some crystal deposits and let light stream through. This will make you a fine home, Cephas!”
Cephas did not respond. The girl had assumed he intended to stay in the village from the moment she first saw him when the circus rolled into Argentor. Luckily, her sister spoke, and he did not have to explain yet again that he had no plans to leave the circus.
“If exposing the crystal requires
you
to be careful, Marashan, then we can save ourselves some time if we fetch sacks to collect the dust you’ll make of them first,” said Sonnett. Cephas had yet to determine if the middle child was small for her age or if Marashan was large for hers, and he found telling the sisters apart difficult unless one of them spoke. Good thing, he thought, Marashan rarely stops speaking.
“At least if I’m here we’ll actually get down to work instead of spending all day
planning
the work,” Marashan said. The network of golden energy lines across her ruddy face flared.
“Peace!” said Flek, and passed his open hand before his chest in a sloping arc that curved outward, ending with his palm facing down, parallel with the ground. This was the first word all the genasi of Argentor said when the circus arrived, and it was the word they used most. Sign and syllable, they called their pairing of motion and word, and they used it as a greeting, in departure, as a gentle exclamation, and sometimes, as imprecation. It was only an explicit request when Marashan was present, because other than her endless self-narrated adventures, there was little in village life to disturb the peace.
“A rare people,” Corvus had said to Cephas before he launched into an extended talk with Elder Lin, leader of the village and mother to Cephas’s new friends.
Cephas could not help but think of the three as children, even though he had never known the company of children, and Flek, according to Elder Lin’s guess at Cephas’s age, was older than he. Cephas had answered Elder Lin’s questions and let her examine the gold lines on his skin while Corvus watched.
It was the particular patterns of Cephas’s
szuldar
that Elder Lin had spent the most time studying. “It will take your eyes a long time to learn, Cephas, but while the lines are unique to every genasi, of all expressions, not just earthsouled, there are strong family resemblances told by them. And the pattern even stays true across expressions, among those of our people who choose to shift their selves.”
Cephas began to ask the Elder what this meant, but Corvus had interrupted. “Later, later, if you please, lady. The boy has much to learn already, yes?”
Elder Lin had agreed, and she and Corvus finished making the circus’s arrangements with the village. In return for a day’s rest and the right to refill their watercasks from Argentor’s hidden wells, the circus would raise the tent and put on a full performance for the genasi the next night. That deal struck, she had turned Cephas loose with her waiting offspring and closeted herself with Corvus.
More agreements had needed reaching than just the scheduling of a show, Cephas assumed.
The first thing he learned from the other earthsouled was that he would never be able to block out the sound of the earthsong. “Why would you
want
to?” Marashan had asked, incredulous. Their way of living with the constant music—and they stressed it was a
way of life
—was to welcome it. They suggested he open himself to it, to listen, and more.
“Sing
with
it,” said Sonnett, unself-conscious as she took Cephas’s hand, not noticing his darkening cheeks. “Not aloud, necessarily—”
“Please
don’t encourage her to sing!” shouted Marashan.
“But you may, if you wish. Either way, listen to our Old Mother, feel her stony roots echoed in her song, and find the notes you can harmonize. These are the chimes that are keys, the points where the ley lines of the spinning globe intersect with the
szuldar
lines of our restless selves, and
Cephas did not respond. The girl had assumed he intended to stay in the village from the moment she first saw him when the circus rolled into Argentor. Luckily, her sister spoke, and he did not have to explain yet again that he had no plans to leave the circus.
“If exposing the crystal requires
you
to be careful, Marashan, then we can save ourselves some time if we fetch sacks to collect the dust you’ll make of them first,” said Sonnett. Cephas had yet to determine if the middle child was small for her age or if Marashan was large for hers, and he found telling the sisters apart difficult unless one of them spoke. Good thing, he thought, Marashan rarely stops speaking.
“At least if I’m here we’ll actually get down to work instead of spending all day
planning
the work,” Marashan said. The network of golden energy lines across her ruddy face flared.
“Peace!” said Flek, and passed his open hand before his chest in a sloping arc that curved outward, ending with his palm facing down, parallel with the ground. This was the first word all the genasi of Argentor said when the circus arrived, and it was the word they used most. Sign and syllable, they called their pairing of motion and word, and they used it as a greeting, in departure, as a gentle exclamation, and sometimes, as imprecation. It was only an explicit request when Marashan was present, because other than her endless self-narrated adventures, there was little in village life to disturb the peace.
“A rare people,” Corvus had said to Cephas before he launched into an extended talk with Elder Lin, leader of the village and mother to Cephas’s new friends.
Cephas could not help but think of the three as children, even though he had never known the company of children, and Flek, according to Elder Lin’s guess at Cephas’s age, was older than he. Cephas had answered Elder Lin’s questions and let her examine the gold lines on his skin while Corvus watched.
It was the particular patterns of Cephas’s
szuldar
that Elder Lin had spent the most time studying. “It will take your eyes a long time to learn, Cephas, but while the lines are unique to every genasi, of all expressions, not just earthsouled, there are strong family resemblances told by them. And the pattern even stays true across expressions, among those of our people who choose to shift their selves.”
Cephas began to ask the Elder what this meant, but Corvus had interrupted. “Later, later, if you please, lady. The boy has much to learn already, yes?”
Elder Lin had agreed, and she and Corvus finished making the circus’s arrangements with the village. In return for a day’s rest and the right to refill their watercasks from Argentor’s hidden wells, the circus would raise the tent and put on a full performance for the genasi the next night. That deal struck, she had turned Cephas loose with her waiting offspring and closeted herself with Corvus.
More agreements had needed reaching than just the scheduling of a show, Cephas assumed.
The first thing he learned from the other earthsouled was that he would never be able to block out the sound of the earthsong. “Why would you
want
to?” Marashan had asked, incredulous. Their way of living with the constant music—and they stressed it was a
way of life
—was to welcome it. They suggested he open himself to it, to listen, and more.
“Sing
with
it,” said Sonnett, unself-conscious as she took Cephas’s hand, not noticing his darkening cheeks. “Not aloud, necessarily—”
“Please
don’t encourage her to sing!” shouted Marashan.
“But you may, if you wish. Either way, listen to our Old Mother, feel her stony roots echoed in her song, and find the notes you can harmonize. These are the chimes that are keys, the points where the ley lines of the spinning globe intersect with the
szuldar
lines of our restless selves, and
Similar Books
