Free The Canticle of Whispers by David Whitley Page B

friend. I managed to work that into an entire conspiracy against the baritones—it took me nearly two months before I came back.” He chuckled, and came over to sit on a chair of his own, bearing a rough wooden plate. He offered it to her. “Would you like some cake? I baked it myself, quite a novelty.”
    It had been hours since Lily had last eaten. Cautiously, she took a slice of cake. It was dry but serviceable. As she chewed, she tried to get her thoughts in order. It wasn’t easy. Whenever she began to get close to understanding this place, it was as though someone changed all of the rules. Agora and Giseth had their secrets, but at least they had some consistency. But everything she had learned about Naru seemed to alter at a moment’s notice. Who could tell whether the Conductor was telling her the truth now? Tea and cake was no indication of trustworthiness.
    â€œWhat do you think?” the Conductor said eagerly, taking a piece of cake himself. “Our food arrives in parcels from the land of Giseth, winched down in boxes. The Gisethi believe that they are appeasing certain ancient spirits of the earth, which does ensure that we get good rations, if a little bland. Very little grows down here. I’m so glad they sent a few sacks of grain this time, though I fear that few of the choristers would have the patience to bake anything.”
    Lily nodded distractedly.
    â€œI have so many questions,” she mumbled, “but I’m not sure if I can ask them. I’d rather keep my secrets to myself…”
    â€œOh, don’t concern yourself on that account, Miss Lily,” the Conductor said, pleasantly. “You are a very unusual case. I am quite happy to waive our usual conventions of knowledge trading simply for the pleasure of conversing with someone new. Outsiders in Naru are rare indeed, and if you find your way here, I believe you should be treated as an honored guest. I lay my little offerings before you. Food, comfort … and a few choice morsels of truth.”
    Lily shrank a little, embarrassed at her suspicions.
    â€œYou’re very generous,” she said, meaning it. The Conductor shook his head.
    â€œYou are paying me back a thousand times, in a way your traveling companions never really appreciated. To see a real member of the Orchestra, to converse and understand the lands above…” For a moment, he looked at Lily more intensely, a sparkle in his dark eyes. “It is a rare and precious thing, more valuable to me than you can imagine. I never thought it would happen in my time as Conductor. You are truly a wonder, my dear, truly a wonder.”
    Lily knew that he meant it kindly, but she shivered at hearing that word.
    â€œTertius and Septima called me that,” she muttered. “It made me feel like some kind of possession.”
    â€œTertius? Septima? Who…” the Conductor began, and then his faced creased with a look of recognition. “Ah, were those the names that your companions chose? Yes, yes, that would be likely. They often take names based on their numbers…”
    â€œThose weren’t even their real names?” Lily muttered, dully, barely able to be surprised by anything anymore. The Conductor finished his cake, thoughtfully.
    â€œThey were real, for a brief time, but they were hardly permanent. To be honest, Miss Lily, I am surprised that they did not change them partway through your acquaintance. The choristers take on new identities more often than they change their clothes. It allows them to view their knowledge from every angle, every mindset, without becoming dangerously attached to any one belief or idea. And, of course, it is entertaining. Soprano Seven and Tenor Three—sorry, Septima and Tertius—have kept their names for an unusually long time, but the wanderlust can cause that. When the world becomes more exciting, self-interest dwindles.”
    Lily put down her cup, trying