Trial of Intentions by Orullian Peter

Author:Orullian, Peter [Orullian, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781429949613
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

A Touch of Resonance

A person’s signature, to a Leiholan, isn’t their name. Not some thing they write or say. Rather, it’s the set of notes that defines who and what they are. It’s their resonant harmonics at a fundamental level. Know these, and you have the all of them.

—Framing statement in the study of harmonics and personal signatures, Descant Cathedral

Wendra stepped into an open atrium hidden somewhere deep inside the sprawl of Descant Cathedral halls and buildings. The young music student who had guided her here retreated without a word. Across the square, Belamae stood waiting. He’d not called for Wendra until after meridian, leaving her the morning to reflect on the memories of her mother that had flooded her mind.

Almost immediately, those memories had become like an old, familiar afghan that she might draw around her shoulders when the evening turned chill. The last half of the prior night, she hadn’t slept. She’d sat at her bedside, mourning as though she’d lost her mother again. She was grateful to have memories of the woman returned to her, but it made her mother’s absence a sharper thing to bear.

Belamae beckoned her to him. She crossed the atrium to a high table set with several tuning forks. He stood on the other side of the table like a barkeep ready to offer her a drink. He picked up one of the forks and struck it soundly against the tabletop. The fork began to hum.

“Vibration,” the Maesteri said, and placed the fork in a hole drilled into a small box set on the table. While the fork continued to hum, Belamae picked up another tuning fork and set it in the hole of an adjacent box. He then put a hand on the first fork to still it. To Wendra’s surprise, the second fork was humming at the same pitch as the first had been.

She glanced up at Belamae to find a satisfied-looking smile on his face. “The two forks are calibrated to the same pitch. The second one is humming what we call a response note. What you’re hearing is the transfer of vibration, Wendra. We call this—”

“Resonance,” she supplied.

“Just so,” he said, grinning. “Incidentally, did you know that Sheason were once called Inner Resonance? Sheason exercise a power of Will that uses and affects this vibratory part of all things. Now, watch.”

The Maesteri then repeated the demonstration, but used three similarly tuned forks to show further resonance from one to the next to the next. Wendra’s mind began to race with applications for this new understanding. Though, before she’d gotten far, Belamae picked up one of the tuning forks and waved her over to a pianoforte whose cover had been removed.

It was a short walk, but when they got to the instrument, Belamae’s breathing had a slight wheeze about it. He steadied himself, holding the side of the pianoforte, his features pinched.

“Belamae?”

“I’m all right, my girl. Sometimes my air and blood don’t keep up with me.”

He rubbed at his chest a bit.

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