would sing . . . it would soothe us all. We are all so afraid. I miss my mother. I wish I could go home.”
Ghisla was overcome with guilt, and she stopped singing, squeezing her eyes shut and willing the door to close.
Just like Ghost’s, Elayne’s thoughts tumbled in a disjointed stream, one slipping into another, but all were spoken in her voice, and as long as Ghisla kept singing and holding her hand, the stream continued. It was the same with all the girls. And one by one, she heard them too.
During evening meditation, when Ghost left them in their room, she approached Juliah and held out her hands as though she sought her forgiveness. Mayhaps she did, for what she was about to do.
“I will sing to you,” she said stiffly. “Choose a song.”
“Do you know the fishing songs of Joran?”
She knew the fishing songs of the Songr, and she sang her one of those instead. And she cast her net, collecting Juliah’s inner musings.
Juliah wished for escape and dreamed of having Bayr all to herself. “We will go to Joran. We will fish with my grandfather. Bayr will teach me to fight, and we will leave this temple and this hill and live wherever we want. Everyone will be afraid of us.” But almost immediately she despaired because she knew Bayr would never leave Alba behind.
“I will go to Joran myself. Soon. Soon I will go. When I am bigger and stronger, and I can wield a sword.”
Bashti wanted a dancing song, though she frowned at Liis throughout. Bashti was competitive, and she did not like the attention Liis received.
“I can sing, and I can dance, and I make everyone laugh. Liis only makes people cry.” But almost immediately, those words were replaced by awe, and she began to sway to Liis’s song, her little brown feet shuffling and her hands clasped in Liis’s.
“Don’t stop, Liis. Don’t stop yet, please. I want you to sing all day.”
Dalys was the only one whose thoughts were not communicated in words. She saw color, spilling and moving, and shapes emerging from the paint, as if she were creating as she listened. She let go of Ghisla’s hands and went in search of parchment so she could draw, begging Ghisla not to stop.
That night, in the darkness of the cellar, she called out to Hody to confess what she had done.
“I can hear them, Hody. I can hear them all.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was holding Ghost’s hand during worship as the day ended. I was singing . . . and for a moment, singing at her side, our hands together, I heard her thoughts . . . as if she were speaking to me. But she wasn’t.”
“You heard her?” Even in her head, his voice rang with shock.
“I immediately stopped singing and released her hand, and I could not hear her anymore.”
“Does she too have the power of song?”
“No. Though I think she has rune blood. She has an affinity for the animals. Wild things do her bidding. I’ve seen birds eat from her hands and deer walk alongside her.”
“Did she hear you too . . . the way I do?”
“No. I think I would have . . . heard her . . . hear me.” It was confusing, but Hod seemed to follow her reasoning.
“And Ghost is not the only one. The same thing happened with Elayne, Juliah, Bashti, and Dalys,” she confessed in a rush. “I had to know if it was only Ghost. It isn’t. When I sang and clasped their hands . . . I could hear them all.”
“Ghisla . . .”
“Is it the rune?” she asked. She had linked hands with her family in song many times, and never heard anything but music ringing from their lips.
“Perhaps. But I think it is more likely . . . you. One who does not have your talent would not be able to use the rune in such a way. Do you have to trace the rune to hear their thoughts?”
“No. I just have to be touching them while I sing.”
“The runes unlock different things in all of us. It is why we study them. Why they must never be misused or abused. Why they must be protected. In the wrong hands . . . they can be very destructive.”
“What if my hands are the wrong hands?” she moaned. “What if I am destructive? I do not want to know the things I heard.”