By now the path across the fields and up the gorge was familiar. As usual, they set out early, with the dew still fresh on the grass. It was cool enough for a jacket, but the cold season had not yet set in enough to frost the leaves. A test near the river showed only a slight disturbance, and very little roil in the ground. Up they climbed, and up again, then cautiously along above the gorge. The spirit did not try to contact them, although they did pass a mixed chorus of rodents rehearsing an oratorio. They tested and tested again before crossing above the delving, even though the ether was quiescent. A winding climb higher yet, with the river a silver thread far below, too distant to be heard. The scents of grass and flowers had given way to the dry smell of thyme and sage and the trees were stunted, leaning away from the wind.

Aud and Sebres stared around from the top of the ridge. Around lay a rumpled upland of gorse and bracken, dotted here and there with small clumps of trees. The higher hills were some way off, much further than the ‘bee’s flight’ mentioned by the spirit. The path split, one branch wandering away to the north, the other keeping nearer east. The second was thinner, less travelled, but closer to the river. This they took, to wind around hollows and up again, then down and out along a spur, the path narrowing to a trail where the ground fell away a hand-span from one foot while Aud’s shoulder brushed the hillside. They edged around the tip of the spur and back again above a side valley. Across the tumbled stones of a dry creek-bed, a short climb and they looked down into a slot cutting across the landscape, sheer-sided, deep and the width of a well-thrown rock. Sebres touched Aud’s arm and pointed.

“Well, you did ask for a lap-harp,” she observed. The object of her remark was a set of ropes stretched across the canyon, some as thick as her thigh, some as thin as the silken coil of a professional burglar, all tautly parallel and thrumming in the wind.

“I can’t say I like the tune,” Sebres responded. It did have a keening edge that set the teeth and lodged like a mosquito in the ear. Aud looked up and down the slot.

“When the wind blows from the north, the sound will carry down to the Terl, and annoy the river.”

“Causing etheric disturbances which might well lead to upset spirits and broken machinery,” noted Sebres. They stood there for a little, then started down the trail towards the strings. It was not long before Aud had to stop and wind a scarf about her head to muffle the noise, and even then it sent unsettling pulses through her bones. At close hand the device was impressively constructed. The sides of the canyon had been smoothed and straightened to make the flow of air more even. The ropes were of metal woven together with some tough elastic material, and anchored in pylons set into the native rock. A paved walkway ran along this side of the slot, ending in a stair that spiralled down out of sight.

“We could venture directly into the lair, or call the spider to come to us,” Sebres said.

Aud had no desire to go underground again. She mentally rehearsed a few spells and then gave Sebres the word. He leaned out and tapped a string with his spear-shaft, plucking out a rhythm. Aud could feel the ether shift in response. It was not long before a figure emerged from a door in the opposite wall of the slot and flew up to hover in the air before them. To Aud’s disappointment it was not the purple-eyed man, but a scrawny fellow in a tattered blue robe, arms waving in agitation.

“Stop! You bring discordance into the universal harmony, disturbing the serenity of the universe!”

“If the sounds this contraption makes is the harmony of the universe, then the world is in a sad state,” retorted Sebres. “The ether is twisted into knots as far as Terlwen.”

“You lack the learning to appreciate the true concordances. Now desist, I say, else I must take steps. Steps which you will not like, not like at all!”

Aud came forward. “What my colleague has said is true. The flow of the ether is much eddied, land-spirits uneasy in their domains, and we have reason to think these vibrations roused a stone demon. You cannot continue in this, sir.”

“I cannot? Who are you to tell me I cannot? Pissant amateurs, meddling in what you cannot understand! Touch but one string again and you shall die.”

Sebres backed away slowly. The man regarded them with suspicion, face screwed in thought. “No, I cannot let this trespass pass, nor risk further interference,” he muttered, and let loose a spell. The ether shook with killing force and the Absorbent Tears Sebres had prudently equipped himself with exploded in an amber cloud. Aud hurled the Descent into Dark, hoping to render their assailant unconscious, only to feel it dissipate. Her effort attracted retaliation; the man loosed another spell that cut off her breath. Sebres threw a rock that caught the man in the midriff, doubling him over, and used the respite to seize Aud and drag her behind the nearest pylon. There he drew craft through his hands to pull the spell from her, only to have its effect fall on himself. Aud, voice restored, cast Dispersure, then erected the Invisible Defence. Just in time – a heavy rock curved around the pylon to smash into her shield.

Aud frantically thumbed through her offensive spells. The list was short and pitifully inadequate. She had a moment’s warning to shift the Defence and winced as a spectral mace crashed down. There but for a veil of magic went her skull. Sebres popped his head around the corner to emit a piercing moan, cunningly directing it not at the magician but at the strings. The resulting etheric resonance turned Aud’s shield into a cluster of hawk-moths, enveloped the magician in a falling glob of custard and transformed a passing robin into a vulture. Aud threw the Transparent Cloak over both of them and they ran for it before the magician could free himself from the yellow mess. They were up the hillside and under cover when he again rose into sight, circling high as he scanned the land.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“I have never played a b-minor chord to such effect,” remarked Sebres as he lay under a bush. Aud’s mouth curved, despite the current peril. Still, he had given her an idea. She outlined her notion to Sebres in a low voice and they laid their plans while watching the sky. The sun was overhead when the magician sank back out of view. They lay there until dusk, when a night wind began to flow through the notch, and the tone of the strings rose in pitch, a whining drone that dragged at the nerves. Following the first part off the plan, Sebres left to scout out the nearest clumps of trees. When he came back it was almost full dark. Two possums followed him, hissing at each other when they came too close.

“Best I could do, and they like to play with ropes.”

“If this goes as planned, they will have a good chance of getting away,” Aud said, and they crept down the hill. Sebres was using Chameleon and was only a hint of movement, a shifting shadow and a rustle of leaves. Aud wished she could hide herself under the Cloak, but she had to keep her remaining access to the ether for the task ahead. She concentrated on keeping her movements slow and steady, her breathing even. When the pylons came into view against the star-spangled sky, Sebres sent his companions on ahead. She felt the ether shift as they climbed out on to the strings, then shift again as they began to play, throwing their bodies from string to string. From below there came a shout.

“Bloody animals. Get off there!”

A spear of light illuminated a possum hanging by its tail from the middle of a string, gibbering at its fellow a few yards away. The animal twirled upright and scurried into the dark, sending shivers along the string. A sudden gust altered the note, bending the magician’s curse away from a possum and causing a small flurry of snow. Aud laid her hand on a string as thick as her wrist, felt for the copper stands and whispered Words she had used so often at work. She scurried along to the next string and did the same, then skipped two to repeat the exercise. There, her magic was nearly spent. She stayed low, crawled up the hillside and crouched behind a boulder. From below the curses grew more furious and the noises of the strings louder. She could feel the ether pulsing, slow waves building as the possums jumped and Sebres used his spear as a plectrum. Aud played her last card, a few Words that generated a glowing blue hand that hung in the air. She counted beats, reached out and thumped a string just as a wave crested. Red copper and blue magic collided, the string gave an impossibly high screech and parted, lashing out to pull at the adjacent strings.

The pylons quivered, the possums bolted for the hills, there was a sound as of a whole tribe of cats being dragged by their tails across a slate floor, and several more strings gave way. The magician gave a shout of rage and rose into the air, spewing calming Words. His efforts were in vain. Aud flung herself flat as a cable scythed across the walkway, sending a pylon tumbling into the abyss and scoring her sheltering boulder. The magician’s voice cut off abruptly.

The crashes and twangs went on for a long time. When the last stone had fallen and the last cable ceased to thrash Aud emerged. The air was heavy with dust, taking shape and dissolving as etheric knots unwound.

“Sebres?” she called. A nearby bush shook, unfolded into Sebres, dusty but unharmed, spearhead gleaming in the pale starlight. He came over.

“You need not worry about the magician. A string caught him – took his head off,” Sebres told her. Aud felt a pang of guilt. He may have been mad, and murderous, and a terrible musician, but that was a nasty end. She had never before been responsible for a death. She stood a moment in silent reflection before wrapping herself in her cloak and sitting down to await the dawn.

* * * *

The light showed an awesome wreck. Many of the pylons had been thrown into the slot and the remaining strings dangled pathetically. One had transformed into a cascade of climbing roses, another had stiffened while inscribing a sentence on the canyon wall. Aud could only make out the word ‘ducks’ amid a line of gibberish. They picked their way down the spiral stair and across the rubble. The broken body of the magician lay black-robed on the pale stone, gruesomely shortened. Aud cast Aftersight.

“The head is over there, quite a way away. His ghost is cradling it, weeping,” she told Sebres.

“Understandable. It was an upsetting way to die,” Sebres replied. “If we bury him with his head he may be less unhappy. Anyway, it will stop him from following us back home. By the way, your eyes have turned purple.”

When Aud had hefted the last rock into place on the cairn, Sebres said the ritual words. The dead man was no happier, but there was nothing more to be done. They moved on to the entrance into the cliff, leaving the ghost mouthing silent threats from atop its tomb.

The rooms reminded Aud of her sons’ teenage years. Dirty dishes mingled with papers and books, beakers of lethal fluids sat carelessly next to a half-eaten sandwich, a pile of clothes had been pushed off the bed. A bench in a corner held a model of the now-ruined construct, together with an instrument that combined harp, viol and trumpet. Sebres touched a string and recoiled at the dissonant twang.

“It’s as if he went out of his way to annoy the world musically,” was Sebres’ judgement. Aud picked up a book and leafed through it.

“If this was his, now we know his name. We should take the documents back, for I would not want his research to fall into the wrong hands.”

“Which hands would those be?” asked Sebres, but he helped load up a trunk. Aud kept the spell books separate. Sebres suggested a small chest of coin be donated to a school of music, one that avoided atonal composition. Aud set the trunk bobbing into the air, and they began the long walk back.

* * * *

Two months later Aud looked up from her reading to where Jeoreh sat on the other side of the hearthstone.

“Sebres has written a pamphlet which is gaining some attention, on how true harmony reflects the intentions of a higher power, and lack of it our own ignorance. He plans a speaking tour.”

“I don’t subscribe to all his ideas, but he can be very persuasive,” noted Jeoreh, thinking that purple eyes were really attractive. Aud turned to another piece of paper from the pile beside her.

“Feghaure of the Association thinks she has found out who the purple-eyed man was. They sent an investigator to Terlwen, and she found a shepherd who suffered fits of strange behaviour after a day in the hills. They think he came too close to the instrument. Anyway, she tells me he is responding to treatment. Also that the Terlwen Players often now rehearse in the hills.” Jeoreh nodded, still lost in her charms.

Aud took up a book and studied a page of spell script. A map, seven silver pins and seven places in the world were but a whisk away. Three months ago it would have been far beyond her ability to compass. Now though … she made a humming sound and Jeoreh looked up.

“You know how we have talked of getting a place in the country?” Aud asked. Jeoreh nodded. Aud took a breath.

“How would you feel about something quite far away, especially if travel were easy? A place somewhere a little different?”