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Cassia advanced on Epodos. “Yes, I have met people like you in the king’s court, Firstgift Kitharos. Your pride will not allow you to offer a sincere apology, so you may keep it. I do not need your apology. I do not need your favor. I do not need your invitation. I belong here, because I fought to make it here.” She took another step forward. “I risked my life for your people to earn my place among them. Then I arrived here and learned that I do not have to earn Orthros. It is a gift. Not from you. And not one you can take from me.”
She took one more step. Epodos took a step back.
“Yes, I smell of liegehound. No, I can’t recite Hesperine sonnets. Yes, I am young and mortal and, I assure you, entirely presumptuous. I wonder if the founders of Orthros smelled like fine soap when they made it over the mountains. Did the Hesperite villagers who fled to safety already know great literature, or did the temple mages of Hespera have to teach them? How many of the refugees were still mortal when they left Tenebra? How long had they been alive in this world when they chose the Gift and laid the foundation for Orthros’s future? They are the most presumptuous people I have ever met, and I am proud to risk the ire of the king and the Orders for their sake. That is what you may write in my ballad.”
Nodora linked arms with Cassia, and together they walked past Epodos. With Lio, Kia, Xandra, Mak, and Lyros at their sides, they marched between Konstantina and the poet’s gaping Grace to return to the dance.
A TENEBRAN DANCE
Cassia mingled back intothe embassy just as the music paused for an announcement from Kitharos and Dakarai. With fatherly pride, they ceded the dais to their youngest daughter for a series of solos. Nodora took her fathers’ place before the crowd with a blushing smile, holding only her lute.
When the spell lights softened, a few quiet gasps and murmurs could be heard among the mortals. The arcades faded into shadow, while the gentle glow in the hall seemed to draw everyone closer together. The vaulted ceiling disappeared into a darkness as complete as the night sky, while crystal clear light illumined Nodora.
She held her fingers against the silent strings of her lute. “From my mortal mother, I learned to play the bamboo flute and three-stringed shamisen that define the sound of the Archipelagos. From my Hesperine father Dakarai, I learned the sacred drums and dances of the high veld, where his mortal life began. From my Hesperine father Kitharos, I learned the lyre and the lute so dear to your Tenebran ears and hearts.”
Nodora’s voice was a music of its own, putting everyone at ease, yet enticing them to a mysterious thrill. Cassia watched in admiration. Nodora was truly a masterful performer. Her voice, her posture, her expression were all instruments, too, conjuring the desired effect on her audience.
And yet Cassia knew all this reflected the music of Nodora’s heart, as genuine as could be. The Muse should have been a diplomat. Tonight the Summit would benefit from her skills and her conviction.
“In Orthros, I learned to love these musics,” said Nodora, “and in these musics, I learned who I am. To love music is to love the people who make it, is that not so?”
Caressing the lute strings, she answered her own question with a cascade of notes that felt deeply familiar to Cassia, although she couldn’t remember what song they were from.
“What songs do you miss from home?” Nodora asked, turning toward the embassy’s side of the hall. “I will take any request!”
An awkward silence ensued. No one seemed bold enough to take Nodora’s invitation.
Nodora spoke again. “What is your favorite, Apprentice Eudias? I could play a sailing song in honor of our mutual affinity for water.”
Eudias shuffled on his feet, ducking his head. “I fear the fishermen’s tunes I know are hardly appropriate this gathering.”
“There is no such thing as lowly music,” she replied. “All songs lift us up.”
When the apprentice did not offer any suggestions, Nodora called out in a different direction. “What about you, Honored Master Adelphos? Name your favorite song.”
Now that was clever. A subtle invitation to Chrysanthos to trip over his Cordian origins. Did he even bother to learn the names of the Tenebran songs he must regard as crude?
“Alas,” he answered, “my time in Cordium as the King of Tenebra’s emissary has spoiled me forever on the compositions of Aurelio. After hearing the golden bard’s masterpieces, I am deaf to all other music.”
“Aurelio it is, then!” Nodora plucked a string and tweaked a tuning peg. “How about ‘Avior’s Tryst’?”
“Oh, yes,” Kia said from the Hesperine side. “I love that ballad. How intriguing that Aurelio never identifies the mysterious goddess who happens upon the woodland god Avior and cures his wounds.”
“And his loneliness,” said Xandra.
The Hesperine ladies’ suggestive laughter seemed to daze all the men within earshot.
And then Nodora began to play. The tones of her lute conjured shadowed forests around them, summoned wind through their hair, lured them to tiptoe through cool streams and lay flat on their backs in sunny meadows. Her perfect, pure soprano was the voice of the goddess who beheld the woodland god and loved him. She made the rhythm of the ballad pulse with Avior’s desire for his rescuer.
Cassia had never shed a tear over a song, but moisture came to her eyes when the nameless goddess had to bid Avior farewell and return to the stars. The closing strains of the ballad teased the mystery of their parting. A divine union consummated or eternally unrequited love?
Silence fell. The mortals seemed unable to awaken from their bewitchment, and Knight lay flat on his belly, staring at Nodora with his ears perked. When her lute strings at last stopped quivering, the humans stirred as if coming out of a dream. A few moments later, Knight’s ears relaxed.
Menodora looked in Chrysanthos’s direction. “Is that how they play it in Cordium, Honored Master?”
“Not hardly. Your Hesperine interpretation is unprecedented.”
“Avior’s sacred animal is a free-flying wren, not a starling adept only at mimicry. In honor of Aurelio’s patron god, I will take your critique as a compliment.”
