They arrived at the large dome, the only building made from wood. The Songstress led them inside and asked them to remain there while she sent for the Sisters Devine.
The building was a kind of arena or amphitheatre. Benches surrounding the room, starting higher around the circular wall and dropping lower as it neared the middle which descended below ground level so the entire room appeared spherical in shape. A raised dais was at its centre, upon which was a font, a crystal ball floating on the water.
Two of the guards remained with them so they were not free to speak to one another without inviting suspicion, especially since sound seemed to amplify in this room. They didn’t need to wait long before the Songstress returned with three elderly women on her heels.
“Rise for the Sisters Devine,” ordered the woman.
Elora stood up, much to the detriment of her aching legs and sore feet. The moment’s sit down probably did more harm than good.
“My godly sisters, this is Otholo, formally a resident here, as was his sister, Otheena. With them is the Shadojak and his Shaigun.” Then the Songstress spoke to Otholo. “These here are the sisters Bethony, Freya and Yolith.”
The three woman nodded respectfully before approaching. “Please be seated,” said the closer of the three, Freya.
“Miathlin tells us that you are aware of a certain problem that has presented itself over the last few years, yes?”
“A certain problem, sister?” said Otholo. “That’s an understatement. But yes, we are aware, as is the Empire. I have with me the Shadojak and his Shaigun. They also know the ‘problem’, and have aided me in bringing you the solution to that problem.” He placed an arm on Elora’s shoulder. “This is my sister Otheena and her voice is something special.”
Elora felt the full stare of the sisters, looking her up and down. Freya beckoned her closer with a bony hand. She felt another blister give on the side of her foot as she stood again, the fluid causing a stickiness between her toes.
The three sisters gathered around her, lifting her hair and pulling it this way and that. Bethony placing cold fingers against her chin and lifted her head up and moved it to the side, then the other - whilst making humphing sounds through cracked lips.
“Do you have any birthmarks, blemishes on your skin? asked Yolith, her fingers turning over Elora’s bare arms as she inspected her. Elora shook her head.
“Her hair is without flaw, her skin pure and those eyes are the truest blue of any Minuan sky,” said Freya. “She could be Minu, reborn. Why haven’t we seen this child before now?”
“Sister, Freya. After I was excommunicated from Aslania,” said Otholo, narrowing his eyes at the three old women. “My parents left soon after. Otheena was barely even walking then.”
“Don’t sound so pithy, Otholo. You know the Minuan way, our traditions,” replied Yolith. Pointing to his mismatch eyes. “And I believe you have a dark lock to your hair.”
He does, thought Elora. But my eyes are violet and my hair darker than the night.
“And do you sing as pretty as you look?” asked Bethony. “Come child, let us hear that voice. It is that, that truly counts.”
Elora cleared her throat, preparing herself to sing when Freya stopped her with a hand. “Sing beside the font, Otheena. Miathlin, will you demonstrate what she is to do. The first verse will suffice.”
Miathlin made her way to the font and placed her hands to either side of the stone rim, then staring at the crystal sphere she began to sing.
Elora couldn’t help but smile at hearing the familiar words. The Songstress sung it so beautifully, her voice travelling around the entire dome and echoing back on itself. When the words passed over her she could feel it, like it was something more than sound; as gentle as a sigh that caressed in soft waves.
As it passed the font it caused the water to ripple. A ring of tiny waves flowing towards the centre, causing the crystal ball to turn ever so slightly. A second wave, following the first in succession with the beat of the song, made it turn a little further. By the time Miathlin reached the second line the crystal ball was spinning over and over and began to glow from within. Amber light reflected from the font, portraying the ripple along the Songstress’s face, growing brighter until it cast the shadow of the singing woman against the domed ceiling.
When the verse came to an end, Miathlin released her fingers from the font and took a step away, the light from the globe dulling until it was no more and the water became still.
It was the most magnificent voice Elora had ever heard. She doubted her voice would even come close to being half as wonderful.
“Thank you Miathlin. Now, Otheena, please step up to the font and try to make the crystal glow,” said Freya, who seemed to Elora to be the elder of the sisters and the one taking charge.
Elora wandered between the benches until she was at the font, the globe appeared bigger now she was closer - almost the size of a football. She cleared her throat once again and began the first word.
“No, child. Place your hands on the font, like Miathlin did. But don’t be disappointed if you can’t make the sphere glow. That only comes with years of experience and Miathlin is one of our stronger sisters.” This from Bethony. Elora did as she was told, feeling the cold stone against her fingers as she once again began the song.
Her mouth formed the words, her voice sounding flat as she groped to even find the right key. She glanced at the Sisters Devine, who stared at her solemnly, clearly unimpressed. Yet as her vocal chords warmed to the task, her voice settled into the words, which were still foreign to her even though she was wearing the tinker’s tongue.
Nothing happened although her voice echoed back, much like Miathlin’s did and the water remained still. She heard one of the sisters mumble to another and Otholo tipped his head to the side, nodding encouragingly. This wasn’t working, all this way for nothing. All that pain, all the struggle and Ragna - poor Ragna and Ejan. She felt anger at the thought of the Viking’s death and with it came another feeling. The strange fizzing heat that rose from the pit of her stomach, the static energy that infused her when she sang at Gloucester Cathedral.
The energy seemed to spread throughout the room, first pushing out to the back walls and sweeping along the ceiling and between the benches. Passing through her friends and the sisters, their faces suddenly changing with the effect. When her voice echoed back she felt the hairs on her arms rise, the words felt alive; felt real enough to touch, felt electric.
The water in the font rippled, beating waves working inwards towards the crystal and as they touched it began to turn. It was spinning soon after and began to glow. Warm amber light radiating from within the sphere, illuminating the entire dome. The reflection from the water cast strange moving shadows around them, like spectral angels floating in the air.
Elora sang on, feeling the energy penetrate her skin, sensing the phenomena reach through her heart, beating with her pulse and breathing with each breath. She felt euphoric, the sensation passing from her to the song, caressing the sphere and lifting it from the water, the light growing piercingly bright as it spun faster than her eyes could follow.
When the verse came to an end, she struggled to hold back the words of the next verse, the song wanting to carry on, yet she kept her resolve as Fraya only wanted to hear the first. She released her hands from the font and the sphere suddenly dimmed and dropped to the water making a galumph sound and splashing water onto her in the process.
When her eyes adjusted from the bright light she saw that the sisters were staring at her with excited expressions, tears were even running unchecked down Fraya’s aged cheeks. Otholo’s mouth was wide open, imitating a cod and Bray was wearing a wide grin. Diagus was the only person in the room whose face remained unchanged.
“Was that ok?” asked Elora, now unsure with herself. It felt as though it went well and she’d sung better than she had ever done.
Freya approached her, her sisters close behind. When she reached Elora she took both her hands in hers and brought them up to her mouth and kissed them.
“Never in my years have I seen such power. Not from one so young, not from anyone. This changes everything. You, my young sister, will bring us out of these years of woe. The worry these ancient shoulders have had to bear will soon be over. Oh, my child.” She reached up on the tips of her toes and kissed Elora on the forehead. “You have surly been blessed by Minu herself.”
“Will she do?” asked Diagus impatiently, folded his arms. “Can we get her up to the church and get that song done?”
Miathlin translated for Fraya and the old woman scowled at the Shadojak. “Inform him that she is perfect and thank him for bringing her to us. She will sing in the church, but not until dawn. Not until she has rested and fed and slept.”
Miathlin translated this to Diagus who seemed bitter about it.
“Why wait?” he asked, rising to his feet. Bray rose with him.
