Chapter 60: Two Songs.

Ash had agreed. It had been hard to do anything else, with those red eyes boring into her own. Ash had agreed. She just hadn’t thought the agreeing would cost her so soon. “You need to rest,” Ash protested. “You cannot tell me that you’re fine, Lys.”

“I am well enough to watch,” Lysanthia said.

They stood a turn away from the Beast Hall. Lysanthia rested her arms on the windowsill. This window faced Koralis. The city was bathed in orange light. Ash joined her. There was space enough for two, if they stood close. Ash stood a half-step closer than even their gazing required.

She stared out at the city for a long moment. Koralis had impressed her, the first time she’d seen it from the road. Like a crown upon a head. The view from inside the crown was no worse. She did not know where the refusal came from, only that she had to voice it.

“What about Sol?” Ash tried protesting again. Lysanthia had deposited Sol, and told the bird to ‘not scare the others’ this time. The Inker had been reluctant to have her back. Ash suspected the woman just couldn’t refuse.

“I can feel her,” Lysanthia said. “And she can feel me. She knows this is for a good cause.”

Ash had nothing to say to that. She had never had a bonded creature before. The [Hero] class did not allow for such a thing. Ash had always thought it a good thing. A Hero’s life did not leave room for another that needed protecting. It was still a good thing, she told herself, though the thought ran hollower than it once might have.

“Fine,” Ash said. “But what if there’s nothing I want to take?”

“But there is something you want to take.” Ash paused and looked across at Lysanthia. “Before we left for that class,” Lysanthia continued. “I saw you check the day’s classes. One caught your eye, I am sure of it. I did not see which one it was, but perhaps it’s still running, or hasn’t started yet.”

“I didn’t think you were watching,” Ash murmured.

Lysanthia looked at her. The fading light caught the red of her eyes and made them burn. “Do you object? You are a Hero, and Heroes are good at many things. Subterfuge is not among them.”

“No,” Ash said. “Suppose not.” She looked away. Hopefully the light would hide the color in her cheeks.

Ash pulled out her own wooden device. She channeled the barest of Essence, and the class presented itself. Ash didn’t need to check, but she did anyway. There had been only one class that had given her pause. One that had felt out of place at this Academy.

Resonant Musical Instruments.

Ronan had said he loved three things. There had been a fourth he never counted, but everyone knew. He had carried a lute with a cracked neck through three campaigns, and in the evenings he had played for them, badly, and sung worse. She had asked him once why he bothered. “Songs can say what words can’t,” he’d said.

She had wanted to learn, back then. She had never told anyone. It had been a small, foolish hope -that when the war was over, she might learn a few chords and play something for Orvyn. That a song might say what her words could not.

Ash turned the device around so Lysanthia could see. Lysanthia’s gaze trailed over the words, and her lip did the thing it did when she found something beneath her. Ash braced for it. There would be a lecture about pointless human indulgences, about needing to use their time more wis-.

“Okay.”

Ash looked at her. “Okay?”

Lysanthia’s brow furrowed, just slightly. “I said I would attend whatever class you wished, did I not?”

“Yes but-“

“Then it is decided,” Lysanthia said simply. One of her hands reached out and grabbed onto Ash’s left arm, and then Ash was being half-led and half-dragged. “I do not see the purpose, but perhaps that is fine.”

Ash felt her chest tighten. A smile crept across her face. It was good that Lysanthia was in the lead, for it meant she could not see it. It took her making three right turns before Ash remembered: Lysanthia had many talents, but she had no sense of direction. Ash led the way after that.

Ash led them to a quiet section of the Academy. Some of the quiet was the late hour. The rest was distance from the mess hall. Ren had taken them here, on their first day. Ash had memorized everything Ren had mentioned, even the things that she could have perhaps done without.

Ash stopped them in front of perhaps the most simple looking door in the entire Academy. There were no carvings. No ornamentation at all, save for the silver handle. Light bled from the gap beneath it, so there was someone inside. There was no sound -surely this class should have had some sound. The only sound in the corridor was the grinding. It had been louder all the way here.

“We can go back,” Ash murmured. “We can always just come back another-“

“No,” Lysanthia folded her arms. Ash almost didn’t need to look to see that she had folded them. “We are here now.”

Ash opened her mouth to protest. It would do nothing, but her mouth opened anyway. Lysanthia unfolded her arms and opened the door. Warm light bathed the corridor. Along with it, came a sound. The sound was, if Ash had to find a single word for it, pompous. The beat was high, consistent, and energetic. A thumping that had all of the rhythm of soldiers at march. All of the self importance too.

There were fewer students inside than Ash had expected, though Ash could not have said how many she’d expected. Ash counted only five, sitting on the floor, arranged in a circle their numbers were too few to close. One of them drew Ash’s gaze. She felt Lysanthia stiffen next to her, no doubt having noticed him too.

His skin was a deep grey, the color of ash. Four horns framed his two heads, each of which bore a different expression. The left looked bored. The right had broken out into a wide grin. Ash remembered the name Ren had given him. Malachor. While sitting he was almost half again as tall as the next tallest student.

Ash looked away from him. Standing between all of the students was the Inker. She was a short, stocky woman with a hooked nose. The sound had trailed off, and now the woman spoke.

“Very good. Now that’s progress Malac! You need to listen, only when you listen will you be able to sing!”

The half-demon’s right head laughed, and with it, the right half of his body shook. Only the right half. “It is nothing. The song of my people cannot be contained by a mere trinket such as this. If you are pleased by this sound, Inker, then you will weep when you hear me play one of our tablas!” His voice was loud, even from where Ash stood. None of the other students flinched, which told Ash they were either used to it, or had long since been deafened by it.

“I’ve told you, if the day comes I would love t-” The Inker paused. She turned towards the door, and saw Ash and Lysanthia for the first time. With her gaze, came the gaze of the other students. Corin was among them. Ash had only just noticed him. The half-demon had caught the eye.

“Are you two here for-” The Inker paused, her head tilted. “You are the two Consecrated, yes? The ones who’ve made quite the stir these last few days. Am I mistaken?”

Ash was not sure how to answer that. Luckily, she did not have to. “Yes,” Lysanthia said. Her chin was raised, and her arms were folded. They had folded so quickly Ash had not seen the motion. “We have come for this Instrument class, as you call it.”

This only made the woman look more confused, not less. She stepped out of the almost circle and approached them. “This is Resonant Musical Instruments,” the woman said. “If you are here for Primal Tactics, that class ended half an hour ago.”

“I said we came here for this Instrument class,” Lysanthia said. “Is that not what this is?”

“Yes?” The woman looked from Lysanthia, to Ash, then back again. “Wait, are you two really here for-“

“We are,” Ash said. “If you’ll still have us. The schedule says this class has already been running for some time. Is it too late or….?”

“No, no!” The woman said hurriedly, already turning. “Please, join us. Come, come. Make room children. Make room for them.”

With the two of them, the almost complete circle became a full circle. Corin spoke up as soon as Ash had sat down. “I didn’t think I would see you two here,” He said. Then, he bowed. He bowed towards Ash first, and it was a low bow. He bowed towards Lysanthia second, and this time his face almost met the ground.

Lysanthia regarded the bow for a moment. “Raise your head,” she said. “I did not ask for bows, and do not need them. It is unbecoming of you.”

Corin raised his head. There was color in his cheeks, and his new Spark glowed a faint, steady green against his forearm.

Lysanthia’s jaw worked. Ash watched her wrestle with something, and watched the something win. “Are you… well?” The question sounded stiff.

Corin nodded. He nodded so quickly Ash worried for his neck. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Do not call me that either.” Lysanthia looked away. “It is unbecoming of you.” Ash bit down on her smile.

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“SISTER!”

The voice filled the room. Malachor had risen, or half of him had tried to, before the other half refused, leaving him in an awkward crouch that he committed to as though it had been intentional. His right head was grinning wide enough to show teeth. His left head was glaring.

“I have seen you before, Sister!” the right head boomed. “In the eastern corridor! You walked past us with all the bearing of a thundercloud! It is pleasing to see you again!”

“It is not that pleasing,” the left head said.

“It is immensely pleasing!” The right head said.

“She did not even greet us.”

“She is greeting us now! Look at her! She is practically overflowing with greeting!”

Lysanthia was not overflowing with anything, unless confusion counted. Ash watched her gaze move over the half-demon, over the four horns, the two heads, and finally the two Crests on his massive forearms. One was an orange shield. The other was…a yellow shield. Two Crests, and both of them were shields.

“I am Malachor,” the right head declared. “Of the Turndholde! You will not have heard of us, for we are not famous yet, but you will! And this-” he jerked a thumb at his own left head, “-is also Malachor, again of the Turnholde!”