SongMaster's Realm

by Wolfram Donat

“You have a cat?!” J’Mart jumped up, an alarmed look on his face. “Great Scott!” Seeing Joel’s face, he cracked up laughing. After a moment he sat up, wiping tears from his eyes. “Just kidding. Don’t worry. Cats and I get along famously.” He affected an English accent. “In fact, I would be honored to make the acquaintance of your feline friend. His name is?”

  “Maestro.”

  “Interesting name. Say, are we almost there yet?”

  Joel smiled, half expecting the little man to say he had to go to the bathroom. “About two more blocks.”

  “Ah, good, good. And if you don’t mind my asking, what is this contraption you’ve got on your shoulder?”

  “It’s my guitar.”

  “Guitar? Oh, yes. Christopher Parkening, Eddie Van Halen, Yehudi Menuhin… no, wait, that’s violin. Can you play ‘My Love is a Three-Eyed Whore From Belgusia’”?

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Pity. It’s such a good tune, too.” He busied himself with counting raindrops until they reached Joel’s apartment. As he unlocked the door, Joel realized that the Ramiken hadn’t stopped talking since they had met.

  Maestro was waiting by the door when Joel opened it. J’Mart promptly jumped from his shoulder and introduced himself to the kitten. The kitten, after a few exploratory sniffs, apparently accepted the little man’s presence and allowed his chin to be rubbed. J’Mart looked up at Joel as he scratched. “Friendly little guy. I like him. Anyone else I should know about? Any women?” he leered.

  Joel was startled. “No. No women.”

  J’Mart shrugged. “No? Shame. Ah, hey, who am I to judge, eh?” He continued petting the kitten, who was beginning to get a little frisky.

  Joel set his guitar case down and flopped onto the couch. The morning’s events had tired him out already, and his brain was begging for a break and some time to digest what had already happened. He closed his eyes. He dimly heard J’Mart starting a lecture to Maestro on the finer points of tail chasing, and then he was asleep.

  He awoke about an hour later and looked around. Maestro was asleep on top of the TV. There was no sign of J’Mart. Taking a deep breath, he thought, Maybe, just maybe, it was a dream after all. The breath immediately flew out of his lungs as a horrendous crash came from the kitchen. He jumped off of the couch and ran into the kitchen. The Ramiken was sitting on the floor, shaking his head, in the middle of a pile of boxes of food and cereal, some of which had come open, their contents spilling across the floor. He looked up as Joel entered at a run. “Oh, hey, did I wake you? Sorry.” Seeing Joel’s face, he looked around with an expression of chagrin. “Well, you see, I wanted to see what exactly was in this junk that you people are eating nowadays, and I sort of lost my grip.” Joel shook his head and began cleaning up the mess.

  As he replaced boxes on the shelf with J’Mart’s help, he was reminded of what Massar had said. “When Massar gave me the – what did you call it? S’Lel? He said it would help me make a decision. Well, I need that help now.”

  J’Mart grinned and floated up to the counter. “Hey, not a problem. That, my friend, is one of the things I’m here for. So what’s up?”

  Joel slowly walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch, relating to J’Mart everything that had happened that morning. The little man floated next to him the whole time, listening intently. The story took Joel about a half hour to tell. When he had finished, J’Mart shook his head, a thoughtful expression on his face.

  “The way I see it, it’s like this: There are two possibilities here. Either he was telling the truth, or he was making everything up. Now, if he was making everything up, then there’s no problem. You can just stick your hands in your pockets and go on with your life, whistling. If he was telling the truth, then you’re faced with a choice: help find the book, or stay home baking brownies. Am I right so far?”

  Joel nodded.

  “All right. From where I stand, I think you can safely rule out the possibility that he was making it all up. He did give you some proof. I have to compliment you on that, by the way. Getting proof out of that old fart is like trying to get juice out of a kur-kur bush. Never mind,” he said quickly, seeing Joel’s question forming. “The point is, he gave you some proof. He made you dry out… er, I mean up… er, well, you know what I mean, and he gave you a magical helper.”

  “He did?” Joel looked around, confused.

  “Me, you dolt! I’m about as magical as they come! Or do you often throw stones in the air and watch them turn into little people?”

  “Sorry. I’m still a little fuzzy.”

  “I’ll say. Anyway, I think if that much is true, then chances are pretty good the rest of it is true too.”

  Here Joel decided to interrupt the Ramiken’s thought process. “Is this all new to you, too? Seems like you’ve been around a while and have been a lot of places. Have you ever heard of the Duran? Or this crazy dead guy, Magir?”

  J’Mart shook his head. “I’ve been around, all right, to places that would make your head spin, but I’ve never heard of the book or the dead guy. But that doesn’t mean anything. It’s a big multiverse, with infinite numbers of worlds. The only surprising thing about the fact that somebody figured out how to blow it all up, if you ask me, is that nobody figured it out sooner.”

  “Okay, I think I agree that it’s all probably true. It’s just really hard for me to wrap my brain around. I’ve never seriously considered the existence of other worlds, or magic, or any of that stuff. Now all of a sudden I find out that not only are they all real, but that I might be needed to help save all of this. I mean, I want to help, but…”

  “But what?” J’Mart did a flip and landed on his head. He remained in that position and continued speaking. “Don’t you see that there is no ‘but?’ Let’s agree that it’s real. If that’s the case, it seems perfectly obvious to me that you have to help. Like the wizard said, you can help so you must help. If you decide that you’d rather stay home and make cookies, then infinite billions of creatures will die horrible, meaningless deaths. Worse, they’ll just cease to be, as if they never were.” He pantomimed a horrible death, grasping his throat, gurgling, and landed flat on his back on the floor, stretched out his full twelve-inch length. He looked up. “And if that doesn’t convince you, then be selfish about it! You’ll die! Maestro will die! Heck, I’ll die!” He frowned and paused, scratching his head. “Wow. Hadn’t really thought about it until just then. That could really ruin a guy’s day.” He looked back at Joel and floated up to his face. “Do you see it yet? Everything you can think of and everything you can’t will vanish! Expire! Keel over! Poof! And what have you got to lose by trying? Your life?” He snickered.

  Joel held up his hands. “All right, all right. Point taken. I guess I don’t really have a choice.”

  J’Mart harrumphed. “Damn straight, you don’t.”

  “I guess another thing that bothers me about this whole situation is that Massar seemed to know what I would decide before I knew myself.”

  The Ramiken nodded. “He probably did, and that can be a little unsettling. He’s crafty, that one. Knows a lot more than he lets on. Then when things start to go down the chute and you know he knows what’s going on, he gets high and mighty on you and acts like ‘Oh, I can do nothing! I’m powerless! I’m a slug!’” He shrugged.

  “You don’t like him much, do you?” asked Joel. “How well do you know him?”

  J’Mart shrugged again. “Like I said, I’ve worked with him a few times in the past. He’s basically a good guy. He gets an attitude sometimes, but I suppose I’d get an attitude too, if I could disintegrate a city just by thinking about it. You know, one time…” He stopped and looked dramatically around the room. “He’d kill me if he knew I told you this.” He leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. “ I actually saw him make a mistake once!”

  Joel laughed out loud, the tension in the room broken. “My lips are sealed.”

  J’Mart nodded and stuck his hands in h
is pockets. “Good. Now that we’ve settled the fact that you’re going to travel to another world, find a missing book and face almost certain death, can you explain to me this gadget you call a ‘microwave?’”

  Joel spent the rest of the day getting things together and doing what he could to quickly get his affairs in order. He cleaned the apartment and the litter box. After taking stock of supplies, he went to get more cat food. Despite the Ramiken’s objections, he left J’Mart at home. He didn’t know what kind of havoc the little man would be tempted to cause in a grocery store, and he didn’t want to be seen wandering the aisles talking to empty air. On impulse, he bought a book about electricity and electronics for J’Mart. The little man had shown great interest in all of Joel’s musical equipment. Joel had barely been able to dissuade him from disassembling one of the keyboards, the Ramiken insisting the whole time that he could ‘put it back together even better than before.’ When Joel got home and handed him the book, however, he was somewhat disappointed. J’Mart jumped up and down excitedly, then picked up the book and flipped through the pages as if he were counting them.

  “Aren’t you going to read it?” asked Joel.

  J’Mart blinked innocently. “I just did.”

  “Oh.”

  Joel also called Rick, his agent. He explained to him that he had been called out of town unexpectedly for a few weeks, and asked him if he would use his spare key to check on Maestro every day. Rick was less than enthusiastic about canceling all of Joel’s gigs for three weeks. Apparently doing so would help a lot toward putting Rick in the poor house. Joel expressed his sympathy. Rick spent some time trying to convince Joel to stay, then when that proved impossible tried to find out where he was going.

  “Come on,” Rick pleaded. “What if there’s an emergency?”

  “What kind of emergency could there be? If Maestro needs to go to the vet, I’ll pay you for it when I get back.”

  “Get back from where?”

  Joel sighed. “Look, if I could tell you, I would, believe me. But I can’t. You wouldn’t believe it anyway. Just trust me, and if everything happens the way I want it to then I’ll tell you all about it in a few weeks.”

  Rick gave up, wished him luck, and hung up, muttering something under his breath about irresponsible musicians and the personal saviors that were agents.

  The last thing Joel did was to compose a last will and testament. It wasn’t very difficult. Both of his parents were dead, and Rick was the closest thing to a friend he had. He left Rick all of his musical gear, gave Maestro to the ex-girlfriend in L.A. that loved cats, and gave the rest to charity. When he had finished, he had to spend some time explaining the concept of a will to J’Mart, who had a crazy idea that when someone died, all of his stuff should just be up for grabs.

  “Just think of it!” J’Mart grinned excitedly. “A free-for-all, with hundreds of people in here, looking through all of your cereal boxes and your underwear, critiquing your taste in reading and macaroons…”

  “A hundred people wouldn’t fit in here.”

  “Well, dozens, then. No, wait! Just shove it all out on the sidewalk! First come, first serve! Whatever’s not ruined by the rain, you can have!”

  Joel sighed and gave up. The will was just a precaution, since he had every intention of coming back in one piece. He didn’t know what would happen, though, and expected a difficult journey from which there was a very real chance he might not return.

  Sundown came all too soon. Joel filled three bowls with food for Maestro, then picked him up and petted him for about ten minutes. The kitten was not thrilled, obviously wanting to chase after J’Mart, who was attempting to ice skate on the kitchen floor using an old used dryer sheet. Joel finally put the kitten down and headed for the door. He put on his overcoat and looked around one final time. It had taken him a while to decide what to bring with him. He had finally settled on a pocketknife and his guitar. He had no way of predicting what he might need, so he decided to play it by ear when he got there. He shouldered his guitar case and opened the door.

  J’Mart was jumping up and down on his head. “Come on, come on! What’s the holdup, eh?”

  “Just hold your horses,” said Joel. “I may never see this place again.”

  “Sure you will. You’ve got me along, don’t you? Let’s go! And I don’t have any horses.” Joel finally closed the door, locked it, and turned towards the park. The drizzle from this morning had let up but showed no sign of stopping. With his guitar on one shoulder and J’Mart on the other, he started walking.

  The light rain continued while he walked, and by the time the park came into view he was wet all the way through. He looked toward the tree under which he had been sitting this morning, so long ago, and could make out a dim figure standing underneath it. As he watched, a light fog began to swirl around the tree, making it that much harder to see the man.

  “Greetings,” said Massar, as Joel plodded up. “I see you have made your decision, and I and all the creatures of the multiverse give you many thanks. I also see,” he continued, nodding at Joel’s shoulder, “that you brought your guitar. I was hoping you would. I think you will find it useful.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” said Joel, “do you have anything to do with this fog?”

  “I do,” answered the wizard. “There are many eyes watching me tonight, and the fewer that see my work, the better.” Without another word, he spread his hands apart in front of him and spoke a few strange words.

  The air crackled with power as Massar continued to speak. Joel tried desperately to listen, but the words slipped through his consciousness like a dream and were forgotten. In a few moments the air beneath the tree filled with a rainbow effect of colors, swirling in the now very dense fog. The hair on Joel’s arms was standing up as if the air was filled with static electricity.

  Massar stepped forward and spoke one more word in a commanding tone of voice. There was a sharp ‘crack!’ and suddenly a black rectangle the shape and size of a door appeared in the fog. Nothing was visible through the rectangle. Joel walked slowly around it, only to discover that it disappeared unless you were looking straight at it from the front. Massar waited patiently, as did J’Mart.

  This is it, thought Joel. If I didn’t believe him before, I do now. Massar looked at him. “Through that door lies Alera. All you need to do is step through. I will follow directly behind you.” He paused and looked at J’Mart. “You may use the door if you wish, or you can use your own powers.”

  The Ramiken grinned. “Well, heck, doc, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll use the door. World-walking is tiring.”

  Massar nodded. “As you wish.” He looked at Joel. “When you are ready.”

  Joel swallowed and stepped forward. He was frightened, but also strangely calm. He looked around one last time at the park. The rain had increased to a steady downpour. He looked at the door. Joel sighed, squared his shoulders, and stepped through.

  FOUR

  For a moment he felt as if he was falling, but then all sensation of movement ceased. He floated in a black void, an emptiness with no end and no beginning, and no sense of direction. He experimentally tried wiggling his arms and legs, only to discover that he did not possess any. As far as he could determine, he had no body at all. He was just a bodiless Self, a formless bubble of thought. He was momentarily alarmed, then decided that it didn’t really matter. Nothing did. Everything was extraordinarily peaceful.

  There was no real sensation of time passing, but after a little while he gradually became aware of other presences in the void, other awarenesses like his own. Since there was no sense of direction, they didn’t really seem to float by; rather, he sensed them for a short time and then they were gone again. None tried to communicate with him. He wondered who or what they were. Were they other inter-world travelers like himself, traveling the great void between worlds? Were they spirits, demons, ghosts or otherwise? No answer presented itself.

  With no body and no sensation
of time, he grew bored. Snatches and fragments of songs drifted through his mind. He wondered where Massar and J’Mart were. Were they nearby, indistinguishable from the other bodiless presences? Or maybe they were already on Alera, waiting for him to arrive. Maybe he was lost. After all, he didn’t know how to travel in this dark, dream-like void. Somehow, though, he doubted that Massar would go to all the trouble to convince him to travel to Alera and then lose him on the journey.

  As he considered this, he gradually became aware that he was being observed. Although he had no sense of his body or direction, the sensation that he was being watched was overwhelming. Curious about the source, he reached into the void with his mind, straining with all of his senses, searching for the voyeur. It immediately struck him that he was being ‘watched’ by not one, but two presences. With no sense of direction it was impossible to pinpoint a location, but both gave the impression of immense size, of filling the entire void in which he drifted.

  No sooner had he realized this then a voice boomed through his head. It was impossibly huge, and did not seem to be either male or female. Strangely, it did not seem to be addressing him.

  THIS IS THE ONE.

  It was answered by another voice, as large as but slightly different from the first. THIS? There was an almost evil laugh. HE IS NOTHING. HE IS BUT A SPECK, UNAWARE OF WHAT IS HAPPENING OR THE CONSEQUENCES OF HIS ACTIONS. IF THIS IS YOUR SALVATION, YOU MAY AS WELL CONCEDE NOW. Another laugh followed. Joel had the uncomfortable feeling that he was eavesdropping.

  The first voice remained calm. DO NOT BE SO QUICK TO JUDGE. MUCH CAN HAPPEN, AND THE GAME MUST GO ON.

  AYE, answered the second. THAT IT MUST. SO BE IT. LET IT BEGIN!

  He received what could only be described as a push, and the sensation of movement quickly returned as he found himself hurtling through the void. With no reference points it was impossible to tell how fast he was moving, or even if he was moving at all, but the uncomfortable sensation of indescribable speed stayed with him. He wanted to close his eyes and scream, but he had no eyes to close and no mouth with which to form words. He suddenly had the distinct impression of approaching a door in the void, and then he was through it.