The Singer of All Songs

  It was a shaky chantment, to be sure, and the stranger stammered as he sang, but although the notes were low and growling, from deep in his throat, completely unlike the high clear chantments she knew, it was unmistakably a song of power. Calwyn’s hands began to tingle as they always did in the presence of magic. And then she felt the oddest sensation, as though someone had grasped the back of her tunic and tugged it firmly. She actually turned her head to see if someone had come up behind her, but there was no one there, only this invisible force pulling her backward, a force that came from the Outlander and his song.

  She threw out her hands. She couldn’t speak; she was forbidden to use her voice except for chantment until the day’s ritual was complete. Yet surely even Tamen would say that to combat an Outlander was to serve the Goddess, the highest service there could be.

  Calwyn made up her mind. The rule must be broken, for all their sakes. She breathed in deeply, as she’d been taught, raised her hands, and sang. She sang a spell of cold and ice, a chantment to weave a shadow of icy air all about the stranger, so that his hands shook and his teeth chattered. Still he managed to keep up his own song, growling it out through teeth clenched against the cold, and Calwyn felt the unseen hand at her back grow suddenly stronger, yanking her backward with unexpected force, and she fell onto the grass, breath and song knocked out of her. But then, just as suddenly, the invisible hand released her. She sat up, shaken and a little dazed; the Outlander, the last of his desperate strength exhausted, had collapsed back across the path, and there was silence.

  Calwyn went to kneel beside him. It was obvious that he was at the very end of his strength; his eyes blazed with fever, he was thin and weak. Perhaps he had lain there helpless for days. When she tried to brush back his hair to look at the cut on his head, he pushed her away, but only feebly. ‘Get back,’ he croaked, and at once began to cough, fighting for breath as those from outside always did in the high lands.

  ‘Peace,’ said Calwyn. ‘I won’t hurt you.’ His foot was more severely injured than she’d thought; now she could see, through the torn leather of his boot, the gleam of crushed bone and the mangled flesh beneath. No wonder he couldn’t move himself from the cold breath of the Wall into the warmth of the sun. He caught at her sleeve.

  ‘I know you – you have not deceived me.’ His voice was only a whisper, but it was fierce and urgent. ‘You have not deceived me! I am not persuaded! I have found you out!’

  ‘Very well, very well,’ Calwyn soothed him. Before old Damyr had taken her to be apprentice beekeeper, she had spent a year working with Ursca in the infirmary, and she had seen people delirious with fever before. This man was very ill, and perhaps badly hurt. She knew that a cut to the head might bleed heavily and not be serious, or it might scarcely leave a mark and yet lead to death from bleeding inside the skull. She said, ‘Can you sit up?’

  ‘I must get away from here.’ His voice was weak, but much more reasonable than before. ‘He will find me if I stay in the open for long.’ His voice had a stilted, foreign lilt to it, though it was not the accent of the traders from Kalysons.

  ‘Who will find you?’

  ‘He will. You know who I mean.’ He peered at her face. ‘Is it you? I am not sure of anything any more – Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Calwyn. Listen to me: I’ll try to take you back to the Dwellings, the sisters there can help you more than I can. Do you think you could stand? Here, lean on me.’

  The Outlander struggled to his feet, wincing with pain and leaning hard on Calwyn’s arm. Though she was tall and strong, and he was slight and barely as tall as she, his weight was heavy on her shoulder, and she staggered to support him. ‘I can make it easier, a little,’ he said, and from deep in his throat he began to sing another low, gurgling chantment. His crushed foot lifted off the ground, and it seemed to Calwyn that his weight on her shoulder did ease slightly. Slowly, very slowly, they were able to limp along together.

  They didn’t follow the sacred path beside the Wall. but cut back through the thin woods where the rabbits leapt and the berry bushes caught at them as they made their slow progress. At first the Outlander tried to keep up the chantment that held his broken foot from the ground, but many times he seemed to forget to sing, or even where he was, and more than once he half-fainted against Calwyn’s shoulder and she was forced to stop and revive him with water from the river, or a chantment to cool his brow. Once she asked him, ‘How did you cross the Wall?’ But when he answered her, ‘I flew, I flew across it –,’ she knew that he had retreated again into delirium.

  All afternoon they walked, and as the sun began to slide toward the rim of the mountains, they spoke no more, only to say Careful now or Wait a moment. His hand pressed hard on her shoulder; his laboured breath was the only sound in her ears. Calwyn thought of the remainder of the Wall that she had not inspected, of the chantment left unsung, of the lecture on neglecting her duty that Tamen was sure to give her. Well, the Wall had lasted so long; it would last a little longer without her help today.

  But the nearer they came to the looming towers of the Dwellings, the less certain she was that she had made the right decision. Tamen would have left him where he was, she was sure of it. She thought wildly of hiding him in one of the outer barns, or in the Bee House where no one came but herself, feeding him secretly, until his foot healed, and then – And then what? It was impossible. He would be discovered. ‘Easy there,’ she said, holding his arm as he stumbled by her side. His eyes were squeezed shut with pain; he seemed hardly to hear her.

  It was almost sunset by the time they reached the cloisters, where Marna waited to greet the sisters as they returned. Calwyn was the last; there was a flock of priestesses gathered there before her, a murmuring throng in their loose trousers and long tunics of pale yellow, some with their shawls drawn over their heads to keep off the evening chill. First one, then another, saw Calwyn approaching, with the pale-haired, darkclad stranger leaning on her shoulder, and then a wordless bewildered buzzing went up, as though the bees themselves had come out to greet her.

  The High Priestess and the Guardian, both robed in blue, stood waiting on the steps of stone. Tamen’s face was like thunder. Although as Calwyn had grown older she had learned to fear her less, it was still a difficult thing to walk steadily toward that stern stare while she led beside her a stranger, an Outlander, a dangerous enemy who had somehow, with powers unknown, managed what no one had ever done: crossed the Wall. She tried to keep her gaze fixed on Marna, who always had a kindly twinkle in her blue eyes for little children and errant novices alike. But Marna was not smiling now.

  ‘In the name of Taris, our mother and our protector, I sing you welcome, daughter.’ The clear thin voice of the High Priestess rang out in the ritual greeting.

  ‘In the name of Taris –’ Calwyn faltered the response. She could not reply, as she should, the work of the Goddess is done. She had left her duty uncompleted. But Marna leaned forward to kiss Calwyn’s forehead with her dry lips just as if she had responded properly, to conclude the ritual, and then stood back to survey the stranger, as if she hadn’t noticed him before.

  ‘Child, who is this man?’

  ‘I mean you no harm,’ said the stranger faintly. ‘Please –’ His grip on Calwyn’s shoulder tightened and his head drooped. ‘Have mercy,’ he murmured, so low that only Calwyn could hear.

  ‘You will not speak!’ Tamen rapped out the command. Both she and Marna were looking at Calwyn.

  ‘Lady Mother, my Sister, I found him by the Wall. He is hurt, and I have brought him back for healing.’ Calwyn could hear how feeble her words sounded. She should have left him there, it was obvious now, she should have bound him securely and left the Goddess to finish the work She had begun. And yet the Outlander’s hand was still heavy and hot on her shoulder, and she knew that she couldn’t have abandoned him.

  Tamen said sharply, ‘You brought him across the Wall?’

  Calwyn shook her head. ‘He was within the
Wall when I found him.’

  A ripple of nervous laughter ran through the assembled sisters. The stranger looked around wildly, and cried out, ‘He is here, I know it! You will not hide him from me!’

  ‘Be silent!’ cried Tamen, but it was too late. The Outlander had finally let go his grip on Calwyn’s shoulder, and collapsed fainting to the ground.

  ‘Take him to the infirmary.’ Marna nodded to two of the sisters. ‘Calwyn, go to the dining hall and break your fast. I will speak with you later.’ She turned to the assembled priestesses and raised her hands for dismissal. ‘In the name of the Goddess!’

  The murmuring response went up from the sisters. ‘In the name of the Goddess.’

  The priestesses began to move toward the great hall, eager to take dinner after the long day without food. Most of them looked sideways at Calwyn and moved on hurriedly without speaking; they wouldn’t dare to question her before Marna had done so. Suddenly Calwyn felt very tired, almost as if she might faint too. Someone plucked at her sleeve. It was Gilly, her round face glowing pink with sun and exertion. ‘I’m glad it was you that found him and not me! Were you terrified?’

  ‘No,’ said Calwyn thoughtfully. ‘No, I wasn’t terrified.’

  ‘What will they do with him now?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘However did he get across the Wall? Is he one of the traders that came last summer, has he been hiding in the woods all this time?’

  ‘Don’t be a featherhead, Gilly. How could anyone live in the woods through winter? Does he look like a bear to you?’

  ‘Well, he must be either a bear or a bird or a burrower to get inside the Wall!’ said Gilly cheerfully. ‘Come on, I’m hungry enough to eat a whole goat.’

  A bear or a bird or a burrower. Or something even more strange, an Outlander with his own chantments. Slowly Calwyn followed the younger girl toward the great hall, until the smell of spiced stew and good fresh bread filled her nostrils, and then she could think of nothing but dinner.

  The High Priestess’s rooms were small and plain, as plain as the rooms of any of the sisters. An ancient tapestry hung on one wall, stitched by the hands of long-dead priestesses, so frayed and faded that the picture could scarcely be seen any more. A small fire crackled in the hearth. Through the narrow windows Calwyn could see the dying flames of the sunset on the snowcapped peaks, glittering with lights of rose and topaz and ruby. One silver moon was visible, sailing high amid a faint scattering of stars. Marna was sitting by the fire, and Tamen stood silently in the shadows, her hands thrust into her wide sleeves.

  ‘Sit, child.’

  Calwyn drew up a low stool by Marna’s feet. She had sat in this spot many times during the years of her training, reciting the long songs and repeating the spells for the High Priestess to hear.

  ‘Tell me, child, where exactly did you find him?’

  ‘Near the foothills of Two Teeth. Not far past the panna groves.’

  ‘I know the place,’ came Tamen’s voice from the dark corner.

  ‘Think carefully before you answer, Calwyn. No one will be angry with you if you have made a mistake. We have all made mistakes in our time. Even the High Priestess.’ Marna’s voice was weary, but Calwyn could hear the smile in it now. ‘Tell me, child. On which side of the Wall did you find him?’

  Calwyn felt like weeping. It was a terrible thing to be doubted by the High Priestess. Trying to keep her voice steady, she said, ‘I swear by the three moons and by the Goddess, he was within the Wall.’

  Tamen said sharply, ‘How?’

  ‘I asked him that, my Sister, and he said – I think it was the fever speaking – he told me that he flew. He was lying by the path, I thought he might be dead at first. But then he –’ She stopped.

  ‘Go on,’ said Tamen.

  ‘He sang a chantment. At least, it was a kind of chantment. I tried to go up to him, and the chantment held me back.’ Calwyn spoke rapidly, her eyes on the floor; when she looked up, the two older priestesses were looking at each other, as if she was not even in the room.

  ‘A sorcerer,’ said Marna softly. ‘Can it be?’

  ‘He is no trader, that is certain,’ said Tamen. ‘But if he is a sorcerer, then what Power does he command, that he could fly over the Wall?’

  ‘Ironcraft, perhaps. Though it would be a difficult chantment. Perhaps he sang the clothes he wore up into the air, and carried himself inside them. A risky spell, but not impossible.’

  Tamen shook her head. ‘He is too pale to be a Merithuran. Would he not be withered and burned by the desert winds? More likely he’s a man of the islands, from Firthana or the Outer Isles, a worker of the winds, and sang up a breath to lift himself across our Wall. And a wind to hold her away, as she said.’

  ‘It didn’t feel like a wind,’ said Calwyn eagerly. ‘It was as though a hand clutched at my tunic.’ But they weren’t listening to her.

  ‘Is he safe in the infirmary? If he is indeed an ironcrafter, then bars and bolts will not hold him.’

  ‘Ursca tells me he is deep in fever. I have warned her to be careful of him, but if he is a sorcerer we should take care to silence him.’

  ‘Surely he can’t go far in any case. His foot is so damaged he can’t walk two steps without help,’ said Marna.

  Tamen frowned. ‘Better to be too careful than not careful enough. I will go down to the infirmary myself and see what may be done to secure him.’

  ‘Very well.’

  At the door, Tamen turned back. ‘Calwyn, tomorrow you will go back to the Wall and complete what you have left undone.’

  ‘But Tamen, I must tend to the hives,’ said Calwyn in dismay. ‘I haven’t even looked at them today.’

  Tamen’s face was dark with anger. ‘The bees have survived without you for one day, they must manage without you for another. The Wall is more important than the bees. Proper care of the Wall is the highest duty of any priestess. Do you understand me, Calwyn?’

  ‘Yes, my Sister,’ Calwyn whispered.

  Marna leaned back in her carved chair and closed her eyes as Tamen swept out of the room, the hem of her robe brushing the stone flags. For a long time Calwyn, who had not been dismissed, sat quietly on the low stool. The little fire with its sweet-smelling smoke glowed against her cheek; she shifted her stool out of the heat, and Marna’s eyes opened.

  ‘I’m sorry, Lady Mother, I didn’t mean to startle you.’

  ‘Child, I had almost forgotten you were there. Stay, there is no need for you to leave.’ Far off, from the great hall, came the sound of the evening songs, all the sisters singing together, not weaving magic now but simply celebrating the end of a long day’s work well done. The room was almost dark now, the last of the light fading fast from the luminous sky. ‘Light the candles, little daughter.’

  Calwyn fetched the branched candlestick from the table by the window, and lit the beeswax candles with a taper from the flames. At once the room was filled with shadows and wavering golden light. Calwyn sat down again at Marna’s feet. ‘Lady Mother, may I ask a question?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Is the Guardian very angry with me?’

  Marna laughed a little. ‘No more than usual.’ She placed her hand lightly on Calwyn’s head. ‘She is angry with herself more than with you. The care of the Wall is a heavy burden; the safety of all Antaris depends on the Guardian. Today she has failed in her duty. She tells herself that if she were more vigilant, if her gift were stronger, the Outlander would not have been able to cross the Wall. That is why she speaks so harshly.’

  ‘Tamen has spoken harshly to me before today, Lady Mother.’

  ‘Yes.’ Marna’s voice was very gentle and sad in the flickering firelight. ‘At next winter moondark you will become a full priestess, Calwyn, if the Goddess wills it. There are certain things you are old enough to hear. Tamen is not easy with you. Partly that is because she fears you.’

  ‘Tamen fears me?’

  ‘She knows that your gift is
stronger than her own. When I am gone, most likely it will fall to the two of you to govern this land. Tamen is not ready for that day to come. I tell you this, Calwyn, only so that you may understand her better. You two must work together, not be enemies. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Yes, Lady Mother.’ Calwyn stared into the flames; her heart was beating very fast. She had never dreamed that one day she might be Guardian, or even High Priestess. She could never be as wise as Marna or inspire such awe as Tamen. Hesitantly she said, ‘I am not ready for that day either.’

  Marna laughed. ‘Taris willing, it is a long way off yet.’

  ‘Lady Mother, you said that was part of the reason why Tamen seems always angry with me. What is the other part?’

  Marna was silent for a time, then she said, ‘My daughter, you have never been an obedient novice. You have always been wilful, more eager to ask questions than to listen, and more keen to look over the Wall than to go about your work inside it. Tamen, and others among the sisters, are afraid that you will end as your mother did.’

  ‘My mother?’ All Calwyn knew of her mother was that she had died of a winter fever when Calwyn was still a baby.

  ‘Calida, your mother, was very like you, always wild and restless, always staring over the Wall. She used to go to the same place you like to go, Calwyn, up to the top of the western tower, and gaze out across the forests, and dream.’

  Calwyn took a breath. She had thought that the western tower was her secret place, that no one even knew she went there. But Marna was still speaking.

  ‘When your mother was only a little older than you are now, just after she had been made a full priestess, she left us. She ran away from Antaris. To this day I don’t know how she crossed the Wall. She simply – disappeared. We mourned her – oh, we grieved for many years. And then one day, toward the end of winter, we heard the beating of the gong the traders use to tell us of their arrival. Some thought it must be the winds, or that a tree had fallen over against the gong, but some said, no, we must go and see. And so we went, across the snow, and sang the spell of unmaking. And when the Wall opened, there stood Calida on the other side, with a babe in her arms.’