Chapter XVIII: Stories and Legends

My epic quest to figure out who the hell the Musician was, and how she could do the things that she did, started at dinner that evening. The mess hall had been almost totally repaired after the chargerthing, with only a small segment of destroyed roof left to remind everyone of how much trouble we were all in. Once I had the daily serving of flatbread-with-cheese-and-mashed-beans on my plate, I sidled up to Sir Margaret and asked her for a favor.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to turn it down as a matter of course, unless it’s something blatantly absurd, of course. What do you need?”

“You brought a lot of your books with you, right?” I said. Margaret nodded. “Could you search them for any information on the Musician? I’m sure there has to be something about… inducing mass hallucinations through music, or something.”

Sir Margaret ran a hand through her mass of tightly-curled hair, keeping it neat and out of her eyes. “Possibly, though I imagine if I had heard of such a thing I would be very likely to have remembered it, and if I remembered anything like that, I would have told you already. And, of course, most of our library is still at Halflance manor,” she said. “But I shall do what I can.”

“Thanks,” I said, tearing off a piece of bread. “I’m starting to get an idea of what might be going on here, with all the attacks, and the fire and everything. But she’s the big mystery… if you can get me anything, it would be invaluable.”

Margaret nodded, turning her attention to her food. I didn’t have the time to ask anyone else about it for the rest of that day, mostly because I was completely exhausted after all the running, and the blood drawing, and the getting set on fire. As I faded into unconsciousness, I hardly even had the energy to worry about it. A wonderful and rare feeling in those days, and one that would only get rarer over time. 

The first thing I did upon waking up was realizing that Anna and Unity were still in the room. Habitually, they had been waking up at least an hour before I had, and were usually gone as soon as they were dressed, helping the treaty grounds staff with whatever they needed help with. I didn’t exactly have many things that needed to be done for me, even if they were technically my servants or whatever, and even if I did have anything that needed to be done, I probably would have just done it myself. Apparently, all of the bucket brigading and standing around in Charcharias’s lab had been enough for them, so Unity had convinced Anna to spend a couple of days doing exactly what was asked of them, no more and no less. This was fine by me, and I almost winced when I realized I was going to have to ask them to do something for me.

I asked the two of them how much they knew about the night of the Musician’s attack. When they said that they’d slept through the whole thing, I told them the story, and asked if either of them knew anything.

“That’s worrying,” Anna said, looking down. “It sounds occult. Like something the ur-nahaj would do in an old story, cursing soldiers with endless violence until Miranda shows up to heal them through holy power.”

“You think that the Musician is an ur-nahaj?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

Anna laughed nervously. “Oh Lady no, absolutely not. Miranda banished the ur-nahaj long ago, forbade them from ever taking material form. Besides, many of the afflicted were good Vesselites, weren’t they? Unless the entirety of Rook’s guard and all of the other soldiers have been negligent with their prayers, they should be more than warded.”

“You’ve clearly never been around many-many soldiers,” Unity said with a smirk. “Or do you really believe everything they tell you in church? That we’re safe just because one-one wise woman was able to bless the entire country?”

Anna’s expression was similar to what it would have been if Unity had just kicked her in the shins, almost jumping back from the girl sitting on the other end of the bed from her. “I knew you were odd, and your family wasn’t the best, but I never would have expected… How could you say such a thing? You would deny the power of the God-Vessel!”

“No I-I wouldn’t!” Unity said. “I say my prayers and all that, I have-have since I was six! But my second-second mother always said, if we all have immortal souls, then why should what the priest says matter more?”

“Because the entire purpose of a priest is that she’s the one who’s spent her entire life studying the Word, and understanding the Word, so that she can teach you the Word and how to act accordingly! It’s pride to believe that you can know better, Unity.”

“And it isn’t hubris for the-the priest to think that she’s the only one who knows what’s up with the divine hereafter? If there are demons around, tempting us and cursing us with attention from the cops and rotten fruit, then shouldn’t it be up to us to serve God in our own way?”

“Okay, okay, okay, hold on!” I said. “This is a… fascinating religious debate, but I am trying to figure out what caused all the damage. Do either of you have actual ideas about who this Musician is?”

Anna and Unity stopped, both looking off into the distance with pensive expressions. “A sorcerer?” Unity said with a shrug. “I heard most of them-them left when the Cassandrans came, but up here, in-in the mountains… you never know.”

“That’s absurd, Unity,” Anna said. “It’s most likely some kind of trickery. Mind-altering gasses or some such…”

Considering that the hallucinations had stopped the exact moment that the Musician had stopped playing, I doubted it. But it was clear that neither of them had any ideas, so I said something trite about how their input was appreciated. As I left the cabin, the argument started up again, and I imagined that it would continue for quite some time. 

My search for information quickly ran into a bit of a roadblock. Dr. Ironseed likely knew more than anyone else in the treaty grounds about history and culture and things like that. In fact, she probably knew exactly who the Musician was and how she could do what she did, because she was working with the Musician to destroy the entire treaty for money to do more colonialism. So asking her, no matter how useful her answers might have been, was completely out of the question. 

Dr. Charcharias might have also known something about it, some obscure scientific principle for how violin music might be used to induce hallucinations. Even if she didn’t have an immediate answer, she might have ideas, and be able to help me figure out how to protect myself. But going near her would mean having her ask if it was okay if I spent three days getting probes shoved into all of my orifices, and I wasn’t up to that. 

I wandered the treaty grounds, unsure of who I could turn to. Anna and Unity had been a total crapshoot, which had paid off about as well as I might have expected. I asked a few others if they knew anything, people I had seen around but never really spoken to before, if they had noticed anything unusual or had any information about the night of the attack. One of the Durkahn cooks said that she’d gotten a static shock off of a carpet that she’d never been shocked by before on the night of the attack. A servant girl, someone I’d pulled out of the flames the day before, said that the rumors she’d heard reminded her of a story her mothers used to tell, before reciting to me the Bluerose version of the pied piper. One of the soldiers swore to me that she’d seen Dinara Murahnok wandering drunkenly around the treaty grounds that evening, a sword in one hand and drinking horn in the other.

So, to make a long story short, searching for random people to ask didn’t get me much of value. For that matter, most of the people I knew didn’t have much of an idea either. I decided to take some of the stress off with another brutal sparring session with Rook. I still couldn’t put a finger on her, but the wounds I was taking were slowly becoming less and less catastrophic, on average. After we were done, though, I decided to ask her about the Musician anyway. 

“There are many odd things in this world, trust me,” Rook said, sharpening a rust-speckled saber on a shining whetstone. “Cassandra in particular has a strong interest in the very edges of possibility, assuming that your theory about a Cassandran spy is true.”

“Do you think I’m right about that?” I said. 

“It would certainly benefit the Empire to prevent an alliance between our two factions, yes. But there’s always more to these sorts of politics than meets the eye.”

“Well, that and the fact that she was wearing a reikverratr mask,” I said, stretching my shoulder muscles, “that points pretty strongly to something Cassandran as well.”

“A reikverratr?” she said with a chuckle. “The reikverratrs don’t fight with tricks and music, they fight with machine rifles and the knowledge that they’re damn near impossible to kill.”

“Then, if she isn’t a reikverratr, why is she wearing the mask?”

“I don’t know,” Rook said, averting her eyes. “And I don’t feel like speculating, either about this or about how she can cloud women’s minds. Just be careful, Emma. There are things out there you haven’t even begun to imagine, terrible things that… shouldn’t exist. This might be one of them.”

Rook glared at me, her face dark and creased with grim dedication. “I… will be?” I said, slowly backing away from her. “See you for more sparring tomorrow, I guess.”

“I’ll see you then,” she said.

Again interesting, but not very helpful. Still having no ideas, I decided to help out some of the staff with their mechanical issues, only to stumble into conversation with Zaya Imzrai completely by accident. The scout zeppelin’s mechanical navigator was being a tricky bastard again, and I was crouched over it, trying to figure out how on Selene a tree branch had gotten caught in it, when I felt the sharp poke of a walking stick against my shoulder.

“Hwa? Oh, it’s you. Za-- Chanter Imzrai, right?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding her head. 

“Uhh, what’s up? Why are you here? Is anything on fire?”

She laughed, a sound that from a Durkahn sounded bit more like a long, low rumble. “No, nothing is on fire that should not be. I’m here because you saved my life, Emma Farrier.”

“I really hope this isn’t one of those things where you’re going to become my slave or whatever because you owe me your life, because I’m not for that.”

“What?” she said harshly. “Why would I do that?”

“Forget about it,” I said, standing up. “What did you want to say?”

“That I am thankful, I suppose. If you are ever in need of aid, Temple Imzrai will be at your back. I also wished to give you this.” Her bony, thick-furred hand pulled something small and glinting from a pocket of her robe, holding it out to me.

I took it. It was a ring, without any gem mounted on it, made out of some sort of brassy metal. It was big, probably sized for a Durkahn finger, but just the right size to fit onto my thumb. “Thank you,” I said.

“I spent some time meditating on the proper choice of a gift,” she said as I examined the ring. “This trinket is made of a rare alloy, imported from mountains on the far side of Imbrium, which promotes health and clarity when worn. The ring is plain, but possesses great value. An appropriate match for the owner.”

“Thank you, again. That’s, um,” I swallowed loudly, “really deep, and stuff.” My face was already getting really warm. Sure, it was nice to get recognition for setting myself on fire, but this was a little bit over the top, and it was making me self-conscious.

“Deep? What is deep about it?”

“It’s an expression. Means it’s profound and thought-provoking.”

Zaya nodded, then slowly turned about, head moving before the rest of her like an old dinosaur. “Blessings of wisdom be upon you, that you might know the challenges that lie before you, Emma Farrier.”

“Wait!” I said. “Before you go, I’ve been trying to figure something out. How much do you know about that night, the night that everyone went crazy and started attacking each other?”

She stopped mid-stride, planting her stick in the grass. “I know the whole story, though I was asleep with nightmares for all of it.”

“Then you know about the musician?” I asked. “White robes, steel mask, violin?”

“I do,” she said.

“I found her and tried to fight her off, but she escaped. She’s going to come back, I can feel it, and I’m trying to figure out if anyone knows something I can use, because otherwise I can’t keep people safe. Do you know anything?”

Zaya stood there, scratching at the fur on her neck, hmmm-ing and hmph-ing softly. “I do not, no. The way in which women will make use of evil power, refining themselves only so they can visit suffering and dominion upon others, is endless. I pity this poor wretch, who has the power to make joy and wonder, and uses it only for hate and violence.”

“It sounds like you have some idea of what she is…”

“No. I know what she can do,” Zaya said, lurching into motion. “I know in the same way I know that you can survive bullets and sword wounds and roaring flames unscathed, and that I know I can command the movements of armies and the wealth of cities. How she can do it is another matter entirely.”

“Well. Thank you for the gift, then. And for the advice.” I leaned back against the navigational machine, watching her return to her entourage, which I only then realized had been waiting some forty feet away or so. Even once she vanished behind the wall of burly guardswomen, I remained there, letting my back rest and looking at the way the afternoon sun glinted off of the golden metal of the ring. There was something odd about it, something that didn’t line up, like it was a CG animation that someone had ever so slightly messed up. 

I eventually went back to the navigator, and the repair turned out to be somewhat easier than the first time, and I was done in about half an hour. Having already familiarized myself with the innards of the thing definitely helped. What didn’t help was Zaya’s advice.

On my way back to my own cabin to scream into a pillow or something, I decided to stop back at the Halflance lodge. After a quick check from behind the corner that Dr. Charcharias wasn’t around, I opened into their sitting room, where Lady Halflance was already seated, reclining in a chair with a book of poetry open.

“No, I don’t know anything about the musician, her origins, or the source of her abilities,” she said, turning a page. 

“I hadn’t even said anything yet…”

“True, but you’ve spent much of this evening and all of today bothering people for information. I wished to cut to the point.”

“Oh,” I said. “I guess I should be going.”

“What do you intend to do with the information, if you find it?” Halflance asked.

“I’m going to go after the Musician,” I said. “Maybe lay a trap for her the next time she shows up, or something, so I can take her down.”

“On your own?”

I nodded. “I’m the one who can’t die, which means that I’m the only one who isn’t putting themself at risk if I do it.”

“That’s insane, Emma,” said Halflance, narrowing her eyes. 

“I gotta do what I gotta do, alright? I can’t let more people get hurt. I just can’t.”

“Normally I would say that you’re going to get yourself killed,” Halflance said, setting down the book, “but I suppose that truly isn’t an issue. Still, with the Musician’s ability to alter minds… you might not die, but you might end up in a worse state.”

“What would you suggest, then? If I take a bunch of soldiers with me, they’ll just start killing each other when the Musician shows up. If I’m alone, at least then I only have her to deal with.”

Halflance sighed, from deep in her chest. “I can’t stop you. Be careful.”

“As careful as I can be,” I said, going for the door. 

“Oh, Emma! I was just about to tell you that I’m very sorry. None of my books have anything about the Musician, or anything about using music to cause mass hallucinations or anything of the sort, so you’ll have to search elsewhere.”

I stopped and turned to see Sir Margaret sticking her head through the door and looking at me very expectantly, a slight smile on her face. “Thanks for the help, regardless,” I said with a smirk. 

After a nice long brainstorming-and-anxiety session in my cabin, I ate dinner, tried reading a book until the distraction got to be too much, and ended up wandering the treaty grounds. If only I’d had a nightdress on, I could have had a proper session of Gothicness. As it was, I ended up casting my thoughts back to Earth, and home.

I wondered if my roommate missed me, I wondered how my family felt, I wondered if any of my professors had even noticed if I was gone. Everything that had happened to me since I arrived on Selene had been action-packed chaos, all sword fights against monsters and murder mysteries, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It was all so heightened compared to Earth that I almost couldn’t help but enjoy it, and there was a strange sense of disconnect between the life I’d begun to lead and the one I’d left behind. But at the same time, I knew I couldn’t just forget about the people I’d known, the impact I’d had on people… assuming I’d left one at all.

My thoughts turned dark. I’d always been a bit of a drifter, even without having to ever leave the city where I was born. Friend group after friend group, apartment after apartment, online forums and lab sessions and campus organizations, all flowed past me without ever really pulling me in for long. There was no point to staying for too long, because I’d inevitably drive off any friends I made. The only reason I’d even been able to become friends with John was that there weren’t any apartments within walking distance of the university available for less. Even still, our relationship had been more surface-level than anything else. He was the closest thing I’d had to a proper friend after… Abby. Logically, then, there was no reason for me to be sad about leaving the Earth behind. I hadn’t left much of a mark anyway, so I might as well vanish. At least on Selene life felt real.

Somehow in my increasingly sad wanderings, I ended up crossing the bridge into Zrimash, where I eventually lost the will to continue walking and laid down on my back, face up to the sky, on the stone fence around some person’s house. Or, at least, I assume that that is what happened, given that I wasn’t paying enough attention to actually remember any of the physical events that transpired. Depression amnesia is a bitch.

So there I was, staring directly upwards, listening to the scant sounds of twilight traffic, and crying silently. “One of those nights, I see,” said a familiar voice from somewhere around my feet. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” I pulled in a deep breath, and let it out. “Wait, Sarnai? What are you doing here?”

“Standing watch. Dinara is in this house having a party, and it is my job to ensure that no attackers are able to sneak in. Technically speaking, I should be arresting you right now.”

“Thanks for not doing that, Sarnai.”

“Too much work, and it would be a terrible way to repay your kindness.” With a grunt, Sarnai pulled herself up onto the wall, taking a seat next to me. “Now then, what seems to be the problem?”

This was not a conversation I had expected to have with an eight-foot-tall mercenary elk-bear-woman, but I went with it. “Uh. A lot of shit. You’ve probably heard about how I’ve spent the whole day trying to find information about the Musician and, well, it hasn’t been working out so far.”

“I’ve spent all day guarding Chanter Murahnok,” said Sarnai. “Which is to say that I have heard very little.”

“Well, yeah. That’s what I’ve been doing. She has to have some kind of weakness, something I can use to take her down before she kills any more people.”

“The musician… the one who caused the night patrols to start attacking each other, yes?”

I nodded. “Where were you when that happened?”

“Asleep,” she said. “Thankfully.”

I told her the whole story, again leaving the parts about Ethan and Abby vague. She didn’t interrupt, though I saw her spine stiffen when I described the Musician’s appearance. When I finished, we were both silent, and for a minute I just looked up at the stars and listened to the sounds of birds flitting through the fields.

“I have heard of something like this before,” Sarnai said. 

“You have?”

Sarnai nodded. “I’ve told you before that my parents were mercenaries, yes? They traveled all across the length and breadth of Imbrium, and beyond sometimes, to Frigoris or the northern coast of Procellarum. Mercenaries and soldiers love stories, and the sorts that they would hear were… strange.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” I said. “And one of those stories mentioned this?”

“The tale was from…” Sarnai furrowed her brow and pulled her lips back over her teeth, concentrating intensely. “…Lake Yulaga, or the lands around it, on the western part of Imbrium. It’s part of the Cassandran Empire now, like everything else, but the people who lived around Yulaga were canny folk indeed. The Kalqigs were the last people to fall to the Empire, barely eighty years ago.”

“Eighty years ago… that was after they’d already conquered Bluerose, wasn’t it?” I said.

Sarnai nodded, then continued. “The story goes that they had secrets none others did, ancient knowledge refined and held close for thousands of years, the envy of the Salhaven labs. The Kalqigs knew why music could cause ecstasy or depression, fierce pride or bottomless regret. And the warrior-scholars of the Pearl Academy were the most fearsome: sorcerers and mystics every one of them.”

“Did they wear steel masks?” I asked. “Is that where the reikverratrs came from?”

“Masks, no,” said Sarnai. “But the white robes and the mastery of music are either a very great coincidence, or a proof of origin.”

“Did your parents ever hear a story about how the Cassandrans were able to beat them, then?”

“Saturating artillery fire,” Sarnai said in a deadpan. 

“Oh. That… isn’t very helpful.”

“But the people who neighbored the Kalqigs, on the river Maranvir, they had had centuries of experience. The Cassandrans ignored it all, of course.”

I sat up, turned around, and looked right into Sarnai’s face. “What was the secret, then?”

“They’d wear armor,” she said. “Sometimes it was chain, sometimes proper plate, but always, always made out of pure metals. Copper or silver, never anything else. Even when rifles and muskets made it completely useless for protection, they’d always wear at least a little of it.”

Something went off in my brain like a capacitor firing. “Copper and silver? Are you sure it was just those two?”

She shrugged. “That’s what my parents were told, and it’s what I’ve seen.”

“Copper and silver, copper and silver… Those are electrical conductors! Those are literally the two strongest conductors! That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

“I don’t know what an electrical conductor is,” Sarnai said, suddenly looking ever so slightly concerned. 

I jumped off of the fence, suddenly bursting with energy again. “Sarnai, thank you so so so so so much! I have to go back to the treaty grounds, sleep, and then start preparing. The musician isn’t going to know what hit her!”

“Please don’t do anything stupid.”

I threw both my arms up in the air, already backpedaling toward the treaty grounds. “What’s bravery without a dash of recklessness, right? See you tomorrow!” Then I booked it.

SaffronDragon

Bonus points to anyone who knows the source of Emma's line about bravery and recklessness. Double bonus points to anyone who knows the significance of armor made from electrical conductors. And, of course, triple bonus points to anyone who clicks the link below and joins my Patreon, where you can view the next two chapters early for only $3 a month, and read two exclusive prequel stories for $5 a month. But, if you decide not to, I'll see you in only one week for Chapter XIX: Breaking, Entering, and Gifting!