Inharmonic (The Music Maker Series Book 1) Read online

  Nadja thanked him, and he pointed towards the city, giving her directions to the tavern. Before she left, he stepped around in front of her and held up a hand.

  “Look, I know you like to keep your secrets,” he began, his usually humorous tone replaced with a quiet seriousness, “and I respect that. I can’t imagine what brought you all the way to Chansey by yourself, and I’m not going to ask. But, if there is ever anything you need, I hope you know you shouldn’t hesitate to ask.”

  Wheedler’s offer touched her. She reached out and clasped his large, rough hand between her own. “Thank you,” she said. “You are a true friend.”

  She left Wheedler to his business and set out for The Whale’s Tale. It wasn’t long before its sun-bleached blue-and-gray siding and slate shingles came into view. Quaint little sea-shell wind chimes spiraled downwards from the overhang above the entrance, and the aroma of seafood wafted through the air. The crowded tables and bar proved Uncle Tau wasn’t the only person who enjoyed their fare.

  Nadja scanned the room and spotted her uncle at a small table in the back corner. And he wasn’t alone. Another figure sat opposite Tau, facing the corner. A tingle of familiarity crawled up Nadja’s spine as she stared at his back. While a light sheen of sweat from the bright day and balmy sea air covered the rest of the patrons, the stranger wore a cloak with the hood pulled up.

  As Nadja approached the table, Tau looked up. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth dropped open. Then, just as quickly, his features smoothed. He rose from his seat and came around the table to meet her.

  “Niece,” he said. Concern laced his words, betraying his calm exterior. “What are you doing in Chansey? It is my understanding the conservatory has not yet dismissed for the summer months.”

  At her uncle’s words, Nadja saw the stranger stiffen beneath his cloak. Something tickled at the back of her mind, but it was fleeting and uncatchable.

  “I must speak with you privately, Uncle. It’s a matter of some urgency.”

  Tau gave her a crisp nod and bent to speak to the stranger. His voice was low, and Nadja couldn’t make out what he was saying. When he rose to face her again, the stranger stood and left the table, keeping his head down. But Nadja’s height put her at a rare advantage. As the stranger passed, she saw a hauntingly familiar face and a pair of green eyes flash from underneath the hood.

  Recognition hit, jarring her senses. The stranger and the man she had seen at the Heartstide Festival. Could they be one and the same?

  “Who was that man?” she asked her uncle as her eyes followed the stranger out of the tavern.

  “A business associate,” said Tau, waving his hand. Then, he gestured for her to take the now empty seat. “Now, Niece. What is so urgent you left the safety of the conservatory and traveled all the way to Chansey alone.”

  Nadja saw worry hiding behind his impassive exterior.

  “I didn’t come alone,” she began. “My friend and I fell overboard on our way here. He’s injured.”

  Tau listened intently as Nadja related the pertinent details of the events which led her to find him. She glossed over the fact she had stowed away aboard one of his own ships, leaving him to fill in the details of her transport on his own.

  “But why did you come?” he asked again. “What was so important it could not wait until I returned home?”

  Nadja glanced around to be sure her next words would not be overheard. “What do you know about the Mevocali?”

  Tau gave no sign he knew what she was referring to. “What do you know about the Mevocali?” he countered.

  Nadja laid everything before her uncle. Against the protesting hammering of her heart, she told him everything she knew. About Baulo. About Helaine. About the Heartstide Festival and even about that night in the woods when she had destroyed every living plant around her. All the while, her uncle’s face remained a stony mask of imperturbability.

  When she had finished, she sat back, anxiously awaiting his response.

  Tau sat in thought for what seemed like an eternity. When he spoke, he chose his words carefully.

  “Meliina was right to come to you when she did,” he said.

  Nadja caught his familiar reference to Grandmaster Kero, bolstering her suspicions they were more than acquaintances.

  “Did she speak the truth?” whispered Nadja. “Am I really Mevocali?”

  Tau leaned back in his chair and ran two fingers across his mustache, considering his reply. “The answer to that is more than a simple yes or no.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Nadja. Her blood simmered. After all she had endured to get to this moment, his vague response was more than frustrating. “Either I am, or I’m not. Which is it?”

  Tau locked eyes with her. His gaze was heavy with unspoken truths, but Nadja did not waver under it. When he answered, his voice was thick. “You are.”

  A thousand questions sprang to her lips, but Tau raised his hand. “I know you have more questions, but what we have to discuss will take time. And right now, I believe you have a friend in need.”

  He was right, of course.

  “We will see to his rescue first, and then I will answer all of your questions to the best of my ability.”

  With that, Tau rose from his chair. Nadja had no choice but to follow. As much as she longed for answers, Pax’s rescue was their top priority.

  Once outside, Tau glanced up at the sun. “We should be able to reach him on the next low tide. I will collect Wheedler and some supplies, and we will go see to your friend. I need you to go to the Mia Fair and let Brooks know we will delay our departure.”

  Nadja nodded her agreement, wishing she could be there to help Pax herself, but grateful to know he was in capable hands.

  Before he left, Tau reached out and placed a gentle hand on her cheek. Shocked by the intimate gesture, so uncharacteristic of her uncle, Nadja raised questioning eyes to his. His face was awash with unspoken sentiments. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but changed his mind and patted her cheek instead. “Take care,” he said gruffly, then turned and marched down the lane.

  Nadja stood there for a moment. As she watched her uncle’s retreating form, her eyes burned as unbidden tears threatened to surface. She blinked them back in surprise. Confused by her reaction, she shook herself and straightened her spine. She had a job to do, and she needed to get to it.

  The Chansey harbor surpassed the one in Cantio in both size and industry. As a child Nadja had enjoyed what little time the tribe spent near the port city. The excitement, which was a natural side effect of the bustling harbor, thrilled her young sensibilities and brought to mind fantastical daydreams of adventures awaiting those who set sail from the banks of her homeland. But today, the heat and smell of the crush, even this late in the day, were oppressive as she pressed her way towards the docks.

  She hoped Uncle Tau and Wheedler made good time to the cave. Considering Pax’s injuries, she’d left her pack of supplies with him and made it to Chansey with only her blowpipe. The little food and water which had not been ruined by the river or used to clean his wound would last him a day if he rationed. For herself, she looked forward to delivering her message to Brooks and imposing upon her hospitality for some food and drink. Hopefully the barge was well stocked for the trip back to Cantio.

  The crowd leaned into her from all sides. Eye level with shoulders and chests, Nadja could barely see the tops of sails belonging to the larger ships. She was trying to decide the best direction in which to begin her search when an idea struck. A nearby cargo stack provided the required asset, and she scrambled up onto one of the crates. The added height afforded her a clear view of the docks, and she scanned the area for a clue as to the whereabouts of the Mia Fair.

  Shielding her eyes from the midday sun, she searched up and down the docks for a few minutes. Then, not too far from where she perched, she spotted Brooks emerging from the hold of a barge. Brooks lifted her head towards the port, pausing for a moment as her gaze passed Nadja, then
continued her survey.

  With her destination fixed, Nadja hopped down from the crate. As soon as she stood, she felt a sharp pain in her right side.

  “One word and I’ll gut you where you stand.”

  All color drained from Nadja’s face as an arm snaked around her waist. There was no mistaking that voice. She’d heard it enough in her nightmares.

  Baulo yanked her against his side. Her hip dug into his thigh and her shoulder crushed underneath his arm.

  “Walk,” he commanded. His breath was moist in her ear, smelling tangy and stale.

  Somehow her leaden feet obeyed his command, and they wove through the crowd and away from the docks. Passersby might have mistaken them for a father and daughter trying their best to not get separated in the crowd. But the blade threatening to pierce her tunic, and subsequently her flesh, proved nothing could be further from the truth.

  She pressed her blowpipe against her side. The surrounding mob made it impossible to use it. But, the feel of it in her palm gave her a small, if false, sense of security.

  A hundred questions flew through her mind. What was Baulo doing in Chansey when the Delegation was in session? How had he found her? Was he alone? What was he planning to do with her?

  They headed east, and within a quarter hour approached the gates of the port. Once through their relative safety, it would be much more difficult to signal for help. As they passed through the iron gate, Nadja looked at one of the guards. Her eyebrows knit together above her intense gaze. She mentally projected her plea for help as if he might hear her if she tried hard enough. The guard glanced at the pair before turning his attention to the cart full of Pantomarian textiles coming up behind them. Baulo and Nadja passed under the arched gateway and out of the city.

  Baulo remained silent as they walked the well-traveled road, turning away from the coast and into the forest. As twilight descended, he turned off the main road and tugged her down a less traveled path. The trees parted, revealing what amounted to a sorry excuse for an inn. The thatched roof, worn almost bare in places, was patched together haphazardly, much like the brightly painted woman who manned the front door, leering at the two of them. Baulo ignored the woman and drew Nadja around behind the building to the dilapidated lean-to which served as the inn’s stables.

  The lean-to was empty, save for three horses huddled in the small patch of shade provided by the roof. Away from the suggestive gaze of the inn’s hostess, and with the road out of view, the sinking feeling which had been Nadja’s constant companion since Baulo had grabbed her wormed its way up her throat. With no witnesses, she was at his mercy. They approached one of the horses.

  “You will ride in front where I can see you.” After a half hour of silence, his grating voice startled her, sending her rapid pulse into a gallop. A vision of being seated atop the horse with her back pressed against Baulo, his breath on her neck and his intentions muddy at best, lethal at worst, made her shudder.

  Before she could consider the consequences, she clasped her blowpipe with both hands and swung it like the pendulum of a clock. The bottom of the pipe connected with Baulo’s shin just before her heel slammed down on his instep. He let out a grunt as his hold loosened just enough for her to wrench free.

  Nadja ran. She made it two steps before a sharp pain sliced across her lower back, bringing her to her knees. A cloud of dust puffed into the air when she hit the ground. Scrambling to her feet, she spun to face him, sliding both of her hands down the pipe and swinging it like a bat towards his head. Baulo threw up a hand to block the blow and growled, spiraling his arm around the shaft of the pipe and yanking it towards him.

  Her grip held fast. Baulo’s motion propelled her face-first into his chest. He hugged her tightly against him. Her nose pressed into his shirt for only a moment, but it was long enough to get a lungful of his musty scent. She choked against the fabric. With another twisted jerk, the blowpipe slipped from her grasp.

  Nadja shoved against his chest in a fruitless attempt to break his hold. Warmth trickled down her backside where his knife had left its mark.

  Her hands vibrated against him as a low rumble burbled up from his chest and erupted into laughter.

  “Stupid girl,” he hissed.

  The side of her head exploded in a blinding white fire which pierced her brain and robbed her of her sight.

  Chapter 36

  Bits of fiber scratched the back of Nadja’s throat, choking her as she came crashing back into consciousness. Lanolin coated the roof of her mouth, and neither her tongue nor her gag reflex could expel the woolen mass. Her hands were roped together above her head and tied to the tree behind her. Her boots were gone, and her feet were bound at the ankles.

  Baulo shifted somewhere to her right, and Nadja cracked her eyes to find him with his back to her. She squinted in the darkness, her head still pounding from his beating. As if sensing her gaze, or perhaps in response to the muffled retching, Baulo turned from his work and faced her.

  The flickering firelight cast ominous shadows across his sunken face, highlighting his sharp angles and deepening the hollows of his eyes and cheeks. Even though she had seen him in the market, the shock of his transformation hit her full force. Gone was the powerful orator who spent his youth as one of the tribe’s best warriors. The withered old man before her was a shadow of his former self.

  Withered, maybe, but not decrepit.

  If she had any fantasies of being able to match Baulo physically, those vanished the moment he had disarmed her and used her own weapon against her.

  “Good. You’re awake,” Baulo said, crossing to where she lay on the ground. “We can begin.”

  He knelt beside her, bringing his face close to hers and studying her with a critical eye. Dirt ground into the gash on her back as she squirmed under his scrutiny. She winced and grunted against the gag.

  A ragged smile curled the edges of his thin lips. “Tsk-tsk,” he said. “Don’t start without me.”

  Nadja heard the blade ring as he unsheathed his knife. Her breath caught in her throat. The wad of wool absorbed her protests, and the rope bit into her wrists and ankles as she fought against her restraints.

  “I’m sorry, was there something you wanted to say?” Baulo sneered. Nadja raised her chin and cast her eyes towards her mouth.

  “Idiot,” he spat. “Do you really think I’d let you speak when your cursed mouth is the whole reason we’re here?”

  Nadja’s eyes grew wide.

  “Yes. Take a good look at your work.” Swinging a leg across her body he sat astride her supine form. Her stomach strained against his weight, and she struggled to breathe. The twisted smile which haunted her dreams reappeared on his face. Her body trembled as Baulo leaned down and brought his lips to her cheek. Nadja bit back a sob.

  “I don’t know what you are, but whatever it is, you’re an abomination,” he whispered. “How dare you attack me?”

  “Me!” he shouted.

  Her eardrum rattled and rang.

  Baulo sat back against her hips and snickered. “Worthless. Just like the rest.” He rested the blade of his knife against the hollow of her throat. The steel was startlingly cold in the balmy evening. Nadja’s breathing grew ragged. Then, slowly, he pressed the blade against the tip of her collarbone. Every muscle in her body contracted, squeezing salty tears from the corners of her eyes and clamping her teeth down on the gag.

  Baulo released his pressure and traced the knife up her neck. She froze, fearing the slightest movement would assist the blade in its murderous intent.

  “And what a position you left me in,” he sighed. “The idea you could have such an effect on me is preposterous. But even if it weren’t, how could I continue to command the respect I deserve if everyone knew you—you, a fatherless nobody with an undeserving mother—somehow did this,” he held his free hand palm up, “to me?”

  With a flick of his wrist, the knife sliced the skin beneath her earlobe. Nadja’s body jerked as she screamed. The stifled sou
nd lodged in the back of her throat.

  “You know the punishment for attempted murder.”

  Yes, she knew all too well. And if Baulo continued his torture much longer, she would wish for it.

  “Whether it’s carried out here or amongst the tribe makes no difference. You must pay for what you’ve done.”

  Baulo lowered his knife to her shoulder and split the fabric with ease. He yanked her sleeve up, baring her arm. Nadja thrashed beneath him, trying to roll away from his grip. A wash of shadow danced across the trees.

  Baulo hooked his feet back over her legs and leaned down to press his forearm across her shoulders, pinning her to the ground. “Be still, girl,” he hissed through his teeth. “Just like your mother. Neither of you know your place.” He flipped the knife, pointing the blade towards her upper arm.

  Nadja’s back arched as the blade sliced a thin, shallow line from her armpit to her elbow. The muscles in her neck tightened, and she fought back another cry.

  Though painful, none of her injuries were yet enough to do any lasting harm. Baulo’s end goal may be to kill her, but one thing was clear. He would take his time doing it. And she would suffer all the while.

  A blur of darkness passed in front of her eyes. With a surprised gasp, Baulo tumbled to the ground. Nadja sucked in salt-laced air, finally able to fill her lungs. She craned her neck to see two forms locked in combat. The darkened sky made it impossible to both discern whom Baulo’s opponent was and distinguish between the two. A sound like a mallet pounding meat turned her stomach as they traded blows.

  Then, as quickly as the fight began, it ended. Silence shrouded the camp interrupted only by the distant sound of crashing waves. The bodies of the combatants lay between Nadja and campfire, dark, appearing as a single amorphous mound of nothingness. Then, a form rose from the darkness, separating himself from the mound and finding his feet.