SONG OF THE STARS

by RS Mason

We'd been spying on the woman who called herself Azura for years before we made our move. She'd first caught the eye of Tristana, our captain, when our spies kept connecting her to strange events throughout the region. Then, when we started looking into it, mentions of her kept appearing in old books, too--or at least, Tristana seemed to think they were about her. I had my doubts. She was a powerful wizard in all the stories, but from observing her, I saw no evidence that she was any more than a con artist who'd dabbled in mysticism at some point. I mentioned this theory to Tristana, that this woman was almost certainly just a con artist who was pretending to be this obscure mythical figure, but she didn't comment. Tristana never let anyone know what she was thinking. Instead she sent of us to kidnap Azura: myself, and a man called Thorne, a former smuggler she'd saved from the gallows. He'd proven a mostly loyal companion since then, but I suppose he didn't have much of a choice. Once you're called to the Black Choir, there's no turning back.

Thorne was a clever man, but he didn't like letting that on, even to his comrades. He had a spy network that rivaled any in the colonies, and somehow managed to keep in communication with them without ever letting any of us know how. Whenever confronted with evidence, he just played the swaggering fool, all bluster and bravado with no real thought behind it. So it would be up to me to come up with a plan, and while I was quite good at plans, I was quite bad at acting, and Thorne would likely have refused even if he were suitable for the part.

A common mistake when making plans of this nature is to overthink it, and then to overcomplicate it. Complicated plans are seldom an improvement over simple plans. Instead, you need smart plans. For instance: we knew where Azura was staying, so I waited for her in the common room while Thorne waited upstairs. We knew the names and signets of several of her known associates, so we were able to forge a letter that would look like it had come from one of them. And we knew that she had a brother who was also somewhere in the region, so we made the assumption that she would be interested in news concerning him.

She came downstairs, and she looked exactly as I'd pictured, with her knowing smile and her bright blue eyes and her flowing dark hair. I wondered if appearing exactly someone expects her to was something she'd picked up in her study of mysticism, but quickly dismissed the possibility. Either she possessed a power I had never heard of, which was unlikely, or it was simply my imagination playing tricks on me. In my experience, it was always safe to assume that your perceptions were wrong, and seldom safe to assume that some mysterious power was at work.

I stood up and approached her. "Are you Azura?"

She smiled at me with amusement in her eyes. "I suppose I must be. Who are you?"

"My name is Charlotte. I have a letter for you." I showed her the scroll, and carefully watched her reaction. Her smile seemed to flicker, briefly, as she noted the seal we had used. For the briefest moment she looked puzzled, or alarmed. Then the smile returned as if nothing had happened. I continued, "I believe it concerns your brother."

Her smile flickered again, and this time she was definitely alarmed. But she once again composed herself and said, "I suppose I'd better read it, then. May I see it?"

"The sender would like me to make sure you read it in private," I said. "I don't know if a response is required, but I'm willing to take a return message if you wish."

"I suppose I can retire to my room once more," she said. "But first I intend to eat breakfast. You are welcome to keep me company if you like. Perhaps you can tell me some tales from the road."

I had not prepared any suitable stories, but thankfully it turned out to be unnecessary. She seemed content to eat in silence, only occasionally filling it with a question or a wry remark. Once she had finished, she rose and said, "Well, I suppose I'd better see what this mysterious letter is all about." She took a few steps and, when I made no move to follow, said, "Aren't you coming?"

I followed a few paces behind. She opened the door to her room and stepped inside to find Thorne aiming a pistol at her. I quietly put a knife to her back. "I apologize for the deception, ma'am," I told her. "But my employer left very specific instructions. You are to come with us."

"Your employer?"

"The Black Choir," said Thorne. He relished dramatic revelations like this, and seemed disappointed when our mark did not react. "You've really not heard of us?"

"Oh, I have. Choristers looking for a new song, is it? Believe me, I'm quite intrigued," she said. "This is the only thing that is keeping you alive."

I looked around her room. "We will arrange to have your belongings transferred to your new lodgings. The Black Choir has come into possession of a text we believe you will be able to translate."

"How delightfully mysterious."

"We will need to have you bound and gagged in the event you try to make noise while we plan our escape. Please step inside."

"How can I refuse such a generous offer?"

She stepped inside and did not resist as I bound her hands and gagged her, and as we sat and whiled away the daylight hours she seemed content to sit and watch us carefully. Thorne tried to get me to let her eat or drink at mealtimes, but I reminded him sternly that if she was allowed to make any noise the entire operation would be in jeopardy. So he remained in a sullen silence for the bulk of the evening.

When it was finally dark, we sneaked her out of the window and marched her along the road until we were well out of the town. There, we made camp, and since we weren't traveling I removed her blindfold. She refused food and drink when offered, and didn't bother sleeping, either. She simply sat awake and watched us--or rather, watched me. The amused light was gone from her eyes now, replaced with a cold hatred. If either of us fell asleep for a moment, I knew, she'd probably try to kill us both.

Thorne took the first watch, and as I was settling in to sleep, I saw him remove our prisoner's gag. "Sorry about Charlotte," he was saying.

"It's fine. I know her type."

"Cold as a fish and less pleasant to talk to?"

"I prefer to think of her as the walking dead. By which I mean I intend to strangle the life from her with my bare hands." I could feel her gaze on me, and suppressed a shiver. "That is her type," she said. "People whose days are numbered."

Thorne chuckled. "I'd say she's not so bad once you get to know her, but I met her under better circumstances."

"Yes, first impressions certainly make a difference."

Thorne was reliably the first person to question the ethics of our actions, which meant he was unreliable in situations like this. This meant I'd have to stay awake through his watch, too. This was going to be a long night.

They mostly chatted idly throughout Thorne's watch. He told stories of his exploits in his usual grandiose style, while she occasionally offered a story herself. Occasionally he'd ask her if she would eat something, and inevitably she would refuse. She did accept a drink of water a few minutes before Thorne "woke me up" for my own watch.

She continued to sit and glare at me for a long while, only breaking her silence once to say, "I wasn't joking, you know."

"About what?"

"One day, I will wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze until the light goes out of your eyes. This I swear. I swear it by the stars, I swear it by the wind, I swear it by the rhythm of the tide. I swear it by my power and my sight and my tongue: one day you will die by my hand." I tried to ignore her, but the intensity of her gaze made me uneasy. Eventually I put the blindfold back on, but even that didn't seem to help. So I stared out into the forest and tried to focus on other things.

I must have drifted off, because I awoke to Thorne kicking me gently in the back with his boot. "So much for keeping vigilant," he said as I opened my eyes.

"I had to make sure you weren't fraternizing with the prisoner."

"Aye, well, once you nodded off we spent all night fraternizing. I'm actually sore from all the fraternizing we got up to." He sat down opposite me. "While you were having your nap, I got ready to go. We're just waiting on you."

I nodded and hurriedly put my boots back on and packed up my things. I could forego breakfast, I decided, if it meant we could hurry on our journey. If we made good time we could get there before sunset, and I intended to do everything I could to make that happen. Our prisoner, in contrast, seemed about ready to collapse. She swayed a little as Thorne helped her to her feet, and her hands were shaking.

"I told Tristana we would be back by sunset," I told Thorne. "If she wishes to starve herself, that is her prerogative, but I will not see it delay our mission. Carry her if necessary."

It was slow going, even so. Even leaning heavily on Thorne, she was unsteady enough that I allowed her to remove her blindfold, and even then she seemed to stumble over every rock and branch in the road. Her threats from the night before seemed hollow now: she was barely even able to walk after a day without food. How could I imagine her as an actual threat?

We managed to reach our destination about an hour past sunset. The Black Choir had a number of cabins scattered throughout the colony. This one, at least, was maintained by a hunter who thought his patron was an eccentric landowner from the mainland. He received a generous stipend and the use of the cabin, so long as he agreed to vacate whenever his patron came near. As soon as we'd learned Azura would be nearby, we'd sent a runner to inform him.

And sure enough, the cabin was devoid of occupants and ready for use. He'd laid out firewood and and some food that travels well: dried meats, hard bread, some apples. I made a note to thank him for his generosity, then blindfolded our prisoner once again as I went searching for the hidden door to the cellar--it looked like the hunter probably hadn't found it yet. But it opened at my touch, and at my insistence Thorne carried the prisoner down. The cellar was not particularly large, but it was large enough to house Azura fairly comfortably--the rest of us could stay in the cabin.

Tristana was waiting for us in the cellar. She was seated at a desk, poring over an ancient tome by the harsh light of some alchemical lantern. She looked up at our arrival, her eyes fixed on the prisoner. "Is she ill?"

"She has refused all offers of food since we captured her, ma'am," I said. "But it's only been--"

"Thorne, fetch her some bread." He nodded and hurried upstairs. Tristana fixed me with a level stare. "She has not wronged us in any way, Charlotte. There's no call to mistreat her merely because we require her services."

"I apologize if I have erred, ma'am."

"It's quite all right, Charlotte. You were only striving for efficiency." Tristana smiled thinly. "Now, put these shackles on her and take off those bindings."

I obeyed. The shackles in question were made of iron, and left her freedom enough to use her hands and walk around without too much impediment, but an additional chain ensured she couldn't walk much further to the desk. Once I'd finished putting the shackles on, Tristana stood, and roughly forced the prisoner into the seat she had until recently been occupying.

Azura blinked as her eyes adjusted to the new, harsh light, then glared at both of us. "Is this how you make all of your job offers?"

"I've been studying your case for some time now. You would not have wished to be shackled to a desk for the time required to finish these translations."

"Your word choice is not improving my mood."

"I did not choose them with the intent of improving your mood." Tristana loomed over the desk and tapped on the book. "You will be here until your work is completed. We will not ill-treat you, but this room is all you will see until you have finished translating this text."

"You seem quite confident I can speak ancient, forgotten languages." Azura opened the book and thumbed through it. "Anyway, this light is awful for reading."

"We can provide better ones. The intention is not to torture you." Tristana paused. "At least, not unless you refuse to cooperate." She began to pace. "I have taken steps to ensure that you are unable to use any of your tricks to escape. I won't explain the exact details, of course, but you may rest assured that you are completely under my power." She leaned in close and took Azura by the chin. "You are an instrument of my will now. Nothing more."

She stood and strode up the stairs, gesturing for me to follow. She met Thorne at the top of the stairs. "Leave the bread on the desk and come back up here," she instructed. "I want to leave her to stew on that for a while." He nodded, his expression dark. A moment later the three of us were alone in the cabin, and Tristana brought us up to speed.

Azura was to be thrice-bound. First, her chains and the door were wrought from thunderbolt iron, and the walls and ceiling were lined with it. This was a standard, if expensive, precaution against the occult--thunderbolt iron was known to block magical energies. This is probably why iron sees widespread use in folklore as a protection against witches, fey creatures, and evil magic, though of course most of the time it's completely useless. Second, she was being kept in a lightless room underground, thus severing her connection to the stars. She seemed to favor astrology, from what we had been able to gather, and if she had some stronger connection to them, it should not be able to penetrate into her prison. Finally, Tristana had spent a quantity of money that far exceeded what I considered wise to have robes crafted woven with orichalcum.

Orichalcum was a strange metal, and difficult to study, primarily because it was incredibly rare. I'd once heard it speculated that a sword forged of orichalcum would be worth more than all the gold ever mined. It would have made a poor sword, of course, as it was soft and malleable and melted on a hot day. But it had a number of interesting properties that made alchemists excited to work with it, not least of which was this: no known magic seemed to work in its presence. While thunderbolt iron only served as a barrier, orichalcum seemed to drain the energy from the surrounding area. Wearing it as a robe--I could only imagine what that would be like if she was as powerful as Tristana believed.

I took the robe down to Azura, and was surprised that she did not resist when I told her she was to wear it. The fight seemed to have gone out of her altogether, and now she was a woman defeated. There was no fire in her eyes now. Instead she just looked sad. So I watched her put on a robe that had probably cost enough money to buy the entirety of the Markham colony, and wondered if she even noticed or cared. It shimmered silver and blue in the harsh light of the lanterns, and for the briefest of moments, she looked every bit the wizard she'd been pretending to be. It was ironic, really, that the very robe that would rob her of her power would be the one that seemed to transform her so.

I checked on her progress often in the following weeks. Thorne took her food and drink, and Tristana seemed to prefer to leave her in isolation, but I was curious. As the days progressed, she began to look increasingly thin and drawn. Dark circles developed under her eyes. She ate less and less and never bothered looking up from her task. But she seemed to be making progress, and that made Tristana happy, and that was all that really mattered.

Then, abruptly, late one night she said she had finished. She said it so quietly I almost didn't hear her. I'd expected some sort of elation from her, or some sign that she cared. Instead she simply stared at the desk with vacant eyes. "It's finished," she repeated. "Send for your master."

Tristana came down a few moments later and took both books--the original and the translation--into her hands, brushing her hands across their covers carefully. "If you are truly finished, you have done a great service to this world," she said.

"Then will you let me go?" Azura raised pleading eyes to us.

"I have to make sure this is genuine, first. Charlotte, come."

We returned to the cabin and began to read. Or rather, Tristana began to read. Thorne announced that he was feeling restless and went out to take a walk, which was probably not surprising. He was a wanderer at heart. So I sat and watched Tristana read. At first she looked puzzled, then concerned, then annoyed, then furious. "What's the matter?" I asked.

She thrust the books into my hands and stormed into the cellar. I began to read. It was a collection of the stories Thorne was fond of telling of his exploits as a smuggler. Or at least, mostly. The final chapter bore the title "Thorne and the Song of Starlight." The opening sentence read: "One day, Thorne met a powerful wizard called Azura." This seemed an ill portent, so I read onward. "In those days Thorne was travelling with the wicked Black Choristers," she wrote, "whose foul deeds know no bounds. He had been pressed into their service, as all Choristers are, but unlike the rest, he hoped that through his renowned bravery and the strength of his spirit he could teach them a new song, a song of peace and harmony.

"The Choristers wanted to capture Azura and use her magic for their own evil purposes, and they thought themselves clever when they ambushed her as she was eating breakfast. Thorne warned her that the Choristers intended to use her to do terrible, evil things, and hoped that she would fight them off or escape. Instead she allowed herself to be captured and was taken back to their lair, where the Choristers bound her using all of the secrets their foul-smelling mystic knew: with thunderbolt iron and orichalcum, in a room where no starlight could reach. 'Surely,' said the Choristers to themselves, 'even the very greatest of our mystics could not escape the bonds we have created for Azura.' And so they believed that she would be compelled to serve their purposes.

"So it was that Thorne visited Azura and told her that her bonds were inescapable, and he offered to kill his comrades in order to prevent the great evil they were doing. But Azura laughed, and said, 'I am no mewling kitten like your mystic, to be poisoned by chocolate robes. Nor am I so feeble as to be caged by brittle iron.'

"'But your power is the power of the stars,' said Thorne, despairing, 'and you are cut off from them.'

"Then Azura told him to look into her eyes. When he did, he saw the fire of a thousand constellations burning. 'I carry the song of starlight within me,' she said, 'and no darkness can ever extinguish that flame.'"

Filled with the conviction that Tristana had just walked into a trap, I dropped both books and ran after her. I found her standing over Azura, who was sprawled across the floor, raising her arms as if trying to shield off a blow.

"I would cut off both your hands if I didn't need them for my work," Tristana hissed. "Instead I will simply make sure your every waking moment is agony."

Abruptly, the cowering, defeated Azura was gone, replaced with a regal figure who seemed to radiate power. There was a terrifying light in her eyes. "You have breathed your last threat, Chorister," she said, her voice strangely resonant. "You thought you could bind me?" The chains fell from her wrists and ankles, and she stretched her hands luxuriously. "You thought you understood my power?" Her orichalcum robe glowed and shifted as if at her command, seemingly draining the light from the alchemical lamps that lit the room. "You thought you could deny me the stars?" She raised one hand to the sky and made a fist. A brilliant lance of starlight burned a great hole in the ceiling.

Tristana, ever fearless, drew her saber and strode forward. "I will cut you down, witch." She slashed at Azura. There was a blinding flash as the blade hit the robes, and the blade shattered. Tristana staggered back and fell to the floor, astounded. Azura now stood over her, smiling a cruel smile. "Now, what shall I do with you?"

"Stay back, witch!"

"Now, now. There's no need to be afraid. All is forgiven." She leaned down close and kissed Tristana on the forehead. "I will teach you a new song." Tristana screamed, and after a few moments, fell unconscious.

Azura strode towards me, and as she did, she seemed to diminish. Once again she was just a skinny woman with a knowing smile, where a few moments before she had been the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. The change was so striking, so sudden, I almost let myself believe that she'd done it all with smoke and mirrors. "You might want to get her out of here," she said. "She'll need looking after."

"What did you do to her?"

"I taught her the song of the stars. I'm afraid it might have shattered her mind." She brushed my cheek with her hand. "I haven't forgotten my promise, by the way. You will die by my hand. It might be tomorrow. It might be twenty years from now. But not today. I want you to learn fear first." She turned and strode up the stairs. "Be grateful you are being spared your master's fate."

I brought Tristana upstairs. Thorne was nowhere to be seen--no doubt he'd been warned, if he wasn't her accomplice in all this--and Azura had taken the books with her. So all I had was some traveling food and a woman who, when she came to several hours later, was terrified and incoherent, humming a strange atonal song and staring at things only she could see. And I suppose I had the certainty that if I didn't hide, I would be killed.

Tristana followed where I led, even if her mind was lost in another world altogether. So I packed up and I started walking. I followed the road east, until it crossed the mountains and lost itself in the woods, meandering along game trails no man had ever seen. Perhaps she wouldn't find me there. Perhaps there we could be safe.