Singing in muted mode the Eolt swarmed overhead, dipping to brush her with their speaking tentacles, sending shudders of pain/joy through her body at the touch, sharing with her infinitesimal bits of Eolt energy.
She settled herself on the transformed case, took up the harp and touched the strings, searching for the song that would gather the grief and say it for all of them. There were no Ards here, bonded in sioll; she was all they had.
This great death by fire became for her the death of her homeworld which was also a death by fire when Shayalin’s sun went nova. It was real for her for the first time in the twenty millennia since she’d got word her home was gone. Her eyes filled with tears and she wept, grief for Shayalin mingled with grief for the death of the Eolt. For them and for herself, she played the Death Song the Weavers of Shayalin made for their own.
The Eolt sang, blending their great voices around her small one.
The Fior and Keteng knelt beside the bundles of their dead and listened to the Requiem.
And Marrin recorded it, his face grim with anger, grief and regret.
12
Shadith stood on the beach watching the starlit shapes of the Eolt drifting away, north south east west riding the winds to the places they’d come from. She started at a touch on her shoulder, looked around. Marrin.
“It’s time to go,” he said. “The flikit’s here.”
Harpcase on the platform beside her, Shadith stood looking out over the mirrored city, watching wearily the glory that was sunset on Helvetia. Light in crimson and gold ran like water along the slippery surfaces, flickered erratically off shattered diamante walls, was thrown in fire spears mirror to mirror, mirror on mirror on the walls of the costliest city in known space, mirror mirror everywhere, spears of gold, spears of blood, going here, going there as the mirrors changed their inclination. Gradually muting as the sky turned purple then darkened further to indigo.
“From a battle that didn’t need to happen to a fizzle in court.”
Aslan turned from the city, dropped a hand on Shadith’s arm. “Not really, Shadow. Helvetia set their grip on Chandava Minerals where it’ll hurt the most. Blood money to Yaraka Pharmaceuticals. Endangerment recompense to University for the Endowment. And Chandava is barred from University for ten years. Those aren’t small things.” She smiled. “Something you don’t know. An hour ago the Regent’s Rep got me to a privacy alcove and gave me some messages. First, you get your stock. Two shares, not one. And the Regents are putting a commendation on your record. And Burya Moy says get your tail back home, he’s seen the flake of the Eolt Requiem and he wants you working on a polished version soonest.”
Shadith watched the colors start to glow in the Darklands. University pulled at her for a moment, but only a moment, because she’d been happy there. No more. Bйluchad had taught her that. Music was as necessary as breathing, but it wasn’t enough to fill her life. “No,” she said. “When I get back from Quale’s place, I’m going to work for Digby. It’s all arranged.” She listened. “That’s my shuttle. Thanks, Aslan. You did me a favor when you brought me to Bйluchad. Greet Maorgan for me when you go back, tell him I may drop by again one day to hear the songs he’s made.”
She worked the strap of the harpcase over her shoulder and walked away without looking back.