The Killing Song Part 4

On the other side of the door was a short flight of stairs; at the top of the stairs was a wide landing and another door. Moon knocked heavily once and opened the door without waiting for a response. "Tetkashtai," he announced.

Dandra caught a glimpse of a dozen or so kalashtar men and women looking up from their discussion. Nevchaned rose out of the crowd. "Thank you, Munchaned," he said. "That will be all."

"Can I go now?" Moon asked.

Nevchaned's face darkened. "You have a duty tonight."

Moon's face took on nearly the same color as his father's. He stepped away from the door and squatted down on the landing outside. Dandra found herself liking the young man. She might not have been able to say anything about it to him, but she could sympathize with a feeling at being trapped within kalashtar customs and expectation. She turned to him and murmured, "Keep fighting, Moon."

He glanced up in surprise, but she kept going past him, stepping into the meeting room and closing the door behind her.

The warm air smelled slightly of jasmine, as if a single blossom had been left in the room and then removed. The kalashtar elders sat in silence on low, wide Adaran-style benches of dark wood with curled arms and a scattering of thin cus.h.i.+ons. The atmosphere should have been calm, conducive to debate and the making of important decisions. It wasn't. The room felt close, the faint scent of jasmine annoying. The clean lines of the benches were simply stark and barren as trees in winter-and for all that the silent elders attempted inscrutability, their eyes were dark and haunted.

It was probably the last emotion Dandra had expected to see from them.

Nevchaned bent his head over hands spread wide in welcome. "Kuchta, Tetkashtai."

"Kuchtoa," Dandra said. She took control of the fear that gnawed at her and forced herself to look around the room, trying to see past the haunted eyes of the elders and guess at what was going on in their minds. It seemed as if more than a few of them were trying to guess the same thing about her. Several glanced away as Dandra's gaze met theirs; others faced her boldly, maybe even accusingly. Dandra s.h.i.+vered and raised a barrier around her thoughts.

Her reaction to the tension in the room must have been obvious. Nevchaned gestured swiftly to a chair that had been placed before the benches and to a low table bearing a white teapot and several gla.s.ses. "Please, sit," he said. "You'll take tea?"

"Yes." Dandra sat as Nevchaned poured tea so pale it was barely tinted with color. He pa.s.sed her the cup and Dandra took a polite sip. The tea had even less taste than it did color, but she forced herself to nod in acknowledgment of Nevchaned's hospitality. He wasn't the most senior or significant elder present-Dandra recognized a wiry woman named Selkatari and a quiet scholar named Hanamelk, both leaders of the community-but it seemed as if he had been appointed as the voice of the elders in dealing with her.

What would Tetkashtai do in this situation? Dandra lowered her cup. "You didn't summon me here to drink tea."

Nevchaned showed no surprise at her bluntness. "We wanted to thank you for subduing Erimelk," he said. "Your Aundairian friend-he's not badly injured?"

"He's fine."

"And your journey to Zarash'ak? It was good?"

Dandra couldn't quite bring herself to answer the question. Tetkashtai's journey to Zarash'ak had been a disaster. She clenched her teeth and gave Nevchaned a direct look that was as much herself as it was Tetkashtai. "You're dancing around something, Nevchaned. Are the elders really that interested in travel stories? What do you want?"

A murmur blew through the room. Dandra saw Selkatari's face turned dark. Nevchaned stiffened and looked around. His face took on the slightly vague look of someone reaching out with kesh. Other elders seemed to respond to the silent communication. Hanamelk gave a slow, deep nod. Nevchaned turned back to Dandra.

"We want to know why Erimelk might want to attack you and your friends," he said.

Dandra fought down her suspicions of Dah'mir's hold over the kalashtar. "We were in the wrong place at the wrong time, I suppose," she said. "Erimelk looked like he could have attacked anyone. What happened to him?"

Nevchaned hesitated-and when he spoke again, he didn't answer her question. "Tetkashtai, did he do or say anything unusual in the attack?"

She looked at him sharply. "Aside from the attack itself, the only unusual thing was the way you whisked him away afterward. What are you hiding? What do you know about Erimelk's madness?"

Nevchaned's expression didn't change-but Selkatari's did. Her eyes narrowed. "That's a strange thing to say. It almost sounds like you know something about it."

Dandra could have bitten her tongue, but she pushed her argument, attacking before she could be forced to defend. "And you sound even more like you have something to hide!"

"Enough, Selkatari!" Nevchaned said But the wiry woman was already rising from her seat. "You don't know what we face-"

"And neither do we." Hanamelk reached out and put a hand on Selkatari's arm, drawing her back down into her seat. He calmed the elders with a hard glance then looked at Dandra. "So you know," he said. "The council of elders does hide something. What about you, Tetkashtai? Do you know more than you say?"

Dandra's heart beat fast. She kept her mouth closed, trying to think what to do or say. She didn't want to lie to the elders any more than she had to, but she didn't want to give away too much either. "You have an advantage over me," she said. "I've been away, and I've come back to fear in Fan Adar and a kalashtar mad in the street. Tell me what you know. Maybe I can add something to it."

Hanamelk considered her as Selkatari fumed, then looked to Nevchaned again. "Tell her," he said.

Nevchaned's worn face drew tight, but he nodded and turned to meet Dandra's gaze directly. "Erimelk," he said, "isn't the first kalashtar in Fan Adar to go mad. Over the last month, there have been seven others, all of them violent. We've had to restrain them to keep them harming themselves-or others."

Dandra's heart felt cold. "There have been other attacks?"

"Your Aundairian friend was lucky," said Selkatari. "He's still alive. Ten kalashtar and Adarans are dead. One of the mad kalashtar took her own life before we could stop her. Three others may have done the same."

"What?" Dandra asked. She looked from Selkatari, to Nevchaned, to Hanamelk. "How could this be happening? How could you hide that from the people of Fan Adar?" She blinked. "What about the authorities? Does the Sharn Watch know?"

"No," said Nevchaned. "Kalashtar deal with kalashtar problems." He looked vaguely guilty. "But the people of Fan Adar know about the murders and the madness. We couldn't have hidden that."

Dandra's brows drew together. "What are you hiding then?" she asked.

Nevchaned turned pale. "The song," he said. "We're trying to hide the song."

"The ... song?" Dandra repeated. The strange tune that Erimelk had sung as he regained consciousness-the song that Nevchaned had moved quickly to silence-came back to her. She tried to recall the melody. "Aahyi-ksiksiksi-?"

The elders drew back from her like a flock of birds parting before the attack of a hawk. "Don't!" said Nevchaned.

Dandra fell silent and stared at him and all around.

The old kalashtar shook his head. "Two things connect all of those who have fallen mad. One of them is the song. What you heard Erimelk sing is only a pale reflection of what remained of his mind. The song consumed him."

"Madness that's caused by a song?" Shock knotted Dandra's gut. "Does the song spread the madness?"

"We don't know," said Nevchaned. "We don't think so. Many among the elders have heard the song, and we're not mad yet. But the song and the madness are linked. That's why we try to suppress it."

"You said two things connected the kalashtar who fell mad," Dandra said. "What's the other?"

Hanamelk interrupted Nevchaned's answer. "Maybe that's something you should see for yourself," he said.

He gestured and, from the back of the room, an old woman rose and came forward. Dandra recognized her with a slight s.h.i.+ver of dread. Her name was Shelsatori. Tetkashtai hadn't known her well, but Medala had-Shelsatori had taught her some of her most potent psionic powers. Dandra stood and bowed respectfully to the old woman. Shelsatori barely seemed to notice, but just looked at her wearily.

There was no warning, no tentative touch of kesh. All at once, Shelsatori was inside Dandra's head-not probing or tearing as Medala had once done to Dandra, but simply present much as Tetkashtai had been present. Shelsatori paused as someone who stands at the threshold of a door, then stepped aside.

Sound filled Dandra's head, a kind of crystalline ringing that rose and fell in a song without words. The notes were inhumanly clear and pure, like gla.s.s and gems and drops of silver tumbling together in an unending cascade. No physical voice or instrument could have produced those tones. If she'd tried to sing them, they probably would have come out from her throat just as they had from Erimelk's. Aahyi-ksiksiksi-kladakla-yahaahyi- The longer she listened, though, the more it seemed that her mind became lost in the intricacies of the song. It turned her back on herself, dragging her down and lifting her up, and it became wilder, darker. Emotions stirred in her. Violent emotions. A need to hurt. A need to kill. And just when she thought she would die herself if she couldn't kill, the song seemed to condense, offering her a target for her violence-or rather, targets. Three familiar faces swam in the song.

Her, Singe, and Geth.

She almost fell over as the song vanished from her mind along with Shelsatori's presence. She had to grab for her chair to keep her balance, and it took a moment before she remembered where and who she was. Sweat was cool on her face and arms, and she was trembling. The song lingered like a bad memory, and it was all Dandra could do to offer thanks to il-Yannah that it was someone else's memory.

"She has seen," said Shelsatori calmly and turned to return to her seat. Dandra looked up at Nevchaned.

"We don't know where it comes from, and no one has been able to break its hold. The seers among us-" He nodded at Hanamelk. "-have meditated on the source of the song and found nothing. We thought that it might be the work of our enemies in Riedra, but not even Havakhad was able to sense any hint of new plots among the Inspired. Your face was our only clue until today when you appeared with the Aundairian. Who is the s.h.i.+fter?"

"A friend, but a long way from here." Dandra sank down into her chair. She could feel the eyes of every elder in the room on her. "Light of il-Yannah. The song was meant to drive its victims to kill us, but without us here, they could only turn on others."

"We'd a.s.sumed as much as well," said Hanamelk. He hesitated, then added. "The danger hasn't ended with Erimelk's capture. The victims appear in sequence. One is subdued and restrained, but a few days later the song comes to someone new."

"Tell us what you know, Tetkashtai," Nevchaned said. "If you know what the song is, or why it's happening, tell us! What about Medalashana and Virikhad? Are they involved?"

Dandra took a slow breath and tried to put her thoughts in order. The song had been claiming victims over the last month-and it had been just over a month since Dah'mir had eluded them. The song urged its victims to kill her, Singe, and Geth-and of course, Dah'mir wouldn't have known that Geth hadn't come with them to Sharn. The dragon couldn't have known that they'd pursue him to Sharn at all, but leaving a trap for them anyway seemed cautious. It couldn't have been hard to figure out that if they did come to Sharn, they'd seek out the kalashtar in Overlook.

Had he found a new way to direct the power of his presence over kalashtar? Had he found an unexpected way to tap into the ancient binding stones? Had he already mastered them?

Or perhaps the time for questions was past. She sat up straight, raised her chin, and met Nevchaned's gaze, then looked around at all of the gathered elders.

"Join me in kesh," she said. "There's something I need to show you." She opened herself and reached out. One by one, the minds of the elders touched hers. Dandra clasped them and held them tight, stretching her power to encompa.s.s them all.

First, she said as she spread her memories before them, you should know that I am not Tetkashtai- When she finished the tale and released the elders from kesh, the room was silent except for the m.u.f.fled sounds of the Gathering Light beyond the door and down the narrow stairs. The elders stared at her and one another. Dandra studied their faces. Most seemed shocked. Some seemed even more frightened than they had when she'd first entered the room. Some looked back at her with loathing-and strangely, Dandra found that it didn't bother her as much as she'd been afraid it would. All of them had seen what she'd been through. All of them had seen what had happened to Tetkashtai, Medalashana, and Virikhad. All of them had, through her, felt the terrible fascination of Dah'mir's presence-and she'd felt, through the kesh, the fascination that even her memories of the dragon's acid-green eyes had exerted upon them.

She felt like a hollow sh.e.l.l of herself, her story drained out her, but she also felt good. The truth had been told and whatever else the elders might think, they knew about Dah'mir now.

Hanamelk broke the silence. "Dah'mir will use the binding stones to imprison the minds of kalashtar in their psicrystals until they go mad and find the strength to reclaim their bodies, becoming servants of Xoriat in their madness. Il-Yannah, no wonder the seers haven't seen the danger. We watch for attack from Dal Quor and Riedra, not Xoriat and the Cults of the Dragon Below."

"I've seen the black herons you describe," said Selkatari. "I didn't think much of them-there are always birds in Sharn, sometimes exotic ones-but now that I think of it, they've been here for weeks. Just perching and watching."

A chorus of agreement rose. Other elders had seen and dismissed the birds as well. "We should start with them," said Selkatari. "Kill them. Blind Dah'mir."

"Leave them," suggested Dandra. "If you kill them, Dah'mir will know something's wrong. As it is, the only ones who have anything to fear from them are Singe, As.h.i.+, Natrac, and me."

Selkatari frowned. "What do we do then? Wait for the killing song to take us or Dah'mir to trap us with his binding stones?"

"Or for our psicrystals," said Shelsatori's dry, old voice, "to take control of our bodies?"

Dandra's face burned hot.

Hanamelk rose to his feet. "We do what we've always done," he said. "We stand firm and fight back, offering haven to those who need it. The seers will search out Dah'mir. The telepaths will devise a means to protect us from his power-a dragonmark can't be the only way to foil him. All others will use our eyes and ears to watch for trouble. We know the danger now. We are on guard. We have as much time as Dah'mir does." He bent his head to Dandra. "We thank you and we thank your friends. Your warning gives us a chance. Patan yannah, Dandra."

With a start, Dandra realized she was being dismissed. The heat in her face burned its way into her heart. "Wait-" she began in protest, but then Nevchaned was at her side at she felt his mind touch hers briefly, weakly, as though the long mental debate had taxed him.

Come with me, he said. We need to talk away from here. Hanamelk will keep them busy.

The moment of kesh faded, leaving a sense of urgency in its wake. Dandra swallowed her anger and tried to stand tall and dignified. "Patan yannah, Hanamelk," she said, then bowed her head to included all of the elders. "Patan yannah."

Most returned her nod, though stiffly. She allowed Nevchaned to lead her out of the meeting room. Out in the hall, Moon jerked when the door opened, as if he had been asleep at his post. Nevchaned frowned at his son and beckoned for Dandra to follow him partway down the stairs. With the sounds of the Gathering Light-quieter now as the night grew later-surrounding them, he put his head close to hers.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Hanamelk is sorry too. The elders need time to talk among themselves and absorb everything you've just told them. You've frightened them-"

Dandra clenched her teeth. She'd been afraid that the kalashtar wouldn't accept her? Now she just felt angry. Nevchaned must have read the emotion in her face because he added quickly, "I mean that you've frightened them into unity. Our inability to do anything or even to understand what was happening was beginning to divide us. You've explained the song. The elders have a focus for their fear." He grimaced. "Even if that focus is you as much as it is Dah'mir."

Dandra glared at him. "Forgive me if I don't seem entirely pleased. Dah'mir is the threat. Not me."

"I know. So does Hanamelk," Nevchaned said. "He asked me through kesh to get you out of the room so the elders would have a chance to see things in the proper perspective. Hanamelk saw something more in your story too. Come to my house tomorrow. You may not be as skilled in kesh as Shelsatori, but Hanamelk thinks that since you've dealt with Dah'mir's power before, you should examine Erimelk directly."

"Why?" Dandra wanted to stay angry with the elders, but something in Nevchaned's voice changed her rage into worry. "What did Hanamelk see in my story?"

Nevchaned pressed his lips together for a moment before he spoke. "You describe Dah'mir's use of the binding stones against kalashtar with psicrystals. His plan, as you say, depends on it. But Erimelk had no psicrystal. Neither did some of the others who have fallen to the killing song." The old man looked at her gravely. "Either Dah'mir is now a danger to us all and could strike at any of us-or the killing song is not his creation."

CHAPTER.

6.

Deathsgate district was on the opposite side of Sharn from Overlook, and in the City of Towers-and of stairs, ramps, bridges, blind streets, and precipices-making the journey on foot would have taken a few hours under the best of circ.u.mstances. Singe briefly considered it anyway. A long walk in Sharn could be very pleasant.

When As.h.i.+ paused twice before they even made it out of Overlook to marvel at some view or gape at one of Sharn's more exotic citizens, he decided that a walk would be better left for another time. He drew As.h.i.+ to a wide marked balcony that protruded out into s.p.a.ce high above a large courtyard and hired a skycoach. The look of amazement in the hunter's eyes as the coach, resembling nothing so much as a large rowboat decorated with the figurehead of a swan and with wings carved into the wood of its hull, rose into the air brought a laugh up from deep in Singe's belly.

"Her first time in Sharn," he said to the coach driver, a woman with short, silvery hair, large eyes, and the kind of eternally youthful face that hinted at elf blood. He would have been hard-pressed to put an age to her.

The driver smiled. "I'll give her the tour."

And so the City of Towers skimmed past below, around, and above them. The pa.s.sing of the rain had left the air cool and the sky clear. High up, the smells of the city streets mingled with the night breeze off the sea. Every s.h.i.+ft in the wind that beat at Singe's hair brought hints-and sometimes bursts-of odor. Smoke. Salt.w.a.ter. Rotting vegetables. Baking bread. It all blended into a unique perfume. Singe could have closed his eyes and still known he was flying above Sharn.

None of the visible moons were full, but their crescents, fat and thin, made a pleasing sight, a scattered counterpoint to the thick gossamer band of the Ring of Siberys in the southern sky. Sharn was itself a reflection of the sky above as the lights of homes and streets shone against the darkness of the towers. All around their skycoach, other coaches flew, lit fore and aft by s.h.i.+mmering white lights. Here and there, tiny soarsleds crackled with energy as their lone riders piloted them through the night. Higher up, the open air was the domain of airs.h.i.+ps, some only a little larger than their skycoach, others ma.s.sive, each supported and propelled by a wind or fire elemental bound into a ring around the s.h.i.+p's belly. Those s.h.i.+ps powered by a fire elemental shone like shooting stars; those powered by an air elemental had a paler glow, like errant moonbeams.

Far, far below the skycoach, night fell into the deep chasms that separated the plateaus on which the wards of the city had been built. The way was most clear over those dark voids and their driver could easily have followed that route. She didn't. Instead, she plunged in among the towers themselves, dipping under bridges and darting around other traffic, all the while shouting out the sights. "The Korranath, the great temple of Kol Korran," she called above the rush of the wind, and As.h.i.+ stared at an enormous dome of gold that flashed with the light as if a thousand gems were embedded in its surface. "Kundarak Tower!" and the peak of a tower topped with four life-size statues of dragons flicked past. "Skysedge Park!" and As.h.i.+ leaned out over the edge of the coach to stare in amazement at the meadows and ponds that rolled across the tops of three great towers.

The hunter sat back with her eyes wide above her scarf. "Ha'azit teith," she said in awe. "How is all this possible, Singe? Even magic has limits, doesn't it?"

Singe smiled. "You know about other planes of existence like Xoriat and Dal Quor," he said, trying to keep concepts simple for her. "Xoriat is the Realm of Madness and Dal Quor is the Region of Dreams. There are other planes as well, worlds that are the pure expression of an element or concept. Sometimes they're far away from Eberron, other times they're closer. Sometimes the reality of one of those other planes bleeds through into Eberron, making a permanent connection. Wizards call those places manifest zones, and things are possible in them that wouldn't be possible anywhere else. The Shadow Marches has many small manifest zones of Xoriat. It's one reason the daelkyr and the cults of the Dragon Below are so powerful there." He gestured around them. "Sharn is built within a manifest zone of Syrania, the Azure Sky. Magic related to flight works better here, sometimes with hardly any effort at all. That's how towers can be built so tall and why lifts and skycoaches-" He rapped his knuckles against the hull of the coach. "-work at all."

As.h.i.+ still looked as if she was struggling to understand his explanation. Singe tried to think of an even simpler way to describe the nature of Sharn to her, but the coach driver beat him to it. "Things don't want to fall down here," she said, and As.h.i.+'s face cleared in comprehension.

They curved in a wide arc, pa.s.sed over another dark chasm, and entered another ward. Their driver began naming sights again, and As.h.i.+ once more became entranced. "The Old Spire of Deniyas. Kavarrah Concert Hall. Looks like there's a performance tonight-I think it might be Egen Marktaros, the Thrane exile. Dalannan Tower and Morgrave University." The coach dipped sharply, diving between towers so closely packed it might as well have been flying through tunnels. They emerged into a district that smelled of alchemical experiments and shone with magical light in myriad hues.

"Everbright, the wizard's district," said the driver-then plunged into a real tunnel bored through the thick stones of one of the great towers and came back out into the night.

A wall of sparkling lights, a sweeping view of an entire arm of the city, rose above them in a spectacle so unexpected and breathtaking that even Singe found himself amazed. Their driver slowed the coach so that they seemed to be drifting into Sharn's embrace like a leaf on the wind. The wall of light swelled before them, breaking slowly into individual lanterns in streets and windows. The coach eased up beside a landing, and the driver broke the spell by calling out, "Deathsgate district!" She grinned at As.h.i.+. "How did you like the ride?"

Wordlessly, As.h.i.+ bent her head and touched her fingers to her shrouded lips, then to her forehead.

"That means she liked it," said Singe. He paid the fare and added a generous tip. The driver grinned and helped them out of the coach, then sent the vessel skimming back off into the darkness. Singe looked at As.h.i.+. "Are you going to blink?" he asked.

"I don't think I can," she told him.

They set off into Deathsgate. Located in the middle levels of the great towers, the district had a strangely contained feel to it. Although the ground was far below, the height of the towers above emphasized how far away they were from open sky-when they could see the sky at all. Most of the streets were more like very large pa.s.sages, and the courtyards were ma.s.sive enclosures with bridges leaping beneath shadowed roofs. There was no hint of the rain that had caught them earlier except for drips and leaks and one empty square where water poured in a cascade through cracks in the ceiling.

"Trickle down," Singe explained to As.h.i.+. "Most of the rain that falls on the upper city ends up in reservoirs, but what doesn't has to go somewhere. They say that when it rains in Sharn, it takes two days for it to stop."