Raven's Shadow (Raven #1)(94)

"It's a symphonia. There's a wheel-bow inside that turns with the handle."

Collarn had obviously come to flummox the Bard - probably for usurping his place as the Passerine's musical entertainment, but he shared Tier's love of music too deeply not to fall into a discussion with someone willing to explore the possibilities of his obscure instrument.

Tier hid his smile - he liked Collarn, and the boy obviously took himself too seriously to enjoy a laugh at his own expense. After trying several positions, Tier shifted the symphonia until he could turn the handle with his right hand and touch the buttons on the side with his left.

After a moment he managed a simple melody - but he heard the possibilities of much greater things. The instrument was louder than his lute, making it a good choice for performing outdoors or before a large audience. A pair of strings played the same note continuously like a bagpipe's drones, lending a sonorously eerie accompaniment to the rest of the notes that changed at the touch of his fingers on the buttons.

Tier stood up and handed the instrument to Collarn. "Would you play something for me?" he asked. "I'd like to hear it played by someone who knows what it can do."

The boy was talented - though his grandfather's old friend Ciro could have taught him something about softening the straight rhythm Collarn held to when the song wanted to fly.

Finished, the boy looked up, his face a little bright. "That's the only song I know on it. We have no music written directly for it. The masters at the college don't think much of the instrument - it's an odd thing someone brought to the college a dozen years ago."

"May I try it again?" asked Tier, and the boy handed the symphonia over.

"The piece you played" - Tier played a bit, deliberately more hesitant than Collarn had played so that he didn't rob the boy of his performance - "is something written for violin. It's a good choice, and plays to the instrument's strengths."

"I can do it better on a violin," said Collarn. "There's no dynamic range to the symphonia." He grinned and the sweetness of the unexpected expression reminded Tier of Jes. "It just doesn't do quiet."

"Bagpipes are like that," said Tier. "You might try piping music."

He fell silent and searched the instrument for range and effect. When he turned the handle at just the right speed and the instrument added a buzz to its already odd sound, Tier stopped and laughed outright.

"I can see why your college masters have a problem. It's just a bit brash, eh? A little boldness isn't necessarily a bad thing." He hummed a little tune under his breath. "Let me try this..."

He knew he had it right when the toes of the boys nearest him started moving. When Collarn took a small silver penny-whistle out of his pocket and added a few runs, it made Tier think of playing with the old men in the afternoons at the tavern in Redern. He played through the song twice - the second time his fingers found their own way as he looked around the room at all the young faces.

He'd come here this afternoon to gather information, and instead he'd gained a friend. Speculatively, Tier's eyes fell on a promising young man who was using the haft of his knife to tap out a rhythm on a tabletop.

Tier knew about recruiting young men.

Phoran was deliberately late going to the Council chambers. He wanted them to gossip, to fret. If Avar had done as he asked, they would be more annoyed than worried.

The Emperor stopped before the door, took a deep breath, and nodded to the chamberlain to announce him.

"Rise for the Emperor Phoran, may his reign never cease!"

If it doesn't ever begin, thought Phoran, can it ever cease?

Silence fell in the room and Phoran strode leisurely through the doorway, followed by the young page he'd chosen for his small size to make the stack of parchment the page carried look even larger than it was.

Phoran himself was in his most glittering, gaudy clothes - clothes that had caused his valet to mutter about street whores. Phoran had started out to wear a more conservative outfit - but he'd decided that would send the wrong message. He didn't want to announce, Look! I've changed for you. He wanted to force them to acknowledge him emperor on his own terms.

His hair was curled, and his face was powdered paler than any court dandy. A small blue star painted beside his eye matched the glittering blue and silver stars embroidered on purple velvet portions of his costume.

He didn't hurry, forcing himself to keep his appearance languid while the impatience of the Septs grew almost palpable. At last he reached the place reserved for the Emperor. A thin coat of dust covered the inlayed surface of his podium, where he gestured for the boy to set the parchment before waving him off in the general direction of Douver, the council secretary.

The page relayed the message he'd been given and the secretary looked up at Phoran incredulously. Phoran stared back, doing his best to look neither nervous nor smug as his page rejoined him.

Douver cleared his throat. "Septs of the Empire. I call a general roll so that His Glory the Emperor shall know who attends this meeting. Each Sept will call out as I read his name." He took up a paper and Phoran made a show of removing the top sheet of parchment, which was a copy of the clerk's.

In the end, twenty-four Septs were absent. Phoran was careful to mark each of their names with a stylus while the council watched. Everyone in the room knew that at least eighteen of those named were in the palace.