Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 751
Armiger nodded. Then he looked to Galas. She smiled.
Armiger stepped towards Jordan and the Voice, his hand
held out. The Voice clasped Jordan’s hand, and it felt like cool
stone.
Across Ventus, music visited every town and village, and
came to the door of every peasant’s hut. The flaming threads
that had walked the skies faded and vanished, but in their place
a rich and wonderful song had begun. The song was Jordan’s
idea, but the swans took to it eagerly.
As shocked and bewildered people stood outside their
homes and gazed at the sky, a faint cobweb-fine gauze of
Armiger’s design began to fall. It drifted like snow in the
streets, and tangled in people’s hair. When they pulled it free,
they were often surprised to find small spots of blood on it, and
when they felt their scalp they found tender spots there.
It was the only miracle that day. Not until dawn the next
day, as people awoke, did they become aware that their whole
world had changed.
Enneas--grave robber, thief, soldier, and lately deserter
from Parliament's army--woke to the sound of rain. He lay
bundled under his coat in the lee of a big rock, somewhere on
the edge of the desert. This was as far as he'd gotten before
collapsing from hunger, cold and what he had to admit was the
exhaustion of old age.
He was surprised at having awoken at all. Last night, the
cold had settled down upon the land like a shroud, and Enneas
had finally given into despair. Huddling by this boulder, he'd
bleakly assessed his life. There would be no fine tomb for him,
as he'd once imagined he deserved. He wouldn't even leave
behind a crying widow or squabbling family. After a lifetime