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Authors: Louise Marley
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ND SMILED TO SEE IT.
W HEN THE S PIRIT SMILED, THE SUMMER CAME,
T HE LAST AND GREATEST OF THE G IFTS.
Several children joined in the last lines, the prayer that ended every quirunha .
S MILE ON US, O S PIRIT OF S TARS,
S END US THE SUMMER TO WARM THE WORLD
U NTIL THE SUNS WILL SHINE ALWAYS TOGETHER.
There was a silence when the song was ended. The Housemen and women who cared for the young ones came forward to gather up the sleepy children.
The Singer Theo waited until they had all left the great room, and he and Isbel were alone. “That was beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
He looked about to say something else, but several House members came in to set the long tables with bowls and spoons for the morning meal. Isbel bowed, her mind open for the Singer to continue his thoughts, but he only bowed in return. She knew no other way to invite his friendship. She went off to her bed, leaving him in the great room watching the preparations.
Magister Mkel and Maestra Lu had to decide quickly, and the students knew it. They waited only two days before they learned that Arn would become Cantor at Perl. Although by the common reckoning, all the third-levels were the same age, measured in years Arn was the oldest of them, just short of twenty. His ceremony and departure were scheduled three weeks hence. His classmates congratulated him, touching his hands, encouraging him, understanding his anxiety despite his avowed confidence. Cantor Evn would remain at Perl to smooth the transition, since except for his stiffening, painful fingers, he was healthy.
In the ubanyix that night, the third-level girls stayed so long they had to warm the water twice. They gathered at one end of the ironwood tub, treasuring their moments of leisure.
Even Arn will grow thin at Perl , sent Olna, who was plump and fair. Everyone laughed.
No. He will make them improve the kitchens , Ana sent.
I am afraid they are beyond help , Jana sent, somewhat disloyally. They chuckled, and then a silence grew among them.
Soon we will all be saying goodbye , Isbel sent, unnecessarily.
There were nods, and their young shoulders seemed to bow with the great responsibility each of them bore. One by one, they climbed out of the bath and dried themselves, and helped each other to rebind their hair.
Isbel was the last to leave. As she pulled the door of the ubanyix closed behind her she saw Theo, the itinerant Singer, coming down the corridor from the ubanyor . His blonde hair was damp, and a bit of metal on a thong around his neck shone in the quiru light.
“Good evening,” he said.
“Good evening, Singer,” she responded. She kept her mind open, but he sent nothing, though they walked side by side down the long hallway to the stairs. She glanced sideways at him, appreciating the bright blue of his eyes and the vigorous curl of his short hair.
He caught her glance and smiled. “I’m Theo.”
She smiled back. “I am Isbel.” They walked a few more steps. “Why do you speak aloud so much?” she asked, bluntly, as a curious child might.
Theo laughed, the resonating laugh of a Singer. It made Isbel laugh, too.
“My talents are different from those of Conservatory-trained Singers,” Theo said. He was still smiling, but Isbel was sensitive, and she heard pain in his voice.
She wondered why that was, but she said only, “Oh. I did not know.”
He shrugged. “It’s a big Continent. There’s much to know.”
Isbel said impulsively, “Would you like to see our gardens?”
He bowed. “A pleasure, Isbel. If it’s not too late for you?”
She shook her head, and led the way down the lower corridor to the back of the House, where the seedlings and plants of the nursery filled a huge, steamy space with a thick glass roof. The smell of rich earth and melted snow-water met them even before she opened the door.
“We are especially proud of our gardens,” she told Theo. They strolled down a path between flats of plants just starting to grow. A
W HEN THE S PIRIT SMILED, THE SUMMER CAME,
T HE LAST AND GREATEST OF THE G IFTS.
Several children joined in the last lines, the prayer that ended every quirunha .
S MILE ON US, O S PIRIT OF S TARS,
S END US THE SUMMER TO WARM THE WORLD
U NTIL THE SUNS WILL SHINE ALWAYS TOGETHER.
There was a silence when the song was ended. The Housemen and women who cared for the young ones came forward to gather up the sleepy children.
The Singer Theo waited until they had all left the great room, and he and Isbel were alone. “That was beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
He looked about to say something else, but several House members came in to set the long tables with bowls and spoons for the morning meal. Isbel bowed, her mind open for the Singer to continue his thoughts, but he only bowed in return. She knew no other way to invite his friendship. She went off to her bed, leaving him in the great room watching the preparations.
Magister Mkel and Maestra Lu had to decide quickly, and the students knew it. They waited only two days before they learned that Arn would become Cantor at Perl. Although by the common reckoning, all the third-levels were the same age, measured in years Arn was the oldest of them, just short of twenty. His ceremony and departure were scheduled three weeks hence. His classmates congratulated him, touching his hands, encouraging him, understanding his anxiety despite his avowed confidence. Cantor Evn would remain at Perl to smooth the transition, since except for his stiffening, painful fingers, he was healthy.
In the ubanyix that night, the third-level girls stayed so long they had to warm the water twice. They gathered at one end of the ironwood tub, treasuring their moments of leisure.
Even Arn will grow thin at Perl , sent Olna, who was plump and fair. Everyone laughed.
No. He will make them improve the kitchens , Ana sent.
I am afraid they are beyond help , Jana sent, somewhat disloyally. They chuckled, and then a silence grew among them.
Soon we will all be saying goodbye , Isbel sent, unnecessarily.
There were nods, and their young shoulders seemed to bow with the great responsibility each of them bore. One by one, they climbed out of the bath and dried themselves, and helped each other to rebind their hair.
Isbel was the last to leave. As she pulled the door of the ubanyix closed behind her she saw Theo, the itinerant Singer, coming down the corridor from the ubanyor . His blonde hair was damp, and a bit of metal on a thong around his neck shone in the quiru light.
“Good evening,” he said.
“Good evening, Singer,” she responded. She kept her mind open, but he sent nothing, though they walked side by side down the long hallway to the stairs. She glanced sideways at him, appreciating the bright blue of his eyes and the vigorous curl of his short hair.
He caught her glance and smiled. “I’m Theo.”
She smiled back. “I am Isbel.” They walked a few more steps. “Why do you speak aloud so much?” she asked, bluntly, as a curious child might.
Theo laughed, the resonating laugh of a Singer. It made Isbel laugh, too.
“My talents are different from those of Conservatory-trained Singers,” Theo said. He was still smiling, but Isbel was sensitive, and she heard pain in his voice.
She wondered why that was, but she said only, “Oh. I did not know.”
He shrugged. “It’s a big Continent. There’s much to know.”
Isbel said impulsively, “Would you like to see our gardens?”
He bowed. “A pleasure, Isbel. If it’s not too late for you?”
She shook her head, and led the way down the lower corridor to the back of the House, where the seedlings and plants of the nursery filled a huge, steamy space with a thick glass roof. The smell of rich earth and melted snow-water met them even before she opened the door.
“We are especially proud of our gardens,” she told Theo. They strolled down a path between flats of plants just starting to grow. A
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