“Hello, friend,” I whisper, lightly strumming, soft enough that no one will hear but me. As I suspected, it’s in tune. “Shall we?”
I spin and step forward, falling into the melody. My foot taps along with the beat as my fingers begin to move on instinct. The other players regard me with excited glances and encouraging smiles. They nod their heads at me, I nod back at them.
Now a quartet, the music is richer, deeper. I lock eyes with the fiddle player, a woman with a head shaved to display similar tattoos to what Shaye and Giles have. She grins at me and nods. I nod in reply.
We’re not speaking with words, or thoughts, or even gestures, really. There’s direction in the music that we hear. Little signposts along the way that say, if I play this, you play that. And, together, we make music all our own, made for this moment and that will never be heard again.
We turn emotion into song.
Sweat drips down my neck as the tune shifts. The fiddler breaks away from the rest of us, rising to a crescendo, demanding all attention. The rest of us fade until she comes crashing back down in a new melody.
I recognize this, I realize.
“There once was a lass with hair so fine,
I saw her dance and said she’s divine.
So I took her down to the mer folk sea,
And said Jilly will you marry me?”
The whole taverngives a whoop in time. Everyone unites in song for the chorus.
“Soon there will be a wedding,
A vow an’ a kiss an’ a proper bedding.
Soon may the Jilly-lass come,
Down by the mer folk sea.”
My hands flyacross the lute. There are only short breaks between the chorus and verse. Barely a few notes. I always loved this song for that reason. It was a challenge to play and even harder to sing.
“Now Jilly and I are a family of three,
We live on down by the mer folk sea.
Jilly went to the shore one day,
And looked the mer folk’s way.”
Another whoopbefore the second chorus.
“Oh no, sweet Jilly girl,
You’ve gone t’far where the sea ocean whorls,
Jilly was taken away,
For her wishes sh’ll have t’pay.”
My hands flyacross the strings. I’ve come as far into the song as I know. I glance over to the drummer. He looks my way. The other man and woman do as well. Expectant.
My fingers seize and halt.
That voice…the person who led the singing… Sick, hot, horror crashes over me. It was me. I was the one singing. I wish I could go and curl in a corner and die faster than the song is.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a deep, masculine voice fills the room with song.
