Ah! That did not work. She lifted her fist and smashed it against the mattress in exasperation. She sat up. This was not the way. It felt like something a fortune reader would instruct her to do. Some nonsense, like when she pretended to be able to read symbols in her girlfriend's mind as a child.
Use the song, she thought. It all begins with the song.
She fell back against the bed, inhaled, called up the swirling music that was the Giver's tongue, and, very softly, sang. She did not entirely understand the notes and words and shapes of sound that came from her mouth, but she knew the intent was right. She wove them in with her hopes, with the preparations she had already made. Trying to shape them even as she felt shaped by the song escaping her, she lost herself in the effort.
At some point, she realized the song was not on her lips anymore. It was in her. It was her and would travel with her. She pushed her spirit up and out of her body, floating free above the bed and then through the ceiling and beyond. For a time she swam through air above the palace. Such a strange feeling. She had an awareness of her physical form, but she also knew how very incorporeal it was. Part of her lashed at the air with limbs that were not entirely there but that were not entirely absent. Ultimately, it was thought, not physical effort, that moved her through space. More than thought, it was thought propelled by force of will.
For some time she flew from point to point above the palace, slowly learning to feel the presence of souls, sleeping and awake. She found she could draw herself to some individuals simply by settling thoughts of them in her mind and then driving toward them. Thus, she felt Rhrenna's sleeping presence and Aaden's. She knew the bed in which Delivegu slumbered, not alone. Any of these she could have stirred awake, but they were not her objective. She aimed for a person much, much farther away: Dariel.
She conjured every memory she had of him. She held her thoughts of him until she had them within her, contained like the seething balls of creation from which she built the creatures she summoned for Aaden's amusement. The song helped her. It gave shape to what she wished to do. She took that swirling embodiment of memories and thoughts and images and emotions that to her were Dariel, and then she hurled them forward.
It was like tossing a great ball of energy, a thing that hungered to be released. She sped behind, hooked to it, shooting forward across the Inner Sea. Oh, it felt good! Such speed. She watched Acacia recede as she passed between Kidnaban and the Cape of Fallon. Before long, the mountains of Senival rumbled beneath her, as if they were a herd of stampeding creatures. Wonderful. Such power and freedom. She raced across the coast and farther until…
She forgot what she was doing. Her progress slowed. For a few moments she felt the force that had been pulling her casting about in one and then another direction. Then it simply stopped. In a spirit form, immune to the cold or fear, Corinn hung in the air high above the Gray Slopes. Below her, the ocean moved in unending undulation. Watching it, she knew the waves gave life to all the earth. She knew, looking down, that there could be no more horrible thing than a dead sea. It meant a dead earth.
By why am I thinking that? I'm here for a reason. I'm searching for-
Her eyes snapped open. She gasped a breath so loud she thought for a moment that she screamed it out. Sitting up on her bed, in her gown, the air heavy with incense smoke, she realized she had failed. Dariel! She had been flying toward Dariel, driven by her thoughts of him, scorching toward whatever place or fate in the world identified him… but then the energy that propelled her realized it did not know where to go. She should have been able to find him, but there was no scent, no trail, not even an intuitive feeling for where to head. At some point, there was nothing. That was why she had stopped somewhere out above the Slopes. If her brother was out there, she had no power to find him.
"Dariel," she said. In speaking his name she felt a strange, dread certainty that she would never see him again, neither in life nor through the song.
The following day passed much the same as the one that preceded it. One appointment after another. One function before another. Her last official meeting that afternoon was with Paddel, the head vintner of Prios. She kept it short, not wanting to look too long at his heavily jowled, red-cheeked face. He sat at the far end of the table from her, as unattractive as ever, squeezed into a black jacket that was so tight he could barely move his chubby arms. She did not sit through all of his fawning, praise-laden greeting.
"Since last we spoke, have the trials of the vintage continued to go well?"
"Yes, of course! Better than well. See here, the reports-" He fumbled with his papers, rising to bring them to her.
"Just tell me this," Corinn said. She signaled with disdainful fingers that he should stay seated. "It works as efficiently as you thought before? It lifts their spirits, gives them a feeling of bliss, and yet does not dull minds?"
"Quite so. One might almost say it sharpens-"
"And once they taste it, they will forever crave it?" The man nodded vigorously. "What happens if they are deprived of it?"
"There's no reason that they should be deprived of it. We have vast stockpiles of the raw ingredients. We have enough to last us until we win or lose the coming struggle."
"That's good. But, again, what happens when they are deprived of it? You said before that they will do anything to get it-but if they cannot get it, what happens to them? How long until they recover?"
The nodding stopped. Paddel's mouth puckered, a stupid expression that Corinn wanted to slap away. "I don't know. We didn't deprive any indefinitely. They were so"-he grinned and lifted his shoulders, a gesture meant to indicate that surely she understood this point-"insistent and so pleased when they had access to it again. Why deprive them?"
The scowl on Corinn's face stayed constant. That annoys me, Paddel, she said to herself. You should have researched this area instead of taking so much personal pleasure from it. It was too late now to conduct more tests. She had waited too long already. Let it be done.
"Send word to your people," she said. "Release the vintage."
"Yes?" he asked, excited, his mouth now like that of a dog panting in expectation. "Do you mean it?"
"I just said it, so obviously I mean it. How quickly can you distribute it?"
"Oh, quickly indeed. The main warehouse is in Prios, of course, but in preparation for your order we've shifted stock to Danos, Alecia, Bocoum. We even had a storage facility in Denben. We can send word by messenger bird and have crates riding south toward interior Talay by tomorrow evening. And across west to Tabith, which will give us the entire Slopes coastline!" The possibilities took his breath away. He stammered on for a time, and then, realizing something, looked at Corinn with new admiration. "You are so wise to have arranged this, Your Majesty."
She showed no pleasure in the compliment. Instead, she flicked her fingers to indicate that he should leave. Before he reached the door, she stopped him. "One final thing. Do conduct the test. When one is addicted and is deprived indefinitely, what happens? Find out."
Later, in her offices with Rhrenna, Corinn closed out the day's business. The Meinish woman read from the meticulous notes she kept, detailing a variety of points achieved and yet to be faced on the morrow. Listening to her voice soothed Corinn. Much of what she said, conversely, did not. "Wren has petitioned for an audience with you. I told her the timing was ill but said I would put the request to you."