Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

I n spite of his genuine curiosity about the parchment, Zev felt faintly cowardly as he entered the barn and saddled up his preferred mare. He could only hope it hadn't been too obvious to Azai that he had the secondary motive of avoiding being questioned by their father regarding matters of magic.

Azai wasn't the only one who'd been a little off in manner toward Zev since his return from Oleand. They didn't know the half of what had passed between him and Marieke, and it was still enough to make them edgy.

It all just reiterated Zev's opinion that his family's judgment of Marieke was unjust. He simply couldn't recapture the confidence he'd once felt in his father's wisdom—the same confidence that made Azai so sure that the older man would know how to handle this latest development.

By the time he rode out of the farm's gate, the parchment had a sizable head start, but Zev didn't doubt he could catch it. Sure enough, he was only halfway down the length of his property when he encountered it again, drifting along the boundary line. The way it moved was so unnatural, it sent an unpleasant ripple up the back of his neck. It reminded him of a puppet, jerking and jumping disjointedly as its strings were pulled. Except whoever was pulling those strings couldn't be seen.

Zev's thoughts flew to the member of the Aeltan Council of Singers whom he'd met when he'd accompanied Marieke to the capital, Tarandon. He'd been as insufferable and self-important as Zev had always imagined council members to be. It was easy to picture him smugly pulling on invisible strings, controlling the country as he liked.

Once the parchment reached the end of Zev's property, it picked up speed. It had apparently given up trying to enter their holdings, but it didn't continue on toward Sundering Canyon as Azai had predicted. Instead it turned west, heading toward the farm belonging to Ramsey's family.

Zev urged his horse onward, noting that the parchment slowed down again once it neared the boundary of Ramsey's property. It was as though it already knew where each farm began and ended, which was an unnerving amount of knowledge for an inanimate object. The parchment ignored the farm's gate, instead soaring up and over the small stand of spruce trees to one side of it. Unlike on Zev's farm, it had no problem clearing the trees. Zev had caught up enough to get a glimpse of the paper as it whooshed upward. There was definitely more writing on it than there had been when it had been tangled in the branches across from his own gate.

Frowning, Zev turned away, making for the gate rather than pushing his way through the trees like a common thief. He felt an obligation to let his neighbors know that an unknown magical object had entered their property.

It was no surprise when Ramsey strode across the yard, eyes bright at the sight of his visitor. Zev had assumed the cheerful, talkative farmer would be there. It was rare for anyone in the region to go far from home, which was why Ramsey had been so unashamedly eager to join the group traveling to Oleand a short time before.

"Zev!" The younger man waved a hand enthusiastically over his head. "What brings you here?"

"Hello Ramsey," said Zev, swinging down from his horse. "I'm not entirely sure how to answer."

Ramsey raised an eyebrow. "Being cryptic, Zev? Does that mean Marieke is here somewhere?" He did an exaggerated sweep of the area with his head before returning his gaze to Zev, a grin on his lips.

Zev grunted, unimpressed when Ramsey's smile widened. Of course Ramsey couldn't resist baiting him—Zev had no difficulty recognizing the veiled reference to Marieke's complaints that Zev spoke to her in riddles.

Ramsey's banter didn't bother him. What bothered him was the possibility of Ramsey seeing how affected he was by the mention of Marieke.

"I'm not being cryptic," he said. "I don't know how to tell you what brings me here because I can't identify the item in question."

Ramsey frowned. "What item?"

"Some kind of magical parchment," Zev said. "It came to my property, then I followed it here. I just watched it fly over your property line and onto your farm."

"Show me," said Ramsey, his brows still pulled together.

He glanced around, spotting another man walking across the yard and summoning him with a whistle.

"Look after Zevadiah's mare, would you?" He sent Zev a swift smile. "Harvest is so good this year, Father's hired some extra hands."

Zev relinquished his horse before striding toward the back of the stand of trees. It took only a minute to locate the parchment, which was speeding away toward a wheat field.

"What is that?" Ramsey demanded.

He sounded more intrigued than alarmed, his steps overtaking Zev's. When he reached the item, it was hovering over the crops, low enough to touch. Before Zev could discourage him, he'd reached out and snatched it from the air.

"Zev, look at this!" he called. "It's unbelievable!"

"I'm not sure you should be touching it," Zev said. "It's clearly magical."

Ramsey just laughed. "Trust you to be overly cautious, Zev. At least any time magic is involved. Look at it! It's recorded the size of this field. And look!" His voice grew in excitement as words continued to appear on the page apparently of their own accord. "It's calculating the likely yield! That could be handy."

Zev made a noise in the back of his throat. "I could tell you the likely yield without any magic involved."

"So could I, but this might save time," Ramsey said reasonably. His eyes were bright as he looked up at Zev. "This is incredible, isn't it? I've never seen anything like it." He scanned the page again, his head slowly shaking as he recognized details of their familiar region. His brow suddenly puckered, however. "Hold on, I thought you said it had been to your farm."

"That's right," said Zev cautiously.

"But there's nothing on here about your land," Ramsey said.

Zev cleared his throat. "It floated past on its way down the main track, but it didn't actually come onto our property."

"That's odd, isn't it?" Ramsey asked.

"Is it?" It wasn't hard for Zev to keep his expression neutral. He'd been keeping secrets all his life. Knowing that less was more in such situations, he didn't elaborate on his answer .

"Hm, looks like you're right," Ramsey said. "I shouldn't be touching this." In spite of his words, he didn't sound troubled. Zev followed his pointing finger to see a message written across the bottom of the parchment in bold letters.

Official survey of the Council of Singers. Please do not interfere with this item.

The warning was accompanied by an image of a budding tree in bronze and blue ink. It was the symbol of the Aeltan Council of Singers.

"So this really is a magical item," Ramsey mused. He frowned as he ran his thumb over the council symbol. "But I thought the knowledge of how to make talismans had been lost generations ago."

"So I understand," Zev said. "I don't think this is a talisman—I don't think magic is stored in it. It's probably a normal object being moved about by magic."

"You're probably right." Ramsey rubbed the back of his neck. "What do you think it means by an official survey?"

"They're obviously taking stock of the land," Zev said. "For what purpose, I don't know." He felt his brow furrow. "I'd like to find out, though." He jerked his head toward the parchment Ramsey still held. "Let go of it and let's see where it's headed."

After one last look, Ramsey complied. They watched as the parchment fluttered over the wheat field before circling back toward the farmhouse.

"Come on." Zev was already on his way back to the yard, ready to reclaim his mare. "You coming?"

"Of course. "

There was a spring in Ramsey's step as he came alongside, obviously glad of any excuse to postpone his usual chores. He certainly didn't seem to share Zev's concern as to the intention of whoever had sent out this survey.

They were saddled up in no time, and able to follow the parchment as it completed its final circuit of the property and soared back over the boundary. To Zev's relief, it followed the road for some time, providing an easy route for their horses. When it did eventually turn and head across the grassy hills, they urged their mounts after it.

"This is the most exciting thing that's happened since our Oleand trip," said Ramsey with his signature grin.

Zev cast a pointed look around the quiet hills, bathed in sunlight. A light breeze was rippling the grass, and in the distance a flock of birds could be heard cawing as they took off from a stand of pines. Closer at hand, the slow flight of a passing honeybee was the only movement—barring the parchment.

"Would you call this exciting?"

"I would," Ramsey said staunchly. "It's like a chase. Especially now that our quarry seems to be in a rush."

Sure enough, the parchment had stopped wafting back and forth. It was moving forward steadily, a constant and targeted breeze urging it onward in a southwesterly direction. Zev had a feeling it was heading back to some kind of base, and he wanted to be on its metaphorical heels when it arrived.

They followed it for almost two hours before it finally reached its destination. By that time it had cleared the ring of low hills that surrounded the region. The plain area beyond sat between the rich farmland of Zev's home and the capital city of Tarandon, further to the southwest. It was a familiar area, and the presence of several large tents therefore stood out starkly .

"What's that?" Ramsey interrupted his own chatter to point to the tents.

"I think that's its base," Zev said.

As if in confirmation, the parchment sped forward and disappeared into one of the tents. Zev pulled his horse up a safe distance away, frowning as he scanned the set up. A few people were coming and going between the tents in a leisurely way. A second look showed Zev that each tent sported a banner with the symbol of the Council of Singers.

"Let's go." Ramsey seemed excited, but Zev put out a hand to stop his friend.

"Hold on. It might not be wise to show ourselves."

Ramsey just laughed. "It's an official group from the council, Zev, not a bunch of traveling bandits. What are you afraid of?"

He spurred his horse across the grass, Zev following with a sigh. He dismounted near the entrance to the tent where the parchment had disappeared. To his surprise, no one appeared to challenge their entrance. To his even greater surprise, when he tried to stride into the tent, he found himself bouncing backward as if he'd run into an invisible wall.

"Magically protected from intruders," Ramsey commented cheerfully. "That's proof these people are singers, in case the council symbols weren't enough." He eyed Zev sideways. "Oh, is that why you're reluctant to approach? You don't like singers, do you? Well…" His annoying grin was back. "With one exception."

"Of course that's not why," said Zev shortly. "I'm not reluctant."

It wasn't entirely true, but he tried to convince himself it was. Turning away from Ramsey, he raised his voice.

"Hello in there? "

After a moment, a stranger popped his head out of the tent, eyeing the two of them. "Can I help you?"

"Hopefully," said Ramsey before Zev could speak. "We followed that flying parchment here. We want to know what it is."

The man sighed, clearly irked at being interrupted from whatever essentially important work he was doing for the council.

"It's the surveyor." He took in Zev's posture, arms folded. "And you two had better not have interfered with it."

"We didn't," Ramsey assured him, his compliance only making Zev feel more mutinous.

"Although we could argue our right to do so if it enters our land without authorization or even notice," Zev said. Judging by the way the council worker's eyes narrowed, his mild tone wasn't fooling anyone.

"The Council of Singers has authority over all land in Aeltas," the man said crisply, blissfully unaware that his choice of words had his listener bristling. "The surveyor was sent under the council's express instruction and is fully within its jurisdiction to enter farms in this region."

"But what is the surveyor?" Ramsey asked.

The man's eyes flicked to the younger farmer, and his posture relaxed. "It's a document assessing and recording the state of the farms around this region."

"Recording what about them?" Zev pressed. "And why this region?"

"Their capacity, health, and yield." The man was growing visibly more impatient. "It's not just this region. We were instructed to start with this area, but we'll be undertaking a survey of the whole country."

"Is this because of that Oleandan delegation?" Ramsey asked, surprising Zev with the astute question .

The council worker also seemed surprised. "You've heard about the delegation, have you?"

"Of course we have." Ramsey laughed, glancing at Zev. "In fact, Zev here—"

"I heard all about it, too." Zev cut Ramsey off before he could describe Zev's involvement with the delegation. He'd drawn far too much attention to himself at the time, no need to repeat his errors. "Everyone was talking about it. Word is they were trying to find out if our land is failing like theirs, and if not, why not."

"That's about the sum of it," the council worker said, nodding in reluctant acknowledgment of Zev's accuracy, while Ramsey gave him an odd look.

"So your survey is trying to ascertain the same thing?" Zev pressed. His thoughts were tense underneath his impassive expression. This type of enquiry was precisely what his family had been afraid of when they learned the purpose of Marieke's delegation.

"We have no need to ascertain that our land isn't failing." A hint of stiffness had entered the stranger's voice. "Aeltas continues to thrive as it always has under the leadership of our council."

Zev ignored this propaganda, returning to an earlier comment that had troubled him. "Why were you instructed to start in this region?"

"No idea." The singer spoke with a tone of finality, clearly ready to end the conversation. "That's not my decision. But it was a very clear directive. We were to start a dozen leagues northeast of the capital, just south of Sundering Canyon."

"Well, it is Aeltas's most fertile region," Ramsey said, sounding smug.

The council worker just shrugged, both of them oblivious to the alarm racing over Zev. The man's description of the region precisely matched what he'd been obliged to tell the council member he'd met in the capital, when he was there with Marieke. The council member had been very interested when he'd heard where Zev was from. He'd called the region one of the country's crowning jewels. It had made Zev uneasy at the time to have his home recognized and singled out, but he'd told himself he was being overly cautious. Now all his misgivings came rushing back. Could this all be happening because of him?

"So our hard work and success is being punished by the council sending magic into our homes to spy on us without permission?" he challenged, his disgruntlement rising with his guilt.

"It's hardly a punishment," the man said, also irked. "And no one is being spied on. The surveyor merely gathers basic information about the land."

"Land that belongs to us," Zev said. "At least when the census happened, a real human knocked on our door, and didn't try to hide what they were doing."

The man eyed him with disfavor. "And a great deal of manpower it required. You should be glad that resources are being conserved thanks to the recent developments in communication songcraft—the enchantments on the survey parchment are newly designed. Now we don't have to send hundreds of singers all over the country to knock on doors."

"That's handy," said Ramsey, obviously feeling none of Zev's offense. "Much easier."

Contrarily, the singer didn't seem any more pleased with the praise than he had been with the criticism. "I wouldn't say easy," he sniffed. "It took a great volume of magic, and considerable finesse. The technique was only developed because there's been so much focus on the area of long-distance communication since the bridge was closed. "

"How fortuitous," said Zev dryly.

"Yes, isn't it!" Ramsey had apparently missed his tone. "Does that mean parchments like that can be used to communicate with people in Oleand? Like a postal service that crosses the canyon using magic?"

"That's the eventual plan," said the stranger. "A formalized system is being developed. It will be much more efficient than going around by sea."

Not to mention your council won't want more people than necessary to explore Port Taran. Zev didn't speak the thought aloud. It would make no sense to either of his companions. Even the council representative probably didn't know the secrets hidden in the port city from which the long-dead royals had once attempted to flee the continent. But an astute person could find them. Especially an astute singer like Marieke. Given how determinedly the council taught an entirely different version of history, Zev could understand why it had been a priority to them to find a means of communication that would minimize traffic through the abandoned port city.

"We should go," Zev said abruptly, the words directed at Ramsey. He inclined his head stiffly to the council worker. "Thank you for your time."

The man gave an equally unenthusiastic nod before disappearing back inside the tent.

"That was bordering on rude, Zev," Ramsey said as they remounted their horses. His habitual cheerful tone robbed the words of reproach. "You really shouldn't judge someone just for being a singer."

"I don't," said Zev, directing his mare northeast. "I don't have a problem with singers."

He spurred his horse faster, not interested in exploring the topic. He had enough on his mind figuring out how he would break the news of this latest development to his family .

One thing was for certain—they weren't going to be happy. And they would surely realize, as he'd done, that it was likely his initial assistance to Marieke that had instigated all of what was happening.

He had some uncomfortable conversations ahead.