Chapter 25 #2
The three women began to sing and spin. Cadenza closed her eyes to listen.
The song moved with an easy, graceful rhythm that matched the tempo of their feet on the pedals.
She pumped her pedal in time with the other spinners, focusing on the beat of it underneath the airy accompaniment of the turning wheel.
Eyes squeezed shut, she fed thin pieces of fleece into the yarn.
The pedal worked, steady as a metronome. Steady as a heartbeat.
The ground hummed. The guitar wind slammed into her chest again, crowding her throat. Demanding release.
The pedal rhythm for spinning. Taran’s heartbeat for his drumsong. The earthsong had to have a center. Something for her to anchor to.
Cadenza pushed through the song assaulting her. There had always been so much of it, she’d never had to dig for the music. The Ferrari had been a rare exception. She swam through the earthsong now, cutting through the upper layers.
A thrum lower than the usual bass of the earth reverberated through her bones. It boomed, deep and hot, like the molten heart of a sleeping behemoth, but slowly, unhurried, its fire banked rather than blazing.
Cadenza dove into the slow-moving lava of the earth’s heartbeat, its fire warming her, and set her anchor, just as she had done with Taran.
She wound her voice around the tune of the spinning women and released the music a few strands at a time—a nice, steady rate.
Holding onto the feeling, she opened her eyes. A glint of silver shimmered in the air near her. A thin line of Thread materialized, looping itself into a neat pile that floated near her hands as she sang.
As she Spun.
A grin stretched her cheeks as the women ended their song. She’d done it.
“Oh, that’s much better, well done.” Elspeth clapped her hands and showed Cadenza the smooth thread she’d spun on the wheel. Cadenza swept the Thread she’d Spun from earthsong into her hand. Neither Elspeth nor her friends gave any sign they could see the music-made Thread.
Cadenza thanked them all. “I can’t tell you how helpful this was.”
“Of course, think nothing of it. Good luck with your spinning in the future.” A sly smile stole over Elspeth’s face. “And give my regards to Drostan when you see him.”
Cadenza laughed. “I will.”
A family came to investigate the demos, and she left the group to their teaching. Iridescent colors shone from the Thread wrapped around her fingers and she marveled at it, wandering back through the crowd in the tent. Peace glowed in her heart, the despair of last night ebbing away.
A thought occurred to her. Yes, she’d done it. She’d Spun Thread. But what did she do with it now?
Something tugged on her. Her stomach lurched, like when she’d jumped up and down in a moving elevator as a kid.
The air next to her hand brightened to a swirling point of light.
The Thread hummed, pulling towards the point.
She didn’t need Drostan there to tell her what it was.
This was how Thread reached the Fates, to be woven into the tapestry of someone’s destiny.
The portal would appear whenever she had Spun and asked it to appear.
All she had to do was send the Thread through the point of light.
She cast a furtive glance around the tent. No one else reacted to the light. They couldn’t see it.
A couple pushed a stroller with a girl, maybe two years old, into the tent. Her father tried to hand her a snack, but she batted it away and twisted in her seat, reaching for the diaper bag hanging over the stroller handle.
“She doesn’t like those anymore,” the mother said, pulling out a different bag of crackers. “She wants these now.”
The Thread yearned towards the portal, dragging on her arm, but Cadenza resisted, watching the toddler insist on her preference of snack.
Such a tiny choice. Inconsequential. But her preferences would not always be inconsequential.
That child had years in front of her. Cadenza studied the shimmering strands around her hand.
Would the Fates use this Thread to push that little girl, or one like her, into a life she didn’t want?
All the grief from her lost choices and her lost friend returned, swamping her as strongly as the earthsong ever had. Canon’s words haunted her again.
I’ll never be enough.
Anger blazed through her at the idea of someone being destined to feel so inadequate. Her pulse pounded, and she squeezed the Thread so hard her fist shook.
How dare they? How dare they weave such a destiny?
And they expected her to be a part of that? She had to clench her jaw shut to keep from shrieking in the middle of the crowd. She wanted to scream until her voice shattered forever.
How’d that be for your little plan, Fates? I kill my voice, and you get no Thread from me.
Cadenza yanked her hand away from the portal. She thought of songs petering out, unfinished, and of strings unraveling. The Thread trembled and dissolved before her eyes. A faint melody swirled around her and drifted off on the breeze.
She lifted her chin in defiance.
Cold trickled down her arms, and the feeling of vindication faded.
She shoved her hands in her pocket, shivering.
The fraying strip of fabric from the oracle met her fingertips.
A hot lump lodged in her throat. She’d managed to Spin but couldn’t bring herself to let the Thread be used.
And she had no clue what this stupid scrap of cloth had to do with breaking Taran’s curse.
She shouldered through the crowd and out of the tent, her peace unraveled with the Thread.
The space under the tree was mercifully unoccupied. The southern end of the field had fewer tents, instead hosting a small sheepdog demonstration. Cadenza sank onto the dry grass, not bothering about the tears cascading down her cheeks.
The earthsong was quiet. Spinning fulfilled the need to use it, at least for a while.
Now that she’d figured out how to anchor to the earth, she could Spin whenever the music grew too insistent.
No more worrying about blowing things up or hurting someone.
She pulled the oracle cloth from her pocket.
The curse was the only obstacle between her and Taran leaving and finding their own Somewhere Else.
Of course, the Silence was still out there.
She shuddered and threw a look over her shoulder as if Canon’s former mentor might be standing there.
Vasilios knew where she and the Norroways were, so why hadn’t he tried anything yet?
What was he waiting for? Canon’s promise when Drostan had told him to help them echoed through her.
Always.
Perhaps Canon had set something in motion to keep the Silence at bay for a few more days?
Even so, she doubted the Silence would be satisfied with just knowing she had no intention of sending Thread to the Fates.
They’d keep trying to kill her. But Drostan didn’t want her involved with the Fates anyway, so even if she rejected that life she could count on his help.
And Taran. Well, Taran might not think she had a choice in whether or not to work for the Fates, but he wouldn’t allow the Silence to hurt her either way.
Yes. All they needed was to break Taran’s curse and they could run.
Find somewhere safe to lay low, live quietly.
That meant no stage career for her, but she didn’t care anymore.
That had been her mother’s choice for her, and the compulsion to prove herself to her mother had vanished.
Unraveled and floated away on the breeze like her Thread.
She rubbed the fabric. The curse was the last obstacle.
Maledetto pezzetto di stoffaccia, she cursed it in Italian.
“Oh, hello again.” Elspeth stood over her, holding a Styrofoam container from the food trucks. “Do you mind if I join you? I prefer eating my lunch away from the bustle of the festival. I love teaching, but a small break is in order.” She smiled.
“Of course.” Cadenza ducked her head to scrub the tears from her face, but Elspeth didn’t seem to notice.
“They must have dropped that one,” Elspeth said.
“Pardon?”
“That handfasting ribbon.” She pointed to the cloth in Cadenza’s hand. “Looks like it’s been fairly ground up underfoot, doesn’t it? Did you pick it up by the booth?”
“Handfasting ribbon?” Cadenza asked slowly. “This is just a ratty scrap of fabric.” Wasn’t it?
Elspeth patted her hand. “Don’t worry about the shape it’s in. I’m sure it’ll bring you and whoever your young man is together, just the same.”
Cadenza’s heart pounded, breath coming fast. She laid the cloth across her wrist, imagining Taran’s hand under hers.
“Let’s hope so,” she whispered.
Taran lurched forward and caught himself with one hand on the garage’s cement floor. The night air flooded his lungs like a breached airlock. He gulped it in, willing the rusty ache out of his joints.
That transition always hurt.
But Cadenza was there waiting for him. She barreled into him, squeezing herself against his chest. He squeezed back, nuzzling her hair. The first stars of the evening glittered out the open garage door, their soft light caressing her face when she flashed a smile up at him.
Worth the hurt. Always.
She stretched up on tiptoes to kiss him. “I have a surprise for you.”
“That sounds intriguing,” he said. Fates knew he could use something cheery after last night.
“I figured it out! What the oracle’s answer means.”
He froze. “You did?”
She bounced on the balls of feet, grinning, but a tang cut through her usual caramel scent. She was nervous. Caution muted his reaction. Why would the answer make her nervous?
“I did.” She took his hands. Taran waited, but she didn’t elaborate.
“Well, then,” he teased. “I’ll have to think of something interesting to do until you’re ready to tell me.
” He swept her up in his arms, a low growl in his throat.
His teeth found the soft place below her ear, but she caught his face in her hands to look him in the eye. Her fingers trembled against his skin.
“Marry me.”