Joden blinked. Essa’s face might be blank, but his tone was withering.
“But here, in this Season, with this candidate, the only candidate,” Essa’s voice grew dryer. “They decided to speak to him. Alone.”
Eyes widened, heads turned, but there was only the crackle of the fires to be heard.
“They spoke to him?” Quartis broke the silence.
“Alone,” Essa repeated.
Now all eyes were focused on Joden.
“They placed no restrictions on me,” Joden offered.
“Tell us, then,” Essa commanded. “Tell us what passed between you and the Ancients.”
Joden did. He started from the moment Essa left the tent, and didn’t soften the words the Ancients had spoken about the Eldest Elder.
He ended with the chant and the reference to Essa’s ruffled feathers. His last words floated out into the evening air and were met only with silence.
“That’s more than they have ever told me,” Essa’s voice was rough.
The deeper silence that followed let Joden work up his courage to ask, “Who are they?”
Head shakes all around.
“We do not know,” Essa said. “Those oldbracnecthave tortured three Eldest Elders with their silence and killed more than that with their talk of ‘old paths’. Denying us the songs only they know, and their knowledge of the past. Perhaps they were Eldest Elders in their time.”
“They didn’t have…” Joden stopped himself, thinking back. “They didn’t have the Singer tattoos. But now that I think on it—”
Quartis nodded. “The tent is shadowed and dark, their skin wrinkled and mottled with age spots.”
“Sexless, but not ageless, no, not them.” Essa shuddered. “I would fall on my sword before I would let that happen to me.”
“What is the ‘old path’?” Joden asked.
“None have attempted the old path since I became Eldest Elder,” Essa said. “The price is too high. Who can say if their songs are worth the price?”
“Has anyone ever heard the tales of the Chaosreaver and his Warprize?” Joden asked. “Or that they stripped away the magic from the Plains?”
More silence. Essa rubbed his hand over his face.
Para spoke from the back, “Usually when a Singer candidate is presented to them, they mumble something, bless you in the name of the elements, and then they seem to fade off to sleep.” She seemed angry. “Why did they speak to you?’
“Why do they do anything,” Essa growled. “It matters not. The ritual they speak of kills. And now? With wyverns flying, this odd power returned to the Plains, what will happen to any that walk that path? No one knows.” He took a deep breath. “So, Joden of the Hawk. You will begin the Trials of a Singer tomorrow at dawn. You will be tested for four days, one for each of the elements. You will be tested as a warrior, as a judge, and as a Singer.
“You will stand before us all, and show us your skills in combat,” Quartis flashed Joden a grin.
“We will present conflicts, and you will show us how you would resolve them in accordance with our ways.” Thron spoke up.
“You will dance,” Para spoke as well.
“Most of all, you will sing, old songs and songs of your own creation. For four days and four nights.” Essa said. “After which, if you are worthy, we will tattoo your eye and you will be a Singer of the Plains.”
“But if I fail these Trials—” Joden began.
“You have been told our secrets,” Essa said. “And if you were to fail, we would slay you to keep those truths safe.”
“Few fail,” Quartis said quietly. “We do not share our truths with those that are unworthy.”
