The Singers of Nevya by Louise Marley Page B

attention returned to her, Sira sent, I would like to send a message to Maestra Lu .
    Yes, you should do that.
    I have no metal at all. Will it matter?
    Sharn shook her head. I will see to it for you. Now, I will tell you all the news I have from Conservatory, and you tell me all about Magret, and anything else interesting!

    In Sira’s guest room there were several nursery flowers gathered into a little stone vase. At Conservatory, herbs were grown, but no flowers. Bariken grew flowers, but they were for scenting cakes of soap or sweetening bath water. Using them strictly for decoration seemed an extravagance worthy only of Lamdon.
    After a brief bath in the enormous ubanyix , Sira rested, waiting for the evening, and thought about Cantix Sharn. The older woman’s charm had drawn more from Sira than she had offered to anyone in a long time. Still, Sira had been careful. For all their strangeness, Magister Shen and Rhia were her employers, and she did not wish to be disloyal. She had told the senior Cantrix about Shen’s drinking and her treatment of its aftermath, however.
    Sharn had not seemed surprised. We were not really trained for that, were we, my dear? she sent, then gracefully turned their conversation to lighter subjects.
    Sira drew her spare tunic over her face to shut out the brilliance of Lamdon’s light, hoping to sleep for a little while. In a short time, she would observe the quirunha , and this evening there would be a concert given by Lamdon’s own Singers. She was part of it all, one of them, the Singers of Nevya. How satisfying it all was! She wished Rhia and Wil and Trude could have seen her in private conversation with the senior Cantrix of Lamdon. They could hardly laugh at her then.

    The quirunha at Lamdon was elegant and polished. Cantrix Sharn presided. A Cantrix named Becca led, with a fluting soprano and small, quick fingers on the filhata . Two Cantors assisted her, one of them particularly skilled in the use of harmonics, pressing his fingers lightly against the strings of the filhata to make sympathetic overtones ring out an octave and more above the melody. The walls and ceiling of the Cantoris resounded until the room itself became a musical instrument. The Cantoris had such a live acoustic, in truth, that without the audience’s presence to soak up some of the vibrations, it might have been overwhelming.
    Cantor Rico, escorting Sira to the Cantoris, noticed the flush on her cheeks, and assured her someone would lend her cooler clothes. It is our little conceit , he sent. Abundant warmth.
    But now Sira floated on the tide of music and psi, sitting as straight as if she were on the dais herself. She forgot how warm she was. She thought of nothing but music for the space of the quirunha . Her fingers lifted and danced in her lap, following Becca’s leads.
    When the prayer had been said and the quirunha was complete, Sira sent to Cantrix Sharn, Everything was beautiful .
    Sharn smiled. Thank you. I have an idea that a compliment from you is an honor.
    Sira blushed, hoping she had not been effusive. She had been sincere. Indeed, she was always sincere, and that could be considered a fault. She could only hope these sophisticates would not find her naive.
    Rico, true to his promise, sent a Housewoman to Sira’s room with a cooler tunic. The Housewoman held it out to her, a lovely thing, deep brown, embroidered in green and yellow thread. It had no sleeves.
    “I am not sure I can wear this,” Sira said.
    The Housewoman tilted her head to one side, regarding her. “Oh, yes, Cantrix, I think it will be fine. May I help you?” She waited for Sira’s nod of permission before reaching out to help her remove her heavy tunic and replace it with the lighter one. She smoothed it down over Sira’s trousers. “I’m sorry we have no cooler leggings for you. Your legs are so very long.”
    Sira looked down at herself. “I know.”
    “No matter.” The Housewoman pulled a brush from her pocket,