Page 113 of A Song of Ash and Moonlight

As the arena’s crowd emptied into the streets, we followed the jay, dodging rivers of beasts, beings, humans, flares of fire and lightning. A laughing swirl of air nearly knocked us both off our feet. I thought it might be one of the four Winds, or perhaps one of their squalling children.

If I hadn’t been so frightened, so absolutely petrified of what might happen should my voice give out or should something hit me and knock me out, I would have laughed. I would have sat down right there in the road and laughed until I cried. It was absurd, what we were doing and where we were. Some strange flickering city where the sun never shone, tucked away somewhere in the Old Country and only accessible by a road paved with moonlight? My thoughts became frantic, started spinning into one another. Why had we let the road coax us here? Why hadn’t we been stronger?

Ryder pulled me around the corner of a huge canvas tent. Bright banners hung from its peaks, fluttering in the breeze. A small golden craft sped through the air over our heads, trailing glittering dust in its wake. I stared after it, dazed, my voice continuing its song automatically, as if I were a machine, a golden craft myself.

Ryder shook me hard enough to break my stare. “Farrin? Farrin, look at me. Don’t stop singing, but look at me.”

I obeyed slowly, gazing at him through a shimmer of tears. When I sang, I tasted salt. Every time I breathed, I smelled another new, terrible thing—a putrid yellow stench that reminded me of Talan’s dead skin. A floral perfume so sweet I had to fight not to follow it, find its source, and claim it for myself.

Ryder’s expression softened. He gathered me to him and held me against his chest. I clung to him. I sang and sang; I feared I would have to sing forever. The jay hopped frantically on his shoulder, letting out angry, piercing cries. I hoped my song was enough to hide it too, or someone might notice a bird losing its mind for no apparent reason. Though did there have to be a reason in such a place?

“I know,” Ryder muttered angrily into my hair. “It’s awful here. Evil is too mild a word. Even the air feels malevolent. But you’re doing so well, Farrin. You’re so good, so brave and strong. Can you keep on for a little while longer?” He tightened his hold on me. “I have to see her, even if it’s only for a moment. And the jay says she’s near. Maybe we can free her, or…”

There was a question in his voice, one he didn’t dare put to words.Can we? Will you help me?

I squeezed my eyes shut against the burning air and nodded against his chest. Of course I would. We could certainly at least try.

Ryder gave my temple a fierce kiss. Then he pulled me forward, following the jay’s darting path through a small village of opulent tents and glittering pebbled paths. A child in silken robes glided between the tents with jeweled amulets on gold chains draped over her arms. A rather peckish-looking vampyr sold fine crystal goblets and brocaded cloaks while gazing longingly after every passing warm body. At the mouth of a black tent spangled with tiny diamonds like stars sat a creature I could not name. She was pale and faceless—a womanon her upper half, a glistening worm on the bottom. When we passed her tent, she said nothing, but she spread her arms wide. I heard the chime of distant bells and tasted honey on my tongue.

Ryder’s grip was painful, but I squeezed back just as hard, and after what felt like hours of winding through this awful clanging maze, we reached a shimmering, sky-blue tent. Ryder whispered hoarsely, “I think this is it. He says it’s clear. Sing hard, love.”

I obeyed, marveling at the unwavering cascade of my voice. I’d never sung for this long without rest, without even a moment’s pause, and yet my throat felt as smooth and supple as if I were lounging in the Green Ballroom at home and trying out some new aria, completely at my leisure.

Ryder held the jay close to his chest, whispering something to it. It went very still and quiet. Its beady black eyes sparkled with eerie intelligence. Then it flew off into the night.

Ryder lifted his crossbow. “Stay close,” he whispered, “and ready your knife.” I grabbed the obsidian-handled dagger from my boot and nodded up at him. He took a breath and ducked into the tent. I kept as close to him as I could. My heart pounded so hard I worried it might disrupt my song. My hand that gripped the knife was slick with cold sweat.

The inside of the tent was dim and quiet. The sudden change disoriented me, and I stumbled a little, right into Ryder’s back.

“Who the fuck are you?” spat a sharp, familiar voice.

It was Alastrina. She sat at a large table laden with food, a roasted chicken leg in her hands and her lips smeared with grease. She wore a vest and trousers, just as she had in the arena, and her bare feet were splattered with mud and blood. Scars striped her face and arms, and though she clearly didn’t want for food, she looked newly gaunt— her cheekbones sharp, shadows in the hollows under her eyes. Her wrists were still bound in chains, though fortunately her guards were nowhere to be found.

But when I stopped singing my melody of disguise, I could see at once that she didn’t recognize our true faces. My stomach sank to my toes. Her eyes were wide and white—sharp, aware, but glazed—and she was glaring at Ryder as if he were not her brother but an enemy.

She shot to her feet, spat out her food, and opened her mouth to shout something. She was fast, but Ryder was faster. He grabbed her, spun her around, clapped his hand over her mouth. He looked at me, desperate—she was strong, and she was fighting him. She bit down on his finger, hard, and kicked over her chair, sending her drink clattering. Someone would hear us, someone would come—

Unless I sang a different song. A song of reason, of clarity.

I shifted on a heel-turn of sound, my power knowing what I meant even if I couldn’t fully articulate it in my own mind. The melody I’d been singing for an age changed at once to something sweeter, calmer, in a major key instead of a minor. Into each note, I sang every clear thought I could think of, every open feeling I’d ever known—hope, contentment, assured industry. I imagined a dewdrop, a winter lake, a cleansing rain, the ping of a silver fork against a crystal glass.

The effect was immediate. Alastrina calmed in Ryder’s arms, and her glazed eyes cleared to their familiar sharp blue. She let out a gasping sob against Ryder’s palm, and when he released her, she turned and threw herself against him, clutching his jacket—the best embrace she could manage with her hands bound.

“Ryder, oh gods, I’m sorry, I…” She leaned back and punched his arm. “How are you here, andwhy, you unforgivable idiot? You should never have come. Don’t you understand?”

I took a step forward, infusing my song with a note of urgency. I didn’t dare stop, but I needed them to understand the danger we were in, now that we’d lost our disguise.Make it fast, I thought into every light-footed note.

“We’ll tell you everything later,” Ryder said quickly. “Right now, we’ve got to get out of here. How do we find the moonlight road?”

Alastrina frowned. “The what?”

I pushed on past my dismay. I could not allow my song to waver a second time.

“It’s how we got here,” he said, “and how we can get out. Have you never seen it?”

Alastrina blew out a sharp, sad laugh. “I’ve seen this tent, and I’ve seen the arena. That’s about it. Luthaes keeps me on a short leash. If there’s a way out, I’ve not found it. Others, though…” She hesitated, shaking her head a little. Her eyes clouded, then cleared.

I dared to sing slightly louder, my body breaking out into a cold sweat. Whatever had hold of Alastrina wasn’t giving her up without a fight.

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