Shadow Singer Read online

  She stopped singing, shocked by the impossible. The shadows solidified as the words of the mystery singer faded from her mind, and then she was looking upon a scene that was not of her making.

  Down to her left there was a narrow body of water, black in its depth. Green, tree-shaded hills rose steeply to either side of the water, and out toward the horizon she could see different shades of green which spoke of distant hills or a large body of water. And above, the sky was—blue?

  Poco blinked to clear her vision, but the color of the sky stayed the same.

  Feeling suddenly uneasy, Poco looked to her right, and through an opening in the trees she saw a cream-colored, stone temple standing at the edge of the river. The seven, round towers on the tall, thick, outer walls made her think of the great Trade Hall in Upper Port Bhalvar, a building said to have been designed by the Ni-lach.

  A strange tree stood in the center of the large courtyard at one end of the temple. The leafless branches grew in a maze of interlocking circles. Poco turned to study the other types of flora in the valley. Where were the giant aban trees? she wondered. And the most common among trees, the rilror pine? Where were the sturdy genna bushes and stalk grass?

  The clanging of a bell drew Poco’s attention back to the courtyard. There, a line of people emerged from a door in the far wall to a circle around the strange tree. Seized by a desire to get closer, to see what they were about, Poco tried to move—and suddenly became aware of her own body, sitting, not standing. Then she remembered where she was, and realized that what she was seeing was not real—or if real, then only to her.

  Like ripples on water stirred by the dropping of a leaf, the scene before her wavered, then disappeared.

  “Poco?”

  She opened her eyes and found Dhal kneeling before her. Happy to see him awake she was more than willing to put her dreaming aside for a while.

  “Welcome back,” she said. “How long have you been up?”

  “Not long,” he answered.

  She thought Dhal looked tired still, but his smile was encouraging. “Did my singing wake you?” she asked.

  “Both of us,” he answered.

  “What?” She turned and looked back to see Taav was sitting up, watching them. “I did not think I was singing that loud.”

  Dhal looked deep into her eyes. “Some songs are different than others, Poco. Had you whispered that last one, we still would have heard you.”

  “What one?” she asked, a cold chill skittering down her spine.

  “I heard only one. It must have been the last.” He frowned. “Poco, where did you take us? What was that place?”

  “You saw the temple?”

  Dhal nodded.

  Impossible! she thought. How could Dhal see without a chalk picture to guide him? Poco rubbed her hand across her forehead, shielding her eyes. What had happened to her—to them? What was the song she had sung?

  “Poco, are you all right?”

  Poco looked up. “Yes, Dhal. I am just a little confused. That song you heard, it was not one of mine! It might have been my voice you heard, but it was someone else singing.” Poco lifted the pendant. “I was looking at this, trying to read the inscription on the back. I started to sing a song Trass taught me, then suddenly I noticed these shadows; they moved to the sound of my voice. I couldn’t take my eyes away from them. Then there was this other song, one I have never heard before. It was my voice, but it wasn’t me doing the singing!”

  Poco drew a deep breath and released it, realizing that she was not explaining things very clearly. “This all sounds crazy.”

  “Never mind how it sounds,” Dhal said. “Go on, tell me what happened.”

  Poco shrugged. “I stopped singing, then I was looking at this place. There was a valley with a river running through it and there was a temple, or at least what looked like a temple.” She hesitated, then continued. “I saw some people in one of the courtyards and thought about going down to take a closer look, then I remembered where I was and the vision faded.”

  “Vision or reality, Poco?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t know, Dhal. I also don’t know how you were able to see what I saw. I didn’t use my chalks this time.”

  “Perhaps you don’t need to draw pictures, Poco. Your talent for creating living scenes might just originate in your mind and voice, rather than in your skill with chalks. That building, that place, are you sure you have never seen it before, or heard about it in a song you picked up somewhere?”

  “No! And I told you, it was not my song we were seeing!”

  “Whose song then?”

  “I don’t know!” she snapped.

  For a moment or two their glances locked. Poco was the first to look away. “Sorry,” she murmured.

  “May I see your pendant, Poco?” Dhal asked, holding out his hand.

  She lifted the pendant from around her neck. “Do you think it might have something to do with what happened?”

  “It was made by the Ni-lach, Poco. My ring enables me to teleport to other places. Perhaps your pendant has a similar function.”

  “But we didn’t go anywhere—did we?”

  “No,” he answered, bending over the disc, “but we certainly did see a somewhere.”

  Dhal studied the pendant, turning it over and over in his hands. Finally he looked up. “Several of the symbols on the back are similar to ones I saw in the sun chamber of Val-hrodhur, but the writing is beyond me.”

  Poco felt a chill as she recalled the vision they had just shared. “Dhal, did you notice the color of the sky?”

  His crystal eyes seemed to darken as he handed the pendant back. “Yes. It was blue, a blue I have never seen before.”

  “And not a color that I would ever chalk a sky, Dhal! That frightens me.” She shook her head. “There is something strange going on here, something I don’t understand. Did you notice that odd-looking tree in the center of the courtyard, the one with the tangled branches?”

  “Yes. It must have taken someone a long time to reshape it.”

  “Unless the shaping is natural,” she said softly. She glanced down at the pendant. When she looked up, she found Dhal watching her intently.

  “Where did you take us, Poco? Was it an alternate world?”

  There! Poco thought. He has said it! He is thinking just what I am.

  Dhal believed that the Ni-lach and the Tamorlee had escaped the Sarissa through something he called a world gate, a kind of door into parallel worlds. Poco did not even pretend to understand the different realities Dhal described when he talked about world gates. All she knew was that she did not like him poking his nose into things about which he knew nothing. He was too new to his power as a Seeker to have learned caution. A practical person herself, Poco liked to know the depth of the water before jumping in.

  “Dhal, listen,” she said. “Isn’t it possible that what we saw was just an imaginary place, something I dreamed up?”

  Dhal reached out and took her hand. “Poco, when I first started to use the Seeker ring, I knew nothing about the energy forces I stirred. Every time I entered the world I saw in the fire stone, I thought I was just dreaming. Now I know differently. Do not ask me how it works, but somehow I tapped into the energy reserves of the Tamorlee as it existed in the past, and I used it to travel backward in time. I formed a link with the Tamorlee and became a Seeker. If it—”

  “But I don’t carry a fire stone!” Poco protested. “My songs have no link with the Tamorlee!”

  “No direct link perhaps, but all life is energy of one form or another. That I learned from the Ancients.”

  “So?”

  “So your songs are the product of a very special form of energy. When you sing, you create more than music, you create an energy pattern that produces a reality, your own special version perhaps, but how do we know whether that reality is not one of the alternate worlds we seek?”

  “You are reaching, Dhal.”

  “Am I? Perhaps, but it is somethi
ng to think about. If the Tamorlee was taken into an alternate world for safety’s sake, the only way we are going to find it and the Ni-lach of our own time, is to delve into those alternate worlds.”

  “Have you ever thought that we might be getting ourselves into something that is over our heads?”

  “Yes, but I cannot stop myself. Finding the Ni-lach is something I have to do, and I will go wherever my search takes me.”

  Dhal’s voice softened. “Haradan died trying to help me find my people. If his death is to mean anything at all, I must continue my search.”

  A lump came to Poco’s throat for she knew how much Dhal mourned Haradan. She reached out and laid her hand on top of his. “Haradan was a good man. He was strong and wise—and a good friend. I miss him too.”

  Eyes moist with feelings he could not hide, Dhal leaned forward and kissed her.

  Poco returned his kiss and held him a moment, wishing she could take some of the pain from his grieving.

  He drew back. “I think I will go and see if Taav is all right.”

  Curious to see if there was any change in the atich-ar, Poco rose and followed Dhal as he walked a little unsteadily on his feet toward the shelter. She noticed that Taav’s eyes remained fixed on her as she knelt before him. She was excited by the possibility that Dhal had accomplished another successful healing.

  “Avto, Taav,” she said softly in Ni. “We are friends. How are you feeling?”

  There was no response.

  Dhal’s command of the Ni language was not the equal of Poco’s but he was learning fast. “Taav, we are your friends. Do not be afraid.”

  Taav looked from Poco to Dhal, then back.

  Suddenly Poco felt something brush her hand. She looked down and saw Taav’s fingers move from her hand to her leg. He was touching her almost as if he feared she would break or melt away like ginsa smoke if he moved too quickly.

  Poco caught his hands. “Taav, do you understand what we are saying?”

  Taav’s face lifted at the sound of her voice. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

  Disconcerted, Poco looked at Dhal, silently appealing for help.

  Dhal shrugged. He too was surprised by Taav’s tears. “Try to get him to lie down,” he said.

  “I’ll sing to him. It calmed him before.”

  As Poco started to sing, Dhal moved away. Within a few minutes Taav was lying down again. His tears had stopped and his eyelids had fluttered closed. Poco sang a little while longer, then covered him with a blanket and left the shelter.

  Dhal had a fire going by that time, and he swung the water pot over the flames as she sat down. “Tea?” he asked.

  “Sounds good.”

  Poco waited patiently while Dhal rummaged in one of the packs. When he found the small pouch of tea leaves, she passed him two cups.

  “Dhal, what do you suppose caused Taav to cry?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. He is aware and he can hear, but beyond that I would only be guessing.

  “What was wrong with him?”

  “That scar he wears was caused by a blow from something sharp, probably a sword.” He shook his head. “When I first joined him, it felt like I was wearing a rock in my head. There was pressure here, and here.” He touched his forehead and the right side of his head over the ear.

  “What did you do?”

  Dhal looked down at his hands. “There was damaged brain tissue. I envisioned it as whole and surrounded it with a green healing light. The stronger the light, the faster the healing.”

  Poco tried to make sense out of the impossible. “This light, what is it really?”

  “I believe it is a form of energy, something that is there all the time, something I can tap into and use to heal. Some of the energy comes from within, but I believe a greater portion comes from outside my body, from the very core of existence.”

  “Are you talking about a god, Dhal?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Am I?”

  “It sounds like it.”

  “Haradan took me to Drimdor once, to hear a Religious speak,” he said.

  “What did you think about it?”

  “It meaning the man or what he taught?”

  “Both,” she replied.

  “I liked the man. He had an easy voice to listen to. I can still remember the story he told; it was about the first men to come to Lach. He told how his god had saved them in order that they might build a new and better world where all men could live together in peace. Then he started to talk about the Sarissa needing money to build a great temple. That is when Haradan brought me away.”

  “Haradan didn’t agree with the speaker?”

  “Something like that. He said that the Sarissa would only use the temple to get more money away from the poor people. He said that if the Sarissa had any god at all, it was a god of greed.”

  “He was right there.”

  “Poco, do you know if the Ni have a religion?”

  “If you mean the worship of a god, no; but if by religion you mean a belief around which they center their lives, then the answer is yes.”

  “And that belief is?” he asked.

  “In the sanctity of life. The Ni-lach believe we are all a part of a whole. It is their belief that the inner being is continually being recycled, living one life after another until there is a time of complete understanding of the whole.”

  “And then?” he pressed.

  “With complete understanding comes peace and a full acceptance of life in all its forms.” She paused. “It is a simple religion, if one can call it a religion. To the Ni-lach it was just a way of life.”

  “Do you believe as the Ni-lach did?” he asked.

  “It is a good religion, one I could live with.”

  Dhal nodded, then suddenly changed the subject. “I haven’t seen Screech around. Where is he?”

  “He went to Port Sulta this morning to sell one of my Ni bracelets. He’ll pay off the fisherman who owned Taav, get a few things we need, and bring back the change. That should keep us in supplies for a while.”

  “You think he’ll be all right alone?”

  Poco smiled. “Who would bother him? Don’t worry, he should be back soon. You still look tired. Why don’t you eat something and lie down again. I’ll keep watch and wake you when he returns.”

  Dhal accepted her suggestion, knowing that his strength would return only with rest.

  Chapter 4

  POCO ROSE EARLY THE NEXT MORNING. SHE SLIPPED QUIETLY out from between the blankets she shared with Dhal and went down to the small rivulet that provided them with drinking water.

  After she satisfied her thirst, she washed and returned to camp. The morning stillness was eerie, but the sight of Dhal sleeping peacefully where she had left him instantly chased away all feelings of loneliness.

  She got out her pack and quickly sorted through the clothing she had accumulated since their arrival in Port Sulta. After changing her underclothes, she slipped into a long-sleeved, blue tunic that laced from chest to neck. She brushed off the pants she had been wearing, deciding they would do for another day or so. She was in the process of lacing up her ankle-length, draak-hide boots when she felt something behind he. She turned, her hand going to the knife in her wrist sheath, but relaxed when she saw Gi-arobi.

  “Morning, Gi,” she said, keeping her voice down.

  Gi bobbed his head in greeting, then came to stand at her shoulder. “Poco going?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “Where?”

  “To find Screech. When Dhal gets up, tell him I have gone to Port Sulta. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Big Fur lost?”

  “I don’t know, Gi. I’m going to find out.”

  “Gi come?”

  “No, not this time.” Poco patted Gi’s round stomach. “Take care of Dhal until I come back, all right?”

  She picked up her bag of chalks and threaded her way through the dense undergrowth that hid their camp f
rom the main trail. The great aban trees lining the manmade roadway formed a dark green canopy overhead. She watched for movement in the nearby bushes as she started downhill. The chances of meeting draak or gensvolf so close to the port were slim, but one had to be cautious just the same.

  Poco knew that Dhal would be angry at her for leaving camp alone, but she also knew that if she had waited for him to wake up he would have insisted that she stay in camp with Taav while he went to look for Screech.

  Dhal could be very protective at times. It was nice, she thought, but hardly necessary. She had survived alone for twenty-seven years among the dockworkers of Port Bhalvar. Working as a Chalk Master, she had earned their respect; but she had learned also how to protect herself.

  She laughed. If she needed any protection at all, it was from one green-haired, crystal-eyed Ni, whose dream of finding his people was taking her far from her homeland.

  The sky was growing light by the time Poco approached the port gates leading to the docks. Once she had passed the gate guards, she made straight for the fisherman’s stall and there learned that Screech had been there the day before and had paid off their debt.

  “When he left, did you see which way he went?” Poco asked.

  The fisherman nodded. “That way,” he said, pointing toward the center of the market.

  The open-air market boasted of over one hundred vendors. Poco had to talk only to five before she found one who remembered seeing the derkat the day before.

  “Sure I remember him,” the merchant said. “His kind usually travel in numbers. I thought it odd to see one wandering around alone. He bought a packet of salt and a pouch of dried fruit.”

  From there Ssaal-lr’s trail was easy to follow at first. He had purchased fish-hooks and a knife at a metalworker’s stall; then he had looked over several leather pouches at a hide shop, but had not chosen one. From there his trail led to a food stall, where he had purchased and devoured a large portion of draak meat.

  Poco began to wonder how much money Screech had received for the Ni bracelet she had given him. She trusted him to make a good deal but hoped the sale had been a private one, for it was not wise to advertise the possession of such trade items in a district where there were more thieves than honest folk.