Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(23)

Rozyl’s voice broke the silence. “Do you know what awaits these children? Slavery. It’s either the mines, the tribute camps, the harems, or the army.” She ticked the list off with her fingers. “In the mines, at least you get to keep your Song. Though you exhaust it every day chipping away at bits of rock, pulling precious jewels from the mountain, and filling your lungs with dust. The tribute camps are for the boys to have their Songs sucked away, then be sentenced to hard labor for the rest of their lives. Girls go to the harems to ‘bless’ the Father with sons for his army.”

“And the daughters?” she whispered.

“They never leave the harems,” Rozyl said, staring coldly.

Jasminda’s stomach churned violently.

“He . . .” Jack sputtered. “With his own daughters?”

“All the True Father’s children are sterile,” Lyngar hissed. “Not that it is any less disgusting.”

“The suffering is immense,” Gerda said. “There are many who cannot bear it. That is why we left.”

Jasminda brought her hands to cover her face, not wanting these people to see her cry, especially not after what they had all been through. She’d had no idea how terrible Lagrimar actually was. Her stomach churned as nausea threatened again.

“How do you know about the Keepers, boy?” Turwig asked Jack.

Beside her, Jack swallowed and cleared his throat. “After the Seventh Breach, I was stationed at the Eastern Base—”

“You’re a soldier?” Rozyl asked, her voice an octave higher than before. She rolled her eyes and pounded the wall of the cave.

Jack waited out her mini-tantrum before continuing. “When we transferred the POWs to the settlement, as per the terms of the treaty, I met a young man called Darvyn.” More than one person in the cave sucked in a breath. “You know him?”

Gerda silenced everyone with a glance. “Go on.”

A wariness crept into Jack’s expression. “We used to talk. We became friendly. He let me practice my Lagrimari with him. One day, a few months later, I went to the settlement, and he was gone. Disappeared. I called for a search, thinking something must have happened to him, but we found nothing.”

Jasminda listened, impressed that he had even tried to find a missing settler. It was more than most Elsirans would have done.

“Then, just over three weeks ago, he returned and called for me at the base. He wouldn’t tell me where he’d been, just that the Mantle was going to be destroyed and Elsira needed to be warned. I contacted the Council and the Prince Regent, but they wouldn’t take the word of a Lagrimari settler. But I believed him.”

Jack scrubbed a hand down his face, his eyes growing faraway. His voice dropped as he told of the spell Darvyn had cast to make him appear Lagrimari, of hiding within Tensyn’s squad and discovering the terrible truth. “Not just cracks, not just a breach—the entire Mantle will fall. Soon. And the True Father will be unleashed on us all.”

Jasminda shivered. The faces of the Lagrimari were pensive.

“And the boy’s spell, just . . . failed?” Turwig asked. The old man had leaned forward, intent on every word of Jack’s story.

Jack nodded, his shoulders sagging with weariness. He needed to rest after the journey and the healing.

“The boy must be dead,” Lyngar said matter-of-factly.

“Or so badly injured he could not maintain the spell.” Gerda placed a comforting hand on Turwig as the man shuddered.

Jasminda wondered who he was to them. “You know this Darvyn?” she asked.

Turwig nodded. “Since he was a small child.”

Lyngar’s face was perpetually twisted, as if everything smelled bad to him. “You’ve got your proof now, boy. What will you do with it?”

“Make them listen. Prepare to fight,” Jack said.

Lyngar appeared dubious.

“You should rest, now,” Gerda said, echoing Jasminda’s thoughts. “You’re welcome to our fire—”

“No,” Rozyl broke in. “I don’t care how strong Osar’s Song is. They’ll sleep in one of the adjacent caves.” Her suspicion bored into Jasminda.

“Rozyl—”

“It’s fine, Gerda. We don’t want to be any trouble,” Jasminda said.

“We keep our weapons,” said Jack.

Rozyl sneered. “As will we.”

Jasminda was tired of the attitude. They’d done nothing to this woman, to any of them, to cause such distrust. Perhaps living in Lagrimar made one overly cautious, but the bitterness was undeserved.

Exhaustion seeped deep into her bones, as well. She would take sleep any way she could get it. Jack led the way back to the outer cave and to a smaller cavern a hundred metres away. It was cooler than the refugees’ camp, and Jasminda missed the warmth of the fire. The heat had dampened the anxiety of being inside the mountain, but now it was back full force, tightening her chest and constricting her airways. She focused on her breathing as Jack checked every inch of the cavern until he appeared satisfied it met his standards.

They hadn’t brought blankets or sleeping packs in their haste to escape the fire so they curled up on the ground next to each other, using the lumpy sack as a pillow.

The evasiveness of the Lagrimari, the lies told about her father, and Rozyl’s bitter hostility filled her mind.