After passing the lake, the landscape started to show more and more signs of habitation. They saw settlements of varying sizes in between large fields of yellow and green and red crops. After a while, the farmland gradually diminished and the settlements grew and grew until Sawwse could see rows of shacks and houses either side of the road that seemed to be stacked backwards on top of one another. A vast stone wall lay ahead of them, blocking their way.
The section of the wall directly in front contained a deep groove. As they got closer, Sawwse realised that this must be an entrance.
‘Pleb’s gate,’ the driver called into the back. ‘Unless either of you have any royal blood in you?’
This was actually something of a joke from the otherwise humourless driver. The city of Rhyddinas was famously free from any kingdom traditions or ruling class, while maintaining good relations with its neighbours.
Leaning forward, Sawwse tapped the driver on the shoulder.
‘I’m royally excited to be here, does that count?’
She winked at Ruby. The driver rolled his eyes.
They maintained their course through the gate and entered the city. The driver manoeuvred the carriage into the back of a small area with other coaches. He turned around in his seat and looked at Sawwse expectantly.
‘Oh, yes. Of course.’
She reached forward and shook his hand.
‘Thank you for a successful and smooth journey,’ she said earnestly.
The driver looked imploringly at Ruby, who, despite not having used money very much at all in his hermit-like life, was at least slightly more aware of its uses than Sawwse. He tapped Mirrah’s pouch.
The currency-less Blue Forest unfortunately wasn’t the best place to learn about money, but the little gnome figured out Ruby’s meaning, and placed the whole bag of coins in the driver’s hand.
‘I could also play you a song if you would like?’
The driver’s eyes widened when he felt the weight of the pouch. Muttering something under his breath about naiveté, the driver turned his carriage around and hastily left the city.
Without realising their mistake, Sawwse and Ruby began wandering away from the gate and into the city. Perversely, there seemed to be more space within the walls than beyond it. The houses looked sturdier, more permanent. There were long rows of shops, tradespeople, and inns. The floral and earthy smells of the countryside were replaced by the exotic scents of the markets. Though it was now dark, the streets were lit by bright torches and many people still bustled through the streets leading from the gate.
Sawwse was amazed to see such diversity in the city folk as well. The humans, elves, and dwarves all chatted with each other freely. She looked for any fellow gnomes, but couldn’t see any. Presumably they were busy playing pranks or settling down for reverie.
They snaked their way along one of the narrowing streets from the gate. Gradually, several other paths converged until they found themselves on a wide boulevard lined with large evergreens.
‘Great Gnomelord up in Groma-tundhi.’
Both Sawwse and Ruby were stunned as they noticed a breathtakingly beautiful building at the end of the boulevard. It was unlike anything either of them had ever seen, and had obviously been given pride of place within the city. Even under a night sky the white stone somehow still glistened as though it was lit naturally. A large circular stained-glass window danced with many colours, bouncing from the torches surrounding the building. A sign outside indicated that it was the Monastery of Light.
‘Listen,’ Sawwse said, tilting her ear toward the building.
Faint choral music floated over to them. Their feet carried them closer, mesmerised. As they approached, the thick stone doors to the building swung open and a powerful chorus washed over them. Sawwse had never heard so many voices singing as one. The gnomes hummed during reverie, but this was different. Her soul felt weightless and dense within the same breath, as though she’d connected with some sort of celestial body.
‘It’s divine,’ she murmured.
Ruby simply nodded his head, not wanting to interrupt the choir. They stood in front of it transfixed until the doors swung shut. Sawwse tried pulling the doors open, but they were far too heavy for the little gnome. She placed her ear to the door, desperate to hear more of this sacred music.
A couple of short tugs on her tunic brought Sawwse out of her daze. Ruby pointed to a large crowd gathered in a small park around the side of the monastery. As they drew nearer, it appeared someone was standing on a mound of higher ground, speaking to the gathering.
‘-and spare a thought for those who have freedom, but choose not to use it. What a peculiar choice. The freedom of this city was hard-fought for. A reward for the centuries of subjugation that came before. Would it not be an insult to victory if we ignore the chance to put our spoils to use?’
There was a passion and magnetism in the man’s voice, drawing Sawwse and Ruby towards the front of the crowd. This suited them anyway, as they were too short to see over most of the heads. They saw that the speaker was a heavily built man covered by a black cloak, which glittered in the torch light like a beetle’s carapace. A white horned mask floated an inch from his face, shifting with his expressions, and further deepening the beetle-like resemblance.
‘Our time is finite and precious. We walk this land for only as long as we are given, and that’s true... whether you have received a boon of longevity or not,’ he added, spotting a pair of elves exchanging sceptical looks. ‘Let us use these grains of sand to pursue lives we can be proud of. Let us eschew the dull, the safe, the staid. Let us embrace adventure.’
Sawwse’s eyes widened. ‘Yes, exactly,’ she thought, ‘where was this guy in the Blue Forest?’
‘My friends, we are constantly looked down upon. The dwellers of Shi’areth, No’areth and Wed’areth, and those on islands elsewhere across the world, they all look down upon us. They think we are nothing. They think that here on the continent of Esh’areth, we are numb to the dangers that are rising. And my friends, I am sorry to say that they are correct. Our politicians and leaders spend their time navel-gazing. They look inwards, while crooked forces surreptitiously take over our armies. They look inwards, while monsters return to our lands. They look inwards, while the ominous wind blows. There is danger coming.’
A short man threw his apple core at the speaking figure. It landed with a soft thud on the white horned mask, and instantly turned to ash, which drifted towards the ground. Despite the gasps this drew from the crowd, the short man was not deterred.
‘Stop stirring trouble,’ he shouted.
‘Yeah, go back to where you came from,’ another man shouted.
The crowd began to disperse, sensing trouble in the antagonism on display. The beetle-like figure was unperturbed. He paused, and only continued when he was ready, speaking to whoever remained.
‘A danger is coming, whether we want to believe in it or not. Please join me and we will build a guild together. A guild that is not scared of adventure. A guild that will protect these beautiful lands and people from harm. I will not make any false promises about drowning in wealth, but if we make some money along the way, all the better.’
A smile crept across the white horned mask. Around twenty people now faced him. He looked back at each of them intently.
‘You are my people. We are each other’s people. We have found each other, and we will thrive.’
He finished speaking, and took a long, deep breath. Sitting down cross-legged, he placed his fingertips together and the eyes in his mask narrowed. And then, as he exhaled, he vanished completely.
Shocked, Sawwse suddenly experienced a strange sensation in her head, distracting her from the man’s disappearance. It felt like someone had just flicked their finger at her brain, but the feeling vanished as quickly as it had arrived.
‘Do you think you’ll go?’ Ruby asked, rubbing his head.
‘Sorry?’ Sawwse re
plied, recovering.
Ruby shrugged, suddenly self-conscious around the other people there.
‘What was Ruby talking about?’ thought Sawwse. Just then, she felt the flicking sensation again, followed by a clear image of a golden hourglass set against a steel shield.
‘The guild’s first meeting,’ she intoned, as if in a trance, ‘will take place tomorrow evening when the city torches are lit.’
Sawwse shook her head in disbelief as the image receded, stared at the spot vacated by the beetle-like man and then turned back to Ruby. She grinned from ear to ear.
‘I don’t think I’ll go, I know I’ll go.’
Chapter 8: The Musical Conservatoire
Lute in hand, Sawwse had been idly strumming for a while. The night was mild, and after sleeping in the carriage, the gnome and shapeshifter were content outdoors. They’d found an alcove and Ruby had been curled up in cat form for most of the night. Sawwse couldn’t settle, hence the music. She was itching to find out where the conservatoire of music was, but knew it’d be best to wait until daylight.
There were relatively few people walking past during the night, but gradually, as Elra rose to replace the stars, the city woke up. More and more people hurried by. The odd discerning ear would half-turn to the gnome’s lute-playing, before carrying on with their commute.
A plump, shaggy dog waddled over to Ruby. Hair hung over its eyes, but it was guided by scent. After an incredibly lengthy sniff, the dog began to lick Ruby’s fur. Sawwse wasn’t quite sure what to do about this exchange, so she just let it happen.
‘It feels surprisingly pleasant,’ came a sleepy voice from the eyes-closed feline form next to her.
Sawwse made a non-committal noise. She sat in silence for a few moments until the pudgy dog’s lapping noises began to make her feel a bit uncomfortable.
‘You know, I think I’ll try and find this conservatoire.’
She bounced onto her feet.
‘Should I come with you?’ Ruby raised her head, sleepily.
‘No no, it’s fine. We can catch up later.’
With that she set off decisively, though immediately in the wrong direction. It took several trips past a beleaguered-looking fishmonger before Sawwse eventually hopped onto the counter to ask for help. Fortunately, the fishmonger was much more jovial than he first appeared and gave Sawwse very clear directions.
Finally, the little gnome stood before the long, curvy building, which she instantly recognised from the Gnomeopedia. The sign in front read:
Musical Conservatoire of Rhyddinas: where music flows as freely as the city.
A tingle spread through Sawwse’s belly, an airiness in her lungs. Not for the first time she reminded herself of how lucky she was to be out in the wider world. Taking a deep breath, she entered the building.
Expecting to be greeted by melodies and harmonies, basses and trebles, soaring strings and crashing drums, she was shocked to hear… nothing. There was complete silence.
‘Must be some kind of silencing magic so everyone can practice in peace,’ she conjectured, walking through a reception area into a wide hall.
Crates and boxes of differing sizes almost entirely filled the space. Reams of notes (musical and script) spilled over their sides. There was space between the crates that formed a kind of narrow path. Sawwse wandered through it until she found a small man sitting on the floor, surrounded by even more stacks of paper.
As she approached, the man seemed to be trying to make sense of the notes in front of him. It didn’t appear that he had noticed Sawwse’s entrance.
She coughed, not too loudly, but definitely loud enough to be heard. No response. Sawwse wondered whether the man was slightly deaf, and adjusted her intended speaking volume accordingly.
‘Hullo there!’
The man shot up, knocking at least four large stacks of paper over.
‘Flaming djinn!’ he shouted.
The parchment that had soared upwards around him gently began to float back down.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,’ said Sawwse apologetically.
Spinning around, the man’s shocked expression came face-to-face with Sawwse. He had two sections of short, white hair either side of his bald pate, and two oval patches of deep navy patterned around a pair of startlingly sky-blue eyes. With a squat nose and tiny neck, Sawwse wasn’t sure whether he looked more like a panda or a turtle.
‘Well then, no matter,’ the man said, catching his breath. He turned and began picking up the scattered notes.
‘I’m here for the conservatoire.’
‘Humph. It’s all very well being here for the conservatoire now that...’ he trailed off, mumbling.
‘I have a modest set of skills, but I’d love to learn more.’
‘You’re late. Oh so late. There’ll be no more learning, oh no no no. We can’t have that.’
He shuffled the papers he had finished collecting and placed them in a seemingly random crate before turning his attention to an enormous wooden box.
‘Is there no way I can enrol?’
Half submerged within the box, the man thrust a bit of parchment behind him and asked Sawwse to sign it. Looking it over, she could see that it was covered by musical notation. She read the notes and played out the tune in her head: a waltz of some kind. Sawwse wasn’t sure of the significance of the paper, but signed it nonetheless and handed it back to the man.
‘There. You’re enrolled. Well done.’
He dived back into the box. There was a scuffling noise that sounded like wood shavings being vigorously moved around.
Confused, Sawwse said, ‘But all I signed was that piece of parchment.’
‘Correct.’ The man jumped out of the box and picked up a nearby double bass that almost completely eclipsed him. Struggling, he lifted it into the box, falling in after it and creating a plume of sawdust.
Sawwse was crestfallen. She had been so keen to get here, but now what?
Reappearing from inside the box with a dusty appearance, the man rested his arms on the side and looked Sawwse in the eye.
‘Look, the conservatoire is closing. Closed. Our esteemed colleagues at the Rhyddinian Council have decided that there’s no money for “frivolous activities” anymore. Unfortunately,’ he held up the parchment that Sawwse had signed, ‘this means that we will have to reject your application, strong though it was.’ As he surveyed Sawwse’s crestfallen face, his own softened slightly for a moment. ‘My name is Con Duco and-’
‘I’m Sawwse Bohge,’ she said, bowing.
‘Yes. Well, it’s nice to meet you, but I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. I have to sort through… this,’ he gestured to the hall in general, before turning his back on the gnome.
‘Oh dear. Okay. Thank you anyway.’
Fully defeated, Sawwse turned on her heel and began to walk back to the entrance, when a golden gleam in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Wandering over, she discovered that the gleam was coming from a musical instrument she had never seen before. It was triangular in shape, much taller than she was, with a golden frame leading out from a column. Attached to the frame were various dials and between the top and bottom parts of the frame were taut strings.
Curiosity got the better of her. Sawwse tentatively plucked one of the strings and was delighted with the result. The resonation created an almost divine sound. She plucked further strings, noting the pitch of each note played, and then created a simple melody. Beaming, she carried on, developing more and more elaborate music as she did so.
‘Did I say you could play that?’
‘Ah!’ Sawwse jumped up away from the instrument. ‘I’m sorry, I completely forgot to ask.’
‘That harp is priceless.’
‘A harp. That’s a nice name for it.’ She sounded it out a few times. ‘A harp. Harp. Harrrp.’
‘Yes, and it was made for none other than Queen Hlysnan.’
‘Oh
right. Did she not want it or something?’ Sawwse queried, cheekily.
‘You’ve evidently been neglecting your musical history. Quite common with youngsters these days. It’s all about hands-on practice and never enough about theory. Well, I suppose it’s not about very much at all currently.’ He looked downcast before remembering his company once again. ‘Anyway, you play quite well. Where did you learn?’
‘The harrrp? Nowhere.’
‘Well then, who are your parents?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Your parents. I might know them, who are they?’
‘I don’t know. They’re nobody, I think. I’m not sure they passed any skills on, other than my charming personality,’ she smiled, faltering as she added, ‘d-depending on the whole nature versus nurture thing. I never met them.’
Not sure how to take this, the older man just apologised under his breath.
‘That’s okay, I’ve had almost a hundred and fifty years to get over it.’
She smiled reassuringly.
‘A hundred and fifty,’ he wheezed, smiling. ‘You’re a messer.’
Walking over to a crate behind Sawwse, he reached in and pulled out a long curved metal tube.
‘Mess around with this.’
Sawwse took the object and looked it over. The tube curved round on itself twice, ending in a larger opening that reminded the gnome of a flower. She rested the flower on her shoulder, letting the tube extend out away from her, holding it up with her hand. Then she put her mouth to the smaller end, inhaled deeply through her nose and blew out into the tube.
A deep, intense vibration of sound issued from the instrument. Instinctively, Sawwse had rested her other hand further down the tube, which she then moved. The instrument telescoped as she slid the tube away from and back towards her, changing the pitch.
Just as she was getting familiar with the instrument, it was snatched out of her hands and replaced with a slim, stringed instrument.
‘Ah, a violin.’
Sawwse recognised the curvy shape from the books in the Blue Forest, but had never had the opportunity to play one. She flipped it around, resting her chin on the base and the man handed her a bow.
In the Grip of Time Page 8