Chapter Twelve Page Five, Bren, The Memorial Center Main Chamber

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“Shadow stone, dreaming shown,” he sang, soprano, “God of none, all is done.”

Those seated in the pews echoed him when he’d finished. It sounded like a dirge, a funeral piece. Minor and slow.

The woman removed her hood, looked into Bren’s eyes for half a second before looking upwards, and sang, “Brightness lie, heaven cry, god of all, far to fall.”

The audience echoed it. Hers was a hymn that wouldn’t have sounded out of place in a church. Major and, while slow, it sounded more like a waltz.

A second passed, and the man and woman sang in unison, the crowd joining in, with half of their voices raised to the man’s lyrics and the other joined to the woman’s.

“Shadow stone.”

“Brightness lie.”

“Dreaming shown.”

“Heaven cry.”

“God of none.”

“God of all.”

“All is done.”

“Far to fall.”

Bren did not know how, but the melodies worked with one another. She wasn’t sure if minor and major could harmonize. The result left her feeling light headed.

And somehow elated.

“Those,” the woman said, “Were the hymns of life.”

“And death,” the man finished.

“One alone can evoke joy,” the woman said.

“Or terror,” the man said.

“But together they form all of existence,” they said together.

“Today we offer Brenda Alba,” the man said, “Of Falling Rocks, membership into the Society of the Sepulchral Autarch, known also as The Guild of Life in Life and Death in Death. The awoken dead and the sleeping living.”

“We wish to ask her to become a member of the circle,” the woman said, “For her lineage is great and her accomplishments are many.”

“Her parents were the last surviving members of the Guild of the Periphery, and more commonly known, as the Red Keys.”

“Yea,” the woman said, “She banished the Avatar’s last surviving general, Langis Birdkiller, from the Periphery. And, this; at the age of fifteen.”

Bren supposed that in other rooms, there may have been an intake of breath in the audience, an awed gasp at least. But the steady rhythm continued unabated. She liked it a little. For once, someone didn’t completely lose all of their shit when they heard about the end result of her adventure.

“She did this,” the woman said, “At the behest of the Blinker Tribes, and expected no reward for her actions. For her lineage, and her actions in the Periphery, we do offer her membership into our Guild.”

“All of those in favor of her joining the society,” the man said, “Hold breath and show sanctity.”

The room grew silent. Bren saw that those seated were holding their arms over their chests with their heads tilted down and their eyes closed. Bren saw a few who did not assume the position. She wanted to congratulate them on thinking for themselves. The dissenters were all wearing black robes.

“A near unanimous vote,” the woman said. Her gaze shifted to Bren. “If only we could achieve such unity on other matters.” Bren heard soft laughter from some in the pews.

Bren smiled, though she tried not to.

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