Beware the Master of Monkeys. He would sell you the night as a cloak for the sun.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
Jasminda’s gaze followed Jack as he dealt with the soldiers. After the initial incident, the men’s sudden change in attitude and obvious deference toward him piqued her curiosity. He only had to say a few words and they would take off like startled horses.
Several soldiers came over to ask, somewhat hesitantly, for the weapons of the Lagrimari. The settlers understood the commands and translated for the others. Rozyl scowled but added her rifle to the pile.
Once the guns had all been put away, the other refugees were brought out from their hiding places, including nearly two dozen people she hadn’t seen before who’d hidden in the trees just beyond the settlement. They all gathered, seated behind the remains of the makeshift barrier, still wanting some distance between themselves and the Elsirans.
Gerda sat next to Jasminda as she watched Jack giving commands and instructing his men.
“You follow him very closely,” Gerda said. “Do you think he will disappear?”
Jasminda pulled her gaze away. “I’d almost forgotten he was one of them.” Her heart tied itself in a knot. He’d been so different, so kind, but now, standing in a huddle of other Elsirans, it was difficult to pick him out from the group. The idea of finding warmth and comfort from his presence seemed foreign.
What had she expected? She knew he was on a mission. He’d risked his life to gain information to save his country. With the cornerstone gone, her only use to him was in unlocking the mystery of the caldera. Just because she’d grown to think of him as a possibility, perhaps even as a friend, did not mean he felt the same. She was an ally; she must do her part and he do his.
With a sigh, she pulled out the pouch that held the caldera.
“Watch over me while I try this again?” she asked Gerda. Jasminda had been insensible to the world during the last vision.
Gerda patted her shoulder. “Of course.”
Jasminda inhaled deeply, unwrapped the caldera, and lowered her palm.
* * *
In the distance, the clouds have not yet begun to form, but I feel them coming. A raw wind races across the mountain ridge, but I do nothing to block its bite. The sensation of the air whipping against my skin grounds me.
Above my head, Eero turns circles in the air, riding on the wind. I briefly wonder who taught him the trick, but no one needed to. He has been a quick study. He swoops before me, hovering just out of reach. I grab for him anyway, knowing it will make him smile, and he races away.
“You will burn yourself out,” I call up to him, making sure my voice carries as his form becomes smaller and smaller. Within minutes, I sense him weakening. He has just enough Song left to land gracefully by my side, laughing, his face full of joy.
“A little more, please,” he says, holding out his hand.
“More? So you can waste it flying through the air like a deranged bird? There is a reason you do not see any other Songbearers tearing through the skies disturbing the clouds.”
He snorts. “Because you are stodgy curmudgeons with no sense of adventure.”
I roll my eyes. “No, because we respect the energy and do not squander it on frivolity. If you needed to fly to escape danger or forestall some terrible event, that would be one thing.”
His resonant chuckle echoes off the mountain peaks behind us. “If you give me a little more, I will endeavor to seek out some poor soul in peril and give aid straightaway.”
I turn away from him and cross my arms.
“My dearest, most beautiful and talented sister.” He leans into me and makes his most pitiful face to engage my sympathy.
“Your only sister.”
“Yes, and a more wonderful sister there could never be. I promise not to squander it. I shall give the Song the respect it deserves. Please?”
I want to hold my ground against him. But in the weeks since Yllis discovered the spell that allows gifting a portion of a Song from one to another, Eero has been happier than I have seen him since the loss of our parents. Perhaps happier than I have ever seen him.
We thought it best not to make the spell widely known, and so are all sworn to secrecy. At first, Eero and I would go up into the mountains above town to let him practice so as not to be spotted. But this week we are on assignment in the east, checking in on the colony that has sprung up here in the shadow of the eastern mountains.
It is a quiet place, so far from home. A bleak and dry environment where nothing grows, but the colonists are working to transform it into lush farmland, as our parents and grandparents did long ago in the west. We could not have found a better place for Eero to practice away from prying eyes.
I relent and take his hand for the spell. The power is always there, humming inside me, a leashed beast waiting for release. I set a trickle free and sing it into my twin, deep into the core of him where it would last him quite a while if he did not waste it.
I give just a little, but he has been using it up faster and faster, asking for more and more. Some part of me advises caution—having been born Silent, there is no telling how the power will affect him—but it brings him such joy.
“No more until tomorrow,” I admonish. His eyes shine as he nods his understanding.
With a flick of his wrist, he pulls the moisture from the air until it forms a tiny dense cloud hovering above his palm.
“What are you going to do with that?” I hold back a laugh.
His grin is mischievous. He winks at me. “My tongue is a bit parched. The terraforming is moving at a snail’s pace, and the water rations here barely slake my thirst.” He opens his mouth, and the little cloud becomes a stream of water that arcs, landing on his tongue.
I shake my head and turn back toward the imposing mountain range. “The storm will be here in a few hours,” I say. “We had better head back so I can help the Songbearers with today’s work. That way they will not fall too far behind because of the weather.”
The Songbearers work together to sing the barren ground to fertility. One day, farms will grow where this desert stands. That is the true power of Earthsong.
My brother squints into the distance, unable to see what I see. “Would it not be better to halt the tempest and leave more time for the work?”
I shrug. “If we stopped every storm, nothing would ever grow.” A greater unease pushes at me, but I brush it away. One storm at a time is all I can deal with.
* * *
Jasminda stared ahead blindly, replaying the last vision in her mind. Changing desert into farmland—she was awestruck by the power of these ancient Singers.
To the west of the settlement of Baalingrove were green fields and rolling hills. Clusters of trees sprang up here and there, and according to the settlers, the nearest farming village was about two kilometers away. But the settlement stood in the shade of the bordering mountains. Jasminda recognized the profile from her vision. Baalingrove was very close to where this colony of Earthsingers had been. All of this beauty and greenery had been transformed from desert wasteland long ago.
She stood, wincing at the way her sodden clothes stuck to her, and turned to the distinctive peaks. In her mind, she tried to triangulate the location of the colony. How long ago had it been since the Singers had done their work here? Was this vision a clue of some kind? Could the colony’s location offer some insight into how to awaken the Queen?
“They wish the refugees to sleep at the Eastern Base tonight,” one of the settlers told the others. The men sat together, appearing impervious to the rain that poured down. “The Sisterhood is setting up a camp for them near Rosira. The plan is to travel there tomorrow.”
This elicited a chorus of grumbles from the other men. “I reckon we should go with them,” another grizzled man said.
“And leave our homes? Who are they to us?” Voices murmured in agreement.
The first man stiffened. “Those who need protecting.” Protests rose, but he leaned forward. “Most of us were born in the harems and grew up in the army. No family and no choices. We’ve been cast off here going on twenty years, but these women and children coming across need our help. They don’t know the language, nor do they know what to expect from these flame-haired bastards—though after today, I’m sure they can guess.”
The others quieted, and he continued. “I can’t make none of you go. All I know is a man protects those weaker than himself. And no matter what they think, we’re still men.”
Jasminda blinked back tears. Had Papa not met Mama, he would be one of these men. The settlers remained silent, but she saw renewed purpose in the set of their jaws. They would go to protect the others.
And she would go as well—it was where she’d intended to end up all along. Appeal to the Tax Bureau, save her land. And discover a way to awaken the sleeping Queen. No, not difficult at all.
But first, she needed to visit the site of the colony. If the way to awaken the Queen was truly tied to these visions, then she couldn’t ignore any possibilities.
She looked for Jack, but didn’t want to ask any of the Elsirans. Finally, she spotted him near one of the vehicles talking with some of the soldiers. She called to him, waving to get his attention. Their eyes met, and a chill raced through her. She told herself it was just the unyielding rain. Jack broke away from the group; the other Elsirans looked her way, confusion evident on their faces.
He approached wearily. He looked so tired and burdened. Perhaps that was her imagination, however, his demeanor had changed. Gone were even the hints of the man she’d once confused for an artist. He was all warrior now.
His presence beside her dried her throat. Whatever she had been planning to say flew out of her head.
“You are in charge of these men?” The question had been weighing on her since the soldiers had lowered the weapons pointed at him and showed him such deference. She didn’t know much about military ranks, but High Commander sounded awfully important.
“Yes,” he said simply.
Her heart grew heavy. Though he stood next to her, suddenly he seemed very far away. “You are very young.”
“I started early. Practically at birth. And my family is very … well connected.” There was no pride in his voice.
“The men respect you. It isn’t false regard in their eyes. You must be quite good.”
He shrugged and looked away, as though uncomfortable with this topic of conversation. She changed the subject.
“You’re taking us all to the base?”
“Yes, all the refugees and any of the settlers who want to come. Tomorrow, we’ll head for Rosira.”
And what would happen after that? Would she ever see him again? She pushed the question back. It would probably be for the best. Before she got any more attached.
She cleared her throat. “I saw something with the stone.”
Jack’s brows raised; he stepped closer. “What?”
She briefly relayed the last vision. “The twins were near here. I recognize the formations.” She pointed to the mountain. “Perhaps a few kilometers north. I thought maybe we could go there and look around. There could be something we’re meant to find.”
“Do you think the caldera is like the map?” he asked, following her line of thought.
“We know so little. There might be nothing there, but since we’re so close, I thought we should check.”
He looked off into the distance. “The only thing I can think of up there are the ruins of the Citadel. Do you think that’s where this colony was?”
“Could be.”
Jack nodded, his decision etched on his face. “Then we’ll go. It’s very near the base, so we can stop at the ruins on our way.” He moved to walk away, then stopped and turned back to grab her hands. “Thank you.”
The contact zinged all the way up her arms. “Don’t thank me yet. I still don’t know how any of this will help awaken the Queen.”
He grinned at her. “Still. Oh, and I don’t think we should mention the caldera or the plan to wake the Queen to anyone else. Getting anyone in the government involved could be … complicated.”
“All right,” Jasminda agreed. “I don’t have anyone to tell, anyway.”
He squeezed her hands, then marched away, barking out orders. Jasminda clenched her fists, willing the tingling to stop before it reached her heart.