6: Music and Sadness

The more Alexandrie thought about Sky Anvil Mountain and the strange child placidly holding her hand, the more confused she became. Why or how she was being searched for, even down here, underground -

And why send a child? Why send anyone? It had been three days. Three hellish days. The first she hadn’t slept, the second, with all the hiking and climbing, she had simply lost consciousness when they stopped. The third, wrapped in warm blankets with a town outside, she couldn’t. Towns were beginning to make Alexa uneasy. They had been found and attacked in towns. Genofeva seemingly tracked her through cities - or there were people who could find them there. Whoever that elf with the storm portal had been, he’d managed to find them at the inn - had known they would pass through, perhaps. Were they related? Was Lucas with Genofeva now?

Soft beds, light, walls and doors. She used to think they made her feel safe, but…but it had been Chevalier in the room…Chevalier nearby who had done that. And he wasn’t here. He wasn’t here and he wouldn’t be he could never be because he was gone

He was gone.

He was gone and she was far from a home she couldn’t return to because there was something she had to do.

And to do it she had to live. 

To live she had to sleep.

Sleep.

She’d squeezed her eyes shut, one arm cradling Chevalier’s Soul, the other resting near the hand crossbow on the bed beside her. The murmur of life outside invaded her consciousness, the husky timbre of otherness. She dozed, but it was fitful. She had no sense of time passing down here, and despite being told to go to sleep she didn’t know when she was expected to wake.

So when Shi had knocked on the door, Alexa had been looking at it. When they’d gone to the archive, it had been out of a need to think about something else - but Shi was preoccupied with the strange minutiae of Alexa’s life. Not magic books that could teach Alexandrie something of what she could do, but magic books that told them about the dangers, the concerns, the consequences Alexandrie could face if she failed in what she attempted - in other words, the opposite of a distraction.

When she was young, she’d been so frustrated with Grandmère for not telling her more about Sky Anvil Mountain. She’d pleaded and begged and thought Grandmère was trying to be mysterious. She’d even thought to ask when La Chanson began to curl its way through her mind - but had been distracted by something and had forgotten. Zut. Why did Shi need to know everything? Why did everyone ask her about La Chanson’s intentions? Eventually everyone did…did they ask as much about their gods? Did they ask whether the magic they harnessed was being given by an entity they did not and could not know they could trust?

Was Grandmère’s inability to tell Alexandrie about the interior of the mountain a joke? It had hurt Grandmère. She had tried to tell Alexa what was there even before Alexa had heard La Chanson and hadn’t been able to. Had Grandmère known Alexandrie would eventually follow that same path? Could she talk about it with anyone else? Had Chevalier known? Would she have warned Alexa or told her not to go if she could have? How widespread was…whatever it was stopping her from talking? Was there any guarantee it was La Chanson? Would Alexa have to go into the mountain alone? Could she? How long for? What was so important Grandmère couldn’t be allowed to tell her? What was so important she couldn’t be told, even as a child, in case it compromised future attempts? What was so important it was worth hurting Grandmère for?

Was La Chanson good?

For all that she had been asked that question, her answer had always been yes, it was good. She believed it was good. Or more…she hadn’t needed to consider whether it was good because of how Grandmère spoke of it. She hadn’t needed to consider whether La Chanson was good. It just was. 

It just was. 

And now she was questioning. And it had sent a child who had a friend who knew La Chanson. The child couldn’t hear La Chanson, but La Chanson was uneasy with the kind of magic Mysel used…why uneasy? And he couldn’t see the way she could, he only see them as…he saw them as…he saw whatever he saw. And it was disconcerting, because it felt accurate. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like being defined as Music and Sadness. She didn’t like that it was visible or that there were words for how she felt. And really, she wasn’t sure how long she’d felt this way, but when she thought hard, it likely pre-dated losing Chevalier. 

She missed home. Or at least, missed being ignorant of all this. She missed being able to think of adventure as fun. She missed Lucas. She missed him being kind - when he decided to be kind. She missed finding comfort in being protected, she missed feeling safe she missed all sorts of things and now there was a child sent through some “friend” by La Chanson - some “friend” who made La Chanson uneasy, and did La Chanson feeling uneasy mean she should feel uneasy or uncomfortable? There were only a few things she had encountered that affected La Chanson and if that were the case why would Mysel’s friend be sending Mysel to retrieve them, knowing his magic would make it uneasy. Why send a child to find them? 

To do what? 

Replace Chevalier? 

No. The child could not do that. Not ever. 

Replace her?

Perhaps.

And which was worse, the feeling that the child was here to replace her, or the fact that perhaps being replaced wouldn’t be so bad? The child was cheerful and relaxed and seemed very aware of himself and comfortable with a lot of things she was not. Mysel was a strange child, but in all the fantasy stories an orphan wandering the world with strange abilities seemed a lot more practical than a Sinrou who knew very little of the world outside even her home city. Why choose her? Even Grandmère had been of the common folk before she’d heard La Chanson. 

The further she got from home, the more Alexandrie was resolved to do what she had left to do. But why?

Because she believed she should?

Or was it because she believed she had no other choice?

An unasked question floated through Alexa’s mind as it had a number of times:

If I die, am I easily replaced?

To a degree, with the appearance of Mysel and soon his friend, Alexa reasoned that the answer must be yes…but if that were the case, why choose her to begin with? What was it about Alexa that was also true of Grandmère but not true of Maman? Ultimately, it didn’t matter, because if La Chanson was with her now, it could be for as long as it wanted, so -

Genofeva would hunt her regardless. 

She couldn’t risk going home and having Genofeva follow her there. And she couldn’t - as much as he may be better equipped - she couldn’t leave a twelve year old to deal with the situation even as she considered it. La Chanson could be taken from her, and with everything they had read about Genofeva, she couldn’t allow that. Alexa didn’t understand the nature of La Chanson, she didn’t understand how magic worked, or how La Chanson chose her or why, or how it could be taken from her, or whether it had a physical form or what she was going to do, or

Or whether she would survive what she was on her way to do.

But she knew that Genofeva could not be allowed to take La Chanson. 

She had no doubt that if it could hear her thoughts, it knew she would do as it asked simply to keep Genofeva from it. She could loathe it, she could fear it were the worst thing in existence and only biding its time until it would consume her and she would still go to it because as long as she had it, Genofeva didn’t and though she was not certain she was a good person as Mysel said, she was certain she was not a bad person, like Genofeva. Genofeva desired things only for herself and revelled in death and suffering. Alexandrie, for all her belief that Chevalier should not have had to sacrifice himself for the people at the inn, had not wanted others to die either. That was the difference between them, and so she would do what she could to keep Genofeva from La Chanson. 

Or try to. How could she stop a woman who had been scourged from the planet? She’d come from the Deliverance of the Dawn. How had Genofeva managed to survive when people had been so determined to kill her? More - how had she lived so long?

La Chanson was trying to get her to it, but Genofeva’s magic interrupted it. As though it could distort it. How could magic be distorted?

Storm flavoured…that’s what Shi called it. So La Chanson was music flavoured, presumably. How did people who learned magic decide what kind to use? She simply thought of magic and used it. Or at least, she thought of magic and used it. Or at least, she thought of what she was trying to do and did it…

What was La Chanson? Did it have to learn how to use itself? Was she being offered the vapours of a steaming bath or did it directly watch and hand her the tools she needed? Why didn’t all her spells work? Did La Chanson choose not to help or was it as unsure of what occurred as she? 

Why had it left her when he 

Respect, or something else?

Her discomfort with the idea that La Chanson could read her thoughts was intensified by Mysel’s voice in her head - and she remembered a time Maman had sighed as she finished wrapping a young Alexandrie’s wrist in bandage (for the second time in a month. Different wrists, but still).

“If it makes you uncomfortable to consider how you’re going to explain what happened to me, perhaps you shouldn’t be doing it, Alexandrie.”

“Mais Maman,” Alexandrie had protested, “Et si je dois faire des choses dangereuses pour apprendre des choses magiques? How do I learn to be magical if I do not ask dangerous questions?” 

At this, Maman had kissed Alexandrie on the forehead and drawn her close, patting the sprained wrist.

“Alexa, your grandmother had one of me, and I only have one of you. The world only has one of you, and we are greedy. Some questions are dangerous, some things are dangerous…and you can try them, but they still won’t make you magical. They will just frighten your father and I.” But she moved her lips down to Alexandrie’s ear and said, “Your instincts will grow as you do but they are still young now, so be careful. For now, trust my instincts. If you think I would think something could be a bad idea…” 

“Don’t do it.” Alexandrie had intoned.

She was much older now, but it was difficult to trust her instincts when she didn’t have enough information, or know which information she needed, and when she was constantly reminded that people deliberately enjoyed misleading her. Everything was muddled in her mind and it was as though she had no control over the things she’d once had control over: her thoughts, her expectations, how to behave…she’d tried to tell a joke, but it hadn’t worked and she felt that perhaps it hadn’t worked because it wasn’t funny, but neither were the jokes the others told, they just seemed hurtful. Was this how jokes should be? Were they jokes if they did not hurt anyone?It was harder to follow instincts on the words and actions of others than it was to instinctively leap to a new bough just before she heard the creak of one about to snap. 

Just because Mysel said he would not read her thoughts didn’t mean he would not, and his placid nature disconcerted her more than the warning of Vel’ble’dran. 

People did not like her when they first met her, and Mysel had not only said she was a good person but had held her hand. 

She’d flinched - 

it was the first time anyone had held her hand since Chevalier - 

and the first breathing person since home. She’d felt intensely uncomfortable for a moment and had half jerked her hand away but then…hadn’t.

He’s just a kid.

Was he? He knew a lot for a child. Orphan. Was this how orphans acted? That seemed like a rude question, so she didn’t ask, but she did wonder. Mysel was so carefree he reminded her of the foresters her age back in Breezy Point Bay.

As though there was no point in worrying about danger.

And that was strange in itself. As strange as dawnsfolk becoming evil demon worshippers. 

As strange as a hive attack only days after Vel’ble’dran had been let into their last stopping point. Only days after they had killed two.