Music and Misadventure

by Charlotte E. English

  ‘Thanks,’ I sighed. ‘Why does it do that?’

  ‘Maybe it’s because you’ve got those pipes. Like calls to like.’

  My adored Great Treasure was proving to be almost as much a liability as a boon, here in this place of its making. That seemed unfair.

  I heard music, then, and cautiously turned back around. Cadence had done I-don’t-know-what with the melody, and now the lyre was playing it by itself, its fluid strings rippling in song as an ancient, haunting air filled the echoing library.

  I hastily turned my back to it again. Curse the thing, it was almost agonisingly pretty.

  ‘What’s this song?’ said my father.

  ‘The King’s Lament,’ said Cadence.

  ‘A song of mourning.’

  ‘Yes.’

  It did not sound sufficiently lamenting, to my ear, to qualify as a dirge, but then different cultures do mourn in different ways. This was a hopeful tune, and perhaps that was fitting enough.

  Once the song’s final strains had died away, though, the lyre lapsed into a thrumming silence, ostensibly unchanged.

  Father picked it up and played an experimental note. ‘Ineffectual,’ he pronounced.

  ‘In what fashion?’ said Cadence.

  ‘I want to restore the lyre to its state prior to the events of thirty years ago. Before Ayllindariorana altered its song—’

  ‘Ayllin?!’ said Jay and I together.

  ‘That woman?’ said Mother.

  My father looked helplessly at the three of us, nonplussed. ‘You’ve met.’

  ‘She’s the one who guided us through to the vault,’ I said. ‘She’s the reason we found you at all.’

  ‘But why would she do that? She hates me.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. She wanted to install herself as queen, not me.’

  ‘Why?’ I said.

  He blinked. ‘What?’

  ‘Why did she want to be queen so badly?’

  ‘I never asked.’ He snorted. ‘I hadn’t time. They were too busy throwing me out.’

  ‘They who? Was Ayllin one of them?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  Jay and I exchanged a long look. ‘Doesn’t make sense,’ said Jay.

  ‘Not a bit,’ I agreed. ‘For another thing, if she was willing to go to such lengths to queenify herself, how did the lyre just happen to wind up in your hands instead, Dad? You’d think she would have taken care to eliminate such happenstances.’

  ‘No one can eliminate the effects of chance.’

  ‘True,’ I conceded. ‘Perhaps it was just an accident.’

  ‘Were you much acquainted with her before that night?’ asked Jay.

  ‘No.’

  ‘But she told you her plans anyway.’

  ‘Not before! After, when she was tearing my face off for getting in her way.’

  Mother said, ‘We need to talk to that woman.’

  ‘She’s not popular with you, hm?’ said Jay.

  ‘I don’t trust her.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Jay. ‘It would probably be wise not to.’

  Mother scowled, and said nothing.

  ‘The lady Ayllindariorana,’ said Cadence, ‘has often visited this library.’

  ‘To do what?’ said Father.

  Cadence shrugged. ‘She reminisces with the music.’

  ‘She’d like to go back to the old ways, would she? No doubt.’

  ‘You know,’ I put in, ‘if she wants to be queen so much, and nobody else in this room wants the job, perhaps she should just have it.’

  ‘But she’s a liar,’ said Father. ‘And she cheats.’

  ‘I don’t see how that’s worse than a king who’s ignored his kingdom for the past three decades,’ said Mother.

  ‘And it’s par for the course for leaders, anyway,’ I muttered.

  Father threw up his hands. ‘Fine. You’re right. If it gets me out of this mess, Ayllindariorana for queen.’

  ‘Right.’ Mother squared herself up for the task ahead. ‘Where do we find Lady Longname?’

  But Descant interrupted before anyone could answer. Her squeak of excitement split the air, and she threw a bubble-song up into the air with glee, and caught it again. ‘This one, this one!’

  Cadence took it, and examined it. ‘The Queene’s Rapture,’ she intoned, in a singsong voice.

  ‘There’ve been queens!’ said Mother. ‘Good. You all bang on too much about the kings.’

  ‘I think you mean queenes, Mother,’ I said. ‘With an E.’

  She gave me her are-you-crazy stare. ‘What?’

  I couldn’t explain what it was about Cadence’s… well, cadence, that had put the thought into my head, so I just said, ‘Nothing,’ and let it go. At least Jay smirked.

  ‘Ancient faerie queens are always spelt with an E,’ he agreed.

  ‘Exactly! Especially the extra magickal ones.’

  ‘Was this an extra magickal one?’

  ‘Indubitably. Just listen to that.’ Cadence had set the new song to the lyre, and its dulcet tones now swamped anything else I might have said. I’d heard something before, and recently too, with a similar texture — layers of fae magick woven into the melody — where had it been?

  My pipes distracted me, by jumping to join in the singalong. The music deepened, and so did the magick. We all stood bespelled, even the three sprites, until silence returned. When it was over, the lyre seemed to have developed a brighter radiance. Or was that my imagination?

  ‘A little better,’ said Father, testing the tone. ‘But there is a resistance here.’

  Cadence appeared unsurprised.

  ‘Can you go back to being the person you were thirty years ago?’ she said, rather cryptically.

  ‘I’d like to,’ said Father.

  ‘Would you?’

  He hesitated, and thought.

  ‘I would not,’ said Mother. ‘I was an idiot at that age.’ It could be considered ungenerous of her to glower so darkly at my father as she said it.

  He spread his hands, his eyebrows going up, the gestures saying as eloquently as words, not my fault!

  ‘Ahem,’ I said. ‘Perhaps we could argue about who is to blame for my earthly existence some other time?’

  Both parents scowled at me for that, but at least they stopped arguing.

  ‘Lady Smugboots, then,’ said Mother. ‘Where is she.’

  ‘That song,’ said Father. ‘We’ll take it along.’

  Since they spoke at the same time, it took the rest of us a second or two to parse these separate pronouncements.

  ‘Yes, Majesty,’ said Cadence.

  ‘I’m not—’ began Father, but was soon defeated by Cadence’s twinkling, impish smile. ‘Right, have it your way.’

  ‘Maestro Ayllindariorana is not in the Halls,’ said Euphony. Her eyes went a bit peculiar as she said it, as though she was looking at something very far away — walls notwithstanding.

  ‘We met her in the town,’ I said. ‘Presumably she went back there after she’d got rid of us.’

  ‘Got rid?’ Father’s brows snapped together.

  ‘We did get the impression she was glad to see the back of us.’

  ‘Or maybe she was glad to see where we were going,’ said Jay.

  ‘One way to find out. To the town?’

  I heard a sigh from my mother, a soft one rapidly suppressed. It did then strike me that she was looking grey around the edges again, and her shoulders were slumped.

  No wonder, either. Caught up as we’d been in mystery, magic and adventure, we had barely noticed the hours passing. But night must be falling outside, and once it occurred to me to consider the matter, I realised I was ravenously hungry. We’d been running all day, and our last meal had been too many hours ago.

  ‘Perhaps we could rest a little first,’ I suggested. ‘Dear sprites, do you suppose there is anything resembling sustenance to be had in these parts?’

  ‘There is!’ said Euphony. ‘
In the Queene’s Orchard.’

  ‘Does everything around here come with a royal label?’

  ‘It is the King’s Halls,’ Jay pointed out.

  ‘Right. Fine. Which way to the Queene’s Orchard, please, Euphony?’

  She did not answer, except by an airy laugh. Then, the library dissolved into faerie dust, which swirled around me in a dizzying, twinkling whirlwind.

  When it passed, I was standing beneath the arching boughs of a twisted old tree, its gnarled shape casting long shadows on the grass in the dying sunlight. From its boughs hung a multitude of apples. ‘Cadence,’ I said. ‘Descant, Euphony? When we’re finished here, I’d really like to talk to you about some exciting employment opportunities at The Society.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Father. ‘Those are my retainers.’

  ‘So you’re the king again now?’

  ‘If you want them, you take the monarchy too.’

  ‘You drive a hard bargain, Father.’

  He smirked, and reached out for a plump golden-green apple. But the moment his fingers touched it, it became a wrap sandwich stuffed with what looked like curried chicken, and fell tamely into his palm.

  We both looked at it in silence.

  ‘Pork pie!’ said Mother, and added gleefully, ‘I love pork pie.’

  Since Jay had a bag of crisps in one hand and a fat samosa in the other, I judged this to be a highly unusual orchard.

  When I reached for an apple of my own, I received a miniature cheese-and-onion quiche and a chunk of Bakewell tart.

  ‘You know what,’ I said, clutching my prizes. ‘Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to be the queene.’

  Mother smirked around her mouthful of pie.

  Sustenance and rest restored my mother, to a certain degree, but not enough. The passage of an hour found her slumped beneath a sheltering apple tree, her back against its trunk, eyes shut against the further demands of the day. I watched her for a while, wondering how it was that she had made it through so many hours, even with the restorative I had given her. She sat cradling her injured arm, enduring a species of pain I could only imagine.

  Tough lady, my mother.

  I’d rummaged through the remains of my minimal equipment, and come up with one more dose of the restorative potion. But, should I give it to mother? She would use it as an excuse to go on, and on, and on, until she collapsed altogether. Potent as it was, I doubted it could bolster her through the demands of, perhaps, a sleepless night filled with frenzied activity.

  Would she consent to being left behind? Certainly not.

  Would a single night’s rest do more for her good than the potion? No, probably not either.

  So, then. What was the quickest way to wrap up this bizarre misadventure, the sooner to get my mother out of the kingdom of Yllanfalen and into a hospital, where she presently belonged?

  I sat beneath my own tree for the majority of that hour, apart from the rest of our disparate company, and thought.

  When at length Jay stood up, peered at me through the twilight, and said: ‘We had better find Ayllin before nightfall, no?’ I shook my head.

  ‘I have a better idea,’ I said.

  ‘Uh oh.’ Jay took two steps back.

  I smiled briefly. ‘I don’t think you’re going to like it all that much.’

  He folded his arms, squared his shoulders, and lifted his chin. ‘Right. Hit me with it.’

  ‘We’re throwing a party.’

  ‘A what.’

  ‘Like the one my esteemed parents attended thirty years ago. Forget finding Ayllin — let her find us, together with the rest of the kingdom, when they all show up for the festival.’

  ‘It’s not a festival day, is it?’

  ‘The king is going to declare a new one.’ I beamed at my father. ‘Right now.’

  17

  ‘Your mother can’t withstand a wild night like that,’ hissed Jay to me, having drawn closer to me and farther away from the mother in question.

  ‘She doesn’t need to do much. We put her in a comfy chair, ply her with victuals, let her sleep through it if she wants.’

  ‘Ves, will you please think about something or someone other than the mission.’

  ‘I am! What else are we going to do with my mother? She won’t be left out, she won’t be sent for treatment until this is all over, and she won’t be fit and healthy until she’s had at least a week’s rest and care. We need to wrap this up tonight, and this is the best way I can think of to do it.’

  Jay nodded. ‘All right, I can’t fault that logic, as far as it goes. But what are we doing with this party?’

  I cleared my throat. ‘Dad will kick off the festival. I’m sure there are ways to make a suitably public show of it, get everybody here. Right, your majesty?’

  My father rolled his eyes towards the sky. ‘Doubtless, but—’

  ‘Ayllin will be here with the rest. We find her, ask her what she did to alter the lyre’s song, get her to change it back, and then let nature take its course. Pass the lyre around, spend the rest of the evening in wine and song, and at some point it will choose a new monarch. Right? And then we all go home and sleep for a week. Especially Mum.’

  ‘Just “get her” to uncorrupt the lyre?’ said Mother. ‘Right! I’m sure there can be no possible objection to that.’

  I shrugged. ‘If it’s a choice between that, or going on forever without a leader, I hope she’ll see sense. And it could be her chance to take the throne at last, if she still wants it.’

  ‘You’re forgetting something,’ said my father. ‘They hate me.’

  ‘The Yllanfalen?’

  ‘Yes. They threw me out, rather than accept me as king. What makes you think they’ll all come blithely party with me now?’

  ‘They threw you out, but you are still the king. Aren’t you?’

  ‘I… yes.’

  ‘I think they couldn’t have turfed you out if you hadn’t let them. You let them because you did not want the role. Well, now you can pass it on.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Come on, Dad. We can’t do this without you.’

  Father scowled in my mother’s general direction. ‘Is she always like this?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jay.

  ‘And you haven’t gone insane yet?’

  ‘It gets things done.’

  ‘Being insane?’

  Jay blinked. ‘Well… that, too.’

  Father sighed, and directed his attention towards the three sprites, whose only contribution to the debate thus far had been suppressed squeaks of excitement from Euphony. ‘Will the sprites assist me?’

  ‘Yes, Majesty!’ said Cadence, in a ringing voice.

  ‘I will never get used to that,’ muttered Father.

  I got up from under my tree. ‘Fortunately, you won’t have to. Let’s get started. The sooner we’re finished raving, the sooner we can sleep.’

  It was the sprites who carried word of the revelry.

  Everything began in the throne room of the King’s Halls, as was fitting. This space we had never glimpsed before, or I’d have certainly remembered, for the chamber was improbably enormous, and sumptuously decorated, even by the standards of the Yllanfalen. Chandeliers as big as my car were suspended from the ceiling, and when Euphony glided, chortling, up to greet them they burst into life, casting a vibrant, sunny glow over the hall. In that light we saw: great, lush hangings covering the walls, worked in silk and velvet and gilded thread, and depicting myriad mythical beasts; a floor of polished… something, that shone as silver as the chandeliers shone gold; long, long windows, arched and ornamented, beyond which the velvet-black night lay waiting; and a banqueting table, fully thirty feet long, already set with all the ornate silverware one might need for a kingdom-sized party.

  Father beheld all this magnificence in silence, and gave only a weary sigh. Mother’s response was not much more enthusiastic.

  Jay and I, though, were entranced. Jay especially, once he saw that, at the far-distant end of t
he throne room — situated not far from the throne itself, a confection of mist-whorled glass and cushions of green-and-gold moss — sat a grand piano, or something that closely resembled a piano. It had none of the mirror-polished, black elegance of a typical example from our world; instead it looked wrought from silver, or similar, its surfaces frosted over and a-twinkle with… ice? But its shape was familiar enough, and its bright white keys begged to be played.

  Jay began to drift that way.

  ‘Well,’ said Father, wearily. ‘Let’s begin.’

  ‘How?’ said Mother.

  ‘With music. Out here, it always begins with music.’

  Jay reached the piano, and sat down upon the silvery-frosted stool before it. He made an incongruous sight: clad in his adored black leather jacket, and with his short, dark, eminently modern hair, seated upon azure velvet stitched with silver and playing a piano from which magick dripped like melting ice.

  But when he began to play, I realised at once why the Queene’s Rapture had struck a familiar chord with me. The melody Jay’s clever fingers were drawing forth was the same as he had once played upon the spinet in Millie Makepeace’s parlour, and it shimmered and twinkled like faerie bells.

  Father raised his brows at me.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. Life had been busy. I’d forgotten to ask Jay about it.

  ‘Unusual chap, I think,’ said Father.

  I was beginning to get an inkling of that myself.

  The sprites had been busy. The piano was not the only instrument in the throne room, I soon saw: what I had previously taken for carvings and ornaments proved to be lutes and pipes and lyres, and one by one the sprites were bringing them into melodious life.

  Actually, I take that back. They were carvings. I watched, open-mouthed, as Descant soared up the length of a grand pilaster set against one wall, reaching out with her small hands to touch and touch and touch. Everywhere her fingers brushed the stone, an inert sculpture leapt free of the pillar, transformed at a stroke into gleaming metal or polished wood, and began to play. Jay had finished his gossamer tune and taken up the Queene’s Rapture instead, and the sprites had every harp and dulcimer and flute playing along.

  The effect was both deafening and rhapsodic. Indeed, one may even say… rapturous.

  Mum made a sound that was half sigh, half groan, and folded into a chair at the table. I took the opportunity to hand her my last dose of potion, pleased to note that the empty silverware was rapidly filling up with delectable feast-goods under Cadence’s capable attention.