Month: July 2014

The Siege of Vair

Here’s another opening scene.

Virit looked up as another fireball came over the wall. She paused and watched as it arced across the sky, trying to estimate where it was going to hit. The catapult crew had probably been aiming for the market square, but even Virit, who was not at all familiar with the city, could see they had missed badly; the fireball sailed well beyond the market. She tried to remember what lay in that direction, and guessed it was headed toward the street of the jewelers.

She supposed that jewelers, due to the nature of their business, generally had good protective spells, but someone should still do something…

But then a dozen voices called, and alarm bells sounded, and Virit decided she was not needed. The locals could take care of themselves. She turned and resumed her interrupted journey, back to their lodging.

Zalgar ti-Partha was standing in the door of his shop, staring down the street, watching people hurry past. When he saw Virit he waved. “What’s happening?” he demanded.

“Another fireball,” Virit told him, pointing. “Down that way, maybe near the jewelers.”

“But the gates are still shut?”

“So far as I know, yes.” Virit did not stop as she answered the old man’s questions, but rounded the corner and hurried up the stairs that led from the alley to the rooms above the shop, lifting her skirts so she would not trip on them.

The door was unlocked, and she stepped in to find her grandfather seated in the big rocking chair by the front window while their host, her distant cousin Burud kif-Lessi, stood beside him and stared out at the street. He turned as Virit entered. “I heard the alarms,” he said. “What happened?”

“Fireball,” Virit said, as she tried to catch her breath.

“Where?” Burud asked.

“I suppose they were aiming at the foundries,” her grandfather said.

“No, Grandfather,” she said. “I think it came down near the street of jewelers.”

“They don’t want to damage the foundries,” Burud said patiently. “That’s what they want for themselves. Capturing them intact is the whole point of the siege.”

“Hmph.” The old man turned to his granddaughter. “What did the captain say?”

Virit hesitated, then admitted, “He wouldn’t talk to me.

Her grandfather straightened in his chair. “What?”

“He wouldn’t talk to me. He sent me to talk to a lieutenant – Lieutenant Aggris. I told him I represented a visiting dignitary, and he said he didn’t care who I was; he took his orders from the Master of the City, and nobody else.” She did not mention the open contempt that both the captain and the lieutenant had displayed when she said she was speaking on behalf of an Elder of the Surushalla; that would do nothing but upset her grandfather.

She saw the expression on Burud’s face, though, and thought he could guess what had happened.

“You told them who I am?”

“Of course, Grandfather. I used your full title.”

“You told them we are Surushalla of the mountains, and not the decadent knaves who live in their filthy city?”

Burud’s mouth tightened, and it was at just that moment that his assistant, Ganur kif-Tsashu, appeared in the kitchen doorway holding a teapot in one hand and a stack of cups in the other. He exchanged glances with his master, then cleared his throat. “Tea, anyone?”

“Yes, please,” Virit said, before either Burud or her grandfather could say anything that might antagonize the other. “Let me help.” She hurried to take the cups.

As she and Ganur poured, she said, “Grandfather, I told them exactly who you are. They said it didn’t matter. Nobody goes in or out of the city without the Master’s permission. They said that if you want to leave, you’ll need to talk to him or his courtiers, not the soldiers at the gate.”

“It’s foolishness! We have nothing to do with this war.”

“I don’t think they care, Grandfather.”

“Of course they don’t, Elder,” Burud said. “They’re concerned with their city, not with us. It’s not as if you were the Walasian ambassador; you’re just a tribal leader from up in the mountains, visiting his cousin. You claim to be a dignitary, but you didn’t present yourself at court.”

“Why should I?” the old man demanded, thumping his fist on the arm of the rocking chair. “I didn’t come here to trade compliments with some confounded Chordravine overlord! I came to discuss the future of our people.”

“And that’s the problem, Elder Turunis,” Ganur said. “The Master doesn’t care any more about you than you care about him, and opening the sally port for any reason could be dangerous.”

“Hmph,” the old man said again. “Then we’ll talk to this Master.” He turned to Burud. “Arrange it, Burud.”

Swordsmen of the Fallen Empire

A change of pace tonight — the opening scene of a novel I’m working on.

Footsteps echoed from the marble walls as the two men strode along the gallery, their red cloaks billowing behind them. The older man glanced at his companion, at the youth’s eager expression. This was still all new to him, new and exciting.

The younger man noticed the other’s gaze, and broke into a grin.

“Now, now,” the older man said. “Let’s try to maintain decorum, shall we?”

“Yes, sir,” the younger replied, trying to smother his smile.

Then they were at the door they sought, and turned to face it. Both men composed themselves, straightened their cloaks, threw back their shoulders; then the elder rapped sharply on the polished wood, three quick knocks.

“Who is it?” a woman’s voice called from within.

“Guards!” the elder answered.

“You may enter.”

The elder swung the door open, then led the way into the sunny, richly-appointed salon. Three women were clustered in the center of the room, two seated on a small couch and the third standing close by. All were young, beautiful, and dressed in wonderful flowing gowns, but one of the seated pair was clearly in charge, and the other two her attendants. A gentle spring breeze stirred the gauzy draperies that hung in the doorway to the balcony.

“Your highness,” the elder guard said, with a sweeping bow. The younger hastily bowed, as well.

“Ah, Third,” the woman said. “Who is this?”

The elder guard straightened, but did not reply; instead he stared straight ahead, stone-faced. The two attendants looked puzzled by his silence, glancing from him to their mistress.

She cocked her head to one side, so that a torrent of silky black hair spilled across her shoulder, then smiled. “My apologies – I had forgotten the date. Second, is it?”

“Yes, your highness.” The elder guard relaxed and smiled, then turned to his companion. “Allow me to present the Sixth of our order. Sixth, may I present her highness Princess Sharva, the granddaughter of our beloved Emperor.”

“Welcome to our household!” The woman rose to her feet with a single graceful movement, and held out her hand.

The younger guard stepped forward, knelt, and kissed her fingers. He was mildly surprised to see she wore no rings or bracelets, but naturally did not let that surprise show.

“Rise, guardsman!”

The Sixth obeyed, clicking his heels and coming to attention.

“So you’ve only just given up your name, and begun your tuition?” the princess asked.

“Yes, your highness,” he answered.

“You have thirty years of service ahead of you. That must be a daunting prospect.”

“Not at all, your highness. I look forward to every minute of it.”

She smiled, then she turned her attention to the elder guard. “And why have the two of you come to see me today?”

“Primarily to present our new Sixth, your highness,” the Second said, with a wave at his protege. “It will be his duty to guard you in the event of any disturbance. But also, your highness, I came to report that there is a disturbance on the Promenade. As yet we do not believe there is any danger, to you or anyone else, but matters may develop quickly. It’s possible that it may become advisable to leave your apartments on short notice, so we ask that you do not involve yourself in anything that would make a quick departure inconvenient – a bath, for example.”

The two attendants exchanged worried glances, but neither of them spoke. They had not said a word since the guard’s knock.

The princess frowned. “What sort of disturbance?”

“Nothing new, your highness,” the Second replied. “People are concerned about the recent disappearances, and are demanding the government do something – bring back the missing, provide an explanation, something.”

“I don’t blame them,” Sharva said. “I find the disappearances worrisome myself.”

“Then you don’t know what’s causing them?” the Sixth asked.

She shook her head. “No, of course not,” she said.

“If you will forgive me, your highness, none of the rest of your family seems very concerned,” Second said. “I had assumed they knew something the rest of us do not.”

The princess grimaced. “If they do, they have not deigned to inform me of it.” She shook her head. “I agree they do not seem worried, but I don’t know why. Much as I love them, I sometimes find my father’s family hard to understand. Perhaps I shouldn’t admit it, but I think I take more after my mother. Wizards often baffle me as much as they baffle anyone.”

“But…” Sixth began, then stopped, looking confused.

Sharva smiled at him again, and leaned in close. “You know, Sixth, as a member of the Imperial Guards you’ll be expected to keep many secrets.”

“Yes, your highness.”

“Well, here’s one of them – I’m not much of a wizard. Oh, I can do a few spells, but no more than some of the better sorcerers.”

“But… you’re the Emperor’s granddaughter.”

“Yes, I am. And my father is a mighty wizard indeed, as is my uncle, the heir to the throne. But whatever you may have heard to the contrary, my mother is merely human, with no magical ability whatsoever, and as I said a moment ago, I seem to take after her. My brother is more fortunate, and seems to have a gift for magic, but even a simple binding can confound me.”

The Sixth’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “Yes, your highness,” he said.

“Come on, then,” the princess said, turning toward the balcony doors. “Let us take a look at this disturbance.”

“Your highness, I am not sure that is wise,” Second said.

“It probably isn’t,” Sharva replied, without looking back. “I’m going to do it anyway.”

The Music Will Never Stop 67

The next tape… well, I sorted them out a little more. I have tapes numbered from 0 through 5, then I through IV, and then a bunch with letters or a blank. (A letter usually meant it was recorded off LPs, and it was an initial, e.g., Z for Zappa, M1 and M2 for the Moody Blues, D for David Bowie, etc.)(D because B was reserved for the Beatles.)

So I decided to do No. 0.

A note of explanation: In the summer of 1973, between my freshman and sophomore years of college, I had a day job in a ladder factory in my home town of Bedford, MA, but spent evenings and weekends hanging out with friends, including my now-wife Julie, many of whom were still in high school or had just graduated.

One of the local churches provided space for a weekend coffeehouse where local teens could hang out without booze or dope. They had live music as often as they could manage. Several of my friends volunteered at the coffeehouse, and several acquaintances were among the performers.

So I hung out at the coffeehouse, drinking tea, and I recorded several of the acts. That’s what tapes 0 through 5 are, at least in theory. Tapes I through IV are other stuff I recorded live various places around Bedford. In theory.

So, Tape #0 — I don’t know why it’s zero instead of one. The writing on the box is badly faded, but appears to be dated July 14, 1973. The title is completely illegible. There’s a sticker on the front that says “NEEDS EDITING,” and an insert on lined paper listing songs.

The first forty minutes or so are a coffeehouse performance by a bluegrass band; if they have a name, I either didn’t write it down or it’s in that faded-to-illegibility title on the spine. The tape starts in the middle of a song, so apparently I didn’t get there early enough to set up in advance. There are eleven more songs in the set, including at least one original; they’re mostly classics (“Rocky Top,” “Foggy Mountain Breakdown,” etc.), but “Lookin’ Straight Ahead” was introduced as a song Allen wrote (whoever Allen was), and a couple of others I don’t recognize.

There’s a lot of crowd noise; at least once someone knocked over one of my microphones. And the sound quality leaves something to be desired, but I’m hoping I can clean the heads again and maybe get a better playback, because the actual music is pretty good.

One factor to consider: At least nine of the eleven songs are bluegrass standards, and frankly, pretty much any decent recording of them is going to sound much the same — it’s not an art form where there’s a huge amount of individual expression. One rendition of “I’ll Fly Away” sounds much like another.

So maybe I should just get myself an album or two of bluegrass standards and give up on this mess.

But I did edit and save it. It’s not great, but it’s here.

After the bluegrass set ends there are a few minutes of two of my sisters playing the dulcimer and limberjack (an Appalachian toy that doubles as a percussion instrument) and singing “Going Up Cripple Creek” and “Go Tell Aunt Rhodey.”

I saved that simply because I don’t have much by them, especially not from the one who died in 1986.

And then, inexplicably, there’s what I thought was the soundtrack album to “A Clockwork Orange.”

That’s what it said on the list, and it sounded reasonable — but it’s wrong. What I actually have here is “Walter Carlos’ A Clockwork Orange,” which is the album Carlos released because he wasn’t happy with some of what Kubrick did with his music. It’s all the music he wrote for the movie, regardless of whether it actually made it into the film, and doesn’t include any music performed by anyone else.

I have all of Side 2, which I recorded first, and about half of Side 1, which cuts off in the middle of “Timesteps.”

Side 1 consisted of “Timesteps” and “March from A Clockwork Orange,” the latter being (intentionally and openly) heavily derivative of the Fourth Movement of Beethoven’s Ninth. As I may have mentioned some time ago, I had another tape with a few cuts I thought were from the soundtrack, used to fill out a side. Now that I’ve finally realized I was working with a different album I’ve been able to identify all the pieces I had there; three were duplicates I’ve now removed, and two… well, they were actually all one track, “March from A Clockwork Orange,” where I had mistakenly inserted a break during a brief pause.

So I now have everything from that album except the last three minutes of “Timesteps.” The quality isn’t great, but it’ll do.

That’s Side 1. For Side 2 the insert just says “dance music (contra).”

So I played Side 2, and yes, it’s contra dance music. Where the hell did I get this? The sound quality is excellent. On the first few tracks it’s a full band — fiddle, pennywhistle, and I don’t know what all.

The insert says it’s not the entire side, and it’s not — but it’s more than half. Some of the later tracks are just recorder or piano, not the full band.

There were thirteen in all. I saved ’em, and will see if any of my surviving sisters can identify them.

The final forty minutes were blank.

Another tape done.

The Music Will Never Stop 66

Oh, dear. The next tape was just labeled “Stuff,” and I had no idea what was on it, but I recognize it. It’s from a drunken prank I played on a friend of mine who was a late-night DJ on WPRB. I really should have confessed the next day, when we were sober, but I didn’t; I made this tape to follow through on it.

The prank was that I told him that I’d found out from contacts in the music business that every song Jim Morrison wrote for the Doors was actually part of a single massive suite that was going to be his masterwork. Except that my victim believed me completely, and wanted me to tell him details.

So this tape is a bunch of Doors music rearranged more or less randomly into a fraction of this alleged “suite.”

And there’s even more crap after it, but this I didn’t remember at first. It appears to be an attempt at improvisational comedy. It’s not quite as bad as the stuff on Side 2 of the previous tape, so far.

Ah, but eventually I recognized the other voice. This is me and Steve goofing on the idea of Gabriel’s trumpet. Steve played Gabriel, explaining that the end of the world was delayed because of a stuck valve on his trumpet; I was an interviewer.

After a slow start, this got kind of amusing.

“…I complained, and asked, why couldn’t it be the last clarinet?”

Steve really got into it.

In fact, listening to it again, I conclude that the worst parts are when I attempted to contribute; the best parts are when I got Steve started and just let him roll. It’s all improvised, ex tempore, but by the end of the bit Steve’s created this entire alternate mythology about how God provides every planet with its own Bible, and how Earth is too new to have ever heard of some of the senior angels, such as Oscar, the former director of the Heavenly Choir, who retired before Earth was created. The trumpet note that destroys worlds is A below middle C, and not being able to play it safely makes horn practice challenging.

Gabriel had originally played the clarinet, it seems, but when his family got him the job destroying worlds he had to switch to the trumpet because God had already written “trumpet” in hundreds of different Bibles and wasn’t willing to change it.

I’m saving this. May send Steve a copy.

The last half-hour of Side 1, after that stuff, was blank, so I assumed Side 2 would be, too.

Wrong. Instead there’s half an hour of me experimenting with an electric guitar, seeing just what sounds I could get out of it. Answer: Some very weird ones. Some of them are still kind of neat. Every so often it sounds as if it’s about to turn into music, but it never quite does. (I never really could play the guitar.)

I’m guessing this was with a borrowed guitar, probably Paul’s; I think this dates to well before I bought my own. Besides, there appears to be a wah-wah pedal involved, and I don’t have one, but Paul did. And I don’t think I can get such interesting feedback effects with my current amp.

I’m saving that, too. I might even find a use for it somewhere on a soundtrack.

After that, the rest of the tape was blank.