Authors: Christie Meierz
“I am Thela. My father is a climatologist who came to meet
with the Sural.”
Marianne nodded. “Yes, I met a few of those at the morning
meal.” She lowered her voice and added in a conspiratorial tone, “It’s all very
boring, isn’t it?”
Thela stifled a giggle. Marianne smiled warmly at the girl,
who looked like she was pondering something.
“High one—” She hesitated.
“Yes?”
“My father told me the Jorann turned you into a Tolari, that
you are no longer truly human.”
“That’s true,” Marianne replied, wondering where Thela was
going with this.
“Does that mean you have never heard a real performance?”
Marianne lifted her eyebrows in surprise. That was unexpected.
“I’ve heard Tolari musicians play, if that’s what you mean. I’ve been to all
the seasonal festivals since I came here.”
Thela shook her head. “Some of us have ... a gift. If you
were human when you listened to one of us play, you might not have been able to
feel it.”
“Feel it? What do you mean?”
Thela smiled and oozed eager delight. “Close your eyes and
listen.”
Marianne leaned back against the gazebo and closed her eyes,
as Thela began to play a traditional Tolari melody. The melody repeated, with variations,
and began to take shape and form and emotion, swirling and dipping around them
in triumph. Then it changed, becoming sad and desolate, and faded away. Marianne
opened her eyes and realized her cheeks were wet with tears.
“Oh my.” She breathed a sigh, wiping her face.
Thela cradled her instrument and gave a bow. “My father is
of the science caste, but I will be joining the musician caste when I come of
age.”
Marianne nodded, speechless. Then the Sural burst into view
beside her. Marianne started. She’d been so overcome she hadn’t felt his
approach.
“High one!” Thela exclaimed, and bowed very low.
“Very compelling, child,” he said. “Your father did not
exaggerate when he described you as the musician caste’s next great leader.”
Thela’s eyes went huge. “You honor me, high one.”
“You honor me with your gift,” he answered, chuckling. “It
is time for the midday meal. Come, join the Marann and me at my table.”
Thela glowed, almost unable to speak. “Yes, high one,” she
managed to say.
He gave the girl a warm smile and turned to Marianne. “Beloved,”
he greeted her, as the three of them began walking back to the keep.
Marianne tucked a hand under his arm, still moved by what
she had just experienced.
He smiled and patted her hand. “The musician’s gift can be
overwhelming. The first time I heard a performance by a great musician – it was
Corvestal, at the height of his ability – I had much the same reaction. He was
a great talent of the time, and she, a child just beginning to develop her
gift, is nearly as powerful. She has many years ahead of her to become much
more than she is now. Her name will be remembered.”
Pride leaked out of Thela, washing over Marianne’s senses.
“Is her father disappointed that his heir doesn’t follow him
into the science caste?” Marianne wondered aloud, finding her voice again.
“Oh no, high one,” Thela answered.
“Your father is very proud of you,” the Sural said, “as he
should be.”
Thela radiated happiness. “I must see to my instrument,” she
said, scurrying off in the direction of the guest wing. When she returned to
the refectory, the Sural motioned for her to take a seat at his table. Marianne
sensed a flash of pride radiating from one of the scientists nearby. From the
physical resemblance, she assumed the man must be Thela’s father.
The Sural indicated the seat beside Kyza and struck up a
conversation with the climatologist’s daughter, asking questions about her
music training. In spite of her awe, she was soon chattering freely about
composers and technique. Kyza, on the other hand, was less impressed by which
composers’ music she could play and more interested in discovering if Thela
knew anything about politics or history. The Sural let his daughter take over
the conversation, a small smile flickering on his face.
Marianne grinned to herself, her eyes wandering across the
table. Thela was picking at her food as Kyza chatted.
The Sural followed her gaze. “Thela is mindful of this
evening’s performance, I believe,” he said.
Thela nodded. “I do not perform well when weighed down by
food.”
“I knew musicians on Earth who couldn’t eat before
performing,” Marianne said. “For them, it was usually performance anxiety, but ...
that’s not what it is for you, is it?”
“Oh no, I love playing in front of other people,” Thela replied
with enthusiasm. “But heavy food takes away energy I need for the performance.”
She paused, then asked, “High one, what is human music like?”
Marianne blew a loud sigh. “I don’t know enough about Tolari
music to compare it for you. Perhaps you should ask the Sural’s apothecary. She
was exposed to human music when the first humans came here.”
Cena, seated at another table with Storaas and another of
Kyza’s tutors, came over at the Sural’s signal. She glanced at Marianne when
she heard the question, but Marianne only shrugged. Cena looked up past the
girl for a long moment, then said slowly, “It is ... evocative. Human musical
instruments are said to be much like ours, and their musicians reach a high
level of technical ability, often using a large number of instruments playing
together to produce a magnificent cascade of sound. They do not have the gift
you display in such abundance, but they achieve a shadow of it with their
combined skill.”
“I should like to hear that,” Thela said, a wistful note in
her voice.
“It could be arranged,” the Sural murmured.
Marianne’s eyes darted to his. He returned her shocked gaze
with an indecipherable expression, and then focused his attention on his meal.
She squinted at him, deciding that to pursue the subject in a public area would
get her nowhere. She’d see what she could get out of him later.
* * *
The sun was hanging low in the sky when ‘later’ arrived. Marianne
was draped across a gazebo bench, paging through poetry on her library tablet,
when the Sural finally entered the garden. He burst into view in front of her.
“Why do you camouflage so much?” she asked.
He lifted his eyebrows and grinned. “Prudence.”
She snorted and sat up to make room for him. “So how did you
manage to acquire recordings of Earth music?”
“From Admiral Howard’s ship.” His face was bland as he dropped
onto the bench beside her.
“And the
Alexander
just gave you – how much – human
music? Willingly?”
“Their entire archive, and no.”
“You
stole
it?” she exclaimed, aghast.
He raised his eyebrows, looking offended. “The
Alexander
and everything in it was forfeit the moment they violated my interdict. My
engineers copied their archives, and I allowed the crew to leave with their
ship intact.” He paused and cocked his head. “Would you have been pleased had I
destroyed it? I refrained out of respect for the innocents on board.”
She deflated. “Like Laura.”
“Yes, beloved.”
“But that was tens of days ago. What took so long?”
“Humans are very clever with information storage. It took
time for my engineers to decrypt the archives and develop algorithms to make
them compatible with our technology. However, now that the conversion is
complete, it is a simple task to access the music archive from your library
tablet.”
Her delighted coo attracted the attention of the flutters.
* * *
The Sural’s audience room was crowded to capacity for Thela’s
concert that evening. Scientists, stronghold staff, and even ordinary city
inhabitants were among the crowd that filled the chamber. Only a small area in
front of the Sural’s dais was clear. In the middle of that area, facing the
Sural, was Thela.
Her face glowed with elation.
Marianne gave the girl a warm smile. A natural performer,
she thought, in love with being the center of attention. The Sural raised a hand,
and a hush settled over the audience. He nodded at Thela to begin.
The first piece was complex and difficult, played without calling
upon her gift. Marianne’s attention drifted, although she appreciated the
technical ability Thela displayed. Next, the girl played an elegant but simple
piece, with the lightest touch of her gift to bring it alive. Demonstrating
subtlety?
Beside her, the Sural was thrumming with pleasure.
She was unprepared for what came next: a piece of virtuosic
complexity, with as much power as Thela was capable of bringing to it. Marianne
forgot where she was, unaware of herself or her surroundings, as the music wove
in her and through her and around her in a way that reminded her of bonding. The
music reached heights of joy and depths of despair that she wouldn’t have
believed a child so young could know. She was so transported that she was
barely aware when the piece ended.
“Beloved.” The Sural’s gentle whisper brought her back to
the audience room. He smiled at her. “You were far away.”
She wiped the tears streaming down her face and turned her
attention back to Thela, who was standing exhausted in front of them. Just as
the Sural was about to speak, the girl swayed and staggered. He sprang from the
dais to catch her before she could fall.
“Take her to her quarters to rest,” he ordered a servant.
* * *
The Sural watched as a servant led the fatigued young Thela
away, her father following in their wake. Then he sat on the edge of the dais
next to Marianne as a hushed murmur of conversation began among the concert-goers.
“Will she be all right, beloved?” she asked.
He nodded. “That is the price of her gift,” he answered in a
low voice, “but yes, she will recover. She pushed herself to the limit of her
ability. You see the result.”
He turned to the room and raised a hand to dismiss the
guests. As they began to drift toward the doorway, he assisted Marianne from
the dais.
“Does that always happen?” she asked.
He kept a firm grip on her arm as she stepped down – she
sometimes failed to take account of her body’s shift in balance, and he would
not allow her to fall if that should happen. “No, her fatigue is a mistake of
the very young and inexperienced. As an adult, she will be able to perform at
that level without exhausting herself.”
She shot him a questioning glance as she headed for her
quarters, but he shook his head and didn’t immediately follow her, accompanying
Kyza instead. Confused emotions were reaching him through the parental bond he
shared with his daughter; she would need his help sorting through them. He’d
not expected Thela to have such empathic depth at such a young age, or he would
have kept Kyza away from the performance.
He seated himself comfortably on the veranda of Kyza’s
quarters, where he could watch the moon rise over the far mountains. She
climbed into his lap, curling up and nestling against his chest. He put his
arms around her, reaching through the bond. She was even more profoundly
stirred by the music than he thought – some of the emotions she had experienced
during the performance troubled her deeply. He wrapped her senses up in his and
helped her to quiet and calm her emotions. The moon was visibly farther up in
the sky before she was soothed enough to drop into slumber.
He waited until she was in a deep sleep before he rose from
his seat. Carefully, he carried her to her mat and laid her on it, covering her
with a light blanket. He watched for a moment to be certain she would remain
asleep.
It had been too long since he had communed with Kyza. He had
allowed the poor excuse of a busy schedule to distract him from his
responsibility to her. With an almost inaudible sigh, he resolved to spend more
time with his daughter and left her to make his way to Marianne’s quarters. His
beloved was already asleep, but she stirred when he slipped under her blanket.
She mumbled something and molded herself against his side. Then
her eyes slitted open, small whirls of jealous suspicion lighting up in her. “Where
were you?”
“Kyza needed me,” he murmured, unperturbed. “She was disturbed
by the performance, and it had been too long since I last communed with my
daughter.”
Surprise washed away the sleepiness and the suspicion, and
she shifted onto her side to look at him. Moonlight lit her face. “Is she all
right?”
“She will be. It may take a little time for her to become
settled and peaceful again.”
She ran a finger over his lips. “You’re a good father,” she
whispered. He smiled under her finger. She leaned over to kiss and nibble his
chin. “Cena says that we can resume behaving like ‘digger squid in warm water.’”
He pulled her more tightly against him. “So she informed
me.”
She pouted. “I wanted to be the one to tell you.”
He grinned and set himself the task of erasing her pout.
The Sural woke at first light. After extricating himself
from the tangle of arms and legs without disturbing Marianne, he washed, threw
on a clean robe and trousers, and mentally reviewed the upcoming day while a
servant brushed and knotted his hair. When his hair was presentable, he padded
into the sitting room, planning to start on his morning reports.
The flashing light of Marianne’s comms unit met him.
He took a seat at her desk, blocking the light from her view,
and pondered. After banning humans from Tolari space, he’d offered to have the
unit removed to his guards’ communications plexus. She’d resisted the idea,
saying she wanted to have “as much of home” about her as she could. It did seem
to give her comfort, even after the unfortunate incident with Admiral Howard,
so he had not pressed her to remove it.