by Nelson, J P
I got myself situated and checked my tuning as I saw a couple of them glance at each other with almost evil grins. What had I got myself into? Then Cougar Jack gave me a taunting squint of his eye and bobbed his head around and said, “Let’s see what choo got, Woff-man …” and he slapped his drum sticks together four times into a smooth beat. Taken off guard I froze and then started off beat into what kind of tune I had no idea … I just fumbled.
Cougar just stopped and gave me this down on the dog look, “Now what choo call that?! Strings, pop one.”
Then Cougar counted off again and Strings did something with his fingers I had never heard of. He played a couple of quick bars and then the trombone jumped in. He played and then the bass, and then the Dom with his saxophone. Even Cougar took a turn. I had never heard anyone play lead with drums before, didn’t realize it could be done.
They all blended in and started this basic twelve-bar tune and they were good. But they were all just having a good time, and then Cougar said, “Jump in there, boy, give us something.” I didn’t know what to do, so I grabbed the key and slid in and just kept time. Over and over these guys went, each would take a turn at doing a little variation and I watched Strings carefully.
Listening to these guys play, I knew I was wa-a-ay out of my league.
I began changing out to bar chords and putting a little something different into my rhythm and then the notes started to wake something up inside. I began absorbing the music, each variation of each player. A humming began within my core and I was there, I was with them, not the same level of skill, but I could feel it. I had never been exposed to this kind of music before, and I was learning.
Sweet Dad took his run and Cougar said, “Come on, boy … let’s do it …” I kept up my rhythm, then closing my eyes I tried to find the riffs and variations they had been playing and replicate it with my guitar. It was close, and in the background I could tell they were playing support for me. I just focused in and tried to play all of their parts in succession.
“Bring it home, Dom!” said Cougar. The Dom laid into that sax and I caught Cougar’s eye, the change in his manner let me know he was tying it off and he counted at me with nods of his head, one – two – three –and then he winked. We all stopped as the Dom played out the final notes with Cougar softly rolling it out, and then closure with a velvet soft rotation on the drums and one on a cymbal.
The sound faded away like ripples on the water, and then they all said, “Yes-s-s!”
“So, what do you think?” the Dom asked Handsome, as he looked up at the oldest member of the group.
“Yap. No dowbt in my mind. Same hands.”
I just looked around, not sure what was going on.
The Dom looked me square in the eyes and said, “Thirty-five, forty year ago, me, Handsome, and Sweet Dad came to a closed off mountain country called Gevard,” I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up, “and played a few gigs there for the Council of Dukes. They brought in this elf-woman who made us sound like rubes.”
He motioned to Strings, “He was a young fella then, learning the ropes. But this elf-woman gave him lessons on the box. And it cost a pretty copper, too. But we want to know, is if you are any relation to Shinny?”
Shinny … the name … it brought back an old memory. I had been little and someone came to play music with, or rather be taught by my momma. They had called her Shinny, in fact, now that I remembered, most everyone called her Shinny but Roveir and Barlan.
I looked at the Dom, “You gave me a piece of hard ribbon candy, once.”
The Dom slapped his leg and laughed hard, “Ah-HAH! I knew it! I knew when I watched you at the pub one time, you was that little fella. And when you closed your eyes and got set,” he leaned forward and pointed at my chest, “you looked just like your momma.” He sat back with an emphatic nod of his head.
They were all quiet and I had expected questions. You know, questions about what had happened, how did I get here, all that sort of thing. But none were asked. It was eerie, meeting someone I had known from so long ago. Here, of all places.
Strings brushed a couple of chords in D minor, and said, “How ‘bout one for momma Shinny?” And then he went into an elvin song translated into the Lohngish tongue. He had made some variations, but I grasped them quickly, and as I heard his chorus, I harmonized with him. I loved it. And the others got right in there with us. But it was the saxophone which helped it most of all.
___________________________
I became Fonshune to the group, Fonshune being the Elvish word for Little Brother. We played the afternoon away, into the evening and well up into the night. I learned some fascinating finger work from Strings, and I learned he had a unique method he liked to do which he called “popping,” which wasn’t a popping sound at all, but was the way he plucked strings together to make his signature sound.
I even taught them a couple of elvin tunes.
There had been another member of the core group, a Trumpet player named Fabulous Farley, but he had been in Biunang when the cognobins wiped it out. The rest of the band I had heard at the ball was a selection of students trained by these guys.
As it came time to leave, I got up and thanked them for the time. They were all warm and friendly and when the Dom walked me to the door he put his hand on the wood and said, “Hey man, we all got a story to tell, and we all got us some losses. But strangers are strangers, friends are friends, but family ain’t always family. So you got to find a different kind of family.”
He looked around the room and said, “Ain’t none of us tied by flesh blood,” and then he looked at Cougar and added, “well, I don’t know about the Cougar, he could be one of mine,” everyone started laughing and Sweet Dad threw a towel at the drummer, “but here it is. We are all brothers of a different kind, and we stick tighter than blood. It’s up to you, but you got family if you want it. You dig?”
I was feeling something, but didn’t know what it was. Something about the Dom made me think of Hoscoe, but different. It was like he knew a whole lot more than he was saying. And I thought again about Hoscoe, where was he, anyway?
Speechless, I just looked at the guys in the room. Handsome and Strings held up their fists at me, supporting like. Cougar snapped the point of a drumstick in my direction with a wink, and Sweet Dad gave me this slow nod.
I took the Dom by the hand in that cool-hand-shake he had given me before, and then he bumped my fist with his. As I started to leave he said, “You don’t have to ask, just come on up.”
Nodding my head, I walked back down that spiral staircase. If they were my brothers, Ander and chums were good friends, what would that make Hoscoe? He would be more like my … my throat got tight … the word evaded me, one I had never used.
___________________________
The next morning it was back to business. I had maintained my same physical training regimen, which Hoscoe called PT, all through the last three weeks, but I wondered if he would show up this morning. I was sure he was still not in quarters when I came in the night before. However, as I opened my door to enter the hall, he was opening his door as well, right on cue.
How had he gotten in without me hearing him, I didn’t know. What with my uncanny hearing, I could hear the casual mouse skitter across the floor in the closet on the other side of my own quarters if I focused real hard. And I had been listening for Hoscoe to return.
I looked at him with a surprised pause, and then said, “Good morning.”
He acted as if nothing unusual was about, and returned my gaze as if to ask, why are you looking at me that way. And then he returned my greeting with a, “Good morning.” He closed his door and had the most humorous tilt to his head as he seemed uncharacteristically awkward, then after fidgeting ever so slightly he asked, “Well, are you ready?”
Trying to suppress a grin, I closed my door and answered with one of his favorite words, “Absolutely.”
He raised his eyebrows, and as I walked past him he f
ell into step beside me as we went down to begin the work week.
The next several days were intense as he worked me back into a hard groove. But even though my gig at the ball was over, I was still having a hard time getting to sleep, as if something kept nagging at me. I would time and again lay awake long into the night, and my rest time was often spent tossing and turning. It wasn’t mental, however, not like I had forgotten or was worried about something in particular.
I also noticed hair was starting to grow on my face and a little on my chest. That was appalling to me, elves didn’t grow body hair. It wasn’t something I talked to Hoscoe about, either. I scraped my face with my dagger, and then healed myself of scratches before going out in the morning. Combined with my recent sleep patterns, this was making my morning a less than pleasant experience.
Hoscoe and I talked about the Dom and the band, my getting invited to play with them, and their knowing about my momma. I explained word for word the encounter with Gohruvae, and then I mentioned Riana.
All I could get from him about his lady friend was that her name was Joniece, she was a widow, and was owner of the Esther House, a three level building with one more underground which housed several different businesses.
Hoscoe just nodded his head and approved of Dom and his band, “He is a good man. They are all good men.”
I eyed him suspiciously and asked, “You know them?”
Hoscoe tongued something out of his teeth, presumably something from breakfast, and answered, “I have heard them play before.” At my expression he chuckled and added, “Yes, we have been here nearly three years, I have met and conversed with Dominick, Strings and the rest several times. And no, I did not know he knew your momma, although I had my suspicions.”
Again, in answer to my look, he added, “The world is not so large as you might think, young sir. You will eventually meet someone who knows of your past. It will be how you handle the meeting which will matter most.
“I think, however, meeting and playing with them will most assuredly be in your best interest. It will be an outstanding means to expand your Bardic training. You do not have to tell them that, of course. But use the time to see if you can absorb their knowledge. See what you can take in from each session, but above all … enjoy the time.
“You do not know how much time you may have with them. And they are among the best in their field.”
Partially disturbed, I commented, “You keep telling me I don’t know how much time I, we or whatever may have. It seems to me this is a good thing going on here, and everyone is telling me I should become a minstrel.”
There was a long moment he chewed his jaw. I believed I had said something out of line when he said, “Is being a minstrel something you want to do?”
“Everyone says I ...”
“But …” He became very stern, “Is it what you want to do?”
Hesitating, I gave it deep thought, “I like it, but …”
Was Hoscoe asking me to make a life path decision? We had a rule, we always played it straight. Sometimes it seemed he didn’t tell me everything, but I had come to accept he was waiting for times when I was ready for whatever he had to say. But he had never lied to me, I didn’t think.
“… I don’t know,” I finished.
Hoscoe just shrugged his shoulders, “That is alright. And you do not need to know, for now. But even the Elvin Bard is more than just a minstrel, should you eventually take that path. And these skills can be useful, regardless of what path you take.
“Your momma understood the art of warfare. It was evidenced in many of the skills she taught you. The way you throw, the manner you naturally move your hands with a stick, your footwork … all bespeak combat training.”
I was stunned. The thought of my momma lifting a hand in violence just didn’t lend itself to my thinking. But then … I remembered that night at Fel’Caden Castle, years ago. My momma; a warrior? And what of that sorcerer; what was his name? Could she have actually …?
He could read my face, “Your footwork, you learned it in elvin dance steps. What of the names of some of those dances? Translated into the human tongues, many of them represent tribal patterns of fighting arts. They are graceful, yes, but when adapted into skill at arms, they contain entire combat stratagems.”
Again, I was stunned. A flash of vision of my momma dancing in the torrent of wind above the cauldron … I was starting to become just a touch angry and I asked, “Why haven’t you pointed it out before? Why?”
“Because …” he said with slow, steady calm, “you were not ready. Look at you. You are only now beginning to feel real confidence in yourself. You still have not become comfortable with references to your past, and you are learning now what Dsh’Tharr Elf children learn early on. You have told me your momma was limited in what she could say or teach you.”
I was beginning to feel hot, irritable. As long as we had known each other, Hoscoe and I had never uttered a cross word to each other. I had trained with total trust. But, was he treating me like a child? Emotions were rising up I did not understand.
“Wolf … Mehio …”
I looked up and into his eyes. There was something inside me, something growing, something I didn’t know if I was prepared to deal with, and I wasn’t sure what it was. Now that I thought of it, it had been there for some time. This thing … it was what was keeping me up at night, it had to be.
“If it became necessary, if there was no other way, could you put me down?”
The question took me by surprise and I felt someone had thrown a bucket of water over me.
“Could you put me down, Wolf? If it became necessary?”
I had no answer. What was he talking about? Why was he even asking such an absurd question? Hoscoe was … he was like … he was like …
Hoscoe stood there, with his arms crossed, I couldn’t remember him crossing his arms. He waited, then nodded with a note of patience. “You are almost there.”
“Almost there, where?!” I demanded, “to kill you?!”
It was Thursday evening and we were standing in the training hall. The air had started becoming unusually cold and two nights before a slight flurry of snow had come and gone. It didn’t snow on the south side of the Pehnaché River.
Casually and calmly, Hoscoe said, “Come with me. It is time to show you something.”
Frustrated, I opened my mouth, then thought better of it and shut it. I followed him outside and we both stood for a moment. Another flurry was blowing and all around soldiers were looking up at the sky with wonder. Chewing his jaw, Hoscoe began briskly walking to our barracks.
“Hoscoe …” I said abruptly.
He turned to look as I took up a quick pace beside him.
“You still haven’t told me who Km’Jhai is, was.”
A mischievous grin crossed his face, “He was Oshang’s second son.”
Craiken, I thought. It figures. I knew he was one of Oshang’s sons. I looked at Hoscoe irritably as we made quick time to North Wall Barracks.
Chapter 39
________________________
“I THOUGHT YOU knew your lineage?” Hoscoe asked, as we stepped into his quarters.
“I do,” I said sullenly, “but Km’Jhai isn’t exactly in my lineage, is he?” My tone was testy, and instantly I regretted my words. What was wrong with me? Everything seemed to be going good, and now, now …
Something seemed to want to be let out, something strong, maybe violent.
Hoscoe’s words were smooth, almost gentle, when he asked, “Would you be so kind as to light the fire?”
There was a small stove in his quarters, and that was what he made his coffee on. I struck a match to his always prepared tinder, and prepared the pot for coffee.
It had been a while, since I began practicing, since I had been in Hoscoe’s quarters. I only briefly noticed the new wall map he was standing beside, my mind was somewhere else.
“What do you mean by telling me I’m like a child and am I
ready to kill you?”
“That is not, what I said.”
“Yes, you did,” I was becoming angry, “you said -”
“I … said … you are learning now what Dsh’Tharr Elvin children learn early on. Hardly the same as calling you a child. Nor did I ask if you were ready to kill me. I asked if you could put me down.”
Frustrated, I glared at him.
“Your emotions,” he said, “they are coming alive. That is a good thing.”
Once more I was confused, and I looked side to side as if trying to come up with something good to say.
“It is the first time I’ve seen you angry since your fight with Stagus.”
Taken aback, “Ang- …,” my tone was suddenly challenging, “… so, anger is a good thing?!”
“It can be, when channeled correctly,” and he turned to his wall.
Shael’s, I thought, he’s going to ignore me and mumble about …
“We are all still children, Wolf. Contrary to popular opinion, you never grow up. We are the same person as when we were young. We just grow older, hopefully learning something in the process.” He looked at me and continued with a wistful, knowing expression, “Some of us make decisions to follow a different path from what we were first set upon, but most do not.
“You have lived your life conditioned to do as you are told. You have never had the luxury of making small choices which may fail, therefore allowing you to learn. You feel compelled to excel for fear of failure, and that is the wrong reason.
“You should excel simply because you wish to do your personal best. Not to be better than the next person. Not that competition is bad,” he gave a grunt of humor, “I am competitive myself. But I am my own competitor.
“If you are performing for someone else, as in a contracted project, then you must needs satisfy your client. But if you have done your personal best, then that should be satisfaction enough for you, yourself.
“You are striving to rise above your former path, and I am proud of you. You still have much to learn, but you are getting there.” He paused and considered long before speaking again. “You are the best student I have ever had, invariably.”