Young Writers Society

Chapter 4

“We belong to a secret group called the Silent Choir,” Viola said, once Cadenza had returned. Her amber eyes looked genuinely sorry for frightening Cadenza as she had, and she had apologized most profusely, but Cadenza could not forget the stony face and inexorable power that Viola had wielded.

“The Silent Choir?” Cadenza repeated. It sounded evil and full of secrets that should not be kept. Silence was never a good thing in their country of Cantabile.

“It may sound dubious,” Viola said lightly, smiling, “but we are saving many lives by keeping Singers away from the king. His wars are useless, and he only declares them to liven up his life if things in Cantabile get too quiet. He’s as afraid of Silence as much as anyone, but with Silence often comes peace, and wisdom.”

Cadenza didn’t trust Viola. She didn’t like the sound of the Silent Choir, but she remained quiet. There didn’t seem to be any way of convincing them that she wasn’t a singer and that she didn’t want to participate in any illegal organizations, which the Choir must surely be.

“So, we invite you to come with us,” Viola said, “and strongly suggest that you do, because if you do not come with us, the king’s men will come and take you away by force.”

“You must, Cadenza,” her mother said. “You must go with them. They will keep you safe. Your father died doing the king’s bidding, but you must not.”

Cadenza considered her options, which seemed very limited. An idea slowly built up inside her mind. After she had worked it all out, she lifted her chin to look at Viola.

“I will go with you,” she said, “but let me say goodbye to my sisters and pack some things. I want to go home for a little while. Just for tonight.”

Viola seemed to think this was a reasonable request, for she nodded and stood up, helping Rhythm stand up after her.

“Then we will meet you here, at noon tomorrow,” Viola said. “And I am truly sorry about casting that spell on you. I forget how frightening it is to encounter Singing for the first time. Will you forgive me?”

Cadenza looked into Viola’s eyes, which were earnest enough, and nodded. Viola took her hand and shook it, smiling in a charismatic way.

“Then we will see you tomorrow, and believe me, the Choir will be glad to have you.”

Cadenza nodded again, feeling dumb. She turned away to follow her mother, who was already heading through the deep grass towards the farm, but found Cello blocking her path, his hand outstretched. She took it reluctantly and shook it, not meeting his eyes and wishing she were not so aware of how warm his palm was. He only smiled at her and released her hand.

Cadenza stormed away through the grass, away from the two Singers and their horses, and Viola’s bright eyes and Cello’s silence. Silence….Cadenza shivered, sensing the fear that even now lay at the pit of her stomach, refusing to leave her alone.

She caught up to her mother and slipped her hand into Rhythm’s softly wrinkled fingers, holding them tightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me before, mother?” she asked. “Why didn’t you prepare me?”

“I was afraid,” Rhythm answered, looking into her daughter’s deep purple-blue eyes. “I was afraid that telling you would make it certain that you would become a Singer.”

“Are Minuet and Bell Singers?” Cadenza asked, feeling very unlucky.

Rhythm shook her head. “No, and a part of me wishes you weren’t either. But it is what you are, and so we must accept it. We must love it, too.”

Cadenza didn’t bother telling her mother that she would never love the idea of magic of any kind. And she certainly didn’t have any power herself.

“Thank you,” Rhythm said suddenly, “thank you for accepting to go with them. I would rather you left and knew that you were safe and alive, than have you taken by the king’s men and never see you again, only to be informed years later that you had died. It—it was so hard when your father died.”

Cadenza squeezed her mother’s hand. They had come to the house.

“You go on in,” Rhythm said, “I’ll go get your sisters.”

“Do they know?”

“They know a little. I told them that you would be leaving soon.”

Cadenza nodded distractedly and turned to go into the house and wait for Minuet and Bell to return. She paced into the kitchen and sat at the table, bouncing her leg in agitation.

The plan she had formed would keep her from going with the two Singers and would also ease her mother’s agitation. That evening, she would pack her things, and when night came and the house was asleep, she would dress and get some food and leave. She planned to hike south, away from where the Singers would be camping. She would hide in the forest for a few days, until the Singers left Woodwind, and would come back to the farm to tell her mother that Viola and Cello had realized that she was not a Singer after all.

Cadenza jumped up, her fear kept down by the necessity of immediate action. She went to the pantry and took out as much food as she could without leaving a conspicuous shortage. She then put it carefully into a sack, tied it up, and hid it under her bed to be retrieved that night.

Minuet ran into the room, followed by a tearful Bell. They ran into her and hugged her tightly, squeezing the breath from her lungs. She looked down at them, surprised by their sudden affection.

She hugged them back, and bent down to wipe the tears from Bell’s cheeks.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll be back someday.” She was careful not to appear too sure of it, for Rhythm was watching her closely.

“But you’re leaving us,” Bell said. “Why do you have to go?”

“Momma said you were a—a Singer,” Minuet whispered, her eyes wide. “Partita told me about them today. They’re supposed to be wicked and full of Silence.”

Cadenza looked up at her mother, her eyes empty. Rhythm hurried over and pried Bell’s arms from around Cadenza’s middle; Minuet had already stepped away.

“No, no, they’re not evil,” she said quickly, “That’s only what the Ensemble wants us to believe. Cadenza’s just going away to—to school.”

“Where?” Bell asked.

“Far away,” Rhythm answered, “to the city of—of Accent.” It was obvious that Rhythm did not know where Cadenza was actually going. “They’ll teach her about Singing, and then she’ll…she’ll come back and help us here at the farm again.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Bell whimpered, and it was all Cadenza could do to stop herself from telling her little sister that she would be back soon. Much sooner than Rhythm believed.

“Minuet, Bell,” Rhythm said finally, “help me make dinner. We’ll all eat together and then Cadenza must be in bed early to rest for her trip tomorrow.”

The younger girls nodded slowly and followed their mother’s directions.

“You’d best start packing,” Rhythm said, looking up at Cadenza with a face that held more lines of worry than Cadenza remembered ever seeing. Cadenza was taller than her mother, but still she leaned her head into Rhythm’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around Rhythm’s comforting bulk and hiding her face against her chest.

They stood like that for a moment, Rhythm slowly stroking Cadenza’s copper hair, and Cadenza sniffling into her mother’s shirt. Finally she pulled away and headed through the house to her room.

There really was not much to pack, Cadenza thought, as she looked over her belongings, but she knew that if she wanted to convince her mother she was going with the Singers, then she would have to pack as if she were. She pulled out three hardy skirts and four woolen shirts, all plain and devoid of any color. Next followed several sets of linen underclothes, bundled together and discreetly folded into one of the skirts. Cadenza tossed some of her hole-less stockings onto the pile and finished it all off with an old knitted scarf her mother had knitted for her years ago.

After her clothes had been assembled, folded, and tucked into a large leather pack, Cadenza brought out a small wood chest from under her bed. She opened it carefully and set its contents out on the bedcovers. There was a small wooden flute, a gold band too small to be a ring, a matching band of silver, some assorted coins, and a small cloth bag full of vegetable seeds.

The flute had been made by her only cousin, who had given it to her one year when he still owned his flock of sheep and had shepherded them to Woodwind for a visit. The two metal bands Cadenza had found when clearing a new field for the farm. They had surfaced in the freshly tilled earth, and their mystery still captivated Cadenza. The meager amount of copper coins was her savings, and the seeds had been intended for a new garden Cadenza planned to plant the next spring. They made her think of Cello, and she hurriedly dropped the bag back into the chest.

Cadenza put the flute and coins in a small leather pouch, and found a length of string on which to string the small rings, to fasten around her neck for good luck charms. When she was done, Cadenza left the room and went to the kitchen, where Minuet and Bell were already seated at the table while Rhythm put finishing touches on the dinner.

Cadenza sat down, foreseeing a very quiet meal. Minuet and Bell were too confused and unsure to ask questions, Rhythm was trying not to let her distress show, and Cadenza only wished for the night to come so that she could leave. Then, a few days later, or perhaps a week, she could come back and things would be as they were before. She hoped.

Dinner was, as expected, nearly silent. Rhythm simply stared at Cadenza sadly, which slowly began to irritate Cadenza, since she herself was not planning on leaving for any amount of time. Minuet’s eyes were trained on her food, and she merely picked at it listlessly. Bell pretended to only look at her plate, but Cadenza could see her little sister’s wide blue eyes watching her in the corner of her vision.

At the end of the meal, Cadenza felt thoroughly miserable and only wished to reach her bed and wait for darkness. But despite her hurrying to clear her plate, Rhythm stopped her before she could escape.

“Cadenza, wait,” she said, standing and fetching something from the corner of the kitchen. “Take these.”

Rhythm first handed her a bag of money, then a basket filled with an assortment of ointments, herbs, and medicines, and lastly, when Cadenza’s hands were full, she held up a long leather string, on which were strung three small bells and a few shining glass beads.

“So that Silence does not take you,” Rhythm said softly, tying the string behind Cadenza’s neck so that the three bells rested against her chest, tinkling slightly. Cadenza recognized those bells from the dim past; her father had given them to Rhythm many years ago, when Cadenza was still a small girl. Before he left for the war in which he died.

“Thank you, mother,” she whispered, telling herself that there was no need to cry, not now, when she would see them all again soon. Rhythm was crying, her hands held out to Cadenza but not touching her, making Cadenza feel as if she were already too far to reach. She shook the feeling away and gave her mother a quick hug.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she lied, realizing a certain glitch in her plan. What if the two Singers came looking for her here? She told herself firmly that they would simply leave if she didn’t show up. She surely was not that important to their Silent Choir.

“I’m tired now,” Cadenza said, “I need some sleep to recover—as much as possible.”

“Yes,” Rhythm said, brushing her hands across her eyes and sniffing once. “Yes, you need sleep. As do we all,” she added, with a significant glance at the two smaller girls. “There will be time for proper goodbyes in the morning.”

Cadenza felt a twinge of guilt as she walked back to the room. She would be absent in the morning, and no doubt her family would be frantic. As she pulled a sleeping shirt over her head, Cadenza planned a short letter to leave for Rhythm that would explain how she had gone to join the Singers early and could not bear to see Minuet and Bell say goodbye. It seemed a good idea and left Cadenza without so much worry.

Minuet and Bell were quick to undress and get in their beds, neither saying a word. Cadenza blew out the candle and laid back, listening to the oppressive silence of the room.

“Cadenza?” Bell finally said, her voice small and almost too weak to fight through the darkness. Cadenza made an answering sound in her throat, not trusting herself to speak any words.

“Will we ever see you again?” Bell asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise.”

“Oh,” Bell sounded indecisive, then Cadenza sensed movement in the room as the girl sat up and leapt across the room to land on Cadenza’s bed. Two small arms came out of the darkness and wrapped around her shoulders, and a pair of warm lips smacked against her cheek.

“Oof! Oh, Bell,” Cadenza said, sitting up to return the hug, “Of course I’m going to be back. How could I leave you here?”

Minuet joined them, snuggling down at Cadenza’s side. “What about me, Cadenza?”

“I’ll miss you both terribly while I’m gone. Minuet, make sure you watch out for Bell. Keep her out of trouble.”

Minuet laughed. “You’re the one who needs to be watched, I think,” she said, nudging Cadenza’s side, where she was bruised from falling through the tree. Cadenza grimaced into the dark.

“Yes, I know.” Cadenza felt a strong reluctance to send her sisters back to their beds, preferring to keep them with her, feeling the warm comfort of them near her. But if she wanted her plan to work, she had to be able to leave without waking either of them. She let them stay a while longer, then gently picked up Bell and stumbled across the floor to deposit the sleepy form of her sister onto the other bed. Minuet soon left Cadenza alone, and within an hour, Cadenza was sure that both slept soundly.

She waited another hour, to be sure that her mother had gone to bed, then carefully dressed in her bed, stood, and picked up her bag from where it lay in easy reach. She stretched an arm under the bed and pulled out the food, fumbling about in the darkness for a moment before getting it safely into her bag, where the extra money and medicine were already stashed.

She hefted her bag and slipped out of the room, through the house to the kitchen, where she hastily scribbled a note on a loose bit of paper and left it on the table to be found in the morning. Then she pulled on a pair of boots and left the house to enter the moonlit world outside.