Chapter 9 – Metrognome

  Jezza

  Jezza hadn’t lied; she was on the way to see Clover.

  But this was a cover. A ruse, even. For the evergreen in front of the common hall had gnomes. And nobody was yelling at them. So, Jezza launched herself from the platform onto a particularly inviting branch, becoming one of the tree’s gnomes as well. Shimmying deep within the needles, the inner part of the tree swirled with a lovely light that allowed her to see the other gnomes hopping around the branches above and below.

  One of the gnomes, a ruddy-skinned lad with long red hair, clambered up her way. He made eye contact with her and simply smiled. She returned the smile. Jezza didn’t recognize this person, but if he was here, she didn’t have to be afraid of him. He offered her the pink bow decoration he’d been holding, then pointed up. She looked, realizing the upper branches were rather barren.

  Jezza looked back to the gnome, saw there was a nervous glint in his eyes. Without thinking about it too much, Jezza spoke to him in gnomish. Opening her mouth, a sound like an ominous clang came forth, trailing upward in pitch like a question.

  Gnomish, as a language, did not operate on grammar and clauses. Instead, it communicated concepts entirely through intuitive sound effects.

  The gnome boy murmured softly and made an affirmative silver chiming sound.

  Jezza nodded, wasting little time grabbing the next branch up and clambering toward the treetop. If he was nervous about going up so high, she could take care of it. She had any number of spells to make a fall safe – not only that, but she’d also practiced using them on reflex. Jezza had tossed herself off the top of Horos Hall every day until the queasy feeling she got near high drops permanently disappeared. All because mastering fear was the universal qualification to do any adventuring work.

  Up Jezza went, happy to let the evergreen guide her to a naked branch to tie the ribbon to. As she worked, she cast a glance down at all the other gnomes in the lower branches. They watched with awe, making her smile despite herself. Her more motivated arcanists would look at her like this, whenever she would demystify a new concept on her blackboard.

  It was rare for Jezza to be seen. It was rarer for her to be seen as a hero, like she was in such moments.

  Thus began the rhythm. Jezza clambered down for another bow, started going back up.

  This is what it should be like. Just one thing missing – still a little too quiet. She’d fix that.

  Chee!

  Jezza let loose a loud, deep chime from the bottom of her chest.

  Two, three, four.

  Chee!

  Jezza emitted another resonant, bass-filled chime. She didn’t make a big deal of it, just tied another ribbon toward the top.

  Two, cha! Four.

  There it was, another gnome hit a higher chime on the three. Just like the percussion troupe she played with on campus.

  Chee! Two, cha! Four.

  Jezza smiled, keeping her simple rhythm in time on her way back down. Two more voices joined, small gnomes adding some sharper character to their sounds.

  Chee, chu-chu, cha! Chu-chu.

  Now it was a cadence of chimes, ringing from the tree, echoing across the enclave. Slow and festive. No specific Yule song, just rhythm and tone. Jezza maintained her stable bass, keeping the time for everyone else. From the platform around the tree, beautiful and haunting voices of Silverwood flutes. She peeked through the needles to see three elves arranged around the tree, adding their ethereal melodies to the gnomish cadence. A dwarf, face glowing with joy, plopped down with a hand-pan; lovingly carved from fae wood, it added movement to the growing sound.

  The nameless song began in full, moving of its own volition now, no longer a mere reaction to her metronome. It took on a life of its own, began to tell a story of hope against sadness and longing. Tones that accepted the evils of the world but also looked for the good and bright, harmonies that described a dark texture with melodies that pierced right through and inspired.

  The fae songs continued for half an hour. Jezza lost herself to it, occasionally dropping out of the song she’d started to rejoin with a different part, just moving with the sound. Her body acted of its own accord, moving around the tree to fill out its decorations. It took the sound of Zephyr’s voice shouting her name from the platform to bring her from this trance.

  Jezza blinked a few times, regathered herself, and crawled out a branch to look down at the platform.

  Zephyr stood there, between two others. On her left stood a rabbit-folk girl, Jezza didn’t recognize her. She had lavender-colored fur with purple spots.

  On Zephyr’s right stood Clover. After twenty years apart, the goblin had come into her own.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Clover’s grey-green skin extended down her arms and legs; but her torso was a rosy color, forming a two-tone pattern. Like all goblins, she had large, bladed ears that protruded from her forest-green hair, also two-toned. There was an x-shaped rosy mark on her left outer thigh, covered somewhat by her vibrant clothing. The tiny tail that all goblins had protruded from behind, ended in a green tuft of hair. Her eyes were brilliant, yet sad jade.

  All three waved at Jezza, who wasted no time clambering down onto the platform to join them.

  “You look just like I thought,” Clover said. The goblin smiled, yet the hints of sadness never left her eyes.

  “Oh, right,” Jezza mumbled, “did mom tell you?”

  Clover gave a knowing look and said: “I didn’t need her to.”

  Jezza laughed but also glanced away. Berr’s mental poison had hidden Jezza’s true name from her until she was twenty, made it so she hadn’t paid any attention to the young goblin truthfully pointing out she was a girl inside, same as her.

  After a brief silence, the lavender-furred rabbit-folk gave a timid wave. Clover gestured her way.

  “This is Salem,” Clover said, “she got here about six months ago and goes back and forth. And this is Jezza; she went off to be a wizard a long time ago.”

  Jezza smiled at Salem and gave a friendly wave in return.

  “That’s what I do too!” Salem chirped. “I’m a magister back in Bavol, I work on topology models for weave-material intersections. I come here when I need to take a break from it!”

  Ah, a fellow scholar. Jezza understood what that was at a high-level – deeper mathematics than she’d studied. Coming here for a break was a great idea, that gave her something to ask Lucette later.

  “So, you’re doing real wizard work,” Jezza said, “actually getting things figured out instead of going off into monster pits and calling it archaeology.”

  Salem smiled bright.

  “Adventuring wizards are important too,” Salem said. “Figuring out Mistral’s weave doesn’t do any good if it stays on campus.”

  Now it was Jezza’s turn to smile, having only one response for such a deep compliment –

  “We’re really good friends now,” Jezza informed Salem. “Okay?”

  “Yeah!” Salem agreed.

  They all laughed together for a moment. After which, Clover gave Jezza a long, patient look. There was much for the two of them to catch up on, but not right at this moment, not when the music played and the artists gathered. This was a time for togetherness. The four chatted lightly for several moments, about Yule wishes and light matters, unburdened.

  After some time, Djanara emerged from the hall. Spotting them, the wolf-folk came over, her tail – still severed, Jezza noticed – wagging all the while. A bright look shone in her eyes as she addressed Jezza.

  “Hey!” Djanara shouted her excitement, barely able to contain the next part. “Lucette said there was a way to get my tail back for real on Terria! She also said she could put a fake one on here, but it would go away when we left. I said: ‘don’t worry, I’ll come back with a real one!’”

  Jezza immediately shared Djanara’s excitement. Because there were still many secrets to the healing magic of dragons, Jezza had thought the same but had not wanted to fill Djanara with false hope.

  “Did she say where or how?” Jezza asked, her hands clasped together in eagerness.

  “She said I’d have to undertake a quest to find that out?” Djanara said, a little quizzical. “But the quest will happen all too soon, also.”

  Jezza paused at that, her happy expression dropping. She’d had some dealings in fae spaces before, the one common pattern being their propensity to speak in metaphor. All too soon.

  Did the sky just darken a little? Hm.

  “Does that mean something?” Djanara asked. Jezza bit her lip and shook her head.

  “Don’t think we’ll know for sure until it happens,” Jezza said, not wanting to consider something bad happening in the enclave. “It’s probably a reference to something back on Terria. That’s how the fae do things.”

  That was the less concerning interpretation, and the one she decided to hold.

  “Lucette’s so nice, isn’t she?” Salem said, turning her purple ears toward Djanara. “Who’re you?”

  “I’m Dee-jay!” Djanara pointed at herself. “I’m the strongest!”

  Jezza smiled easily, happy that the enclave’s sense of unguarded joy had even gotten to her stoic companion. They made merry for a little while longer, before Clover had a suggestion.

  “How about we go to my place and play Dice Heroes?” Clover pointed back over a far bridge.

  “Is that like liar’s dice?” Djanara asked. “I don’t have anything to bet with, just a stick.”

  “It’s not gambling!” Jezza laughed. “It’s like playing pretend, but with rules. One person is the game master, and they set up a quest. Everyone else makes up a hero, tries to do the quest, and when there’s a question about what happens, you roll dice!”

  Everyone nodded, though Djanara still looked hesitant. Jezza gave Clover a small look and added: “I suppose I’ll be game master again!”

  “Not this time, Jezza,” Clover said, her eyes bright. “I’ve been practicing, so I can do it the way you used to.”

  “Oh, have you?” Jezza felt an unexpected surge of emotion at that. She’d run games for Clover alone back before – it was a good way to stay sane, during those years.

  “I’ll make it a feel-good adventure,” Clover gave her yet another knowing look. Guilty as charged, Jezza remembered her nastier villains.

  “Let’s go, then!” Salem said, already bouncing across the bridge. The group followed their way around several trunks, the music softening all the while. They soon arrived at a two-story house securely fastened to a grand trunk, with soft light emitting from the circular windows. Lanterns, filled with simple motes of glowing light, hung along the smooth wooden beam over the painted entrance.

  The inside was brim with warm wooden furniture, long tables for eating and cushions for sitting. Toward the back of the house, stairs led up to many rooms, but Clover led them to one of the long tables and began to rifle through the nearby cabinet of games. Jezza sat next to Djanara, who leaned in close to confide something.

  “Is it okay if the hero is just me?” Djanara asked, with a sheepish look.

  Jezza smiled.

  “That’s the easiest hero to be,” she answered.

  They played for a long while. Laughed at silly situations. Cheered at their victories. Clover really had gotten good.

  Jezza was starting to feel hungry when someone new walked through the door. Somone with hair just like hers.

  Not gray.

  “Mom?” Jezza gasped, flummoxed. Many questions. The woman smiled, in a way only Sonnja could.

  “This place really takes me back,” Sonnja said, moving to the table. “I remember your first dice set!”

  Jezza was amused at her mother’s humility, and said: “didn’t you make it yourself?”

  “I suppose I did,” Sonnja chuckled.

  “How’re things in Berr?” Jezza asked, causing Sonnja to frown.

  “Not great,” she answered. “They’re going to hold a tribunal, I assume in your absence.”

  Jezza nodded.

  “You might be exiled,” Sonnja continued, though gently.

  “Being exiled from Berr is a good thing,” Jezza laughed. “We’re getting you out of there, mom. I’ll make it happen.”

  Sonnja smiled, but wrang her hands together nervously.

  “Well, we can talk,” she sighed. “Tell me, are any of you heroes hungry?”

  Everyone clamored at once, including Jezza.

  “After we eat,” Clover said, “we can go back to the tree and watch the faelight show. It’s very special.”

  Oh, a faelight show, now that would be something new and wondrous. Jezza squeaked in joy without hesitation.

  “Best Yule ever!” Jezza declared.

  Another cheering clamor followed.