"I didn't think you'd last a day here, Izulen," Esellyn told him with a weak smile when he told her the knews. "And I knew you'd cause trouble no matter how long you were here."
Izulen took her increasingly frail hand in his. "Well, I tried mother, I really did. Shanol is just so close minded, and I hate it but there's nothing I can do. I was stupid to try in the first place."
"Not stupid, just ambitious," Esellyn corrected him. "And you've given these people a spark of hope they haven't had in seven turns. Who knows, maybe one of them will continue after you're gone."
"I don't think Shanol'd let them," Izulen told her sadly. "You'll get better once I'm gone, I'm sure. You won't have to worry about all the enemies I'm making."
"I've never worried about you, Izulen," Esellyn grumped. "Sometimes against my better judgement, but I've always known you could do whatever you chose and pull it off. You've just never come up against someone as stubborn as Shanol."
"There isn't anyone else," Izulen sighed. "Well, I'd better go pack. If I don't see you tommorow before I leave, good bye."
Izulen placed a kiss on his mother's kiss and then, before his emotions had their way and he started crying, rose and left the infirmary.
When he got back to his quarters, two things were waiting for him on his bed: the gitar and the score for Moonlit Dances. As he picked up the score, he discovered a third thing: a note from Nita.
"Take these to my father," he read aloud. He fingered the hide for a second and then shoved it in his pocket. Izulen picked up the gitar case and the score and started down the hall towards Lord Shanol's study.
He took a moment to collect his thoughts and his composure before knocking on the door. There was no response, and for a moment Izulen feared that Shanol might already have gone to sleep.
"Come in, if you absolutely must," the Lord Holder replied as Izulen turned to leave. Much to Izulen's suprise, he sounded exhausted. And regretful.
Izulen slowly opened the door, half-expecting a knife in his chest when Shanol saw who he was. He got a glare with the same meaning but was otherwise unhurt as he closed the door with equal care.
"Can I help you with something, Journeyman?" Shanol asked slowly, all emotions swallowed up by the emotionless look on his face and tone of his voice.
"I came by to congratulate you," Izulen told him, seating himself because it was obvious Shanol was not going to invite him to do so.
Shanol raised an eyebrow. "Really. On what?"
"Well, you've gotten me out of the way quite neatly, haven't you?" Izulen replied, trying to keep his tone as emotionless as Shanol's.
"If you hadn't tried to disturb our way of life, there would have been no need for tonight's actions," Shanol replied.
"Right." Izulen stood and started to leave. Shanol went back to the hides on his desk. As Izulen touched the doorknob, he turned back. "But does this help any?"
Shanol looked up, his mask of calm beginning to slip. "You are tempting fate, Journeyman."
"But sir, so are you," Izulen replied softly. "Getting rid of me won't bring your son back."
The mask fell with an suddenness that made Izulen flinch. Underneath, he saw a man still grieving a loss that, though it had happened seven turns past, was a pain as fresh as though it had happened that night. "My son died because of the music you are trying to bring to my hold!" Shanol snapped, the icy calm gone from his voice just as suddenly.
"You can't blame the music!" Izulen insisted. "How could something he had to have loved so much kill him?"
"Do not talk to me about my son!" Shanol bellowed.
"Fine. Let's talk about your daughter," Izulen snapped. "you're killing her, Shanol! Not the same way Anisol died, but if the music killed him, the lack of it is going to kill her."
"I do not want to talk with you about anything or anyone," Shanol told him, putting the mask back on as suddenly as it had fallen off.
Izulen shrugged, inwardly glad at the suprise this brought from behind Shanol's mask. "I understand. But, before I go, I have something for you." He laid the score and the gitar on Shanol's desk. "He wrote that for you, before he died. I know he would have liked it to have been played for you."
Shanol was silent for a moment, staring down at the score and gitar on his desk. "Get out!" he exploded suddenly. "GET OUT!"
Izulen got out as fast as he could. No sooner had the door closed than something very hard and about gitar sized hit it. Izulen sighed, shook his head, and started back to his quarters to begin packing.
____________________
Nita heard the yelling through the door of her quarters. She couldn't block it out, but she couldn't hear what her father was saying. She could only fear. There was a loud bang and then silence.
She heard footsteps start down the hall in the opposite direction, towards the guest quarters. It had been Izulen, she knew. If he was walking, he had to be uninjured. His footsteps were still strong, not like a man limping or in pain.
When she could no longer hear his footsteps, she climbed down off her bed and, throwing on a robe over her nightclothes, went out into the hall.
From inside her father's study, she could hear a gitar being played. It was not beautiful, and many of the notes were wrong. The player had not played in many turns and had not thought to ever again. But it was music just the same. And the most beautiful Nita had ever heard.
He was playing Moonlit Dances.
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