Don Bassingthwaite - The Killing Song

“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 encompass 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 muffled 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 shell 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, Ashi, 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.”

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 circumstances. Singe briefly considered it anyway. A long walk in Sharn could be very pleasant.

When Ashi 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 Ashi to a wide marked balcony that protruded out into space 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.