Page 5 of The Song Rising

Arcturus Mesarthim is nothing but her lure.

His head turned slightly. I hung back, nursing my coffee.

Everyone but you can see it.

The augur sighed and retreated. After a moment, Warden beckoned two more voyants from the line.

First was Felix Coombs, one of the other Bone Season survivors. He stepped into the ring and filled a bowl with water for hydromancy. His opponent was Róisín Jacob, a vile augur, whose plaited hair was dark with sweat. Since I had ordered the release of the vile augurs from the Jacob’s Island slum, she had given herself, heart and soul, to the cause, training for hours every day. Warden stood with his arms folded.

“Felix,” he said, making him start—he was still jumpy around Rephaim, “you are slouching. I assure you, a Vigile will still see you.”

Felix squared up to Róisín, who was a head taller than him.

“Róisín, strike true,” Warden said, “but give him a chance to attempt the technique.”

“A small chance,” Róisín agreed.

Clearing his throat, Felix beckoned several spirits and spooled them. Warden paced around the ring.

“Turn your backs.” They did. “Now, take three steps away from one another.” They did. “Good.”

He always made combat a duel, a dance, an art form. A train of observers wound around the outside of the ring. As Felix and Róisín waited for their cue, the audience called encouragements.

“Three,” Warden said, “two, one.”

Felix sliced his arm downward. The spirits wheeled after it in a smooth arc and dived into the bowl of water, making its surface tremble and the æther strain. I raised my eyebrows. As the spirits rose again, carrying a chain of sparkling droplets with them, Róisín put a sudden end to the grace period and sprang toward Felix. She knocked his arm upward with her fist and threw him against the ropes before her fingers bit into his shoulder. His body gave a violent jolt, causing the spirits to panic and flee. Water sprayed everywhere as he slid into a heap on the floor.

“Yield, I yield,” he yelled, to gales of laughter. “That hurt, Róisín! What did you do?”

“She used her gift against you,” Warden said. “Róisín is a talented osteomancer. Your bones responded to her touch.”

Felix recoiled. “Mybones?”

“Correct. They may be enveloped in flesh, but they will always answer an osteomancer’s call.”

Applause smattered for Róisín’s victory. I put my coffee down and joined in. With a little fine-tuning, Warden had transformed her osteomancy into an active gift—something she could use to defend herself. Even what Felix had done was nothing like the hydromancy I had seen before.

“Told you we should never have released them,” a whisperer hissed. Trenary, I thought his name was. “Vile augurs don’t belong here.”

“Enough.” Warden kept pacing around the ring. “The Underqueen has forbidden that sort of talk.”

Several people started. Rephaim, as it turned out, had keen hearing. Anyone else would have quailed at his tone, but the whisperer recovered quickly. “I don’t have to do what you say, Rephaite,” he sneered. Felix swallowed and glanced at Warden. “I’ll take my orders from the Underqueen, if she ever shows up.”

“Then listen to this, Trenary,” I called. Heads turned in my direction. “We don’t hold with that attitude any longer. If you can’t let go of it, take it elsewhere. Outside, perhaps, where the snow is.”

There was a pause before Trenary stormed out of the hall, leaving Róisín to grind her teeth.

“Warden, what can you teach me?” Jos Biwott piped up, snapping the tension. “All I can do is sing.”

“That is no small gift. All of you have the potential to use your clairvoyance against Scion, but my time is short today.” Groans of disappointment rang through the hall. “I will return next week. Until then, keep practicing.”

I watched them disband. On the other side of the hall, Warden reached for his coat.

It had been weeks since we had spoken more than a few stiff words to one another. I couldn’t put this off any longer. Trying to shake off my apprehension, I crossed the hall to stand beside him.

“Paige.”

His voice had the same effect on me as wine. The heaving, clumsy weight behind my ribs was still.

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