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Fi followed Lavinia down the cool hallway toward Abrensi’s room, walking a little faster to keep up with the woman and her echoing steps.
A knot began to form in Fi’s stomach.
It hadn’t been there in the forests of Braonn. In the Wiraced, it was easy to forget her failures. There she felt more relaxed, even when it was cold. And it was just so nice to have people praising her, to see happy faces no matter where she turned, wonderful that her Songs were so important.
People weren’t mean in the city, but facing her mistake again so soon after returning to Anaskar was not what she’d expected. And to have both Nia and Giovan whipped away to speak with the Lord Protector and someone who’d recently arrived from the desert land of the Medah, was a bad surprise too.
The enormous, floating city kept everyone worried, even though it didn’t seem to move or attack. It just... sat there in the sky... casting a giant shadow over the coast and the land – not too far from home...
How was Father Canto now? She hadn’t seen him in such a long time. It seemed like years but it wasn’t so long. Julim, too, must have been worried... but if she could just fix everything with Lord Abrensi, then they’d have to let her visit her brother, surely?
“Here we are, Fi,” Lavinia said.
Fi smiled up at the Storm Singer; she was still the same, her hair was still like flame and she was still kind, and beautiful and patient. Not like Lord Abrensi had been... but that didn’t matter now, Fi had to put everything back to normal.
The door squeaked open to reveal his cluttered shelves and desk, and there in the centre of the room, the stone statue of Abrensi. His face still wore the look of mild surprise, his intense blue eyes grey now.
And despite it all, Fi couldn’t stop a giggle at the sight.
Lavinia raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Instead, she sat at the table and motioned for Fi to join her. “I am sorry that you are being rushed in for this attempt, but do not worry if it proves unsuccessful. We simply want all the help we can get with the city of Ilesinya.”
Fi took a chair. “You think I’m going to fail?”
“No dear, I’m just saying that it does not matter if you do. Together, we will restore Lord Abrensi sooner or later.”
“Oh.”
“I was thrilled to hear of how you helped Lady Nia’s people.”
Fi straightened. “Well, I think maybe I can do it again, I just have to make up some new words... or maybe learn some old ones. I have an idea, about encouraging the stone to crumble, like when it gets old.”
“That is a very good idea, indeed,” the Storm Singer said with a smile.
“And I was thinking it should be old words too, like the way rocks are old. Maybe we can use a different combination of Ecsoli?”
She was nodding. “Well, as it turns out, there is a man who once worked for the king here who may be able to help.”
“The one from Medah?”
“Not quite, though they’ve travelled together, actually. Wayrn was once an acrobat but he is also interested in old languages. I have asked him to join us soon.”
“He was an acrobat?”
She nodded. “Once, yes. But while we wait, shall we try a song? I can sense that you’ve grown stronger, maybe that will be enough.” Lavinia pulled a piece of parchment from her Storm Singer robe, the fabric looked so soft; it was one of the things Fi found herself looking forward to whenever she thought about the future. “Do you remember this one?”
Fi took a look, and seeing the first line she tapped it confidently. “Yeah, let’s try it.”
Together, they stood to move around before Lord Abrensi and Lavinia counted them in by clapping her hands softly.
Fi sang the first note. It was the word for ‘wake’, and she sang a little strongly, but soon fell into a better match with Lavinia... and it did feel different. Her voice didn’t seem so thin next to Lavinia’s anymore! The Storm Singer’s voice was still much stronger, but that was just something to aim for.
Fi’s elation quickly faded.
Abrensi was not changing and when the song ended, her shoulders fell a little. “Do we try it again?”
“No. Let’s wait for Wayrn,” Lavinia said, but she put an arm around Fi then. “But you’ve improved a lot, you know. Well done.”
“Thank you, Lavinia.”
“Now, how about I find something to eat while we wait?”
“Are there any sweet cakes here, do you know?”
She started for the door. “I’ll find a servant and perhaps you’ll get lucky.”
But the Storm Singer was stopped by a visitor – a blonde man dressed in mostly black, wearing a bag strapped over his shoulder. His face had been tanned beyond what seemed normal, which made sense if he’d been in the desert for a long time.
“Fiore, this is Wayrn,” Lavinia said. “He’s very interested in your ability to make songs in your own language.”
“Well, I don’t have that many yet,” she said.
Wayrn chuckled. “Even one is fascinating.”
“So, do you think you can help us save Lord Abrensi?” Fi asked.
“I’m not sure. There is a language I have been trying to understand but it’s so old there’s not much left. I’m calling it the Denedra tongue for now and I’ve found something under the city that makes me think that it’s a very special language.”
“And you think I can help you figure out the missing parts?”
“I hope so... but first, I thought I could teach you and Lady Lavinia enough to try a song in Denedra. Maybe it will succeed where others have failed.”
Fi nodded up at the man. “I wanted to try something with old words but I’m not so sure anymore... Shouldn’t a song work no matter the language? Especially if it’s a Storm Singer doing it? I thought we had the wrong words, not the wrong language but...” she sighed and shook her head. “But now I don’t know what to try anymore.”
Wayrn tapped the table’s surface. “Not a problem, Fiore. We’re mostly giving this a look because I hear you’ve tried everything else, right?”
“Just about.”
“So it’s worth a chance, I think.”
“I’ll do my best,” she said, though it didn’t seem very likely, even if he sounded confident enough. Maybe he knew something she didn’t. Lavinia was nodding along, as though she believed in the man.
“Excellent! So far, I don’t have many words so this might take a while.”
She frowned. “But you want me to make up the missing words, don’t you? It won’t be like the real Denedra.”
“Maybe not, but I think someone as talented as you can still do it, Fiore.”
She straightened a little. “Like my Song of Seeking?”
“Right. Or what you did in the Wiraced.”
“And because the Denedra words are special, this might work?”
“I’m hoping so, yes.” He lifted a sheaf of papers from his bag. “Ready?”