The Singer ch 6

Chapter 6

Cello slapped a hand to his face, and brought it away, staring at the warm red blood that trickled slowly between his fingers. He tried to mop the blood from his forehead with his sleeve, but more blood just flowed out.

“What—what is it?” he asked.

“Hold still,” Viola said, appearing at his side and holding his chin between her hands. She closed her eyes and wove the most powerful healing spell she knew, directing it to the wound on his forehead. She opened her eyes and gasped in dismay as she saw that the magic had no effect; Cello’s face was now shining with blood.

“It’s from the silver, isn’t it,” Cello said, wiping his eyes clear.

“The band! You idiot! Don’t you know never to touch a magical item until you know exactly what it does??”

“You touched the gold band!” Cello bellowed back at her, “You just happened to be lucky to touch the one with a defensive spell!”

“All right, calm down. It probably can’t be healed with magic.” Viola paused. “And I have no idea what else to use.”

Cello grumbled and stumbled over to his horse, pulling a clean shirt from the saddlebag and pressing it to his face. “So what do we do?” he asked, his voice muffled by the cloth.

“I don’t know,” Viola said, agitated.

“What happened?” Cadenza sat up, disoriented and tired. Something had woken her, someone had been shouting. She looked up and saw Viola with a worried expression on her face, and Cello with a bloody cloth held up to his forehead. Shocked, she jumped away, unsure of what awful thing had occurred.

“She could heal it,” Viola said hopefully, “since it was her ward.”

“My what?” Cadenza asked, hoping she hadn’t accidentally wounded Cello.

“Those bands you’re wearing, they’re enchanted,” Viola explained. “Cello touched the silver one and now—well, you can see.”

Cadenza clutched the bands in a fist and stepped closer. “I didn’t know that. How can I possibly heal that?” Then she remembered the kit her mother had packed for her. She dropped her pack and searched inside it for the medicines. Finding them, she picked out the one she thought would work best and took the small jar and a couple of bandages over to Cello.

“You’re going to have to sit down,” she said awkwardly, and Cello obeyed, dropping down onto the leaf-covered ground. Cadenza knelt by him and pulled the bloody shirt away. She had never been able to stand large amounts of blood, and she was shaking as she gently wiped away the blood. As soon as she touched his forehead, the blood stopped, and Cello could feel the wound knit itself together again.

“I’m really sorry,” Cadenza babbled, talking so that she didn’t have to bear the silence. “I didn’t know about the bands. I swear I didn’t—” she stopped short as she saw that there was no abrasion left on Cello’s skin. His forehead was unbroken, and all that remained was a lot of blood drying on his face. Cadenza stood hurriedly and backed away, her unused ointment and bandages in her hand. “You—there’s nothing there,” she said finally. “You look frightening.”

Cello laughed, scrubbing at his face so that most of the blood flaked away. “I wouldn’t want to frighten you, Cadenza.”

Cadenza started at her name; the very sound of Cello talking after his long silence was strange. “I—”

“You’re very lucky she could fix it like that,” Viola said, addressing Cello. “She doesn’t know any healing spells yet. No spells at all, I presume.”

“No,” Cadenza said. The weight of the last couple days caught up with her, and she once again felt too tired to move. She collapsed opposite of Cello and studied the two bands that hung from her neck.

“I found them in the fields,” she said, before either could ask. “I had no idea they were anything special.” She looked up, suddenly suspicious. “How did you know I was wearing them?”

“Cello decided to, ah, see if you were carrying anything dangerous,” Viola said, her eyes glowing impishly. “Was there a dagger hidden in her bodice, Cello?”

Cadenza’s mouth dropped open, mortified, and she stared at Cello. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed at all, merely curious; he met Cadenza’s stare with gravity. Cadenza felt her cheeks redden, and realized that Viola had only been joking. Probably just to see how much Cadenza would blush.

“No,” Cello answered once the exchange of glances was over. “No daggers.”

Viola smirked and sat down again, smoothing her clothes like a cat preening itself. Cadenza watched her, furious and almost tearful. She wanted these strange people and their magic to leave her alone. Knowing that she couldn’t leave, she satisfied her indignation by imagining how many hexes she would place on Viola once she learned how.

“Do you want to eat something?” Viola asked, offering Cadenza a hunk of bread and some cheese. Cadenza took it, feeling miserable as she chewed, keeping her eyes on the ground, knowing that Cello was watching her.

When Cadenza had finished, Viola readied the horses. “Do you want to put your pack in the saddlebags? There’s room.”

“I guess so,” Cadenza said, and stood, heaving her pack up and into Viola’s waiting arms.

“What’s in here?” Viola asked as she stuffed the pack into an almost empty saddlebag.

Cadenza shrugged. “Clothes, some food, the medicine. Nothing else.”

“Did you think you’d be starved?” Viola asked wryly. “Speaking of clothes, we’ll have to buy you some proper pants and shirts once we reach the city.”

“Pants?” Cadenza asked uncomfortably, looking down at her skirt, which was covered in dirt and loam.

“You can’t ride a horse very well in a skirt,” Viola answered, vaulting easily up into her saddle. Cello followed suit, simultaneously Singing the trees and underbrush to smooth the disturbed earth where they had rested. Cadenza stood awkwardly, looking from one to the other.

“Um, who am I riding with?” she asked.

“Who do you want to ride with?” Viola asked slyly.

“Neither of you,” Cadenza answered, angry and sullen at the continued teasing Viola and Cello were putting her through.

“Leave her alone, Viola,” Cello said. He too seemed a little exasperated by Viola’s incessant mocking. “You can ride with me, if you want, though you almost choked me last time.”

“No, I’ll ride with Viola,” Cadenza said hurriedly. “I want to ask her some questions.”

Cello nodded and pulled the reins to turn his horse and started off. Cadenza managed to get onto the horse behind Viola, though the amber-eyed young woman was not much help. Once Cadenza was as comfortable as she could get, Viola grinned and turned her head to whisper to Cadenza.

“Aw, now you’ve hurt his feelings,” she said, her voice edged with laughter, “he was looking forward to having you choke him again, I’m sure.”

Cadenza scowled as Viola erupted in laughter. The horse pranced beneath them, disliking her passengers. Cello stopped and glared back at them.

“I heard that, Viola,” he said. Then he turned away and passed into the shadow of the trees.

“You're—”Cadenza began hotly.

“Don’t try, darling,” Viola said, waving a hand in dismissal as they started after Cello. “I’ve been told everything that I need to be told. And it’s not done a thing to help my behavior.”

Viola grinned, undisturbed. “Don’t worry, soon you’ll get used to me, like our good fellow Cello. You should have heard the things I said to him when we first met.”

Cadenza steadied herself in the saddle and organized her thoughts.

“Where are we going?” was her first question.

“First we’ll pass through the city of Prelude, and then continue on to Allemande.”

“The capitol?” Cadenza said. She had heard of the great city of Allemande, but from her home in quiet Woodwind, the idea of such a huge city was almost as mythical as the Singers.

“Yes. That is, after all, where the Silent Choir is based. Then you can have some training and be out and about working for us.”

“Working?” Cadenza repeated. She narrowed her eyes, not recalling mention of work during her introduction in Woodwind.

“Of course. All the Singers of the Choir have duties to perform.”

“I don’t remember you telling me that during our pleasant ‘recruiting session’,” Cadenza said through gritted teeth.

“Well now you know. At least you won’t be going to war, as you would had those other two Singers caught you,” Viola heeled her horse into a faster walk, and they drew up next to Cello.

“By the way,” Viola continued, “you’re very lucky that Cello and I saw you leave your house last night. Otherwise, you would be on a much less pleasant trip to Allemande.”

Cadenza shrank further behind Viola so that Cello’s curious gaze could not find her. She felt very foolish for attempting to leave Woodwind alone, and now, she had left without being able to say goodbye to her family. A solitary tear traced its path down her cheek, but she made no effort to brush it away; neither Viola nor Cello could see her. Instead she remained silent, gripping Viola’s shoulders and feeling pitiful as she rocked back and forth on the horse.

“You’re crying, aren’t you?” Viola finally said. When Cadenza made no answer, Viola heaved a heavy sigh and looked over her shoulder. “I cried, too,” she answered. “When I left my home, I felt broken. My brother had been taken a year before me, by the Ensemble, and never returned from the war they made him fight in. That’s why my mother made me leave and join the Choir.” She laughed halfheartedly. “I had thought at the time that she simply didn’t want me around anymore.”

Silence filled in the space after Viola’s words.

“I’m sorry,” Cadenza said quietly. After that, she had no words of comfort to offer. The two horses wove between the trees, their ears relaxed in the quiet of the forest. From time to time, they passed through patches of sunlight, where the branches above left openings large enough for the sun to reach through to the forest floor. The rest of the time they were surrounded by shade, the only sounds coming from the horses’ hooves and the soft shifting of the dirt behind them as plants obeyed Cello’s Singing and covered up the signs of their travel.

“Do you know where we are?” Cadenza asked, after she sensed that Viola’s thoughts had left the tragedy of her past.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Viola answered, “we’re heading east, following the road, though about five miles south of it.”

Cadenza nodded slowly, not so sure. The trees all looked the same to her. She supposed it was some sort of Singing that Viola knew how to do, to know their direction and location.

After a while, another question came to Cadenza. “Who leads the Choir?”

This time, Cello looked back at her and answered. “Our main leader is a woman named Resonance, who holds a seat in the Ensemble.”

“Do they know she’s a Singer?” Cadenza asked, surprised.

“They think she works for them,” Cello said, “but she found a way to resist the spells of obedience they placed on her years ago.”

“Just between you and me,” Viola said, “I think she sleeps with the King. She sure knows how to influence him!”

Cadenza shut her eyes patiently. If Rhythm had known the type of person Viola was, she would not have so readily agreed to send Cadenza with her.

They traveled on through the evening, as twilight quickly fell in the shady forest. Every once in a while, Viola made a joke that both Cadenza and Cello ignored. Cello never said a word, and from time to time, Cadenza peeked around Viola’s head to steal a glance at him. He was always facing forward, his back stiff and his shoulders straight, as his horse picked a trail through the trees.

They stopped when the woods grew too dark for the horses to continue. The three of them dismounted, Cadenza almost too stiff to walk. She stumbled into the center of the clearing and fell down, exhausted.