"For we know the whole creation groans..." Romans 8:22
Dane followed Theo down the stairs. Theo tapped his staff in time with his stride, moving with a grace that belied his large frame. At the bottom of the staircase, the Caprices waited.
The floor was inlaid stone with intricate designs that reminded Dane of astrological charts. Constellations in copper vied with fine, filigreed silver, reflecting the moonlight, shafting from above. The Caprices hovered in a circle. Above them, mists piled like tall frosting on a cake, contained. As Dane and Theo approached, the fog swirled, sending tendrils snaking away in all directions. A wisp of fog touched Dane's cheek. Oppression snatched his breath and bathed him in a sudden sweat. Shuddering, he struggled to follow Theo down the last steps. The Caprices drifted toward the tall Majister. One gestured for Dane to move closer.
Dane pressed in, trying not to touch a Caprice. The Dread lessened immediately. The Caprices must be singing, though Dane could not hear them. Theo and Dane huddled within the robed circle. The mists receded, piling above the floating figures again.
The Caprices held the dread back, creating an oasis of peace in the midst of despair.
Theo shifted from foot to foot, watching the mists. Without ceremony, he plopped on the stone floor, patting it. "They're singing. The Caprices will do their best to keep us from the Dread with the Song. Make yourself comfortable. We'll wait here," Theo said.
"Wait for?" Dane asked.
"Sara. She is your faisant now. Time flows differently where she lives. It shouldn't take long for us, no matter how long it is for her."
Dane digested this. He didn't want to appear a fool, yet there was much he yearned to know. Even so, this was a Majister. A real Majister. Not a half-trained new one but a real one, from the old days. Even sitting cross-legged on the cold stone, Theo was impressive. Intimidating. Dane chose his words with care. "We're waiting for Sara?"
"Aye lad, she has a task and I daresay knows it. The Cyntae would have helped her to understand her task, much the way you hear the Song. She will know what she is to do."
Dane gulped. "Cyntae?"
Theo studied Dane, calculating. "How much do you know of them?"
"Very little," Dane said quickly. "My father taught me what he could, but he always feared much had been lost. We knew precious little about faisant."
A number of emotions passed over Theo's face. Sadness, anger, grief. He schooled his expression, coming at last to calm. "You have seen fae, of course? Sara would have appeared to you at first as fae. So just as the Harmony Bond makes you into a majister, it transforms her into a faisant. "
"Faisant live in another world, a world very different from this one. You visited it? Theirs is a world of wonder, mystery. They become tied to this world and to the Song through their arts, their acts of making. Each possesses potential to create, very like the Storm King himself. Faisant are fundamentally attuned to the Song. They're creators, and powerful ones, at that. The work they do binds them to the Song as they grow in mastery. Eventually the Song draws them to drink from it, directly. Each is chosen and directed by the Storm King and allowed interaction here. Their work reverberates throughout all worlds, strengthening the Song. " He paused, "Your faisant is very special indeed."
"They speak to the Storm King?"
"Not directly. Their gifts give them the ability to touch the Song and through the Song, they hear, translating its magic to their work. They do not always understand.
"But you both ascended through the Inner, speaking with each Cyntae in turn," Theo said. He gestured to the tower rising above them. "A special case...which brings me to the task at hand.
"You have become a fledgling Majister by virtue of your courage, talents and the trial of the Inner. Your training would normally be completed here. Given the times, 'twill have to be done on the road. We must retrieve the refrains of the Lorica. All of them. That is your life's quest...One of them at any rate."
Dane had assumed the beings he had seen were constructs of the Song, deep mysteries. He hadn't imagined he was actually speaking directly to the real Cyntae. "The Cyntae are lost beyond thought," he said softly.
"Beyond the Arc of the moon only," said Theo, correcting him. "They exercise influence and can communicate with us, as they did with you. Their influence will only strengthen as the full Lorica is restored – every refrain recovered. The refrain you carry will be fulfilled. The fulfillment has already begun and we will use it as a guide.
"Now, did you see anything during your ascent that might help you recover the other refrains?"
Dane nodded wearily. "Miah showed me a man and a boy. They made boxes and hid scrolls within. It must have been the other refrains."
Theo beamed. "Excellent. So all we have to do is go and retrieve them. The man must have been Jamis. The boy was your ancestor, Petros, and you might see his faisant, Odranoel. Clever. I liked him." The Majister patted his robes absently, and shook his head. "I've left my quill in my other robes. No matter. Tell me what you saw. Tell me exactly, leave out no detail, even if it appears to be unimportant."
"They spoke with a large dragon..."
"Hmm. What color was it?"
Dane blinked. "Golden."
Theo stood. He seemed exasperated as he paced, muttering. He gestured for Dane to continue.
"After, they were near a small lake. They went inside a large palace with many windows and they spoke to a turbaned being. His skin and eyes were as black as night. I saw a lake and standing stones. The sun was setting.
"The next place was a mountain. I saw the dwarves. After that, they were at sea and the Merrow rose to meet them, the tiny people of the water."
Theo stopped and frowned. "Wait wait. You couldn't hear anything? You just saw these scenes?"
Dane nodded.
"This might be more difficult than I thought. But we do have access to Petros' notes. Those may be useful. Carry on."
Dane looked up, trying to remember the scenes that had flashed so quickly before him when he ate the fruit of knowledge. The Caprices hovered above him, swaying as if in a wind only they could feel. Dane closed his eyes and reached for the Song.
He remembered.
He opened his eyes and related the rest in a rush.
"I saw the Fens, columns rising from the water. Fluted columns stood like trees in thickets, dripping vines. Men were seated in a circle on a dais in front of the columns. They wore veils. The boy presented them with a box. I saw a winged lion. Both the boy and the man knelt before these lions as if receiving a blessing. Lastly, I saw the man weeping before a winged unicorn. I didn't see the boy at all in the last vision. "
Theo nodded, his face thoughtful as he listened. He held up a meaty hand, counting. "Draig, Fells, Forge, Merrow, Fens, the Ynadon and" –his face darkened–"the Equis. Seven, that is all of them."
Dane looked at Theo in wonder. "You know where they all are?"
Theo laughed. "I have their general locations. Soon I will have the scenes themselves from you. Once this curse lifts, we will have it all sorted quickly, whether we have Petros' notes to aid us or not." He looked sheepish and spoke softly, as if to himself. "It's been so long since we've been able to use the Song, I've nearly forgotten that I can."
"The Song will be restored?" Dane asked, incredulous.
"Not fully, no. But the curse on our home will lift. And we do have some helps available to us once that happens." Theo winked. "The Dissonance limits us but we shall test those limits! Right lads?" He gestured to the Caprices above, who appeared to ignore him. Theo shrugged. "They never did listen to me."
A bell chimed. This bell rang like the sound of glass shattering. The Caprices above them began to burn with a silver flame. They burned higher and higher. The flames poured into a shower of sparks and light that filled the Inner, rising up through the center of the tower and spreading into the sky. As the mists above them faded away, the wraiths drifted to the floor. Their flames burned brighter, lightening from silver to white with such intensity Dane could not watch. He covered his face with his arm to shield it. The flames roared, deafening him. A mountain of sound fell on his ears, interminable.
The roaring stopped.
The dread lifted with it, leaving Dane gasping with relief.
He looked up. All was silent.
In a circle around them, twenty-five men in robes rose from crouches, touching their faces and hands with varying expressions of joy and disbelief. The Caprices were wraiths no longer.
The Majisters had returned, their curse, broken.
Theo stood. His bulk towered over Dane as his booming laugh rang through the chamber.
"Brothers!" he shouted. "Welcome home!"
One by one, the Majisters came to stand before Dane, still silent. As if listening to an unseen command, each knelt before him.