The Mistress of Horses never met a field she could not coax to grow just a little brighter. Her voice can still be heard in the whisper of the leaves that shoot from the ground.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
“Are you going to try again?” Jack’s voice hummed in Jasminda’s ear.
The others completed their preparations to leave, but Jack’s gaze never left her. She felt it like a physical touch. “I should, shouldn’t I?”
“But you don’t want to? What’s stopping you?”
She opened her mouth to admit to him her failures—if she could not save those closest to her, how could she do something so big? Thankfully, Rozyl’s raised voice kept her from answering.
“We have little choice. It makes no sense to travel down a tunnel we can’t feel or see the ending of.”
Jack rose and moved to where Rozyl and the elders stood. Jasminda followed. “What’s the problem?” he asked.
To Jasminda’s surprise, Rozyl answered. “We can’t connect to Earthsong in the caves. Somehow, the mountain is blocking us. Without singing, we’ll never find our way through this maze of tunnels.”
“Has the storm not stopped?” Jack asked.
Rozyl was grim. “It’s getting worse.”
“Worse?” Jasminda cried out. “No storm has ever lasted this long.”
“Not a normal storm, is it?” Lyngar raised an eyebrow.
Dread snaked its way across Jasminda’s skin “So what do we do?”
“I bloody well don’t know,” Rozyl said, exasperated. “What can we do? Wait until we can cross above the mountain.”
“That storm won’t die a natural death, I promise you that,” Lyngar said ominously.
“What happens when you try to sing?” Jasminda asked. For the first time, she realized that her Song, which should have been fully restored by now, was not at full capacity. It had been hours since she’d used the last of her power on the cornerstone. Had the caldera sapped her?
Turwig spoke up. “The children say their Song calls out but nothing’s there to answer it. Like the world has disappeared. Try it yourself if you like, child.”
Jasminda drew in a shaky breath, then closed her eyes. Part of her was afraid to try—the foreboding she’d felt when first entering the cave had not dimmed. That sense that her magic had no place here was as strong as ever, but curiosity won out over the fear. She opened herself to Earthsong. The normally strong pull of the power was nearly overwhelming; the tide tried to pull her under, harder than ever before. “I feel untethered. I can barely hold on.”
“But you can draw upon Earthsong?” Rozyl asked.
Jasminda nodded, eyes still closed. Her attention was on her awareness of the cave, the tunnels beyond, and the mountain surrounding them. Ghosts of the ancient inhabitants brushed the edge of her senses. She thought briefly of the legends of the Cavefolk, the race of people who had lived within these mountains generations ago and then disappeared. There was a kind of primeval power here, locked in the fabric of the rock, but it thrummed with a different pattern than Earthsong.
Still, a thread of life wove through this place. Insects and creatures too small to see, and mosslike vegetation that needed no light. She pulled the energy inside her; it formed a path, though faint, that led through to the other side of the mountain.
She let the power slide away. “I can sense the route, but it’s long. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay connected and sing for the whole journey. The caldera sapped my Song.”
“Why in pip’s name must it always be her?” Rozyl grumbled. “She’s not even full Lagrimari.”
Jack’s breathing turned heavy as he glared. His reaction lit a spark of satisfaction within Jasminda.
“Perhaps she can link with someone,” Turwig suggested.
Rozyl gave him a look that could have sheared the shell off a beetle. “Why can she sing and no one else? Why does the caldera respond to her only? Her magic must be different. I’m not linking with her.” Jasminda flinched internally at the bite in the woman’s voice, though she had no desire to link with Rozyl, either.
“What is linking?” Jack asked, looking from Rozyl to Jasminda.
Gerda patiently began to explain. “It’s when two Earthsingers share their connection. They—”
“It’s when one Singer gives control of their entire Song to another to do with as they please,” Rozyl interjected. “And that is not going to happen.”
“It’s a sharing of power,” Gerda continued, “but only one Singer can be in control. It must be done voluntarily, of the giver’s free will. If we still had our Songs, we would do it.”
“Speak for yourself,” Lyngar hissed. Jasminda had linked with Papa when she was young and still learning. He’d shown her how to control her power through the link, but she could not imagine linking with a stranger. To do so was to become extremely vulnerable to another. It was like letting someone into her soul.
The elders and Rozyl bickered over what to do. Neither Rozyl nor Sevora would link with Jasminda.
A small hand slipped into her own. Osar’s round face beamed up at her. She squeezed his hand, and he leaned in, resting his head against her leg.
“You would link with me, wouldn’t you?” she asked, smoothing down his hair. “You’re not afraid?” He shook his head, then offered her his other hand, which was closed in a fist.
“What do you have there?”
He unfurled tiny fingers to reveal a shoot of green with delicate white petals sparking out of it.
“Where did you get this?” she asked, incredulous, picking up the tiny flower. It could not have grown in the cave, and with the snow outside it was doubtful he’d brought it in with him. Yet here it was. Something beautiful and impossible amid the bleakness. “Thank you.”
Silence descended. Jasminda looked up to find the others staring at her and the blossom in her hand. She straightened her shoulders, looking at Rozyl and Lyngar as she spoke. “Osar will link with me.”
Rozyl narrowed her eyes. Lyngar merely turned toward the exit, speaking over his shoulder. “Fine. Let’s get going. We’ve wasted far too much time as it is.”