Page 35 of Beyond the Shadowed Earth
She shut the door, and settled into the chair by Niren’s bedside.
Her friend regarded her with a quiet smile, but something haunted lingered in her eyes.
Eda grabbed her hand. “I thought I’d lost you.” Her voice was raw. Cracked.
Tears dripped down Niren’s cheeks, and she turned her face away.
“Niren?”
“You didn’t lose me, Eda,” Niren’s voice was hoarse with disuse. She shuddered and wept.
Eda sat with her awhile in silence, waiting until Niren was ready to speak.
“I saw the Circles of the world,” said Niren, still not turning back to Eda. “I saw the spheres and the spaces between, the great void and the spirits trapped there. I saw the realm of the One and the gods and men alike who dwell on those shores. I saw death and time and sorrow. I heard the gods calling my name. And I knew they had a purpose for me. I knew I was destined to serve them there, as I could not do here. As I cannot do now.” At last she met Eda’s eyes; her face was wracked with sorrow. “You ripped me away from all that. I didn’twantto come back. But then it seems to beyourpurpose in life to take everything that matters to me.”
Eda blinked, throat constricting. “Niren—”
“Go away, Eda. I don’t feel like talking to you anymore.”
“I couldn’t let you die, Niren. It would have been my fault. When I was little, when my parents died, I—”
“Eda.” A strange gentleness came into Niren’s tone. “Not everything is about you, you know.”
“But I made a vow, and the gods—”
“The gods work according to their own designs, and the design of the One who created them. Do you really think a vow made by you or me or any human born on Endahr could alter the gods’ plans? They released me for now, Eda. But they might call me back again. And when they do—when they do, you have to let me go. Do you understand?”
“I saved you once. I can do it again.”
Niren sighed and shook her head, but a little smile touched her lips. “You’re not listening. You’ve never listened. Not even when we were children.”
“I found the stone, Niren. Construction on the temple has started up again and I sealed it with my blood. That’s what saved you.”
“Oh, Eda. I don’t think my life or death is wrapped up in blood and stone. Perhaps the gods had pity on you. Perhaps they saw you couldn’t do without me just yet.”
Eda thought of Raiva’s words to her down in the well, and a hard knot of anger pulled tight inside of her. “The gods have never had pity on me.”
Eda had asked Ileem to sing for the company, to celebrate their formal engagement as he’d told her was tradition in Denlahn. The engagement had happened that morning, up in the Place of Kings during an arduous, drawn-out ceremony. They’d spent the rest of the day listening to outraged petitioners explain in loud, passionate detail why the marriage was a horrible idea. Some objected to Denlahn in general, others to Ileem in particular, and it had taken every ounce of Eda’s willpower not to order them all dragged off to prison.
Even after that, Ileem had agreed to perform. Seeing him now, standing alone on the dais in the ballroom, took her breath away. He wore midnight-blue robes embroidered in silver, with a matching silver headdress, Enduenan-style sash, and his ever-present ear cuff obscuring the mark of Tuer. He held an ivory-bone lute, which looked small against his tall frame, like a child’s instrument in the hand of a god.
Stars were just glimmering into being outside the balcony, and a breeze stirred through the ballroom that smelled, faintly, of autumn, of the coming relief from the summer that had lasted more than half the year.
Eda sat in a carved ebony chair, cushioned with velvet, that faced the dais. Her Barons and other courtiers waited behind her, some standing, some seated on the pillows strewn about the floor. Niren was among them, ruby skirts making a perfect circle around her, a red jewel flashing on her brow. Niren had been strangely quiet when Eda had told her about the engagement. She’d been strangely quiet all week, in fact, like she’d left a part of herself in the realm of the gods and would never again be truly whole.
But Eda pushed those thoughts from her head and locked eyes with Ileem as his fingers twitched over the lute strings. He gave her a swift fierce smile.
And then he opened his mouth and began to sing.
His voice was soft at first, barely audible over the twangy hum of the lute, but it grew fuller and richer with every note, and its beauty overwhelmed her. Bewitched her. He sang in the ancient Denlahn tongue, and though the words were unfamiliar to her, she still felt their power. She almost imagined she couldseethem, glinting gold on his lips.
The song ended abruptly, and Ileem took a breath and started another before anyone had a chance to applaud. This was a rhyme Eda had known from earliest childhood, sung in her own language. She hadn’t thought about it in years, and listening to it now made her grow very cold.
Seek the god, fulfill your vow
He’s calling, calling you
Shut in his mountain far away
