RESONANCE

As they rode back toward the encampment, Alton explained about the book of Theanduris Silverwood, but Estral was already well aware of it. Then he remembered Karigan had gone to Selium looking for it. This Estral confirmed.

“After Karigan left,” she said, “we pretty much tore apart the archives looking for the book even though we were sure it wasn’t there. Word came later from the king that it had been found elsewhere.” She sighed heavily. “Then we had to put the archives back in order.”

Alton gathered from her expression and tone of voice it had not been the most pleasurable of experiences. As he gazed at her, he couldn’t help noticing how the morning sun falling through the branches of trees dappled her hair making golden strands shine among the more subdued, sandy ones.

He cleared his throat and went on to explain how Theandris documented the making of the wall and all the sacrifices required. Estral nodded as if it only confirmed her suspicions.

“A lot of blood was shed in those days,” she said, “even when the war was over. But the way in which the wall was built was kept secret, even from the first Golden Guardian, or especially from him.” She lapsed into deep thought as their horses plodded along, eventually saying, “It’s not exactly the sort of thing you want the minstrels to sing about. I imagine back then King Jonaeus found ways to keep Gerlrand—he was the first Golden Guardian—busy and out of the way. He had the school at Selium to establish and all.”

“Perhaps he was in on it,” Alton suggested, “but kept it quiet.” When Estral glared at him, he added, “My ancestors were certainly in on it whether they wanted to be or not, and managed to keep the methods used for building the wall a secret. I do not think they wished such necromancy to be repeated, and perhaps it was the same with Gerlrand.”

As quickly as it came, the anger vanished from Estral’s face. “I do not think Gerlrand could keep a secret like that. It’s not our way.”

They rode on in silence and Alton could tell his words had disturbed her and she was now less certain.

“So how is it you think I can help save the wall?” she asked. “You’re not planning to sacrifice me to it, are you?”

“I’d need more than just you for that,” Alton replied.

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or insulted.”

Though she was smiling when she said it, Alton decided it was better not to attempt a direct response and get into deeper trouble with Karigan’s friend, but he couldn’t help a small smile of his own. “It’s a measure of music,” he said. “In the middle of Theanduris’ ramblings about how clever he was, he put down a measure of music. There is no explanation as to why or what it is.”

“And you think this measure of music will help the wall?”

Alton shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Theanduris had the notion of composing some great piece of music in his own honor. But I think it’s more. It is song, after all, that keeps the wall guardians unified.”

Estral played with her horse’s mane as she rode along, flipping it from one side to the other. “It’s an interesting combination,” she said. “Blood and song to make the wall strong.”

“And good craftsmanship,” Alton could not help adding. “In any case, I thought maybe you could look at that measure of music, see what you make of it.”

It was almost all Alton could do to keep from leading them back at a gallop. He refrained because Estral appeared content to amble along at a thoughtful walk. He fell into his own ruminations, which though they started out about the wall, veered to his wondering how much he could pry out of Estral about Karigan. Oddly enough, there were some basic things he did not know about her. What, for instance, was her favorite color? It was hard to tell when all they ever wore was green. It seemed there was always something else crowding out the small details—message errands, battles, walls. Alton’s own very bad behavior ...

He’d have to proceed with caution when broaching the subject of Karigan with Estral. The journeyman minstrel, he could tell, was shrewd and would protect her friend no matter how innocent his questions.

Eventually they arrived at the main encampment at the breach. Alton reined Night Hawk east to head toward the tower encampment, but someone called out to him. It was Leese, the chief mender. As she approached he noted her haggard condition, the rings beneath her eyes, the slump to her shoulders. With a sense of foreboding, he knew this was not going to be good news.

“My lord,” she said, halting before them, “I thought you should know that Private Tomsen did not make it.”

Tomsen. The man injured in last night’s attack. Alton bowed his head.

“He lost too much blood,” Leese continued. “And what was left was poisoned by the creature’s bite. We worked through the night to save him but to no avail.”

“You did all you could,” Alton said.

The mender nodded. “I fear our skills are inadequate for the dangers the forest presents.”

Before Alton could respond, Leese turned and walked slowly back into the encampment, the very picture of defeat. He gazed at Estral Andovian wondering if he’d made the right decision in bringing her back.

“Don’t you dare change your mind,” she told him as though able to read his thoughts. “I take on this risk myself.”

Alton wondered if her father and Karigan would see it that way should something bad happen. He shook his head and nudged Night Hawk forward, Estral falling in behind.