Traitor Savant (Second Seal of the Duelists) by Jasmine Giacomo Read Free Book Online Page A

hard to heal every student as quickly and thoroughly as possible. We know first-hand how it feels to be looked down upon for a failure that might not even be our fault.”
    “Do the singers ever heal anyone? What do they do, anyway?” Tarin's gaze flitted across the floor as if she were embarrassed that she’d never inquired about song magic before.
    B efore Diantha could answer, Doc Theo stood and pointed at Tarin. “Spies! Everywhere, spies!” The redhead flinched away in alarm.
    “I’m sorry, but you’ll n eed to leave now.” Diantha tried to press Doc Theo back down onto the bed. “Doc Theo, he’ll be like this for hours, but he’ll be fine in the morning. Just… don’t mention any of it to him later on. Your tales, they’ll just distress him.”
    “Come. ” Bayan pulled a shocked Tarin out of the small room along with his other hexmates. “We have our own problems. Let Diantha care for Doc.”
    A s they parted ways for the night, heading back to the boys’ and girls’ dormitories respectively, Bayan felt unsettled. Doc Theo was not what he’d consider old. The chanter didn’t look any more aged than Bayan’s father, Datu, whose hair had barely begun to gray the last time Bayan saw him. Bayan always assumed the chanter would outlast the entirety of Bayan’s training on campus. But if Doc Theo couldn’t do his job, what would happen to him? Would he be a danger on campus? Would they send him away? Would they offer a mercy death? Bayan had no idea. All he knew was that there would be a gaping hole in the tapestry of his life if Doc Theo stopped being Doc Theo.

Far From Home
     
    “Just hold the note, Tala; don’t worry about singing the whole spell.”
    Tala heard Alton Bessia’s near-monotone instruction, but she couldn’t have held the note if her life depended on it. Her hiccups were just too strong. After the next hiccup, she gave up and stopped singing, feeling blood suffuse her cheeks. Behind her, Graela tittered.
    “I’m s —sorry, Alton,” she hiccupped. “I just can’t get the s—spasms to stop. I’m sorry.”
    The a lton pursed her lips and sighed through a nose several shades lighter than Tala’s skin. Tala focused on the smooth floor of the classroom, where concentric circles of various colorful rocks formed seamless rings from the center out to the round wall. She knew how much Alton Bessia had looked forward to working with her—such a talented girl, the other altons all said—but so far, no one had been able to help her get rid of the hiccups that assaulted her.
    And if you can’t sing at the Temple, then you aren’t a Singer. It doesn’t matter if you have perfect pitch. It doesn’t matter if your vocal range destines you to be one of the most powerful Sopranoi in the last century. Tala peeked out of the corner of her eye; sure enough, her quarton partners, Tonn, Daen, and the snotty Graela, were shaking their heads at her and muttering to themselves.
    If you can’t sing, then you’re not a Singer.
    Class let out. Tala shuffled down the curving, rounded corridor, buffeted by taller, faster students. She’d only been at the Temple of Ten Thousand Harmonies since summer began, but it was achingly clear that she was letting everyone down. The First Singer had personally spoken to Tala regarding her vast talent, and what a wonderful life awaited her with the power her beautiful voice could learn to wield. That had been when she first arrived. Now, there were no further visits to her classrooms by the Octet members who wanted to hear her voice. There were no more approaches by older girls offering to be her friends out of poorly hidden desires for personal advancement. She wasn’t valuable to anyone anymore. She was just an embarrassment.
    Skipping the humiliation of eating in the meal dome alone amongst groups of friends, Tala headed up the Akrestan Scale Tower to the third tier and slipped into her single-room quarters. She’d been favored with a view of the