Page 126 of Cast in Atonement

She hadn’t expected that she would hear them so clearly; she could. They should have been a cacophony of sound; they were a chorus instead, voices blending across syllables that seemed to merge into notes that were so harmonious it seemed impossible. Each voice was distinct, its own, but part of the greater whole and inseparable from it.

She had thought of the marks as words, individual words with fixed and absolute meanings. She had heard their voices before, but never like this.

Her own lips began to move, as if to join what was now a song. She’d never been able to carry a tune; even if she wanted to sing, to be part of a choral song, she knew it was better for everyone else if she kept her mouth shut.

Here, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t about whether or not her notes were sharp or flat; it didn’t matter if her voice was too soft or too nasal or too toneless. She wasn’t singing; she was speaking. She was speaking True Words, and she felt them as her truth, even if it wasn’t her own words, her own tongue, expressing them.

The words grew larger, brighter, louder; she was surrounded by them as they grew farther and farther from their resting space on her skin. The light they cast across her arms, her body, became a deeper green, brighter and richer than the heart of a leaf could be.

She knew the color then.

She knew the color because it was the exact shade of green she had worn in the green, when she had been selected—by that mysterious force—to take part in the ceremony the Barrani called the regalia. She had been chosen. She hadn’t been all that happy about it at the time, but she was grateful for it now, because she could feel the green here, in this place. She could feel the green beneath Evanton’s feet, and she knew—without knowing—that it was the power of the green that had shored him up in his attempt to contain the Ancient.

She’d worried about its presence, but she couldn’t remember why.

Eyes open now, she once again surrendered herself to her role, raising her arms, her voice; giving voice to the marks of the Chosen in a way she hadn’t the first time she had worn this dress. Because she was wearing the dress now. She was clothed in emerald; she was, for the moment, standing in the heart of the green.

Harmoniste. She was the harmoniste. She would never be able to describe the tale she told; how could she? But she felt the marks leave her skin, leave her; they extended, not to the Ancient, but to Evanton, there to surround him and Kaylin in a shield of ivory and green.

She looked at Evanton; his eyes were closed, his face raised. Across his brow, she saw, to her surprise, that he wore the crown of the green. The emerald was the same color as her dress, and she realized that she’d seen it before. She then turned toward the Ancient; he had fallen silent. He was the audience for which the regalia was performed.

What meaning would it have for the dead?

What meaning did death have for the Ancients? She came back to that question, time and again, and perhaps the question threaded its way through her voice. But the words that surrounded both Kaylin and Evanton began to expand, to reach, the shape of the shield changing as the elements of the words rearranged themselves to form not a wall, but a bridge, a stream of words.

She knew the words she had carried were gone. She knew that this was where they were meant to be, somehow.

But she felt, as the sound of the words dimmed and silence returned, that it was not enough. Evanton’s knees buckled; Kaylin reached for him, but it was Severn who caught him before he fell.

“We are not done here,” the Keeper said, voice weak and almost breathless as he confirmed her suspicion. “The Ancient is contained because he was willing to be contained—but he is lost, Kaylin. Had Azoria never found him, I am not certain what would have happened. What I can do, I have done, but I had unexpected aid. And by that, I don’t mean you. I feel you took your time.”

Of course he did.

“The Ancient is not asleep, but he is calm now. Can you see the difference in the environment?”

Kaylin turned to look back down the path they’d walked. She could now see dirt; there was no white-or black-flecked miasma. Hope returned to her and flopped across her shoulders; he lifted his tiny head, and she realized she’d lost sight of him. Given his draconic form, that should have been impossible. He squawked, the sound weak and ineffectual.

Walking down the tree-lined path toward Kaylin were familiar companions.

Teela took one look at Kaylin, and her eyes narrowed to slits. Kaylin knew why. She was wearing this dress. It was a dress Teela herself had worn, and this was not the place any Barrani would have expected to see it. Tain looked more impressed.

“Evanton—what happened to Terrano? Did he not follow you?”

Evanton nodded. “I told him to leave. He was not of a mind to obey.”

“I don’t see him.”

“No. I’m uncertain that he understood what was happening, but he could see something, and he felt he could be of aid.”

“What something?”

“He did not say, and I was, I admit, a bit too preoccupied to perform the service of a babysitter.”

“Did you see where he went? His friends are looking for him and they’re getting worried. And yes, An’Teela is one of those friends.”

“I believe he went to converse with the Ancient.”

Kaylin muttered a Leontine curse and turned to face her companions again: Emmerian, Teela, Tain, and Larrantin. Larrantin was utterly silent, his gaze fixed upon the giant that seemed to take up most of what passed for sky.

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