CHAPTER FIVE

Harmonies

LILY DIDN’T KNOW where she was anymore.

Every time she woke and lit her lantern, the rocky passageways disappeared into darkness on either side. She began to wonder if they went on forever.

It was hard to tell how long she and her new friends had been traveling; they hadn’t seen their pursuers once since that first encounter. They had slept fifteen times, that was certain, but whether this had any bearing on day or night it was impossible to say. She was tired most of the time, but considering the constant walking and stone surfaces where she was forced to sleep, that was hardly a surprise.

On the second “day,” they had found a cache of lantern oil, and Lily had been given her own lantern. She had taken to keeping the flame low after she woke up, and then raising and dimming it through the day, making her own sun. She found it strangely comforting.

It wasn’t that the tunnels were dull. Often they opened into caverns of breathtaking beauty, with rock that rippled across the walls like water. Or they would find a cave full of quartz shards that burst through the floor to make scintillating forests of crystal. Even when they had to crawl through spaces barely wide enough to breathe, the rock under their hands and knees was mottled with a hundred different tones, textures, and colors. Under normal circumstances, Lily would have been fascinated.

But she found herself longing for the real forests of Giseth, or even the crowds of Agora. There was no chance of meeting anyone new down here. If they heard the sound of approaching footsteps, they had to hide. Lily had tried to get Septima and Tertius to explain again why they were on the run, but all she got for her troubles were veiled comments about the evils of the Conductor, and increasingly suspicious looks.

That was the other problem. She could cope with sleeping on rock floors, with nothing but her pack for a pillow—she had suffered worse. She could cope with being lost, and the lack of light and stale air. But her companions were another matter. She was beginning to suspect that accompanying Tertius and Septima anywhere was not a good idea.

If anything, their behavior became even stranger as time went on. Unless Lily mentioned it, they seemed to have forgotten that they were being chased. In fact, they couldn’t seem to latch on to one thought for more than a few minutes. They chattered continuously, but never about anything of importance. Occasionally, they claimed to be fleeing to a secret rebel encampment, but they seemed to have little idea of where to go. If anything, their journeys were simply from one concealed food parcel to the next, and even that was strangely convenient. At first, they claimed that they had left the food there, in cases of emergency. But it soon became clear that it never even occurred to them to take any of the food with them. In fact, they carried no supplies at all, apart from their lanterns. They slept, sprawled on the floor, without any need for comfort, brushing the dust from themselves in the morning, and washing in the pools of water that formed in the damper caverns.

Above all, they didn’t seem to have any plan. On the seventh day, Tertius led them on a breakneck chase through a maze of tunnels, only to show them a smooth, egg-shaped nugget of crystal growing out of a wall. Septima stared at the amber stone in delight, watching the light of her lantern play off its surface.

Lily leaned against the wall of the tunnel, thinking of all the similar crystals they had seen, growing from the walls, in their journeys through the tunnels. She remembered her own tiny crystal, the one that had led her here, still buried in the depths of her pack. It was one of the crystals that Verity, her father’s sister, had brought to Agora. She had thought it so strange when she had first found it; she could never have imagined that she would find a whole land of them.

But in Naru, they were everywhere. Some glittered beneath her feet, barely larger than a fingernail, others covered whole caverns with splendor. No two were the same; they were of every color and shape, but all shared a kind of shifting translucence. Stepping into a whole cavern lined with them was an unsettling experience, as though the solid rock around her was dissolving into smoke.

But that wasn’t the oddest thing about the crystals. She hadn’t discovered that until she had tried to sleep.

The crystals whispered.

They were very quiet, too faint to understand, like the distant babble of the Cacophony. But in the silence, she could hear them, the sound rising and falling like a million echoes a long way away.

“Can’t we get moving again?” she asked, testily, trying to conceal her unease. Septima didn’t bother to look at her.

“Not until we’ve examined this one,” she said, still gazing intensely at the egg-shaped crystal, which pulsed faintly in the light of her lamp.

Lily shifted. She was sure that she could hear more whispering coming from this amber gem, but her ears could just be playing tricks.

“What’s so special about these crystals anyway?” she asked, trying to cover her unease.

Septima turned around, her expression smug.

“Shall we tell her?” she asked Tertius. He shrugged, sourly.

“I’ll show her. This one is good to look at, but it’s too garbled to be useful.”

Septima giggled in delight. She was clearly enjoying knowing more than Lily. Lily refused to rise to her bait.

“You wanted to know how we know so many facts about the world above, when we’ve never seen it?” Septima asked. “Come here, and put your ear to this crystal.”

Lily approached, tentatively. The smooth gemstone seemed to be glowing with its own light. Tertius noticed her hesitation, and smirked.

“It isn’t hot. We shine our lanterns on these crystals, and they take in the light, but not the fire.”

Tentatively, Lily bent her head, and pressed her ear up against the crystal’s smooth surface.

“What am I supposed to…?” she began, but Septima shushed her.

Tertius began to sing.

When speaking, his voice had been harsh. But now, it emerged in a sweet, high series of notes—no real words, just an oddly haunting melody. Lily was so surprised that she didn’t move, keeping her ear against the crystal. For a moment or two, all she could hear was Tertius’s voice, resonating inside the crystal, gaining overtones that hummed and sparkled.

Then, suddenly, she began to hear words. But these weren’t coming from Tertius. This was a different voice altogether, swimming up from the depths of the crystal.

She recognized this new voice. It was her own.

What’s so special about that crystal?

She pulled her head back in surprise. Tertius stopped singing and laughed, but Septima cleared her throat in an exaggerated way.

“These crystals rule our lives,” she said, as if reciting a lesson. “Something about them allows them to resonate for years, maybe even centuries. We think that every word spoken, every sound made in the world above is captured by seams of crystal in the stone beneath your lands.” She traced a path across the rock wall, revealing a line of glittering stone leading up to the crystal. “And the resonance builds, passing from crystal to crystal, until it reaches the caves of Naru. After that, it’s only a question of sifting through the noise to find the secrets. Every crystal unlocks new treasures for us.”

As if to demonstrate, Septima sung a sudden top note, bright and clear, and the crystal rang in response, its light growing. At first, Lily heard only a burst of unintelligible echoes—like a crowd far away. Septima changed notes, singing up and down a scale. As she did, some of the voices faded away, and others rose to the surface.

Don’t be offended by being called a rat, my friends,…

A man, making a speech.

You going to order a drink or what?

Another man, sour and ratty.

All my life I’ve been a prize, used by other people. Not anymore.

A woman. Lily craned forward; she was sure she recognized that voice. If she could just listen for a few seconds more …

Septima stopped singing. Almost instantly, the voice faded into nothingness, and the light within the crystal guttered and failed.

“Of course, sometimes all you get is nonsense,” Septima said, airily, apparently not noticing Lily’s disappointment. “But find the right crystals, and you might hear anything ever spoken in the lands above.”

Lily marveled. Back in Agora, the Director would have longed for a tool as powerful as this. To be able to listen in on any conversation ever held, any word ever uttered. It was extraordinary, amazing.

No, she realized. It was terrifying.

“Anything?” she said, aghast. Tertius scratched his chin, nonchalantly.

“Well, in a lot of the crystals, most of the echoes are too faint to hear, of course,” he said. “The best ones are back at the Hub. Out here you usually only get little pieces of worthwhile knowledge.”

“Speaking of worthwhile knowledge,” Septima said, turning her back on the crystal. “That was a lot of answers we just gave you, and I don’t remember you answering many questions for a while. You’d better tell us something new soon, Wonder.” She frowned. “Anyway, there’s nothing worth listening to here anymore. Let’s go.”

And completely ignoring the crystal that had so fascinated her moments ago, Septima strode from the cave, leaving Lily even more confused.

After that, Tertius and Septima were unusually hostile for the rest of the day. Lily tried talking to them, but they had soon wrung her dry of trivial facts about Agora, and the more time she spent with them, the less keen she was to share anything more personal. And as soon as she stopped talking, their interest began to wane.

For three days after that, they were sullen and moody. But it wasn’t until they awoke on the eleventh day that either of them would say what was wrong.

“I don’t think much of this wonder anymore, Tertius,” Septima announced, suddenly, as they were eating. “She hasn’t told us anything new for a while. Why do you want to keep feeding her?”

Lily swallowed in alarm, not sure whether to be frightened or insulted. Tertius smiled, enigmatically.

“You need patience. She’ll reveal more if we give her time. She’s one of the Orchestra, remember? They’re not like us.”

“You’ve mentioned the Orchestra before,” Lily said, anxious to change the subject. “Who are they?”

Septima glared.

“Questions, questions, all the time, and never any knowledge to pay for it,” she said, darkly, and then rolled her eyes. “The Orchestra! You know … up there.” She waved her hand toward the stone ceilings. “The world above. The Orchestra provides the music, while the Choir,” she gestured to herself and Tertius, “sings the song. You can have that for nothing, that’s common knowledge.” She sniggered. “You’re right, you know; she’s pretty tuneless.”

Tertius began to giggle. After that, Lily couldn’t get any sense out of them for an age. Every time they looked at her, they dissolved into laughter.

On the twelfth day, she decided to put her foot down.

“Where are we going?” she asked, suddenly. Tertius looked back, an expectant look on his face. Lily sighed. “All right, you want some knowledge first?” She took a breath. “The village of Aecer is the nearest Gisethi village to Agora, and its leader, the Speaker Bethan, used to be the village’s tale-spinner. Now can I ask a question?”

Tertius pulled a face.

“What’s a tale-spinner?”

Lily felt her fists clenching in frustration.

“A tale-spinner is something between a teacher and a storyteller. And that’s all you’re getting until you tell me where we’re going!”

Tertius exchanged glances with Septima, brushing his long white hair out of his eyes.

“We’re running away,” he said, as if she were simple. “Away. Not toward anything. We’d hoped to find a wonder, but since that didn’t turn out right,” he looked down his nose at her, “we’ll just have to keep going until we find another one.”

“And what will you do if you find one?” Lily asked, used to ignoring the insults by now.

Septima looked at her nails, thoughtfully, pointedly refusing to answer. Lily leaned back against the wall. How could she make this work?

“Tell me, have you two ever heard of the Midnight Charter?”

Septima’s head snapped up.

“What do you know about that?” she said suspiciously.

Lily smiled.

“Quite a lot, considering I’m mentioned in it. And I’m willing to share.”

Tertius frowned, and leaned closer to Septima. He whispered, but because he had to whisper loud enough for Septima to hear without getting too close, Lily also heard every word.

“That’s top quality information. Only the Oracle knows about the Charter.”

“She could be lying,” Septima replied with a glare. “You can’t trust the Orchestra—everyone knows that.” Tertius pulled on his hair in frustration.

“She needs us. Think! If we found out something the Oracle didn’t know…”

“Who’s the Oracle?” Lily asked.

There was a stunned silence. Septima looked as though her eyes were going to pop out of her head.

“The Oracle is … the Oracle,” she said, stupefied. “She knows everything. They say, if you can tell her something she doesn’t know, she’ll reveal every secret in the world.”

Lily smiled. Finally, a plan had presented itself.

“All right, this is the deal,” she said, stepping closer to them to make them uneasy. “You take me to the Oracle, and before I tell her my secrets, I’ll tell you. Then we share the truth. Deal?”

Tertius and Septima exchanged glances again.

“You could be lying,” Tertius stated, flatly.

“What have I got to lose?” Lily replied, keeping her voice level. She couldn’t back down now. This Oracle sounded like a much better place to start finding answers than these two.

Septima breathed out.

“It had better be worth it,” she said. “We’ll take the Rails. The Conductor won’t expect us to come that way.”

Tertius nodded, wrapping up the last of the food.

“It’s a few days’ walk away. Come on, Wonder.”

Decisively, he set off.

“Can I ask just one more question?” Lily said as she followed. Septima glared.

“What?” she said, peevishly.

“What are the Rails?”

Septima’s lips curled into a smug grin.

“Something you’ll never forget,” she said.

*   *   *

Three days later, they reached the Rails.

At first, they didn’t look too impressive—nothing more than two parallel metal tracks, running down the center of a flat tunnel.

“Is this it?” Lily asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Septima nodded distractedly.

“The rails run all through the tunnels out here,” she explained. “They even go as far as the edge of the Cacophony, near where we found you.”

“Well, I have to say,” Lily mumbled as they continued down the tunnel, “I wouldn’t call these unforgettable…”

As they progressed, Lily noticed that the tunnels were growing wider and more regular. The air in the tunnel began to stir, blowing strands of her dark hair across her face. Then, she heard the noise. A whirring, clanking sound, quite unlike the eerie echoes of the Cacophony. Ahead, Lily began to make out a cold glow of light.

“Hush,” Tertius said, suddenly, looking down. His dark eyes were hard, and serious. “We’re about to get to the Rail Nexus,” he said. “Follow us. Don’t speak; don’t draw any attention. Do exactly what we do. And remember, you owe us for this.”

Lily nodded, keeping her mouth shut.

Then, with alarming swiftness, Tertius and Septima bounded forward, into the light. Surprised, Lily raced forward, toward the mouth of the cavern—and stopped dead.

The cavern was huge, stretching so far up that it almost looked like a sky. Up in the roof, Lily could see huge lumps of crystal, glowing with their own inner light, casting a strange, bluish radiance over the entire cavern. All around the edges, Lily could see people, dressed in the same garish colors as Tertius and Septima. But the most striking thing about the cavern, the thing that took her breath away, was that it was filled from top to bottom with a vast array of spinning, whirring, and interlocking clockwork gears.

Ahead, behind a large cluster of machinery, Lily could see Septima beckoning to her. She darted a look around, but the other figures seemed to be distracted, tending to their enormous contraption. As she hurried across to her companions, Lily couldn’t suppress a shudder. She had seen a mass of clockwork like this only once before, in the cellar of a secret house back in Agora. And there, her life had been threatened by a madman.

“What—?” Lily began, but Septima shushed her, and pointed deeper into the machinery. Lily squinted. In the depths of the clockwork, she could make out a series of shapes, like oddly shaped carts. Inside one of them, she spotted a flash of white. Tertius’s hair, she was sure of it.

“After you,” Septima said, gesturing toward a ladder, propped up against the side of the machine. Grimly, Lily took hold, and began to climb.

Unsteadily, she reached the cart. It was larger than it had looked from the ground, and even contained a few seats. Tertius shrank away from her as she stepped in, and Septima gracefully hopped in behind her, one hand on a large lever at the back. Lily glanced up at the clockwork spinning around them, and then peered over the side. Sure enough, the cart’s wheels were slotted into a pair of thick, metallic rails.

“You might want to sit down,” Septima said. Lily turned back to look at her, opening her mouth. But before she had a chance to ask, or even move, Septima shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, and pulled the lever.

The bottom dropped out of the world.

A few seconds later, Lily realized that she had been thrown to the floor of the cart, her head spinning as it lurched forward. She dragged herself up, and instantly wished that she hadn’t—the cart was racing through a narrow, winding tunnel, coming loose from the tracks on every turn. She tried to shout, but the wind whipped her words away, as Tertius and Septima stood up, and snatched at the stalactites that hung just above the track, even though actually touching one would have struck their hands off in a second.

Lily wanted to yell, to scream at them to slow down. But then she saw the expression on Septima’s face. It was thrilled, desperate, determined to touch these rocks, even if she was thrown from the cart to her death. And it was terrifying, because she just didn’t care.

Lily crouched down, and tried not to look.

The cart hurtled along the tracks, its wheels screaming against the metal. Lily was no longer looking out. She huddled in the bottom of the cart, while above her, Tertius and Septima laughed with delight and whooped as the cart lurched and dipped. In the background, Lily could just hear the crunch and whir of the gears as they powered the cart along.

And then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

Lily groaned, her head spinning. She looked up. Septima and Tertius were standing over her, lit from behind.

“We’re here,” Septima said. “Welcome to the Hub, Lily.”

Cautiously, Lily pulled herself to her feet, and looked out over the edge of the cart, shielding her eyes against the sudden brightness.

The Hub was dazzling—an immense, monolithic pillar of crystal glowing and radiating a brilliant cascade of light. It stood at the center of a cavern so huge it dwarfed the Rail Nexus. As Lily watched, the colors in the Hub shifted and merged, like smoke. Lily remembered, buried in the depths of her pack, her own little crystal that had led her here. That too absorbed light, glimmering with a tiny flame. But this was like an inferno to that flame. It would have been hard to look at it under normal circumstances, but after spending the last few days squinting in the darkness, the sudden brilliance nearly knocked her backward. Even Septima and Tertius, she noticed, averted their eyes, as though the light was painful to them as well.

“You … live here?” Lily asked, blinking furiously. Septima laughed.

“No one could live under the Hub itself—the flame of truth burns too brightly. Except for the Oracle…”

Tertius silenced Septima with a look and stepped out of the cart, standing between Lily and the worst of the light. He was unsmiling.

“But we’ve brought you here,” he said, seriously, “because no lies can survive beneath its light.” He leaned closer—closer than he had ever come to Lily before. “Tell us quickly, is it true?”

Lily’s eyes began to adjust. Behind Tertius, she began to make out the silhouettes of people, clustered around the Hub, dressed just as brightly as her companions. As she watched, one small figure detached itself from the group, and began to walk toward them.

“Is what true?” Lily said, suddenly confused and fearful.

“Are you mentioned in the Midnight Charter?” Tertius said, more forcefully.

“Tertius…” Septima said, suddenly scared. “He’s coming.”

“Tell us now!” Tertius nearly shouted. “We need something to bargain for our safety!”

“Why? Who’s coming, who…” Lily’s confusion mounted, and then her words stuck in her throat. “The Conductor—you brought me to him, didn’t you?”

“Tell me!” Tertius snarled, all pretense of friendship gone. “You stupid, tuneless piece of…”

“Now, now, this won’t do at all…” said an unfamiliar voice.

Tertius and Septima stiffened, and turned together. Lily poised herself to run, to try and get away, and stopped.

The Conductor stood before them. He was middle-aged, plump, and wore a pair of thick, heavy spectacles. He was a little shorter than Lily, and clad in a black, dusty gown, quite a contrast to everyone else, though he was still pale and white-haired. He was also, Lily noticed, with growing surprise, completely without any kind of guard or escort. He held no weapons—nothing more threatening than a slim, white baton, which he tapped against his forehead absentmindedly.

Tertius and Septima stepped backward. Lily was amazed to see they were trembling.

“Perhaps,” he suggested, in a warm, slightly uncertain voice, “you might want to introduce me to your guest?”

Without warning, Septima flung herself on the ground before the man’s feet.

“Spare me, Conductor! I’ve brought back the foul brute!”

Tertius gasped as Septima crawled forward.

“Tertius found an outsider, sir, a member of the Orchestra! He was holding her captive.”

Tertius glared at her.

“You stole my idea!” he accused her. “When did you decide to turn traitor?”

“Two days ago,” Septima said, with pride. Tertius laughed, triumphantly.

“Then you’re too late. I decided I was going to turn you in three days ago. Just as soon as I had the Wonder’s best secret.”

Septima sprang up from the ground, indignantly.

“How do I know that? You might have made that up now. Anyway, that just makes you a rotten traitor.”

“But you just said…”

“Why don’t you just rot away and die, Traitor?”

“You disharmonious load of old…”

The slanging match grew louder, and more vehement, incorporating some fairly graphic hand gestures. Throughout it all, the two squared up, a yard apart, their faces flushing with the effort.

In the midst of all this, the Conductor came closer to the cart, and, tucking his baton behind his ear, gave Lily a weary smile.

“Would you like some refreshment, young one? I fear this argument will continue for quite some time.”

Dazed, weary, and utterly confused, Lily nodded dumbly, and got out of the cart. Then, watched silently by the people clustered near the shining Hub, she followed the Conductor, the wailing shrieks of her former friends ringing in her ears.

*   *   *

Ten minutes, and a strong cup of tea later, Lily felt a little better.

“You mean … they weren’t on the run at all? Really?” she asked, still not quite believing it. The Conductor shrugged. He had taken her to his comfortably furnished cave, a few minutes’ walk from the Hub. The bare stone was disguised with throws and rugs, and the Conductor had insisted that she sit on a large canvas bag filled with feathers. He stood in the corner, busying himself over a little stove, heating up the water for his own cup of tea. Its little flame cast a pleasant glow over his features, a contrast to the cold light from the faintly glowing cluster of crystals in the ceiling.

“In a sense, they were,” he replied, thoughtfully stirring the infusion. “A few weeks ago they disappeared. Some of the others in their sections said that they had been struck with wanderlust. So naturally, I ordered the Guardians to watch over them. We left a few food parcels in their way, just enough to keep them safe. I must admit, as soon as the Guardians told me about you, I was looking forward to your arrival. Orchestra members are not unknown or unwelcome here, but it has been years since we have had any visitors. I was tempted to invite your companions back to the Hub a couple of days ago, when it looked as though they were about to abandon you, but in the event, I’m glad that we did not. It is vital to let wanderers return of their own free will.”

“But, they told me that you had been cruel to them, hurt their friends…”

The Conductor frowned, and scratched his chin. “Well, I think I might have commented on the tenors’ tuning a few weeks ago. Really, when the wanderlust is upon them, they’re looking for any excuse.” The Conductor leaned back, crossing his hands across his stomach. “I remember, when I left the Hub for the first time, I had been given three fewer grapes than my friend. I managed to work that into an entire conspiracy against the baritones—it took me nearly two months before I came back.” He chuckled, and came over to sit on a chair of his own, bearing a rough wooden plate. He offered it to her. “Would you like some cake? I baked it myself, quite a novelty.”

It had been hours since Lily had last eaten. Cautiously, she took a slice of cake. It was dry but serviceable. As she chewed, she tried to get her thoughts in order. It wasn’t easy. Whenever she began to get close to understanding this place, it was as though someone changed all of the rules. Agora and Giseth had their secrets, but at least they had some consistency. But everything she had learned about Naru seemed to alter at a moment’s notice. Who could tell whether the Conductor was telling her the truth now? Tea and cake was no indication of trustworthiness.

“What do you think?” the Conductor said eagerly, taking a piece of cake himself. “Our food arrives in parcels from the land of Giseth, winched down in boxes. The Gisethi believe that they are appeasing certain ancient spirits of the earth, which does ensure that we get good rations, if a little bland. Very little grows down here. I’m so glad they sent a few sacks of grain this time, though I fear that few of the choristers would have the patience to bake anything.”

Lily nodded distractedly.

“I have so many questions,” she mumbled, “but I’m not sure if I can ask them. I’d rather keep my secrets to myself…”

“Oh, don’t concern yourself on that account, Miss Lily,” the Conductor said, pleasantly. “You are a very unusual case. I am quite happy to waive our usual conventions of knowledge trading simply for the pleasure of conversing with someone new. Outsiders in Naru are rare indeed, and if you find your way here, I believe you should be treated as an honored guest. I lay my little offerings before you. Food, comfort … and a few choice morsels of truth.”

Lily shrank a little, embarrassed at her suspicions.

“You’re very generous,” she said, meaning it. The Conductor shook his head.

“You are paying me back a thousand times, in a way your traveling companions never really appreciated. To see a real member of the Orchestra, to converse and understand the lands above…” For a moment, he looked at Lily more intensely, a sparkle in his dark eyes. “It is a rare and precious thing, more valuable to me than you can imagine. I never thought it would happen in my time as Conductor. You are truly a wonder, my dear, truly a wonder.”

Lily knew that he meant it kindly, but she shivered at hearing that word.

“Tertius and Septima called me that,” she muttered. “It made me feel like some kind of possession.”

“Tertius? Septima? Who…” the Conductor began, and then his faced creased with a look of recognition. “Ah, were those the names that your companions chose? Yes, yes, that would be likely. They often take names based on their numbers…”

“Those weren’t even their real names?” Lily muttered, dully, barely able to be surprised by anything anymore. The Conductor finished his cake, thoughtfully.

“They were real, for a brief time, but they were hardly permanent. To be honest, Miss Lily, I am surprised that they did not change them partway through your acquaintance. The choristers take on new identities more often than they change their clothes. It allows them to view their knowledge from every angle, every mindset, without becoming dangerously attached to any one belief or idea. And, of course, it is entertaining. Soprano Seven and Tenor Three—sorry, Septima and Tertius—have kept their names for an unusually long time, but the wanderlust can cause that. When the world becomes more exciting, self-interest dwindles.”

Lily put down her cup, trying to take this all in, and found that she couldn’t. It was all too much, too alien. She found herself focusing on the room around her, the strange mixture of odd and familiar. The stove, the food chest, the chairs, and table. All were normal, if a little oddly designed to fit in the cave. But the whole space was lit by a glowing crystal, whose light flowed and pulsed as though a swarm of glowing motes were trapped within.

“This happens a lot, then,” Lily said, trying to sound sympathetic. The Conductor nodded.

“All but the very youngest sing in the Choir, after they have left their tutors. It is a sheltered life, so most of the choristers go through wanderlust at some stage. I remember my mentor telling me that a Conductor must always be prepared to begin each performance and find he has lost half of his best singers, though it has rarely been that bad.” The Conductor sipped his tea. “Honestly, I find it hard to blame them. Any of them. Life here is a little disappointing. We spend our waking hours soaking up information, listening in to the echoes of distant lives. We know more facts about the lands above than most of you who live there. But the actual experience needed to join those facts together, and form a clear picture of the world … that is quite a different matter.” He rubbed the back of his hand, wistfully. “Most of us could tell you exactly how the days grow longer and shorter throughout the year, but we have never seen the sun. We live by hours and weeks that mean nothing in these caverns. And the most important things to us are things that can never be touched.”

Despite herself, Lily reached out to touch the Conductor’s shoulder. Reflexively, he shuffled back.

“Forgive me, I mean no offense. I know that in your culture that would be a gesture of sympathy, but—”

“No, I’m sorry,” Lily said, embarrassed, remembering the way that her former friends had reacted to the possibility of physical contact, as though it was something obscene.

“The touch taboo is an old part of our culture,” the Conductor explained, “taught to us from the cradle. I suspect it began to ensure that we all remained here, in Naru.” He looked sadly down at his own hands. “Without this fear, we may have all succumbed to wanderlust and joined the Orchestra long ago. But our purpose is to gather knowledge, not experience true life. The thought of how you live in the lands above, crushed together, feeling each others’ breath upon your faces.” He shuddered. “Ours is a purer existence, free from so much complexity. But perhaps the wanderers, just for a moment, understand what we have lost.”

Lily put down her empty teacup, her head spinning.

“This place is nothing like what I expected.”

“Really?” The Conductor smiled, “and what did you expect?”

“I expected…” Lily frowned, trying to think of how to phrase this. The truth took her quite by surprise. “Answers. I actually expected that all I had to do was to come down the steps, and there would be someone waiting who knew everything. Who could explain why there have been people interfering with my life for as long as I can remember. Why my father sent me to be brought up an orphan, why conspiracy follows me around … It was going to be so very simple.” Lily couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it.

The Conductor put down his cup.

“You were looking for harmony. That is not terribly surprising. We all are, to an extent—all so overloaded with facts and thoughts and half-formed ideas, and looking for a pattern where they fit. Well, Naru can certainly provide answers, if you are willing to find them.” He smiled. “We must talk more. It would be fascinating to see if I am right about some of the mysteries of Agora. And then, of course, there is the Oracle. She will want to see you.”

Lily wanted to ask about the Oracle, she really did. But right now, there was too much to take in, too many confused thoughts filling her brain. She felt a shiver go through her. Up until today, she had thought of the Conductor as someone to fear—the tyrannical ruler of this dark, claustrophobic underworld. She had clung to this, the one solid fact in this strange new land. And now she had met him, and he was the closest thing she had down here to a friend.

Not for the first time, she wondered what Mark would do.

“I have so many questions…” Lily said, doubtfully. “But I think they can wait.”

The Conductor looked as if he were about to speak again. Then, in the distance, Lily heard something: a human voice, singing a note. Soft and pure, it seemed to resonate through the caverns. The Conductor rose from his seat.

“The Oracle will answer your questions properly, after you have slept. But now, it is time for the rest-tide concert.” He plucked his baton from behind his ear and, shyly, bowed to Lily. “It would be an honor if you would come to listen. No Orchestra member has ever heard the Choir since I became Conductor.”

Lily looked up into his face. So unfamiliar, with his huge, melancholy eyes, but so welcome right now. And she laughed.

“Why not?” she said, quietly. And then, in case she had hurt his feelings. “I mean, I’d love to.”

The Conductor smiled, uncertainly, and then drew aside the curtain at the front of his cave. Lily hauled herself to her feet to follow him. Beyond, Lily could see the other Naruvians beginning to drift toward the central cavern. Lily noticed that the light from the Hub had dimmed. Now she could make it out more clearly, a towering but natural crystal spire, shooting up from a deep crevasse. All around it, on semicircular platforms carved into the cavern walls, the Naruvians were gathering, separating into men and women. Lily could make out Tertius and Septima, finding their places on opposite sides of the Hub.

“I must take my position,” the Conductor said, apologetically. “Please, find somewhere that you are comfortable.”

As he walked away from her, Lily settled herself down, sitting cross-legged on the ground, wondering what was going to happen. She watched as the Conductor climbed up onto a podium of rock, tapping his baton to silence the rumble of chatter.

In the sudden quiet, Lily could once again hear a distant echo of voices. A little like the Cacophony, but more orderly—more controlled. Almost like a heartbeat, or the rise and swell of the tide.

And then, Lily saw Septima begin to sing. Softly at first, and then with growing power, a glorious solo line that rang higher and higher. Then, one by one, the other women joined her, and the men followed in a cascade of sound.

And Lily nearly laughed. Because in all her time hearing Tertius and Septima talk about “the Choir,” she hadn’t realized that it was the literal truth.

There were words somewhere in the texture, singing about almost anything. Lily caught snatches of lovers’ confessions, of parents’ sorrow, of laughter and fear and torment. The light from the Hub began to increase; a million different colors striving for dominance in its smoky depths. And then the Conductor flourished his baton, and the voices blended into one soaring tune, that rose and harmonized and echoed from the crystal walls of the cavern until the whole space thrummed with its vibrations, and the Hub glowed with a dazzling blue that made Lily feel as though she were standing under the summer sky.

And just for a moment, despite her tiredness, and confusion, and apprehension, Lily felt elated. Questions could wait for tomorrow. For now, she was happy just to sit there, and marvel that such a mad, impossible place could produce anything so beautiful.