Inharmonic (The Music Maker Series Book 1) Page 8

  “How did you inherit the business? Grandfather never owned a shipping company. And why the bird?”

  Tau sighed, obviously annoyed with all of the questions. “My predecessor was a good businessman, and a kind man. He never married or had children, but he would have been a good father—was much like a father to me. He found Monty when he was just a little chick and doted on him for the rest of his life.” He regarded Monty thoughtfully. “But, the thing about this kind of bird is that it can live for a very long time. Monty is almost as old as I am, but I imagine he still has many years ahead of him.”

  As Tau spoke, Monty crept his way up Tau’s arm to perch on his shoulder.

  “And out of respect for your predecessor, you continue to care for him,” finished Nadja.

  “Correct.”

  “So, you’re sort of like brothers,” said Nadja, stifling a giggle of her own.

  Tau frowned at her. “Not in the least.” He walked back to his desk and straightened the papers which littered the top. “I have given you my terms, Niece. I have no desire to rush your decision, so take as much time as you need.”

  Nadja didn’t need any more time. Her decision was made the moment she fled the Wanderer camp.

  “I agree to your terms,” she replied hastily, stooping to retrieve the roving teacup and placing it on the small table.

  Tau finished straightening his desk and came around to Nadja. “Then let me show you to your room, such as it is.”

  They passed through a doorway which led into a small stairwell. Another door in the stairwell led outside to the back of the building, but Nadja followed Tau up the winding staircase to the second floor. Leaving the stairwell, they entered an apartment which took up the top floor of the building.

  Nadja had expected it to be furnished in the same way as her uncle’s office, but was pleased to find it was simply arranged. A stone fireplace and modest kitchen anchored one end of the room. Animal skin rugs, a couch, and a few chairs filled the rest of the space. Opposite the fireplace, a doorway led into a single bedroom, and a large bookcase took up most of the far corner. The corner opposite that one housed an enormous and ornately decorated golden bird cage, complete with perch, swing, and toys. Its opulence contrasted the relative simplicity of the rest of the apartment.

  “Unfortunately, my home is a little small for more than one person, but you are welcome to sleep on the couch. We can move it close to the fire if you find it cool in the evenings. I myself do little cooking, but there are a few things to eat in the cupboard if you get hungry. Some of the amenities enjoyed within the city haven’t yet reached the wharf. There is a pump at the basin over there, and it drains by itself. However, that is the extent of my indoor plumbing. You can find the necessary facilities out back.”

  As he spoke, Tau walked around the room, pointing out the different items within the apartment before stopping next to the bird cage. He opened the door, and Monty hopped from his shoulder, flew to a small container of water on the floor of the cage, and immediately began bathing.

  Tau turned back to Nadja, appraising her appearance. “How many changes of clothes do you have? Your pack doesn’t look like it holds much.”

  Nadja’s face reddened. “Well, I have one other set, but they need to be cleaned.”

  “I will order you new ones tomorrow. As for now, it’s nearing supper time. I’ll go out and get something for us to eat while you get settled.”

  Tau headed for the door. “And don’t leave the apartment unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  Nadja nodded. “Thank you, Uncle Tau.”

  Tau grunted and closed the door behind him.

  Chapter 9

  “. . . As warrrm and sweet as the first spring raaaain

  Whose pitter-pat echoooes the sweet refraaaain

  Of my hearrrt as I gaze at the face so fair

  Of the lovely ladyyy with the long dark haaaair!”

  Nadja cringed as Monty squawked his way through the chorus of “The Lady with the Long Dark Hair” for the eighth time that morning. She awoke to his serenade just before sunrise, her muscles like cold taffy. The couch was a welcome reprieve after two weeks of nights spent either on the ground or in trees, but it was small, and she wasn’t able to stretch out to her full length. Her uncle had yet to come out of his room, though Nadja couldn’t fathom how he slept through Monty’s musical offerings.

  She made herself useful scrounging up breakfast for the two of them. The cupboard yielded a few staples. Nadja mixed up a batch of fry bread which she paired with a gobbet of salt pork she found tucked away on a high shelf. She had just finished warming the pork when Tau emerged.

  “Good morning,” said Nadja, setting the food on the table. “I hope you don’t mind I made breakfast.”

  “Not at all. It looks delicious.” Tau busied himself steeping a pot of tea, then joined Nadja at the table.

  Nadja sipped from the cup Tau placed in front of her. Unlike the sweet and mellow flavor of yesterday’s tea, this one was dark and smoky with a hint of cocoa. It helped clear the remaining cobwebs from Nadja’s head, and she eagerly downed half of the cup.

  “I have given a lot of thought to your situation,” began Tau. He tore off a piece of fry bread and dipped it in his tea before popping it into his mouth.

  Nadja’s stomach dropped, and she replaced the bit of pork she had just picked up from her plate, suddenly without an appetite. She felt safe now she had found her uncle. His strong and calm demeanor, though not sentimental, made her feel protected if nothing else. She had agreed to his terms knowing they would likely mean finding her way on her own, but she didn’t think he would have made a decision so soon.

  “You will begin instruction at the Music Conservatory.”

  Nadja’s mouth fell open as she stared at her uncle. Of all the things he could have suggested that possibility had never crossed her mind.

  Tau looked at her, his expression unreadable. “You grew up in the tribe, so I assume you have some musical skill, do you not?” he asked.

  “Well yes, but—”

  “Excellent. The entrance auditions are scheduled to begin a week from today. They will run for two days, so you have between now and then to prepare.” Tau’s attention returned to his plate as Nadja continued to stare at him.

  “I can’t go to the conservatory!” she exclaimed.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I can think of two good reasons. One, while, yes, I am pretty good with my flute, I am not at the level of a professional musician, which is what people at the conservatory are training to be. Also, using music to manipulate nature, it’s just wrong.”

  Tau didn’t reply right away. Instead he sat back in his chair and studied her intently, just as he had in his office the day before.

  “I have no doubt,” he began slowly, “a woman with the determination and resourcefulness to survive for two weeks in the wilderness with little more than the clothes on her back can prepare for the conservatory auditions in one week’s time.” Tau leaned forward and took a sip of his tea. “As to your other objection, why do you believe using music in that way is wrong?”

  “Nature maintains its own balance,” stated Nadja. “It is both arrogant and foolish to believe we can disrupt that balance without consequences.”

  “Spoken like a true daughter of the tribe,” said Tau, with a sad smile. “Tell me, Nadja, when you harvest from a bed of oysters, or when one of your hunters takes down a doe to provide food for the people, does that not also disrupt nature? You change the oysters’ male to female balance and take away a food source from other marine life, and a young deer is likely orphaned when its mother becomes your dinner. We are a part of nature, not apart from it.”

  “Yes, but we take only what we need, and over time the balance is restored.”

  “Agreed. But what would you say to the farmer whose crops are being swarmed by beetles? Would you say, ‘I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to do without food this winter?’ Or would you send
for the town’s master musician to drive away the pests and save the crop?”

  When Nadja did not reply, Tau continued. “Music can be a valuable tool, and, when used responsibly, can do so without causing permanent damage.”

  “Like the Waste?” Nadja’s question was more of an accusation.

  Tau did not argue her point, but gave her a moment to think over the things he’d said. After a beat, he continued.

  “Now you have told me why you think my plan is unsuitable, allow me to share with you the reasons I believe it is the best course of action. The conservatory itself is an island within the city. Students and teachers have little reason to venture from the grounds, and few outsiders have reason to enter them. The full length of study there takes four years. Should you need to remain in hiding for any great length of time, you can continue on there. And finally, as you have so perfectly illustrated, the whole idea of the Music Conservatory and what it stands for is distasteful, if not offensive, to the Wanderers. It would be the last place they would look for one of their own.”

  They continued their breakfast in silence. Nadja picked at her bread and pork, mulling over what her uncle had said. She hated to admit it, but his plan was a solid one.

  So, what was really bothering her?

  Yes, the whole idea of the Music Conservatory didn’t sit well with her. She’d learned from as early as she could remember that using music as a tool in the way it was taught at the conservatory was wrong and dangerous. And she understood why. That wasn’t something she was going to change her mind about just because her uncle made a few intriguing points.

  But, if she were honest with herself, her biggest reason for not wanting to go was that she felt safe right where she was. For the first time since leaving the Wanderer camp, she wasn’t looking over her shoulder or fighting to survive. It felt right. True, Uncle Tau had not been a part of the tribe in a long time, since before she was born. But there was still a sense of kinship. He was family.

  And now, he was asking her to leave that, no sooner than she had found it, and step into a world completely foreign to her. He wanted her to surround herself with people so unlike her, and to make them believe she belonged there.

  Tau finished his breakfast and rose to take his plate and cup to the sink. Nadja did the same, standing beside him as he washed and dried his dishes.

  “You’re right,” she said as he put his clean dishes away. “The conservatory is a good plan. It’s just a lot to consider all at once.” She cleaned and put away her own plate and cup.

  As he waited in silence for her answer, she realized how different her life had already become. Had they been standing amongst her people—his people—she would have no choice. He would be within his right to initiate his plan without her agreement. But as they were, standing side by side in front of the little sink in his apartment, the independence and freedom she’d gained the moment she left the Wanderers became startlingly clear. She marveled at the thought. The choice was hers.

  “I will do as you say. Not out of deference to you because you are my uncle,” she added, “but because I gave you my word.”

  A broad smile melted Tau’s stoic countenance. “Well said, Nadja. To hear you speak like that, one could hardly guess your true heritage.”

  Chapter 10

  As Nadja stepped onto the Music Conservatory grounds, she took a steadying breath. The gate she passed through was set in the low wall which separated the conservatory from the rest of the city. Large trees stood guard around the inside perimeter, rising much higher than the wall and providing a bit of privacy. Lush, green grass carpeted almost the entire grounds, which were ample, housing not only the imposing main building but several smaller buildings as well. The sun shone brightly, and a late summer breeze swirled around Nadja’s legs, ruffling the hem of her lightweight skirt and foretelling the coming autumn.

  Uncle Tau had not disappointed in his promise of new clothes. Within two days, she had a new wardrobe, one which, according to her uncle, was indicative of a new Grenyan immigrant. Black, gray, burgundy, and navy made up the majority of the palette, with a few lighter pieces thrown in at Nadja’s request. The tops were simple and functional. The bottoms were evenly divided between skirts and pants due to Uncle Tau’s insistence most Grenyan women wore pants almost exclusively. But Nadja, who had never worn a pair of pants in her life, preferred the comfort of the skirts, all of which included cleverly hidden pockets in the side seams, as was the Grenyan style. Whether in pants or skirts, her foreign dress would draw notice from the average Cantio resident. But it lent credence to her immigrant status. Her boots, the only part of her attire which remained from her journey through the forest, tapped a slow but steady beat on the cobblestone road leading to the conservatory.

  As she approached the glittering structure, it seemed to grow larger, almost filling her entire field of vision by the time she stopped in front of it. A tangled mass of people funneled into a line as they climbed the front stairs and disappeared through one of the enormous open doors. Nadja hesitated for a moment, taking in the scene and tightening her grip on her flute. Then, she joined the throng. To her surprise, the line moved swiftly.

  Before she knew it, she was passing through the front entrance into the atrium. The conservatory’s entryway was a large, open space. A vaulted ceiling soared three stories above her and was covered entirely in glass, forming a clear mosaic of varied polygons through which the sun beamed, lighting and warming the room.

  The mosaic peaked in the center of the ceiling where a beautiful stained glass panel rained down vibrant colors onto the people below. Nadja couldn’t help but stare up at it. The panel depicted two figures facing one another. Both had their right arms raised, palms touching. The figure on the right held a trumpet in its left hand while the figure on the left was empty handed. Music notes bordered the panel, and Nadja squinted, trying to make out the tune in her head.

  “Name?”

  Startled, Nadja jerked her attention away from the panel. While she was distracted by her surroundings, the line had continued to move. She now stood in front of a table, looking down at a perky young woman.

  “Uh,” Nadja stammered, trying to collect her thoughts. “Nadja F—Machinal.”

  “Hmmm, Nadjaf. What an interesting name,” beamed the woman as she sifted through the papers in front of her. “Ah, here you are! Though it looks like they misspelled your name . . . there we go, fixed,” said the woman, making a small mark with her pencil. “And what instrument will you be playing, Nadjaf?”

  “The flute, though it’s a bit different than most other flutes. It’s made of coral and—”

  “Oh, no matter,” said the woman, smiling up at Nadja. “It’s not so much what you play as how you play it!” She handed Nadja the paper. Then, as if repeating herself for the hundredth time, she took a deep breath and droned, “Head left down that hallway. If you wish to warm up, you may do so in the Dead Room. There is a monitor stationed outside the door, so if you have any questions, just ask him. You will need to be at the Concert Hall a few minutes before your scheduled audition time. If you need help getting there, one of the monitors can assist you. Best of luck! Name?”

  Nadja realized the woman was now talking to the man behind her, so she moved aside and started in the direction the woman had indicated. A few dozen paces ahead of her, she could see a man about her age seated in a chair against the wall with his nose in a book and a handful of papers on his lap. Next to him was a doorway. As she drew closer, she read the words “Dead Room” in fluid cursive on a sign posted to the left of the door. She smiled tentatively at the bored-looking monitor as she reached for the door handle.

  Stepping through the door, she found herself in a small vestibule containing nothing more than another door. The tiny room was silent, and she wondered if she was the only person taking advantage of the warm-up space. Curious, she reached forward and pulled open the second door. Sound leaked out as soon as the door cracked, but it had a strange
timbre.

  Nadja’s eyes widened as she entered. Patterns of large acute wedges, each of which was more than the length of her forearm, covered the walls. She couldn’t tell what they were made of, but the wedges had a porous quality.

  She felt her step spring as she walked into the room. Looking at her feet, she saw the same wedges below her. Only, she wasn’t stepping on them. Instead, she was suspended on a thick wire mesh which attached at every wall and floated above the wedges. The same shapes hung from the ceiling giving the whole room a cavelike and otherworldly feeling.

  There were more than a dozen people scattered around the room. One man stood in a far corner playing a trombone, interspersing his melody with strange honking noises. A clarinetist cocooned herself within a circle of chairs and sat in the middle with her eyes closed, flying up and down octave upon octave of scales. Other musicians were stretching, fluttering their lips, rubbing their faces or, as Nadja assumed, going through their own unique preperformance rituals. The majority sat or stood around the outer edge of the room facing the walls.

  Nadja picked her way to the back of the room. Her ears caught the notes of individual players as she passed but only for the moment she was closest to them. Something about this room played with the basic nature of sound, devouring it as soon as it came into being. Following the other musicians’ leads, she filled in an empty spot along the back wall. Nadja unpacked her flute and began to warm up as best as she could.

  Even with the relative quiet of the room, she found herself distracted now and then by the musicians on either side of her. The violinist to her right bowed at an incredible rate. Notes tripped and jumped from her instrument with such technical perfection Nadja’s feelings of self-doubt rose to the surface.