Demon Singer II (28 page)

       Lyric's heart lurched as he listened to Cadence's voice.  Her voice was wrong. The Verger sounded alien and strange. Then Lyric realized he'd never heard her voice by itself. The first time she spoke they were already tied, so her words had carried meaning and inflection that couldn't be discerned by sound alone. He'd only shared the soul tie with her for a couple months and already it was like losing a limb.

       Dispo nodded, acknowledging Cadence's strange words that sounded so wrong.

       "I hope she brings back that knife. If I can study it maybe I can discover a way to heal him completely."

       Lyric asked what Dispo was talking about, but no sound came from his throat. Fighting down the panic that instantly flooded his veins he tried again. He managed to whisper.

       "What happened?"

       Cadence noticed his struggle and put a hand on his chest.

       "Lyric, your throat was cut by Lisian. She stabbed you with a knife that severed our tie to one another. Unfortunately it also severed your throat and Dispo can't fix it."

       Lyric's hand flew to his throat as he sat up.  Lisian helped support him but he felt fine.  Diz had done an excellent job healing him. He felt his neck carefully but couldn't feel a wound.

       Concentrating carefully he tried to vocalize but no voice greeted his effort. Turning his attention to Diz he whispered.

       "Will it heal eventually?"

       The old man's sad expression said enough, but he answered anyway.

       "I don't think it will. That knife she used did something I've never seen. When she cut you it actually changed something in the score. When I try to sing you back together it just falls back apart."  Lyric felt the bottom drop out of his world as Diz spoke. "I've fought a lot of demons, Lyric. She must have been big stuff."

       "She's a member of the Nychta Polemistis." He whispered. "She is the Power of Bondage." He looked around, trying to make sense of the nightmare his life was trying to become.  There must be a way to heal his throat. His voice had to be restored.  He couldn't believe he'd come this far just to have it end with a whisper. Acheron would probably have an idea.

       The absence was given a name. Where was Acheron? The sense of loss Lyric felt was oppressive and threatened to overwhelm him.

       "Nychta Polemistis, huh? Never heard of it." Diz frowned.

       Lyric exerted his iron self control and calmed himself down.

"They are Trytohn's inner circle.  The generals of hell.  Acheron is one too."

       Diz whistled softly.

       "Wow, you certainly attract the heavy hitters, boy." Diz clapped a heavy hand on Lyric's shoulder. "You should get some more sleep while you can. We leave as soon as you're able."

       Lyric looked at Diz quizzically.

       "If one thing is clear about what happened here today it's that the world needs the Soul Singers Guild. You need singers and I just happen to have a town full of candidates. I couldn't have protected them today without you and your friends. I haven’t forgotten about your mother,” Diz held up a hand to forestall Lyric’s objection. “Take me to the site of your Guild and
then
I’ll help you find your mother."

*   *   *   *   *

       Chaos erupted in the chapel as Sabre, Maddy and the two Knockers protested vehemently. Shouts were exchanged and swords were drawn and things looked ready to get violent.

       Ruby barely noticed. She considered the dwarf King's odd demand and realized it didn't bother her.  It seemed... right.  Without giving it what some would consider to be a reasonable amount of thought, Ruby plunged her fist into the light.

       The most remarkable thing happened. Everyone who was yelling and threatening was blown to the far end of the room while Ruby stood alone.

       
Hello, Ruby.

       
A pleasant, warm voice spoke inside her head.

       "Hello?" She replied aloud.

       The warm voice chuckled. She immediately felt drawn to this being.  Without understanding how, she sensed an immense intelligence behind the voice.

       
You don't have to speak aloud. I can hear you just fine.

       "Who are you?" Ruby continued speaking out loud.

       
Your friends call me the Light of Markhato. I don't really have a name, I've never needed one before.

       
"So we're supposed to be married, huh?"

       Again the chuckle.

       
The dwarves see it that way because they can't comprehend any other reason to spend their lives together. To them it's a marriage. For you and I it's more of a long distance friendship where I provide you with my insights and you provide me with a way to communicate. It's like we met online and you live in America while I live in Botswana.

       
"What are you?"

       
I'm a Tu’tavia.

       
"What does that mean?"

       
When the Voice sang His Score into being, He created so much more than what you can see. My brothers and sisters and I were created to protect the children of light as they traveled the Verge. Not many of us remain. I've been trapped here for the last fourteen hundred years. A man sang at the edge of this mountain and I heard an echo of creation. It had been so long since I had heard from the children of light I came at once. The manifestation of my power was startling and confusing to him and he stopped his song before I finished building him the way. The door slammed shut and I got stuck. I couldn't make him understand me, who I was, that I was trying to help. I've been stuck here since. The door is open enough for most creatures to pass through, but my power is attached to my being. I can't finish coming through and I can't back out. I can't even protect the way I made. A small army passed through the door just days ago and I could do nothing but watch. I've been waiting for you, Ruby Rain of the Composer.

       
"What do you expect me to do?"

       
I've come to love this city.  I love the dwarves, I love the humans, I love the centaurs.  So much beauty lives here. I have no desire to leave. But I need to be able to communicate. I can only do that through you.

       
"Why me? I'm nobody special.  I don't have magic like my family. I don't even have the second sight without this little necklace. What good can I possibly do?"

       The voice became sad.

       
Of all the things left to random chance, life is not one of them. Every child is on purpose. You are exactly the right person, Ruby. Not because of any grand destiny or amazing power or secret merit, but by the million idiosyncrasies that make you who you are. There is no magic in it, other than the common miracle of every life. Your particular life has made you the only person in creation able to hear me speak. You're special simply because you're able to have this conversation. Of all the lives I've encountered you are by far the most special, simply because of who you are.

       "So how does this work? Do I spend the rest of my life in this room?"

       
No. You don't even need to come back if you prefer not to. Just keep the soul stone and we'll be able to talk anywhere.

       
"Soul stone?  You mean my mother's rock? What does it do?"

       
Yes, it belonged to the Emerald Gem of Markhato. I thought briefly she might be the one, but she couldn't hear me like you can. Then she had a daughter.  Do you recall? We met when you were a child.

       
Suddenly memories came surging back she hadn't realized she repressed. Being a little girl, playing with her mother's jewelry.  How she loved the white Rock that always seemed warm and seemed to glow. She could have sworn it said her name every time she touched it.

       
"You were in the stone," she murmured in awe.  It was hard enough to believe she was special in any way. The idea that she had been known since childhood by something as old and important as the Light of Markhato was mind boggling.

       
I was in the stone,
the voice confirmed.
Well, not so much in it as using it like a phone. Each Tu’tavia has a soul stone. They were created for us by the Sprites. They help us communicate. Your mother was given mine  at my urging when she was quite young.

       
"Your urging? I thought no one could hear you. For that matter, how did the dwarves know you wanted a voice?"

       
I've always been able to communicate on various levels with those who want to hear. It's incomplete though, vague impressions and strong feelings. Never intelligent conversation. These dwarves have developed an emotional rapport with me because of their constant close proximity. Our relationship is why they behave differently from their brethren in other parts of the world.

       
"So now what?"

       
The dwarves will accept your word now.  Tell them everything I've told you. Tell them this too..."

       
Ruby listened intently as the Light of Markhato spoke.

*   *   *   *   *

       Jessica Fairfield sat at the chef's food bar overlooking the kitchen in Emeril's New Orleans restaurant. The woman across from her was breath takingly lovely and so pleasant it was difficult to remember she was a demon.

       Her name was Bonen Tansyon, and she was Jessica's new caregiver. Jessica had been simultaneously incensed and terrified when Blink and Varia had dropped her off.

       "As agreed," Varia had told the beautiful woman. "Trytohn is bound in the pit, Lisian is bound for the throne and you're bound to have fun with Miss Fairfield here."

       "Lovely, Mr. Ture. Thank you for all of your hard work.  May I fetch you something to eat?"

       The Verger smiled pleasantly.

       "I must respectfully decline, Ms. Tansyon. I'm afraid I still have a lot of work to do.  Perhaps another time."

       The Verger prepared to leave but Jessica grabbed his arm.

       "Wait!" She said angrily. "Where are you going? I'm not your property anymore, remember? You said my debt is paid. I don't want to stay here." She looked around at the opulent room they were in. A line of handsome men in tuxedos stood against the wall, waiting to serve. The furnishings were all beautifully crafted and looked expensive. Ms. Tansyon was dressed in a simple but beautiful satin gown that moved against her body like it was in love. The woman herself was gorgeous, easily as beautiful as Lisian but without looking like she was about to eat Jessica's face off.

       "Miss Fairfield," Varia Tur carefully removed her hand from his arm. "I'm heading for places and situations that make our adventure in hell look like a picnic. If you truly wish to accompany me I'm sure Ms. Tansyon would let you go.” He waved a hand at Jessica’s surroundings. “Is that what you want?"

       Obviously the answer had been no. Now Jessica sat across from a woman who seemed kind and generous and for all intents and purposes downright perfect. Bonen Tansyon had purchased her a beautiful new dress and diamond necklace with matching earrings. When they arrived at Emeril's she explained the menu and ordered for her.

       Jessica was being treated like a princess and it was awesome.

       "I'm so glad you chose to stay with me, chere." Bon was saying. Jessica had been following Varia's example and calling her Ms.Tansyon but she insisted Jessica call her Bon. "I think you'll see I want nothing but the very best for you. When Mr. Tur came to visit me all those years ago asking for help overthrowing my master I had so many ideas and dreams for making the world a better place."

       "Bon," Jessica paused and considered her words carefully. Her typically acerbic manner was absent. She was rapidly developing a genuine affection for the strange demoness.  "I don't want to be offensive-"

       Bonen Tansyon threw her head back and filled the area with the most delightful tinkling laughter.

       "Sweetheart, you couldn't possibly offend me. Please, speak freely."

       "It's just that- I mean, granted my experiences with demons are limited, but you are nothing at all like I've come to expect."

       "That is a fine compliment, chere." The demoness actually blushed. "It's true. I seem to be unique among my peers. They all want to rip apart or dominate humanity in one awful way or another. I just want everyone to get along. I dream of peace and love and beautiful things. It helps distract from the fire."

       "The fire?"

       "My own personal hell that lives with me. It's just awful. Doing nice things makes me almost feel. But then, you know about almost  feeling, don't you?" Bon smiled sadly. "My poor, sweet thing. I fear I've damaged you with the protection I've provided over these years, I'm so sorry.  I swear it was with the noblest of intentions. When my friend Drake told me about your mother, poor girl, I just had to help."