was it?”
“It was almost like being . . . cut, being opened. But there was no pain, only a sense of revelation. Memories I hadn’t recalled in years spilled into my mind. So many faces, so much pain, so much joy. I thought perhaps some treacherous servant had slipped a befuddling concoction into the tea, but no, it was the song. Joyous as it was, I say honestly that I hope I never hear it again.”
Mother Wehn blinked tears and turned away, taking a moment to reassert her composure before speaking again. “When the last note faded the Jade Princess set her harp upon the stand and said, ‘Well, so it is done.’ From that day on she didn’t play another note.”
The cough was her final note, and her farewell. “Thank you, lady,” Vaelin said.
She nodded and then fixed him with a bright, beseeching gaze. “Can you . . . will you return her to us? Without her, this place is nothing. Without her, these lands face ruin. I know it in my heart.”
Vaelin had long ago learned the folly of making promises but in this he felt an obligation to at least provide a partial truth. “I will find her,” he said. Whether she will ever return here is another matter.
Mother Wehn gave a grateful smile before her sorrow returned and she lowered her gaze. “You must forgive me,” she whispered, hurrying from the chamber. “I am remiss in not organising refreshment for such honoured guests.”
“The cough was a deception,” Sho Tsai said after Mother Wehn left the chamber.
“I don’t believe the woman who dwelt here is capable of illness,” Vaelin replied.
“And the song. You think it significant.”
“Centuries spent labouring to perfect an ancient song that can conjure unbidden memories, then she has Sherin summoned here on the pretence of illness and disappears the same night.” Vaelin gave a faint laugh. “Yes, I think it’s significant.”
“But hardly likely to lead us to them.” The captain went to a north-facing window, gazing out at the vast tract of mountain and valley. “With no trail to follow, no witnesses, we could search for years and find not a trace. And I doubt the Stahlhast will allow us such leisure.”
Vaelin’s gaze returned to the forsaken harp of the Jade Princess. It occurred to him that it might well sit in its stand for years, even centuries to come. An untouched relic of the blessed being that once resided here, its strings forever silent. She had a song, he thought. A song of the Dark, as once did I. And I was not the only singer.
“The town where Sherin made her home,” he said, turning to Sho Tsai. “Is it far from here?”
“Thirty miles due east,” the captain replied with a puzzled shrug. “But what use is going there? The local Dien-Ven have already searched her home and found no clue to her destination.”
“She didn’t live alone,” Vaelin said, trying but failing to keep the reluctance from his voice. “Did she?”
“She had rooms above a stonemason’s shop. A highly skilled and respected man, as I recall.”
Forgive me, old friend. “The stonemason,” Vaelin said. “He can find her.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The town of Min-Tran sat atop a broad rise in the rolling hill country that dominated the Northern Prefecture of the Venerable Kingdom. Its buildings were taller than those Vaelin had seen so far, all constructed from stone rather than wood and nestled within walls that were even taller, also well maintained.
A place of stone, Vaelin thought, a smile playing over his lips as they rode through the main gate. Where better for him to make a home?
“It would be better if I talked to him alone,” he told Sho Tsai. They had continued through the gate without pause, the captain leading the company along a broad thoroughfare into the town’s western quarter. “He may take some persuading.”
The captain turned in the saddle, squinting at him in bemusement. “We are here on the Merchant King’s business. As a subject he is required to assist an officer of the king’s army in any way I see fit.”
Vaelin kicked his horse forward, reining to a halt in the captain’s path and forcing him to do the same.
“He’s no ordinary subject,” he told a glowering Sho Tsai. “He’s her friend, and mine. We owe him at least the illusion of choice in this.”
The captain glowered for a second or two more, then turned and barked out, “Dai Lo Tsai!”
Tsai Lin trotted his horse forward and saluted. “Dai Shin!”
“You will