Allegro 6: Revelations

Most creative talents find themselves unable to perform magic while being distracted.

— Wagium de Pun, Fallacies of the Crystal Spheres

It was a beautiful summer day and Linsan enjoyed dancing through the knee-high flowers that had grown up throughout the workshop's ruins. Brightly-colored petals fluttered around her pale blue skirt as she twirled and dipped. A breeze followed after it, buffeting her legs and arms with warm kisses.

Her violin dipped and bobbed with her movements. After three years of lessons, she played easily despite bouncing across the soft earth and fragrant blossoms. With every note, the air shimmered around her. The sharp notes sparkled and reflected light, adding to an ethereal glow.

Tisin, her mother, danced next to her. Her laughter and smiles brightened the entire valley. It looked like she was gliding more than jumping.

Linsan felt a bit of jealousy but that didn't stop her from continuing through the bright melody. Each note rippled across the grasses, swaying them with the waves of sound. In the distance, the music fluttered against the growing tree trunks that had the potential to become instruments in another century.

She reached the end of the song and slowed her feet.

“No, keep going,” encouraged Tisin. Her mother was still using the accent from her last play, a slight twang of the coastal cities that sounded exotic to the ear. She deftly jumped on the remains of the wall and danced along it. “Keep going!”

Encouraged, Linsan hopped on the wall and raced along it, jumping and twirling as she did. Her bare feet smacked against the weather-smoothed rock. The sun-warmed stone felt good against her toes as she raced along the side.

She missed a few of the notes but it didn't matter. She leaped off the end and landed neatly on the soft ground.

“Bravo!” Her mother clapped. “You were brilliant!”

Panting, Linsan beamed and let the violin slip from underneath her chin. It was slick with sweat from dancing in the sunlight.

“Bow. You always take a bow when you finish.” Tisin bowed deeply, pulling up the bottom of her dress so it caressed the petals of the flowers.

Linsan bowed back. “Thank you, my lady.”

“And thank you, my beautiful lady.” Tisin straightened and hopped around before heading to the blanket on the ground for their picnic. “Come on, you need a break.”

She sat down and picked up a lace-edged hat. It had a short brim that kept the sun out of her eyes but didn't cover her face. Setting it on her piled-high brunette hair, she favored Linsan with a smile. “You've gotten so good at playing, Honey.”

Still panting, Linsan sat down heavily next to her. She carefully set the violin back into its case. “Daddy's lessons have helped a lot.”

“You were already good before he started teaching you.”

Linsan shook her head. “No, these last few years of lessons have done more than I could ever hope to do by myself.”

Tisin smiled and patted the back of Linsan's hand. Unlike her daughter, she didn't seem fazed by the dancing in the sunlight. With her pale skin, she looked almost ghost-like compared to Linsan's deep tan from visiting the valley every day. She would burn quickly, which is why she always wore a hat outside even on cloudy days.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

Tisin smiled and looked around. “Your father used to bring me here when we were courting. We would just sit on the porch of the workshop and watch the red birds fly. There were two nests over there and they had the prettiest little chicks.” She gestured to an empty space.

Linsan looked around at the few remaining walls. They were almost completely erased by time. In a few more years, she wouldn't be able to see the crumbling walls that outlined the old building. “It's sad now, isn't it?”

“No.”

Surprised, she looked back at her mother.

Tisin looked happy as she peered around. “I guess I could think about what we lost but why? Sadness and hatred are anchors that pulls you down and drown you.”

Linsan smirked. “Isn't that one of your lines?”

Tisin gave her a sly smile.

Shaking her head while grinning, Linsan said, “It is! From last year's play, The Dame of Westmont.”

“Good ear. And good memory.”

Unable to help smiling herself, Linsan started to say something but then she saw the briefest hint of sadness in her mother's amber eyes.

Tisin looked down and started pulling out sandwiches from the basket. “You… you wanted the almond butter right?”

Wary, Linsan nodded.

Her mother served the sandwiches. When she was done, she leaned back and braced herself with one hand. “I'm glad you are coming up here. This valley needs all the love it can get.”

“The trees may not recover to make instruments again.”

Tisin shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“That is our tradition. Seven generations.”

“Maybe and maybe not,” Tisin said. “We never know how the future is going to play. Two years ago, I was convinced that Sian would never play a violin again. But ever since you gained your talent, he's been playing. At first, it was to teach you but now, he just does it because it makes him feel good.”

She smiled broadly and licked a bit of butter from the box that held the sandwiches. “I love hearing the sounds of you two when I come in the front door.”

Linsan blushed.

“I also love dancing with you. You were always an active child and I was glad that you managed to acquire both your father's and my skills. Though, your father would rather you stop balancing on the good chairs while practicing.”

Linsan's blush grew hotter. She hated standing still when she played. Her father could do it, but as soon as she started getting into the cheerful melodies, her feet started tapping.

Her mother chuckled. “You've destroyed a lot of furniture over the years. And your bed. Two of them if I recall.” She was smiling as she spoke.

“Sorry.”

Another shrug. “No matter. I'd rather have a daughter who found her passions than a pristine bed that was too small for me to sleep in. Your father might not say it, but he's found a new life teaching you how to play. I'm content.”

Unsure of how to respond, Linsan focused on eating as she slowly cooled down.

Tisin ate only a few bites before she tilted her hat over her face and leaned back. Her slender arms supported her body with an artful angle. She smiled and closed her eyes.

Linsan glanced at her. There was something not being said. Her mother had been home for almost a month when usually she only stayed for a week at most before going to rehearsals or out on tour. But Linsan hadn't seen her mother do anything since she returned.

“Mommy?” She hesitated before she spoke louder. “Mom?”

“Yes, Honey?”

“As much as I really enjoy spending time, what is going on?”

Tisin smiled broadly and she shrugged. “No shows right now.”

“What about The Mayor's Mistress?” It was one of the more recent plays that had started in town. “I saw the bills when we were grocery shopping.”

Her mother didn't answer for a moment. Then she sighed. “You know that girl, Valian?”

“She was in my class in school.”

“She got the role of the mother.”

“She's seventeen!” Linsan shook her head. “That can't be right.”

“Eighteen. She was born a year before you, but the director thought she pulled off a better mother than me.”

“How can that be? You are a wonderful mother!”

Tisin grinned. “You would think so, but no.”

With a frown, Linsan said, “Why not?”

Another shrug. “For most women, there are only four big roles in a lifetime: the innocent child, the petulant teenager, the hopeful mother, and the weary grandmother. I'm just not old enough to be a grandmother and directors like Kavinar prefer younger-looking women with silver hair than actual mothers.”

It didn't seem right. Her mother was a wonderful actress. She had been touring Gepaul for over twenty years and there were dozens of awards to her name. Linsan had stacks of posters and notices with her face on it as the leading role.

“What about Gone Without Water?”

“It's a gay piece, no women. Even the women aren't played by women.”

“And that monster one? Um….” Linsan's voice trailed off as she tried to remember the name.

“No Soul Left Uneaten? My tits were never large enough for Tabil and I won't cheat on your father.” Tisin did a little shimmy and a grin, but there was a hollowness in her eyes.

Linsan reached down and plucked some flowers. She toyed with the petals, working her thumb along the edge until it crumbled. She thought about the looks her parents had been giving each other when the topics changed to buying things. She knew how dependent they were on her mother's income. No shows meant nothing coming in. “Are we going to have trouble with money then?”

For the first time in Linsan's memory, Tisin's smile faded and she saw raw emotions in her mother's eyes.

A cold shiver ran down Linsan's spine. It felt like the sun had dimmed with a single second.

“We have enough for a while.” Tisin didn't look at Linsan as she sat up. She reached for the jar of ice water they had brought with them. “This will only be a couple of months. We've saved up enough that we don't have to worry for… quite a while.”

Hating the feeling of dread that draped over her, Linsan thought about their situation. She never had to worry about a roof over her head, but she knew money was always tight ever since the fire. It had been years since they lost everything, everything but a few boxes and Palisis, her father's last violin.

A violin that hadn't been played, a virgin as Dukan called it, would be worth millions at least. That would pay any bill that came up.

“You are thinking about selling the stuff in the vault, aren't you?”

Linsan jumped. “What? No. I mean, yes. H-How? I didn't say anything.”

Her mother sighed. “Nothing more than a good guess. I figured your thoughts would go there because your father and I have talked about it many times. But you don't have the history of that violin that we share. You didn't live through the events leading to your father's marriage to Marin, Junith taking me as her wife—”

She smiled sweetly before she continued. “—and then how our lives drifted apart until we eventually dissolved those marriages to swap partners.”

Linsan had only hints about how they were related, but she didn't want to answer questions.

Her mother looked up at the sky, tilting her hat to cover her face from the sun. “We were always friends. Unlike the drama in my plays, there were no bitter words flung at each other or drawn swords over a pit of spikes. There wasn't even someone being caught in the wrong bed. We just realized each of us loved someone else around the same time as the others and we all decided to switch.”

She flipped her hand at a flying bug. “Four friends who realized that their dance needed to have different partners. And we never stopped being friends, even when Marin and Junith felt the urge to move to the opposite side of Gepaul and settled down in Stone Over Moon Waters. Up until Marin's death, we were still sending letters to them every month. After her death, we send out the occasional letter but Junith wasn't for words, she rarely wrote back. She was always someone who preferred to stir up trouble personally.”

Tisin sighed and leaned back again, a smile playing on her lips. The faint breeze rippled the lace of her hat, causing the shadows on her face to dance on her pale skin.

Linsan watched her mother enjoy her memories, but wanted to ask so many questions. But she also knew the moment would be ruined if she asked too many, so she picked the one that mattered the most. “And the violin?”

Her mother didn't open her eyes as she spoke. “To most, it was a simple marriage gift. But, there was more to that. Your father poured his heart into crafting the violin. His family are shapers, they listen to wood and can hear it. They can't play it—”

“Daddy plays the violin.”

Tisin cocked her head and looked at her. “There is a difference between what your father does and what you can do. Your father plucks the string, he listens for the technical correctness, analyzes the wood and its carvings. He hears the shape of the body and the vibrations of the strings. He plays with his head but there are no emotions in his song.”

She reached out to stroke Linsan's hair. “You, my love, play with your heart. You push that beauty of yours and it flows through your instrument. Any instrument you use, that is how your magic works. It just happens that a Sterlig is special for players like you. Everything that went into it, from the wood to the minerals they are soaked in, magnify musical powers and focuses it. It reaches further, it becomes stronger, and it taps emotions deeper.”

A tear ran down her cheek. Tisin sniffed for a moment, her lower lip trembling. “But you also alter the violin when you play in that way. It is impossible not to draw across the strings with your heart without changing the instrument channeling your power. As it does, it becomes attuned to you, which makes it more powerful and responsive to your magic. The instrument becomes a friend, able to work with you to enhance your abilities.”

Linsan's heart beat faster. Did she attune to Palisis? It was years before she manifested her magic during the fight with Brook. In school, the teachers all said that children had no magic which meant she couldn't have possibly attuned herself, but why did it feel like her parents were keeping even her attempt a secret?

A black fly landed on her mother's hat, dancing in the faint breeze.

She made an effort to brush it off as she continued. “Now, if another magical player like you tries to use their power through an instrument you attuned, the little bits and pieces that were altered by you…” Her mother seemed to struggle with the words. “… they start to fight with the other player's abilities. The magic doesn't flow as smoothly and the magnification of the instrument isn't quite as powerful.”

Tisin smiled. “I've heard the difference many times. A master player who plays an instrument attuned to someone else can get people swaying to the music and bring smiles to their eyes. A journeyman with their own attunement? They can bring tears to the eyes, quicken the heart, and even create memories that are difficult to forget.”

“Like you?”

Tisin waved her hand. “What I do is different. I play roles, I project emotions. I can bring tears but they don't always last past the next act.”

The fly continued to march along the rim of her mother's hat, the buzz of the wing filling the brief silence as Linsan thought about her mother's powers. Then, she reached up and brushed the fly away.

Tisin shook her head and took a deep breath. Her eyes closed for a long count. Then she reached over to hug Linsan tightly. “Losing you is the only thing worse than losing Mar's and Jun's memory. If it came down to us not being able to take care of you and selling the violin, we will put it on the market without a second thought. Until then, we're afraid of making that decision because, once made, it will never be undone.”

Linsan nodded.

Tisin sighed. “But, in many years down the line, when your parents are gone and this conversation is no longer a memory, you should sell it. It would give you a good life and you don't have the delicate silver chains of memories shacked around your wrists that we do.”

It was a good line from one of Tisin's more recent plays, but the words felt bitter and sad. Seeing the tears in her mother's eyes, Linsan nodded. “I'm sorry.”

As quickly as the sadness and hardness appeared, they were gone behind Tisin's beautiful smile. “Come on, I think you need a bit more practice.”

Linsan was thankful for the change of topic. She forced a smile on her lips. “Practice? You said I was wonderful.”

“Well, you misplayed a few notes with that last little bit.”

“It's hard to play while bouncing on rocks!”

Tisin smoothly stood up. “The best way to get better is to practice. Come on.”

Linsan picked up her violin and set the bow on the strings. After only a few notes, she was already swaying in time with the complex melody that she was learning. She focused on keeping the music around her, causing ripples in the air instead of lashing out or knocking things over.

Her mother pirouetted next to the picnic basket and then began to dance.

With a smile, Linsan let herself sink into the music. She gracefully brought each note out of the wooden instrument.

Her mother began to sing. It was the wrong song.

Linsan's concentration broke.

Tisin looked at her with a grin. “Why did you stop?”

“You're singing the wrong song!”

“Sorry, which one?”

“Three Queens of Melodol. From your last play?”

With a grin, Tisin said, “Right. I'll get it. Start up again.”

Linsan took a deep breath and started to play.

Tisin started back into the wrong song.

“Mom!”

“What?” There was a playful tone in her mother's voice.

“Wrong song! I can't play with you singing the wrong thing!” Linsan knew that there was a whine rising up in her voice but she couldn't resist.

“You should after four years.”

“Well, I can't.”

“You need to learn how to improvise then,” her mother said with a smirk.

“So do you. Father says so every time you pretend you didn't buy sweets.”

With a smirk, Tisin leaned over and kissed Linsan on the forehead. “Then we should both be practicing.”