun’s eyebrow went up, as if tugged by an invisible string. “I’ve heard about you, young one. You’re the one with the voice like an angel.” Volinette felt herself blush again
as the archivist continued, “Angel or not, you lot aren’t supposed to be here.”

Her stomach flipped
, and Baris held up a finger to forestall her panic.

“I’m sure you can make an exception, Master Jotun.” Baris leaned forward in his chair, dropping the leather pouch on the desk and leaning back. The grin that spread across his face was infectious
, and soon Volinette found that she was smiling, too.

“Hmph.” That was all the Master Archivist said as he retrieved the offering. Fingers gnarled with more years than Volinette’s entire family combined tugged at the silk thread that closed the pouch. She had to fight the urge to offer her assistance, almost sure that it would do nothing other than offend the old man.

At length, Jotun worked the neck of the pouch open and reached inside. He plucked a translucent yellow sphere about the size of a marble from the bag and held it up to the light. He turned it this way and that, admiring the myriad of small crystals that dotted its surface. Volinette had just begun to wonder what kind of stone it was when the old man popped it in his mouth and made an almost feline sound of delight.

“Deralt’s?” the old man asked around the obstruction in his mouth. Baris nodded.

“Yes, Sir. Best lemon drops in the city.”

Jotun nodded, slurping loudly.

“I taught you well, boy,” he said, tucking the drop into his cheek, making it bulge. “So having been due and properly bribed, what do you want, scamp?”

“Can I take Volinette up in the tower?”

“Hmm,” Jotun considered the request, weighing the pouch in his hand. “Seems your payment is a little light, youngster.”

Baris’s face fell. Volinette felt bad for him. This was clearly a well-rehearsed battle of wits. Somehow, Baris had been outsmarted.

“It’s the same as every other time,” Baris groused.

“Aye lad, but those time
s, you didn’t bring your friend.”

Volinette plunged her hands into her pockets, sensing an opportunity. “Please, Sir, perhaps I have something that can entice you…”

“Aye and you do, girl, but you won’t find it in your pockets.” Jotun leaned forward in a conspiratorial fashion and gave her a wink. “Sing me a song, and we’ll call it even.”

Volinette looked from Baris to Jotun, then back to Baris. He shrugged, but he was grinning from ear to ear. The little gremlin had known this was going to happen. He’d put her on the spot
, knowing full well what the price of admission to his little show would be. She wanted to grab him by the neck and shake him.

“I, uh,” Volinette struggled to adapt. “What should I sing?”

“Anything you like, dear,” Jotun replied, using his finger to conduct an imaginary band.

She hugged herself, trying to think of what she could perform that would meet with the old man’s approval. The black sand still stuck to her cloak was harsh against her fingers. Inspiration struck and she opened her mouth to sing.

What came out was an old, but popular, ballad from the fishing villages where her family would often stop to perform. It was the tale of a widow lamenting the loss of her husband to the ravenous sea and throwing herself into the waves.

Dear sea, sweet sea, how could you take my love from me?

Days and nights, for weeks and weeks, my love came to you, far from me.

Taking from thy heaving bosom, offering back his love and life.

Now you’ve taken him forever, betrayal cuts through me like a knife.

I cannot, will not, live without him, my life, my love, your trophy claimed.

I commend myself now unto you, with his spirit, I will remain.

As the last notes of the song died away, Volinette was surprised to see the Master Archivist dabbing at the corners of his eyes. Even more unexpected was the look of appreciation Baris turned on her. His mouth hung open, as if he was unable to credit what he’d heard.