Firebrand

“In any case,” Mara said, “if Captain Mapstone is seeing someone, it is well overdue. It’s time she had something for herself.” She added in a low, confidential voice, “I will keep an eye out now.”

Estral had watched the exchange with some interest. She didn’t miss much. Karigan would tell her about her father and the captain later, when they were alone. She did not need to start the Riders gossiping about their captain’s love life, but then thought it might be too late now that she’d said something to Mara.

“Mara, don’t—” she began. She was about to tell her friend not to bother keeping an eye on the captain, but just then a trio of visitors entered the common room, escorted by Merla. Her face looked mildly swollen from the hives, but it was the visitors who claimed Karigan’s attention.

“Karigan,” Merla said, “the king asked that I bring these folk to you.”

Karigan was gratified he’d done this for her, that he’d remembered her request to see Lhean.

“In truth,” Lhean said, “I was remiss in not seeking you out earlier, Galadheon, and Lady Estral, too.”

Estral started in surprise, and Lhean gave his usual enigmatic smile. Both Merla and Mara excused themselves, Mara cryptically telling them she had to “go see what the captain was up to.”

Hells. Karigan hoped the captain and her father were not still in the stable. The Eletians joined her and Estral, Enver looking curiously at all the games stacked on a shelf.

“Little cousin,” Lhean said to Estral, “we are glad to see you looking well.”

Estral bowed her head in response.

There was Eletian blood in Estral’s ancestry, and Karigan was pleased they acknowledged it in so positive a manner. People could be ugly about those of mixed races.

“We are distressed by the theft of your voice,” Idris said. It was a surprise to hear her speak, for she rarely did so that Karigan had ever observed.

“And your music,” Lhean added. “Would you allow Idris to seek the root of this spell that is upon you?”

Estral nodded emphatically, but Karigan, knowing Eletians as she did, was suspicious. “Is there any danger to Estral?”

“You are wise to ask, Galadheon,” Lhean said. “No harm shall come from Idris, but if the person who placed this spell left a . . . I believe you call it a booby trap? If such a thing is tied to the spell, both Idris and Lady Estral would be in danger. A strong enough trap could ensnare or even kill them. Idris, however, is very learned on how to avoid such traps.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Karigan asked her friend.

Estral scribbled on her slate, and when she showed it to Karigan, YES was scrawled across it in large letters.

IDRIS’ GIFT

“It is decided then,” Lhean said. “Are you ready?”

Estral nodded, and Idris pulled her chair forward so that she was knee-to-knee with her.

“It will not cause pain,” Idris told her. “You must place your hands in mine.”

Estral reached forward and clasped Idris’ hands with her long fingers. As if already in rapport, they both closed their eyes and became very still. To either side of Karigan, Lhean and Enver also closed their eyes and hummed. It was low, hardly discernible, but she felt it vibrating along her nerves.

She watched her friend closely, looking for signs of change or pain or danger, but Estral’s expression remained relaxed. Time passed slowly. The fire looked like it could use another log thrown on it, but Karigan did not dare move lest she disrupt whatever connection the Eletians maintained with Estral.

Shadows shifted in the room as more time passed. Karigan yawned, almost missing the crease that furrowed Estral’s brow.

Idris said, “There is a snake, and it has swallowed her voice, the soul of her music, and given it to another. I will—”

She was cut off by Estral coughing and then intensifying into choking, her hands going to her throat.

Karigan jumped up to go to her friend, but Idris was already on her feet, clasping Estral’s shoulders. She leaned down to touch her forehead to Estral’s, and Estral’s choking subsided. Idris released her and returned to her chair. Estral’s eyes fluttered open. She was breathing hard, but nothing worse.

“Are you all right?” Karigan asked.

Estral nodded.

“There was a trap,” Idris said.

“You cannot overcome it?” Lhean asked.

“No. It is well done. To restore her voice and the soul of her music, she must extract it from the thief. Then the snake will die.”

Estral’s face fell in disappointment. She looked on the verge of tears.

“Do not despair,” Idris said. “I can give you a key to retrieve it, though the finding of the thief may be difficult. I can only tell you that the thief is female, very strong, and young.”

“Magically strong?” Karigan asked.

“Yes, the thief has a natural affinity for working with the etherea, and she has had training.”

“What would you wager . . .” Karigan murmured. No one had heard anything about Grandmother, the leader of Second Empire, since Karigan and her companions had entered Blackveil. She could not help but think this had something to do with Grandmother, but she did not voice her thought because Idris was speaking to Estral.

“There is a gift I can give you in the meantime, for it pains us that you have not your voice.”

Estral cocked her head curiously.