Everything about this place seemed geared towardcommunicating with music. The violin might work. But how could he translate his thoughts into notes?
He shrugged. Why not give it a try? He seemed able to compose something that cleared the darkness. Maybe he could communicate that way again.
Keeping his eye on Tsayad, Nathan stooped, pulled out the violin, and gave the empty case to Daryl. The guardian's eyes brightened, and his smile stretched wider.
As Nathan lifted his bow over the strings, the guardian drew close, angling his ear toward the violin. Excited expectation lit up his face, like a child surveying a room of wrapped presents on Christmas morning.
Nathan paused. What should he play? Classical? Baroque? Modern? He shook his head. No, none of those seemed right. Would any piece created by someone else really work to communicate his thoughts? Wouldn't the music have to be something new, something he composed based on the passions and moods running through his mind?
Taking a deep breath, Nathan concentrated on his thoughts and set his composing spirit in line with his emotions. Then, leading with a long A note and moving into a series of arpeggios, he recalled their story and poured out his feelings— his anguish over his parents' loss, his flight from Dr. Gordon of Earth Blue, his joy over finding a friend like Kelly — into his musical score. As he played, the story flowed from his hands more freely and fully than words could ever express. It seemed as though speech should always have been this way, so expressive, so pure, so pulsing with life.
When he finally reached the end, he let his arms dangle limply, exhausted by the effort.
Tsayad stared at him, his mouth agape. Then, ever so slowly, the white-haired man's lips spread out again into a wide smile. He clapped his hands twice, intertwining his fingers after the second clap. Then, swiveling toward Kelly, he sang again, this time in rapid bursts.
Kelly interpreted. “I am pleased to see that you are a virtuoso with my master's chosen instrument. This bodes well for your qualifications. And I am saddened over your losses, but I cannot help you find your loved ones. Perhaps your tragedies explain why you have been sent here. Our current supplicants always bear heart-wrenching sorrows, but that is their purpose, is it not?”
For a moment, he stopped singing. He raised one hand to his chin while the other held the book at his thigh with the pages facing out, his thumb still marking his place. Nathan peeked at the black marks within — a complex musical score, too far away to read.
After a few more seconds, Tsayad's eyes flashed with light. He sang once more, this time with even greater enthusiasm.
Kelly's voice spiked with energy, as if echoing the man's emotion. “It is clear from your musical gift that you are a qualified supplicant, so we should take you to your station immediately. With the brewing crisis in the triad, it is fitting that the travelers sent you to us.”
When he stopped singing again, he turned and gestured for them to follow, his smile warm and inviting.
Nathan glanced at Kelly and Daryl in turn. “Any clue what he's talking about?”
Both girls shook their heads. “I guess we can follow,” Kelly said. “What choice do we have?”
“I can't argue with that.” As Nathan advanced with Kelly and Daryl following close behind, the guardian nodded, opened his book, and marched away slowly, singing once again.
Kelly whispered the meaning, her words barely audible as their shoes squeaked on the glassy path.
To conquer wisdom's doom,
We lift the holy tower
With darkness fed by gloom
Absorbed by torment's power.
Nathan grimaced. So dark and dismal. And this certainly wasn't the voice that had filled his mind with beauty, a beauty so rich he could smell it in the air. Even the tune seemed warped, dissonant, twisted.
As they continued, the fog bank enveloped them, leaving only the bare outline of the guardian visible in front.
He shrugged. Why not give it a try? He seemed able to compose something that cleared the darkness. Maybe he could communicate that way again.
Keeping his eye on Tsayad, Nathan stooped, pulled out the violin, and gave the empty case to Daryl. The guardian's eyes brightened, and his smile stretched wider.
As Nathan lifted his bow over the strings, the guardian drew close, angling his ear toward the violin. Excited expectation lit up his face, like a child surveying a room of wrapped presents on Christmas morning.
Nathan paused. What should he play? Classical? Baroque? Modern? He shook his head. No, none of those seemed right. Would any piece created by someone else really work to communicate his thoughts? Wouldn't the music have to be something new, something he composed based on the passions and moods running through his mind?
Taking a deep breath, Nathan concentrated on his thoughts and set his composing spirit in line with his emotions. Then, leading with a long A note and moving into a series of arpeggios, he recalled their story and poured out his feelings— his anguish over his parents' loss, his flight from Dr. Gordon of Earth Blue, his joy over finding a friend like Kelly — into his musical score. As he played, the story flowed from his hands more freely and fully than words could ever express. It seemed as though speech should always have been this way, so expressive, so pure, so pulsing with life.
When he finally reached the end, he let his arms dangle limply, exhausted by the effort.
Tsayad stared at him, his mouth agape. Then, ever so slowly, the white-haired man's lips spread out again into a wide smile. He clapped his hands twice, intertwining his fingers after the second clap. Then, swiveling toward Kelly, he sang again, this time in rapid bursts.
Kelly interpreted. “I am pleased to see that you are a virtuoso with my master's chosen instrument. This bodes well for your qualifications. And I am saddened over your losses, but I cannot help you find your loved ones. Perhaps your tragedies explain why you have been sent here. Our current supplicants always bear heart-wrenching sorrows, but that is their purpose, is it not?”
For a moment, he stopped singing. He raised one hand to his chin while the other held the book at his thigh with the pages facing out, his thumb still marking his place. Nathan peeked at the black marks within — a complex musical score, too far away to read.
After a few more seconds, Tsayad's eyes flashed with light. He sang once more, this time with even greater enthusiasm.
Kelly's voice spiked with energy, as if echoing the man's emotion. “It is clear from your musical gift that you are a qualified supplicant, so we should take you to your station immediately. With the brewing crisis in the triad, it is fitting that the travelers sent you to us.”
When he stopped singing again, he turned and gestured for them to follow, his smile warm and inviting.
Nathan glanced at Kelly and Daryl in turn. “Any clue what he's talking about?”
Both girls shook their heads. “I guess we can follow,” Kelly said. “What choice do we have?”
“I can't argue with that.” As Nathan advanced with Kelly and Daryl following close behind, the guardian nodded, opened his book, and marched away slowly, singing once again.
Kelly whispered the meaning, her words barely audible as their shoes squeaked on the glassy path.
To conquer wisdom's doom,
We lift the holy tower
With darkness fed by gloom
Absorbed by torment's power.
Nathan grimaced. So dark and dismal. And this certainly wasn't the voice that had filled his mind with beauty, a beauty so rich he could smell it in the air. Even the tune seemed warped, dissonant, twisted.
As they continued, the fog bank enveloped them, leaving only the bare outline of the guardian visible in front.
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