THE EVENING PROGRESSED with a bit more haste than Ty had hoped, given the growing anxiety he harbored at the thought of his upcoming performance.
He watched as Noreen Aboloff ascended the stage and gave her ritual greeting. She made sure to include a special welcome to Overlord Barl and his lovely daughter Lyessa for their faithful patronage. The audience rang with the noise of their admiration. The overlord raised a hand in gestured thanks, not bothering to stand from his seat.
Too preoccupied with finding a way to calm his nerves or sneak out the back while no one was looking, Ty barely noticed the weaver’s three
daughters as they sang Breaking of the Dawn, a more difficult arrangement to perform than what they were capable of handling, but the crowd cheered graciously as they finished.
Next in line was a rather impressive flutist that mesmerized the audience as he rolled up and down the scales to a tune Ty didn’t recognize. Although dropping a few notes along the way, it was for the most part rather well played and Ty half-heartedly clapped with the others as the man left the platform.
After the flutist, Justice Tirfing’s wife recited a section from Islow’s Love of the Fallen, a depressing allegory of true love’s loss. There were a couple of sniffs, some eye wipes, and more than a few yawns from the men as she finished, bowed, and returned to her seat.
Ty stiffened in his chair. He just realized he had no idea what he was going to play. With the coming of the Black Watch, the news that his family was part of some secret sect of magic protectors, and his faceoff with Lyessa, he had completely forgotten to choose a piece.
Panic set in. His mind raced through an assortment of possibilities, each one viable in its own way, but none on the level of what was needed for tonight. Why did I ever open my mouth?
Three or four more selections were announced, and the performers came and went, but Ty didn’t notice. His mind was focused on more important matters, like how he could manage to sneak out the back door and still save face.
The innkeeper’s wife announced a short intermission and the serving girls made their rounds.
Ty had long since emptied his mug, and being too embarrassed to ask his mother to buy another round, merely contented himself with licking his lips.
The performances continued for at least another painful hour before Noreen made her way on stage to announce the evening’s three final performances. First was Master Ethen, a local carpenter. He shuffled through the tables on his way to the platform. After taking a seat, he opened a finely crafted case and removed a beautiful, hand-carved five-string vielle and bow. With careful precision he ran his fingers across the strings as he turned the tuning pegs at the top.
From the back of the room a voice rang out. “Play us a fun one, Ethen, and none of that highfalutin stuff!” More than a few hardy “Ayes” broke
across the anxious crowd as Ethen accommodated his audience with a town favorite: Bart the Fool. The song had more verses than were actually written to page. Every family had a verse or two of their own passed down from generation to generation.
Lifting his bow, Ethen drew the crowd in by playing a couple of rounds with just the vielle. Once he was comfortable with the level of excitement building across the gathered faces, he unleashed his strong baritone and began to sing.
–There once was a fool named Bartimus, a wife he went to find.
–He left his home, his work, his friends, his family all behind.
–And on the way he met a fae who told him of a place,
–Where there were girls with golden curls . . . but growing from their face.
By the second round, the people were clapping and singing along. The way Ethen’s bow flew across the strings hauled Ty out of the despair he had been wallowing in and gave his feet reason to bounce under the table. His
hands naturally clapped along. The driving rhythm made him want to get up and dance, but thankfully he wasn’t so far gone as to find himself acting on his flights of fancy.
–He plunged the depths, he scaled the heights, he crossed the Ozrin Sea.
–He fought a dragon in its lair, in hopes to set her free.
–But when he found fair maiden there, all chained up to her bed.
–He bent to kiss and wake her up . . . but fell and cracked his head.
By the third round, the townsfolk were out of their seats and standing in the aisles. There was a growing crowd of men up front who had locked
arms in a line and were beginning to kick up their heels in a dance. Even Ty’s table managed to belt out a verse or two.
–Well, Bart the Fool he never quit, his searching carries on.
–From town to town he travels round, his stay is never long.
–So if he comes a knocking on your door . . . don’t let him in.
–But lock your daughters in their rooms and promptly warn your kin.
The crowd called for more, but Ethen waved kindly and replaced his instrument back in its case and let the next performer take their turn. Ty envied him for his remarkable choice of song. No performer had ever left the stage in silence after a few verses from Bart the Fool. Now if the Creator could only bless him with such insight.
Next to last were the Aboloff children as they laid aside their aprons and donned a set of rather uniquely arrayed costumes to enact a short scene from the Tales of Prysipitus, particularly an emotional fight scene between
the hero and the evil sorcerer. Small pieces of confetti flew across the stage, landing on nearby viewers as the magical scene was revealed with brilliantly crafted special effects. The performance was well received and applauded as the children bowed and exited stage right.
Noreen climbed the steps one final time to make a full introduction for their special guest musician. She gestured toward a table near the front center. “And now we welcome Lady Lyessa as she has graciously offered the use of her harp to tickle your ears and your hearts this evening. Please give her a warm round of applause.”
The audience clapped with excitement as Aiden helped Lyessa to the stage, careful not to damage her instrument under his arm. Ty found himself wishing Aiden would trip and land on the stupid thing.
Lyessa took her seat and Aiden lowered the harp to her lap, then returned to his table where Lord Barl sat waiting with a proud grin.
From the moment her fingers touched the strings, the audience was hers.
Each note demanded praise. The music radiated through the East Inn like dawn’s light greeting a new day—warm and filled with promise. Ty couldn’t help but gaze at the intricate way her fingers seemed to float up and down the strings, producing rhythms so enchanting they gripped his very soul. At that moment, he hated her and loved her all at the same time.
Time itself seemed to slip into darkness as his burdens and fears dissolved like new fallen snow across the embers of a dying fire. As the final notes faded into the ether, the people rebounded from their seats with an ovation worthy of the High King himself. It was honestly earned in Ty’s humble opinion, but depressing nonetheless.
Still under the trance of her music, he found himself wishing—no— pleading—for more. He was pulled from his daze by the sound of his name being called. Looking at the stage, Ty was once again faced with the reality of what was about to happen as Lyessa with her arm outstretched in his direction gave her introduction. “. . . and he has promised to make this night one we will never forget. Give him a big hand.”
The smug look on Lyessa’s face as she left the stage made Ty all the angrier.
The crowd erupted with applause. Ty glanced around the table at the half-hearted smiles drooping from his family’s faces. His mother even gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm. What could he do? He didn’t dare back down now. With no intention of hurrying his embarrassment along any sooner than was necessary, Ty stood from his seat and slowly began his
arduous trek up the small flight of stairs toward the stage.
He still had no idea what song he was going to play. He tried rubbing his sweaty palms down the legs of his trousers. It didn’t help. He lifted the set of wooden pipes his father had made for him from his outer pocket and then turned to face the crowd. He tried swallowing but there wasn’t enough
spittle in his mouth to accomplish the task.
A cough from somewhere in the crowd signaled the audience’s growing impatience.
Ty tried to smile but his lips didn’t want to part. They were frozen in place, much like the rest of his body. As stiff as the back side of Crystal
Lake at the height of winter solstice, three-foot-deep and covered in snow.
He had never experienced true panic before, and now that he had he hoped never to again.
A couple more coughs and a few murmurs broke the stillness as people went from a comfortable silence while anxiously awaiting the musician’s first notes, to something not-so-comfortable.
This wasn’t what Ty had expected. His glorious victory was falling to pieces all around him. He was going to be the laughingstock of the entire town—for the rest of his life! Every time he’d pass someone on the street, they would say, “Look, there goes the kid who froze.” He would no doubt
spend the rest of his existence in utter humiliation. Worse yet, Lyessa would hold this over him—forever!
At that thought, an unexpected jolt of desperation drove the joints in his arms to lift the eight-stemmed flute to his dry lips. He had no idea what he was going to play, no idea where to begin, and no idea why he had ever volunteered to do this in the first place. He took one final glance around the room. Why couldn’t I have been born a powerful wizard? I could just wave my hands and wiggle my fingers and make everyone forget I was even here.
Not able to postpone any longer without taking the risk of some drunken sot throwing a piece of ripe fruit at him, Ty closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and blew across the open ends. He had been playing his pipes for years. His family all said he had a natural gift. No one had ever needed to teach him. The music was always there.
The notes were soft at first, dark and somber with a hint of nervous hesitation—simulating his present mood. However, from somewhere deep within, he could feel a stirring, like a wild animal desperate to be free of a poacher’s cage. It started as a warm tingling sensation and, much like throwing kindling on a pile of glowing embers, a flame ignited.
Struggling to hold at bay whatever it was that was fighting to break free, Ty’s music shifted to that of the forest. It was only natural, for it was always the forest which brought him a sense of calm, a respite of peace. It was the great canopy he would turn to when life would deal him a hard blow and he needed someplace to be alone to ponder the unexplained mysteries of his existence, or to simply cry out at some unforeseen frustration.
The music quickly took on a life of its own.
The rising fire within him found a release through the notes. He had never felt anything like it before, and it scared him. Without warning, the pain was back, searing deep into his right shoulder. But unlike his
experience earlier that day, he wasn’t about to let it quench his momentum. So he pushed through the burning.
The melody was unfamiliar, but with each note he could see the swaying of the trees, the leaves dancing to the beat of the wind, the animals as they scurried about searching for the day’s food, birds snuggled in their nests singing in another day. It was mesmerizing.
Realizing he hadn’t heard a single peep from his audience, he peeked through his lids to see if the faces held any sign of enjoyment. Instead, what he saw brought him to sheer panic as his lips nearly slid off the wooden tips.
The East Inn was gone.
Or at least the building was. The people were all still seated in their chairs, or standing in the corners, or leaning against where the walls used to be. However, instead of a hazy, crowd-pressed room, they were surrounded by a quiet autumn glen. One Ty recognized. It was the hideaway spot he would sometimes frequent in the Sidaran Forest behind his house. The
place he would escape to when he wanted to be alone to test his limited use of magic.
He couldn’t believe his own eyes. Fear alone kept him playing.
Strangely enough, no one seemed to be screaming in terror. There were no women fainting in the aisles, no children clinging to their momma’s skirts, no men reaching for their swords or hollering for the torches and
rope to be brought out. Could they not see what was happening? Why was everyone just sitting there? It was as though the entire assembly was in a trance.
Afraid of breaking the moment, he played on. Ty couldn’t help but wonder, though, if what he was seeing was real or just an elaborate illusion.
Beads of sweat broke out across his forehead. His throat was parched and his lips chapped. It felt as though he had been playing for hours. He poured
all his concentration into the music as his mouth flew up and down the ends of the pipe. The notes came forth like colors on a canvas, each one blending with the next to form a mosaic in time. Nothing like this had ever happened before. He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he was the one in a trance.
The music continued to flow out of some unseen place inside him. It was a once-in-a-lifetime masterpiece, a masterpiece that was sure to cost him his life. For as soon as he stopped playing, the townsfolk would no doubt
recognize what had happened and, without even waiting for the Black
Watch, would most certainly hang him from the nearest tree. Probably kill his whole family for good measure.
Unexpectedly, the visage around them changed. The sky grew dark. The leaves which were once lush and green withered and fell from the trees. The birds no longer sang their happy tune, and a deadly hush fell over the small glen. His own emotions were visibly directing the music.
Dread took over. He could feel himself tiring. Reaching deep inside, he plundered what little energy he had left to keep going. If only there was a way to bring everyone back?
As if in answer to his plea, one by one the trees vanished and the small glen folded in on itself. In the blink of an eye, the dark-stained walls of the East Inn snapped back into place. Ty didn’t know if he needed to be impressed, relieved, or terrified—perhaps a little of each. Glancing around the room, everything appeared to be as it was before.
Time, he realized, had just run out. His breath was about to give way.
Ty poured everything he had left into the final notes of his song and then released the pipes from his mouth. His arms dropped like stone weights to his sides. “Please, don’t let them remember,” he prayed, reciting it over and over again as if his desperation would convince the Creator to be lenient.
He continued mumbling the prayer under his breath like a chant to ward off evil sprites and dark faeries.
Giving up all hope, Ty closed his eyes, bowed his head, and waited for the inevitable.
He waited, but nothing happened. He waited longer—still nothing. No stampeding for the doors, no demands for his head, no sour fruits and
vegetables smacking him upside his face. There was simply silence, which at the time seemed even more disturbing.
Before he had a chance to open his eyes, a roar of applause grew as it thundered across the tables, benches, chairs, and stools. It shook the platform he was standing on. Opening his eyes, he gazed across the smoke- filled room. There wasn’t an occupied seat in the house. Everyone was on their feet clapping, shouting, banging their mugs to the tops of the tables, waving handkerchiefs and ribbons in the air, whistling, and stomping their boots on the hard wooden floors. He didn’t know what to do, so he bowed. A bit clumsily, but not enough to cause embarrassment.
The crowd cheered all the harder. He donned his best smile.
They cheered some more, so he waved his hand.
He couldn’t believe it, they loved him. Had the Creator answered his
request? Was the audience completely oblivious to what had just happened? Even Lyessa was applauding with surprising vigor. And to think he had almost talked himself out of playing tonight. He continued waving to the crowd as he descended the platform.
It was like a dream. Maybe it was a dream. He had just performed some kind of unbelievable magic and no one had been the wiser. Apart from the terror of having used magic in the middle of Performance Night with the Overlord of Sidara sitting not two tables away, Ty felt quite exhilarated. He still couldn’t figure out why no one else seemed to realize what had just happened.
Stepping down from the stage, Ty wanted nothing more than to rush
home and try out this new found ability. But, common sense catching up, he knew that would never become reality. Not with the White Tower guards let loose on Easthaven.
That realization brought with it a few more unpleasant thoughts. What if he couldn’t control what was happening to him? What if the next time he wasn’t so lucky? Considering what he had just done, Ty didn’t know how much longer he could hide who he was from his family, or even if he should.
