“Certainly.” Rose looked up to make eye contact. She was a head taller than me, but the top of her head reached only to the Owlfae's underwing.
“Is it rat?” Shan asked with a scowl.
The Owlfae's head tilted to the other side. This time, she held it there until she finished speaking. “Not today. Tomorrow, gods willing, we will feast upon basin rat roast. Tonight we have Irrek's specialty, smoked salmon chowder.”
A small Owlfae tugged at the large one's wing. “Grandpa's making pine scones, too. And buckets and buckets of roasted acorns and minced rabbit hand pies and purslane sallat and huckleberry crumble. Dandelion wine for you big people, raspberry juice for the rest of us.”
“Thank you, Arnak. This will be a proper Feast of Plenty.” The large Owlfae patted the child's head. She raised a winged arm and gestured toward the second-largest Owlfae. “This is my mate, Billen. I am Lanak, and these are our children. Come, come join us. Make music with us while we await the Feast and the burning of the effigy that will reawaken the Great Rat God.”
“Feast of Plenty? Are we already entering autumn?” Rose asked.
“That we are. Come now, travelers, come join the circle.”
We followed the Owlfae around the wagons and into the center of their camp. Serida trotted at my heels like a loyal dog while Lumin refused to walk and needed to be carried by Shan. He showed no fear toward the Owlfae, only irritation that he was woken prematurely from his nap. The dragons were asleep more than they were awake, which was convenient for travel, but inconvenient for teaching them manners. They'd wake to eat and play, then go right back to sleep. I assumed it was because they were growing babies, and I hoped there would be time to train them before they became set in their stubbornness. It wouldn't do if they grew to the size of horses and were still nipping at knees and stealing food from their companions' plates.
Several folding tables sat a safe distance from the rat effigy. Two tables were empty, another was stacked with small wooden boxes and chests, and another still was covered in musical instruments.
“Pick what you'd like to play and join the circle,” Billen said. His voice was kind and gentle, a soft-spoken tenor with measured resonance.
“I don't play any instruments,” Nador said.
Billen tilted his head and shoulders to the side to regard her curiously. “Skill and experience do not matter here, small traveler of silver hair. We do not play to impress. We play to bring joy to our souls as we deepen our connections with the universe and with each other.”
Nador shrugged and chose a tambourine from the table. Iefyr scooped up a pair of turtle shell castanets while Rose and Marita chose goblet drums.
“I claim the zither,” Shan said as he shuffled around the back of the table. “Hey, Tes, they have a fiddle. It's a little smaller than your viol, but I think you can manage it.”
Shan passed the fiddle and bow across the table. It was a delicate old instrument with chipped finish and a large scratch across the back, but its strings were in good condition and it needed little adjustment to bring into tune.
“This is weird,” Ragan muttered. He picked up a frame drum with a mottled skin head and tapped it with a double-ended wooden beater. “I've never played before, either.”
Billen smiled and the feathers framing his face bristled for a moment before settling back into their usual position. “Close your eyes and let the rhythm of the circle guide you. You don't need to cover your face here if you wish not to. You have nothing to fear from us.”
“Why do you think I'm afraid?” Ragan asked.
Lanak laid her clawed hands over Ragan's gloved ones. “You're trembling and your posture reveals you as wary.”
Ragan withdrew his hands and reached up to touch his face. Carefully and hesitantly, he raised his goggles and lowered his scarf. He averted his eyes in anticipation of confrontation.
Lanak pressed her palm against Ragan's flushed cheek. “Half Faeline and half non-Fae. I see why you hide. Your beauty blinds the ignorant and fills them with rage. The ignorant are not welcome in our circle, but you are. You have nothing to fear here. Now come play with us and let the rhythm heal you from within.”
Ragan closed his eyes and a faint smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you.”
Several more adult Owlfae appeared from behind the wagons, and together we formed a rough circle around the rat effigy. I settled between Shan and Billen, feeling a little awkward about being one of only two people to choose a non-percussion instrument. Improvisation had never been one of my strong skills.
It didn't matter. Once the drumming began, the rhythm attached itself to my heart and melody fragments burst from my fingers. I could pluck the fiddle strings to utilize them in a percussive way or bow them in fugue-like echo of Shan's more-skillful improvisation. Before long, I relaxed into the overlapping cadences played by both experts and novices, and my own playing took on a life independent of my uncertainty. I didn't need to think about what I was playing, it just happened, and it worked. Sound embraced me, enveloped me, caressed me, and I became part of the pattern of the universe.
The Owlfae children joined us as the rhythm rose from its awkward first beats to rest on a zenith of fluid and cohesive syncopation. They dashed between us to dance at the center of the circle. They were light upon their bare feet, and more graceful than I expected given their zaftig builds. They twirled ribbons over their heads as they jumped and spun. The dragons wove between them, rolling on their backs and chasing the grasshoppers and gnats that the dancers upset from the grass. The young dancers and the dragons were as much part of the rhythm as the musicians were. I felt their movements even when I closed my eyes, and their energy amplified my own.
The rhythms evolved slowly and with communal participation. Sometimes Billen would lead a meter change, sometimes Ragan altered the tempo, sometimes Shan or I rose or fell to a different key. Major and minor, reel and dirge. A third melodic instrument joined us for some time as the driving beat became a jig and an Owlfae drummer switched to an oversized tin whistle.
I didn't know how long we played before crescendoing into a complicated mazurka, then tapering into a slower and slower waltz. One by one the musicians diminished until their hands rested on their instruments and their eyes lay closed. The dancers dropped out of the rhythm in a similar fashion, and reclined on their backs to gaze up at the gathering stars. The dragons stalked between them in search of one last grasshopper, then settled down in front of Shan and me.
Billen and I were the last remaining players. I switched from bowing to plucking. Quieter, quieter, ever lighter, ever quieter. A final note, nearly silent, and I lowered the fiddle to my lap.
Billen tapped three quarter notes and a triplet onto the head of his purple goblet drum, then lifted his hands and smiled. He released a long exhale and let his round yellow eyes wander across the faces of the circle members. “I see peace upon your faces. Peace now resides within your souls.”
I felt it, stillness and comfort. I was floating undisturbed on a calm, warm sea. I was a small child wrapped in my mother's arms upon the softest of down beds. It was a fleeting serenity. Thinking about my mother dragged tension back into the small muscles around my ribs and jaw. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my mother and sisters again, and sleep in my own bed.
Billen tilted his head and regarded me with both curiosity and concern. “What is your name, traveler?”
“Tessen.” My voice was far more choked than I expected.
“You are far from home, Tessen, and you have left much behind. Your future is uncertain and you know not how to accept what you will become.”
“Is it that obvious?”
Billen's hand fluttered over the head of his drum but he did not touch it. “We learn many things in the circle, in the rhythm. What you play reflects what is within. Not within your mind, but within your soul. You and your companions are cautious, but we coaxed moments of joyful abandon out of all of you. Especially you. I'
m not certain what variety of non-Fae you are, but I can see that you are quite young and you are struggling with more than being newly dragonbound.”
“Aren't we all?” Shan asked.
“You are struggling with far more than anyone else in this circle, other dragonbound child. Do not let go of who you are,” Billen said as he leaned forward to look at Shan. He righted himself and his feathers ruffled. “I believe our feast will soon be ready. Who would like to sing for us before we eat? I am in a mood for humor. Who has a humorous song to sing?”
Shan clicked his teeth together and raised his zither. “Hey, Tessen, let's sing a duet. What's that song you kept irritating everyone with before Mom and I were taken?”
“I Apologize for the Memories?” Simply speaking the title brought the lilting melody back into my head.
“Yeah, that one.” Shan strummed the zither and smirked. “It's kind of funny. Sing it with me.”
I drew a deep breath and exhaled. I wasn't given to sing in front of strangers, but becoming part of the circle lowered my inhibitions and made us no longer completely unfamiliar. “I suppose.”
Billen tapped his drum twice. “We are always eager to hear the music of travelers. Please, do begin.”
Shan nudged my side. “Do you start or I?”
“Me, I guess.” Everyone was looking at me, including the children and the dragons. My hands trembled.
“Close your eyes. It helps,” Billen suggested.
I did, and the world beyond me became translucent. How did the song begin again? I hummed a couple notes to find the pitch, then played the introduction on the fiddle. The voice that joined the instrument was not my choked, uncertain voice from moments before, but instead a clear and steady pitch.
Do you remember
The cold dark midwinter,
When the only light was the moon?
Do you remember
My promise of forever?
I hope forever will be here soon.
Now . . . I . . . can't
Stand to be near you,
So stand far away from me,
Please stand over there by that wall.
Please go away from me,
Please, please go away.
Do you remember
The dry dusty autumn
When fire consumed every leaf?
Do you remember
Saying you'd love me forever?
I think we passed forever today.
Now . . . you . . . are
Probably wondering
How to escape the promise
You made to me so long ago.
Please go away from me,
Please, please go away.
Do you remember
How to forget me,
'cause I want to forget about you?
I'm sorry for everything,
Especially the memories,
Now go away so I can forget about you.
Shan ended the last note with a giggle and a dissonant strike on his zither strings. “I missed hearing you sing, Tes. It's been a long time.”
“I haven't felt like singing,” I said. It was the truth. If I could sing, it was because I could breathe. The drum circle had released some of the tension that had been coiled inside me like a frightened snake for over a year. The snake was gone now, leaving me not hollow, but instead open and relaxed. I was going to survive this mess. I was now certain of it, and my future wasn't defined solely by an accidental dragon. I suspected the relief was temporary and would dissipate within a day or two, but even a small reprieve was very much welcomed.
I smiled at Shan, my eyes half-open and a slight wobble in my head. If it hadn't been nearly time to eat, I'd lie down right there and go to sleep.
Marita leaned over her knees to stare past Lanak at Shan. She clearly didn't share in my euphoria. Tension dragged her lips downward, nearly into a frown. Her discontent was directed toward the back of Shan's head. Her head jerked and her eyes darted away as soon as she noticed me looking at her.
“Sing, sing for the spirit and the glorious night,” Billen said. He hummed a few notes before setting his drum to the side and standing. “Your words were strange, but the melody was lovely. Come, everyone. It is time for the feast.”
Chapter 31
The drumming resumed after the feast and I found myself drunk on the collective euphoria. The others were drunk on dandelion wine, but Ragan wouldn't allow me to partake. I didn't care. The music itself was enough to keep me inebriated. We played until our palms were bruised and our fingers blistered, and then played even more while Lanak lit the bonfire beneath the rat effigy. Her wings held aloft, she sang praise to the Great Rat God and called for a plentiful autumn and a well-fed winter.
Marita left her drum on the grass to join in with her own invocation. “I kneel before you, Agella, Goddess of Autumn, and ask you to carry us safely to winter and beyond. May your leafy crown blaze brightly as we continue our journey. May you bestow upon us ample foraging and kind strangers. May you guide us toward light as darkness overtakes the day and toward warmth as chill consumes the air. We thank you, Agella, with humility and with love.”
The bonfire sparked green for several seconds. Marita smiled and offered it a deep bow. She rose, then turned around to face Shan. “I have been acknowledged.”
“You have, child, you certainly have,” Lanak said. She and Marita returned to the circle to initiate a new rhythm.
I soon fell asleep on the grass, still part of the circle. The rhythms invaded my early dreams, but they eventually faded into silence as the drunken revelers consumed the last of their wine and endurance and found comfortable places to sleep.
While the drums invoked abstract dreams of colors and cheerful flight, the silence of the autumn night inspired a more somber sequence.
I was on my back on a cloud-shaded beach, watching a much-larger Serida fly above me. She swooped after pelicans and often glided low over the water to dip her toes in the waves. She cried out in joy as a school of flying fish sprang from the sea. They flitted close enough that she was able to scoop them up and swallow them down whole.
“Her wings make no sense with the shape of her body. I can't understand how she flies,” said a voice from behind me. I sat up and turned around, expecting to see Shan. Instead, I found myself looking up at Alon.
Alon was not the young child I remembered, but instead a lanky youth in late adolescence. His coloring was the same as Mom's, but his face perfectly combined her features with Ragan's. He looked far more like me than Shan did, and it would have been clear to anyone that we were brothers. This was the Alon who could have been, the Alon another ten years from now if only he had survived his fourth year.
“You died.” My voice felt rough and pained, but it rose easily and clearly from my throat.
Alon shrugged, then sat next to me on the damp sand. He leaned sideways until his head was on my shoulder. “Maybe, but are we truly dead while we are still remembered?”
“I miss you. I love you. I don't know if I ever told you that while you were alive, and even if I did, I regret not telling you often enough.”
“I knew. I didn't need to hear the words to feel them.” Alon lifted his head. An unfelt breeze tousled his black curls. “Dad told me a lot. He still does. He dreams of me often, and I think he always will.”
“Your death devastated him. He's not the same person anymore. Neither is Mom.” I put my arm around him and held him close. Tears welled in my eyes. I knew this was a dream, but I wanted more than anything for it to be real. I wanted my little brother back, wanted to watch him grow and learn and become the young man my dream had conjured.
“Neither are you.” Alon returned his head to my shoulder. “I hear your desire, Tessen. I'm sorry it couldn't be. If I had lived, Yana would have died alone in the caves instead of being rescued by Mom, and Zinnia never would have existed at all. Our sisters live because I couldn't. Time twisted life and death just so, and now we're all where we are. It wasn't fate
, it was just how the pieces of the journey fell into place, a natural cause and effect that lead you here.”
“I don't want to wake if it means you're gone again.” A sandpiper landed near my feet and chased a tiny crab across the sand.
“I'll never be gone, not as long as you're still alive,” Alon said.
The breeze swirled the sand and the sun peeked through the clouds. The texture of cloth against my hand transitioned to warm, smooth scale. Alon had been replaced by Serida.
The tears fell freely now, and I had no urge to brush them away. I didn't want my little brother to be replaced by a dragon. I wanted Alon to be with me, whole and healthy and real.
“I can't bring him back, but I can help heal your heart and keep it whole no matter what happens in the years to come,” Serida said. Her voice was melodic and soothing, a rise and fall of pitch that echoed the crashing waves.
“What do I have to do to feel as grounded as I did in the drum circle? What do I have to do to stop feeling like my life has been nothing but an unfortunate inconvenience?” I gasped through my tears and tried to take a deep breath, but my lungs couldn't manage more than a strident groan. “I never told anyone, can't tell anyone what I overheard after Mom and Shan were kidnapped. I'll tell you here, because I know this dream isn't real and I need to tell someone because it's a pack of hungry wolves tearing at my heart. I heard Grandma and Aunt Nora talking about me, about when I was a baby. My father had vanished two weeks prior and Mom's postpartum depression sent her into this deep pit where she couldn't even take care of herself, let alone me. Grandma sent for the midwife to come help her, but instead the midwife came to convince Mom to sign me away. She did. She actually did. She gave me up and the midwife took me away to be adopted by a family who had no idea where I came from.
“Grandma had gone to check on her shop while the midwife was at the house. She came back a little while later to check on Mom and found her crying on the bed, with only Shan and a signed paper confirming that she had given me away. Grandma went to the midwife and demanded to know where I was. I'd been taken straight to another family, and Grandma had to pay off the midwife to find out who had me. She went to their home, argued with them, burned the adoption papers in front of them, and took me back to Mom. Mom didn't want me, told Grandma to take me away because she couldn't bear to see me again. She said she'd only ruin my life if I stayed with her and I was better off with a family that wasn't broken. Grandma told her that the Sylleths were not broken, weren't even cracked, and she wasn't about to spend the rest of her life wondering which face in the crowd belonged to her grandson. She was prepared to raise me herself if Mom refused to, but she didn't want to do that. I needed my mother and brother, and they needed me, and my grandparents would support all of us until we were ready to stand on our own.
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