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Authors: Dianne Sylvan
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thing.” He stared at it for another moment, the analysis returning, then nodded once to himself…
…And started to play…
…Perfectly.
She knew she was gaping, but she couldn’t help it; she’d never seen anything like it. She had to stop herself from applauding when he was finished.
“That was amazing,” she said.
A fluid shrug. “The skill itself is only half of the work—the gift is the other. Only using the former is child’s play.”
“What kind of gift would a Bard have, if not playing like that?”
“Anyone willing to devote the time and work can play an instrument,” he said. “I have been doing so for four hundred years, remember. What makes a Bard a Bard is the ability to influence emotion through music; to create a mood, or a vision, and thread it through the sound.”
Again, she stared. “You’re an empath.”
He met her eyes and smiled. “And you are a Bard.”
Since then, every few weeks when Kai visited, he found her in the music room while Nico was asleep, and they talked about their art. She introduced him to the idea of recording songs and played one of her albums to show him the difference between studio-produced and live. He brought her Elven sheet music, which was an art in itself—they illuminated their music, and the staffs were, as he’d said, vertical rather than horizontal. Elven musical vocabulary was full of plant metaphors—the words for different tempos were related to the speed at which a particular flower opened.
She found him oddly refreshing after dealing with so many vampires and their secret agendas. He had nothing to hide and wouldn’t have bothered if he had. Unlike most people his self-confidence wasn’t hiding insecurity. When he spoke of being talented, attractive, or popular, it was a simple statement of fact, as if it would never have occurred to the rest of the world not to admire him. Perhaps it was arrogance, but Miranda didn’t think that really described it. Kai was just…Kai. He completely inhabited his own identity.
She also got to hear him sing. His voice nearly undid her. It wasn’t just that it was beautiful; she’d heard plenty of lovely voices from talented singers. There was a quality there that was just not of this Earth—literally. The song was in Elvish, which might be part of it. Every time he heard Nico speak Elvish David had to take a cold shower.
After the song ended, Kai looked at her and frowned. “Are you all right?”
She stammered for a minute. “…amazing,” she got out. “You should sing something in English next.”
He smiled, and something in the expression said he found her sudden awkwardness endearing. “If you like.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you—how did you learn English so fast? Yours is way better than Nico’s was when he first got here.”
Kai blinked. “I took it from his head,” he replied; to her mystified expression, he asked, “Do you not do that?”
“No, I think that’s probably a twin thing, or maybe an Elf thing. Although…David and I do share a lot of our abilities now. But we’ve never tried doing it on purpose.”
“Does he share your Bard’s gift?”
“Empathy? A little. Just enough to hurt—but he keeps it blocked unless he needs it for something. Since it’s fairly weak it’s easier to control.”
He looked thoughtful. “My gift has never hurt me,” he said. “Perhaps because the darkness and tragedy inherent to your world does not exist in Avilon.”
His tone surprised her. “And that’s not a good thing?”
Kai absently ran his fingers over the piano’s keys. “My kin would think me mad for saying so, but Nico and I have agreed that our lives there were good, and peaceful…but boring. There are only so many times one can play the same song. Our people cling to their peace so hard it has no space to grow, and so we stagnate. Long ago, we understood this, but after genocide and war we have willfully forgotten. Yet the truth of the universe
…And started to play…
…Perfectly.
She knew she was gaping, but she couldn’t help it; she’d never seen anything like it. She had to stop herself from applauding when he was finished.
“That was amazing,” she said.
A fluid shrug. “The skill itself is only half of the work—the gift is the other. Only using the former is child’s play.”
“What kind of gift would a Bard have, if not playing like that?”
“Anyone willing to devote the time and work can play an instrument,” he said. “I have been doing so for four hundred years, remember. What makes a Bard a Bard is the ability to influence emotion through music; to create a mood, or a vision, and thread it through the sound.”
Again, she stared. “You’re an empath.”
He met her eyes and smiled. “And you are a Bard.”
Since then, every few weeks when Kai visited, he found her in the music room while Nico was asleep, and they talked about their art. She introduced him to the idea of recording songs and played one of her albums to show him the difference between studio-produced and live. He brought her Elven sheet music, which was an art in itself—they illuminated their music, and the staffs were, as he’d said, vertical rather than horizontal. Elven musical vocabulary was full of plant metaphors—the words for different tempos were related to the speed at which a particular flower opened.
She found him oddly refreshing after dealing with so many vampires and their secret agendas. He had nothing to hide and wouldn’t have bothered if he had. Unlike most people his self-confidence wasn’t hiding insecurity. When he spoke of being talented, attractive, or popular, it was a simple statement of fact, as if it would never have occurred to the rest of the world not to admire him. Perhaps it was arrogance, but Miranda didn’t think that really described it. Kai was just…Kai. He completely inhabited his own identity.
She also got to hear him sing. His voice nearly undid her. It wasn’t just that it was beautiful; she’d heard plenty of lovely voices from talented singers. There was a quality there that was just not of this Earth—literally. The song was in Elvish, which might be part of it. Every time he heard Nico speak Elvish David had to take a cold shower.
After the song ended, Kai looked at her and frowned. “Are you all right?”
She stammered for a minute. “…amazing,” she got out. “You should sing something in English next.”
He smiled, and something in the expression said he found her sudden awkwardness endearing. “If you like.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you—how did you learn English so fast? Yours is way better than Nico’s was when he first got here.”
Kai blinked. “I took it from his head,” he replied; to her mystified expression, he asked, “Do you not do that?”
“No, I think that’s probably a twin thing, or maybe an Elf thing. Although…David and I do share a lot of our abilities now. But we’ve never tried doing it on purpose.”
“Does he share your Bard’s gift?”
“Empathy? A little. Just enough to hurt—but he keeps it blocked unless he needs it for something. Since it’s fairly weak it’s easier to control.”
He looked thoughtful. “My gift has never hurt me,” he said. “Perhaps because the darkness and tragedy inherent to your world does not exist in Avilon.”
His tone surprised her. “And that’s not a good thing?”
Kai absently ran his fingers over the piano’s keys. “My kin would think me mad for saying so, but Nico and I have agreed that our lives there were good, and peaceful…but boring. There are only so many times one can play the same song. Our people cling to their peace so hard it has no space to grow, and so we stagnate. Long ago, we understood this, but after genocide and war we have willfully forgotten. Yet the truth of the universe
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