Read Online The Singers of Nevya by Louise Marley - Free Book Online
Authors: Louise Marley
their seniors, who were so close to adulthood and professional life. All the older students knew that the day of their departure was close, whether this year or the next. Now it appeared that someone, besides Sira, would be leaving early.
Isbel looked around at them—tiny Jana with the dark eyes, Kevn tall and thin and craggy, Arn plump and slow-moving, but with quick fingers on the strings of the filhata . There had been thirteen. Now there were twelve. Soon they would be only eleven. They were her family, as were all those at Conservatory. Cathrin had given Isbel more affection than she had received from her own mother.
She lifted her head to gaze around the great room. Theo, the itinerant Singer, was seated at a table with several stablemen, but he was watching the students with a strange expression. Daringly, Isbel opened her mind to see if he would send to them. She heard nothing. Still, his eyes seemed full of longing as he looked from one to the other of the students. Isbel wondered about him. What must it be like, a life spent forever traipsing back and forth between the Houses? Everything about him spoke of the outdoors, of sun and wind and the deep cold. She glanced at Maestro Nikei, at the Magister’s table. He was about the same age, she guessed, but as white and slender and fragile-looking as Maestra Lu.
Isbel forced her attention back to her friends. Perhaps she would have a chance to speak to this Theo before he rode out with the party back to Perl. He must have many stories to tell.
When the evening meal was over, the youngest of the students begged a story. Isbel sat in one of the broad window seats, and the first-level students clustered around her. They were very new, having been at Conservatory only a few months. They still cried for their mothers at night. Isbel and the other third-level students indulged them at every opportunity, prompted by poignant memories of their own misery when they had first arrived.
With one child on her lap and others leaning against her, their little hands on her arms, in her hair, tugging on her tunic, Isbel told them the story of how the Spirit created the thirteen Houses. Because the story was one of the legends, she chanted it aloud on three scale degrees of Mu-Lidya . She sang the old, old words without embellishment.
T HE S PIRIT OF S TARS, THE GREAT S OWER OF SEEDS,
L OOKED DOWN AT THE EMPTY WORLD AND LAMENTED ITS BARRENNESS.
S O THE S PIRIT REACHED OUT I TS GREAT H AND
T O GATHER THIRTEEN STARS FROM THE ABUNDANT SKY.
T HEY SPARKLED IN I TS P ALM.
T HE S PIRIT BREATHED ON THE BURNING STARS TO COOL THEIR FIRE,
THEN IT THREW THEM ACROSS THE C ONTINENT.
A T MANRUS THEY FELL, AND AT A RREN,
A T P ERL AND I SENHOPE, A MRIC AND C ONSERVATORY.
A T L AMDON, B ARIKEN, S OREN, AND C LARE,
A ND T ARUS AND T REVI AND F ILUS.
The children sighed, each having waited to hear the name of his or her own House as Isbel chanted it. One put her cheek in Isbel’s hand, and Isbel cupped it as she sang. Feeling other eyes on her, she looked up to find the itinerant Singer watching from a distance.
T HE STARS TOOK ROOT, AND THE H OUSES GREW,
A ND THE S PIRIT BREATHED ON THEM A SECOND TIME,
T O FILL THEM WITH NEW LIFE.
T HE PEOPLE CAME, AND CAERU AND HRUSS .
F ERREL AND URBEAR , WEZEL AND TKIR .
T HE S PIRIT LOOKED DOWN AND SAW THE EMPTINESS FILLED,
A ND WAS CONTENT WITH I TS CREATION.
B UT THE PEOPLE CRIED OUT TO THE S PIRIT
T HAT THE WORLD WAS COLD, AND THEIR SEEDS WOULD NOT GROW.
T HE S PIRIT OF S TARS GREW SAD THAT I TS PEOPLE WERE DYING.
A THIRD TIME THE S PIRIT BREATHED,
A ND FROM I TS OWN FIRE CREATED THE G IFT,
T HE SPARK THAT WOULD WARM THE WORLD.
That is us , sent one sleepy child.
Isbel ceased her chant for a moment. You are quite right, Corin. That is us.
Go on, please, sent several others. One girl was already asleep on Isbel’s shoulder.
T HE S PIRIT OF S TARS, THE SOWER OF SEEDS,
L OOKED DOWN ON THE WORLD WITH ITS H OUSES AND S INGERS
A
Isbel looked around at them—tiny Jana with the dark eyes, Kevn tall and thin and craggy, Arn plump and slow-moving, but with quick fingers on the strings of the filhata . There had been thirteen. Now there were twelve. Soon they would be only eleven. They were her family, as were all those at Conservatory. Cathrin had given Isbel more affection than she had received from her own mother.
She lifted her head to gaze around the great room. Theo, the itinerant Singer, was seated at a table with several stablemen, but he was watching the students with a strange expression. Daringly, Isbel opened her mind to see if he would send to them. She heard nothing. Still, his eyes seemed full of longing as he looked from one to the other of the students. Isbel wondered about him. What must it be like, a life spent forever traipsing back and forth between the Houses? Everything about him spoke of the outdoors, of sun and wind and the deep cold. She glanced at Maestro Nikei, at the Magister’s table. He was about the same age, she guessed, but as white and slender and fragile-looking as Maestra Lu.
Isbel forced her attention back to her friends. Perhaps she would have a chance to speak to this Theo before he rode out with the party back to Perl. He must have many stories to tell.
When the evening meal was over, the youngest of the students begged a story. Isbel sat in one of the broad window seats, and the first-level students clustered around her. They were very new, having been at Conservatory only a few months. They still cried for their mothers at night. Isbel and the other third-level students indulged them at every opportunity, prompted by poignant memories of their own misery when they had first arrived.
With one child on her lap and others leaning against her, their little hands on her arms, in her hair, tugging on her tunic, Isbel told them the story of how the Spirit created the thirteen Houses. Because the story was one of the legends, she chanted it aloud on three scale degrees of Mu-Lidya . She sang the old, old words without embellishment.
T HE S PIRIT OF S TARS, THE GREAT S OWER OF SEEDS,
L OOKED DOWN AT THE EMPTY WORLD AND LAMENTED ITS BARRENNESS.
S O THE S PIRIT REACHED OUT I TS GREAT H AND
T O GATHER THIRTEEN STARS FROM THE ABUNDANT SKY.
T HEY SPARKLED IN I TS P ALM.
T HE S PIRIT BREATHED ON THE BURNING STARS TO COOL THEIR FIRE,
THEN IT THREW THEM ACROSS THE C ONTINENT.
A T MANRUS THEY FELL, AND AT A RREN,
A T P ERL AND I SENHOPE, A MRIC AND C ONSERVATORY.
A T L AMDON, B ARIKEN, S OREN, AND C LARE,
A ND T ARUS AND T REVI AND F ILUS.
The children sighed, each having waited to hear the name of his or her own House as Isbel chanted it. One put her cheek in Isbel’s hand, and Isbel cupped it as she sang. Feeling other eyes on her, she looked up to find the itinerant Singer watching from a distance.
T HE STARS TOOK ROOT, AND THE H OUSES GREW,
A ND THE S PIRIT BREATHED ON THEM A SECOND TIME,
T O FILL THEM WITH NEW LIFE.
T HE PEOPLE CAME, AND CAERU AND HRUSS .
F ERREL AND URBEAR , WEZEL AND TKIR .
T HE S PIRIT LOOKED DOWN AND SAW THE EMPTINESS FILLED,
A ND WAS CONTENT WITH I TS CREATION.
B UT THE PEOPLE CRIED OUT TO THE S PIRIT
T HAT THE WORLD WAS COLD, AND THEIR SEEDS WOULD NOT GROW.
T HE S PIRIT OF S TARS GREW SAD THAT I TS PEOPLE WERE DYING.
A THIRD TIME THE S PIRIT BREATHED,
A ND FROM I TS OWN FIRE CREATED THE G IFT,
T HE SPARK THAT WOULD WARM THE WORLD.
That is us , sent one sleepy child.
Isbel ceased her chant for a moment. You are quite right, Corin. That is us.
Go on, please, sent several others. One girl was already asleep on Isbel’s shoulder.
T HE S PIRIT OF S TARS, THE SOWER OF SEEDS,
L OOKED DOWN ON THE WORLD WITH ITS H OUSES AND S INGERS
A
Similar Books
The Downfall of a Good Girl
Kimberly Lang
Labor of Love
Rachel Hawthorne
Unusual Inheritance
Rhonda Grice
Girl In Pieces
Jordan Bell
Dream Lover
Kristina Wright (ed)
Born on the Fourth of July
Ron Kovic
In the Presence of My Enemies
Stephen A. Fender
Guardian of Darkness
Kathryn Le Veque
A Golden Web
Barbara Quick
Ysabel
Guy Gavriel Kay