39

(The Weeknd- Blinding Lights)

Desmond

Glitterman put together a banquet and invited all of the Golden Girls but Betty White. It was like standing in front of a crowd of people who were badly cosplaying trophies. They wandered around grabbing food and talking while Glitterman sat on his throne, giving me and Brenden a series of excited and expectant glances, but I got the vibe that this guy definitely had some sexual tension he needed to get rid of. Maybe it’d just been a while since he’d heard good music. And I couldn’t blame a man for getting horny at the promise of good music. Lord knows I was.

“You growin’ tits back there, Brenden? We gotta start.” I tossed the awkwardly large guitar over to my front side. Brenden was behind a pillar silently going through the motions of the drum beat for the song.

“Dude, I haven’t played in a while. I’m fuckin’ nervous.”

“We practiced each song like four times and basically rewrote them all. That’s good enough. It’s easy ridin’ tonight, we just gotta make it look passable. Backup singin’ while playin’ the drums is easy for you.”

“I know, I’m just getting back into the flow of it.” He had a thousand yard stare that was getting lost in the crowd.

“Shoulda had some of that weird drink. I’m fuckin’ jazzed up right now, like I just took a super concentrated caffeine shot.”

He didn’t respond, just stared off. I turned back toward the crowd, scoping out where he was looking. No shit, his eyes were locked on that other nyadin woman. I couldn’t help smiling.

That’s my boy. He has a crush.

“Oh-ho! I see you. I see you. You like that nyadin chick, don’t you Brenden?”

He blinked quickly and looked at me like a deer in headlights. “No. I’m, uh, I’m- we just talked once. Nothing more to it.”

“Yeah. Sure, bud. Listen man, you’re the one who made the rule about no lovin’ but I think we could just not tell the others if you’re really into her. And, you know, I’ve seen a couple ladies I’d like to get to know better. Let me work my magic. I’ll set you up nice and good.”

“No, dude! It’s not-”

Our pre-show discussion was abruptly halted by a quick whistling sound. It would have blown out my ears a week ago, before I’d learned to relax how much they pick up. Lord Hallax set a golden scepter at his side as the high pitched sound of a small pipe next to him vibrated through the otherwise silent room.

“Attention, all my humble visitors and servants. For those of you who have yet to hear, we have been gifted two wonderful musicians for the night, and maybe more nights. In this city so devoid of sweet tunes, let us turn our attention to our evening muses, Alex and Eddie Van Halen!”

I snorted a little. It always made me chuckle to think we were stealing the identities of actual musicians and playing their music for people for a profit.

Heh. Fuck copyright, they can’t sue us where they don’t exist.

At the lord’s gesture to us and the crowd’s attention turned, I stepped up like I always did in that dingy old bar back home.

“Good evening y’all! Who wants to hear some music tonight?!”

Dead silence. The crowd looked at each other confused and then Hallax spoke up, sounding a little insulted. “All of us. That is why we asked you to play here.”

I’d played for unenthusiastic crowds of factory workers on some shitty nights, but these people had me a little speechless. They might’ve been expecting something more formal and less hype.

After a second of trying to think of a way to respond, “Yep! Of course you do! We were a little pressed for time, so we only have a few real performance songs, but we’ll let you know when we’re just gonna start vibin’.”

Once again, they were silent.

Do they just hate music, or is entertainment that rare?

“Um, anyways.” I looked at Brenden on my left. “Let’s get to playin’.”

Our first song was “5150.” I knew the lyrics well, and we’d played it a ton before, just never acoustic. And when I started on those first chords in front of that crowd, I regretted ever trying to make it acoustic. It sounded like a completely different song, but it kind of worked, in a weird way. The wooden short-necked eight-stringed instrument with a thin but wide body, a salufo, naturally had a higher sound than guitars, and it was loud in this brass echo chamber. Brenden began his beating on the drums which actually matched well being made of brass and animal skin, and I geared myself up for the lyrics. I’d listened to this song hundreds of times in the car growing up. 5150 was one of the only CDs my dad always kept in the car, so we’d listen to it on repeat. That and “(Pronounced 'Lĕh-'nérd 'Skin-'nérd),” or as I called it: God’s gift to mankind. So even if what I was playing now wasn’t the same as the real thing, it felt perfect for me.

My voice didn’t sound half bad in my new body. In the old world, microphones had a restraining order on me because my voice sounded like a dying cow, but that didn’t stop me from singing in private. And I learned to sing everything I wanted because I was convinced I’d get good one day. All those years of singing in the shower were finally paying off. Everything flowed. Me and Brenden had good synergy until I got to the guitar solo and the clunky size of the salufo got to me. The neck slipped out of place in my hand, and I grabbed at the strings way too hard, killing the sound for a solid five seconds before I could recover it. The solo was the hardest part for me, but only because of the instrument. It was clunky at best, but we got through the rest of the song well enough.

There was no applause after the song. The people in the room were just looking around at each other and us, some of them slightly nodding in approval. I didn’t have a damn clue what they were thinking. I hadn’t been so terrified to perform like this since my first time ever, playing “Carry On Wayward Son” in front of a crowd of drunk Vietnam Vets at Jimmies Pub.

Brenden piped up, sounding a lot more confident than he did before. “That was ‘Fifty-one Fifty’. The Van Halen clan were big fans of that one. We’ve got a short one up next called ‘I Won’t Back Down’.”

This was probably the easiest one of the night, and I definitely needed it after that royal shitshow of a guitar solo. All I had to do was strum a few chords and sing some pretty easy lyrics. I had to carry this one on salufo while Brenden kept a light beat and did some backup singing.

When I started playing, the notes resounded in my ears like reverberating bells, warming my entire body with a strangely comfortable focus. I became so sensitive to the sounds for some reason, that it was like my fingers were playing effortlessly. Each sound I strummed naturally led to the next one, and the next one. As if it was all coming straight from my memory, and my body was just following what my head heard so many times over the years. The words flowed easily out. My mind was sharper and my body had fallen in tune. Next thing I knew, the song was over and I was standing in front of the crowd. The still silent crowd.

I glanced over at Brenden awkwardly and he returned a similar look, so I said, “You’re welcome to applaud or boo after each song. Your feedback will help us know what’s good and what isn’t.” I flashed a cocky yet slightly awkward smile. They were still silent, but they started murmuring and shifting a little now. I tried not to think about it. “This next one is called ‘Take on Me’, about a good friend of mine, A-ha, and his quest for love.”

Brenden stepped over to the piano-esque thing and began the opening for the song. It was similarly shaped to a piano and only had seventy-two unpainted keys, with a small housing and no cover, called a uisukaifo. It had a harsher sound, probably because the strings were made from brrzit twine. I jumped in and we both played lightly. The music drifted over me slower here. My ears honed in and I caught every minute vibration from the salufo and the uisukaifo. The energy may not have been as upbeat as the original song, but taking it easier and stripped down felt right for an intimate banquet like this. I had learned early when to think about the audience and when not to, and here I was getting lost in the soft tones. Even my voice sounded clearer to my own ears. Like everything was suddenly clicking perfectly. Brenden didn’t fumble, and neither did I.

As our sounds fell quiet, the people in the crowd applauded very minimally. It was like a low golf clap they were doing out of social obligation more than anything. I couldn’t tell if I found it demeaning or innovative.

Maybe these people are starting to come around to some music, maybe new music that hasn’t been experimented with in this part of the world, or the world at all. Maybe they just need time to warm up to it. Or they hate it. Damn, these gold motherfuckers are hard to read.

“We’ve got one more song before we’ll leave everyone to mingle. But don’t worry, we’ll still be playing some ambient music afterward. This one's for an arrowsmith back home who was much more talented than the two of us. Song’s called ‘Dream On’.”

Brenden shot me skeptical eyes. He wanted to do “Bad Company” here, but we didn’t have time to practice. We were scared of this one. We both knew how to play it because the bar people fuckin’ loved it, but he didn’t think I’d be able to hit the notes like our old singer could. I wanted to end it with a bang, so we were taking a risk.

Brenden started us off on the uisukaifo. There was always something about this song that I liked. Maybe it was the way it ramped up, or just kind of resonated with me when I really got into it, but I was in tune and everything around me began to disappear. In my mind I was back at Jimmies Pub where we always played when nobody else would let us play. The regulars were suckers for covers of their favorite songs from their haydays. Bunch of Vietnam vets and their kids who peaked in highschool, all of 'em washing up in the area for good. The smell of sweat, hard liquor, and greasy food wasn’t too different here either, but the way the sounds reverberated off of the metal in the room was wild. They carried a little too much for my liking, but it was pretty cool being in a venue where the music became the only thing you could hear. No cheers, no coughs, no singing along, just pure music dialed up past 100. I was getting lost in the lyrics, feeling like I was back home. Out in the woods with my guitar waiting for Brenden to come jump my shitbox croaked after I’d struck out hunting that morning. Me and my guitar, bellowing out the lyrics to “Dream On.” Wishing I could even come close to sounding as good as Steven Tyler.

My fingers strummed the strings as I began to ramp up toward the best part of the song. So close to the peak, faster and faster, I let my voice completely free and started crying out in my own way. It was like the entire universe around me turned into sound waves. I was pulling straight from my memory of listening to the song, matching my voice to Steven Tyler’s and hitting the chords like I was playing on electric. It sounded perfect in my head, and as my vocal chords peaked, my head came back to reality and I was making a perfect recreation of the song from my voice and my guitar.

My ears painfully popped and dark spots started taking over my vision. I had to have forgotten to breathe or exerted my voice too much. I was on my ass, on the floor, and my throat and hands were tingly. I dropped the guitar and put a hand up to my spinning head. Voices all around me, vibrating off the metal and ripping into my eardrums. They were overwhelmingly loud, prodding into my head. I opened my eyes and my hands looked fuzzy and vibrating, with a soft, grayish blue glow from my fingers.

“Hey, Dee, what’s up?! What’s going on?!” The uisukaifo abruptly stopped and a hand rested on my back. Then a subtle milky smell like flowers permeated around me. Brenden was right in front of my face, but my eyes couldn’t focus in.

“I’m all good.” My voice came out, but it sounded like it was autotuned into a hundred different voices one right after another. Every syllable was a different tone, and my throat was buzzing like crazy, static tingles running violently all through my throat and mouth.

“What the fuck is going on?! Can anybody-”

Brenden was gently shoved aside and this odd, gentle looking creature was in front of me. It had kangaroo-like legs, a thin upper body with a pudgy stomach and arms that looked slightly shorter than the average person’s. Its head was closer to a bear, though. Like a teddy bear with these big bulging black beady eyes and a thin snout. It was covered in curly blonde fur and had paws with three two-knuckled fingers and a thumb, with exposed feet built the same way. She literally looked like a stuffed animal wearing a puffy brown dress with light floral patterns woven in. I couldn’t help thinking this is what people would look like if Koalas won the evolutionary race.

Her racing words were subtle with a very noticeable lisp as she looked closely at my hands and throat. “Thorry, punch hurt.” Her stubby hands jabbed into my throat and I reeled over coughing and clutching my windpipe.

“Augh! Betch! What the hell?!” I yelled at her in my own voice, dry throat be damned.

“I told you thorry.” She leaned closer and investigated at my hands.

The nyadin woman, Miriel, ran up to her. “Al’Li, why would you hit him?! Precisely in the throat, too! He is a musician!”

“Muthic or no, he thpeak better. Learned when I lived with Piyouh, he wath learning thonic thanmah.”

I was listening to it all, but it wasn’t making sense. “That’s great, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

Hallax’s booming voice rang through the chamber. “Everyone, please make some space for our musicians of the night. We will resume once this health ordeal is solved.” He was quick to descend upon us. “Was I correct in hearing you say ‘sonic jzanmah’?” Hallax was practically salivating as he asked. Al’Li nodded.

Miriel took over. “Perhaps he is, but clearly this was an episode. We need to monitor him for a short while to be certain his throat and hands have stabilized.”

Brenden stared at everyone like they were crazy, and I couldn’t help feeling the same way. He said, “Wait, wait, wait. Why do you all sound like you’ve seen this before? Is this normal? He’s never done this before.”

Hallax was still staring at me, but Al'Li and Miriel shared a gaze like they were debating something.

Miriel looked at Hallax. “May we postpone the music until Alex and Eddie are educated on this matter?”

Damn, she really has a way of making it sound as condescending as possible.

“Take as much time as you need. This is greater than anything I was initially expecting.”

Miriel and Al’Li sat us down, and Hallax took the remaining seat just to listen in. I was between Hallax and Brenden, who was conveniently next to Miriel after a forceful nudge from my elbow.

Miriel started us off. “Nothing like this has happened to you before, correct?” I shook my head. “Okay. What you experienced was an jzanmah eruption, likely the result of jzanmah overflow. They are very rare occurrences and often not harmful. They happen when somebody is proficient with a certain school of jzanmah, but the person never uses it. So, in an intense moment of emotion, the mind can subconsciously draw on jzanmah and manifest it to your will. Being uncontrolled, though, causes such jzanmah to rapidly overheat the user, quickly exhausting them. This can be for a number of reasons, in a number of ways. In your instance, your proficiency with sonic jzanmah resulted in the alterations to the sounds emanating from your instrument and your throat, likely due to memories or feelings associated with you playing these songs.”

I thought for a moment, wondering why this seemed familiar, then I turned to Brenden. “Wait a second, that’s just like when you went invisible! When we got fucked up by that fireblood!” Brenden was just registering that I was talking to him.

“Huh? Invisible?” He leaned on table hungrily and turned to look at me.

“Yeah. Me and Tells accidentally kicked ya or something. I don’t remember perfectly, but we couldn’t see ya.”

“I understand why Geren sent the both of you now,” Hallax cut in. “You are both incredibly talented, but unaware of your abilities. Alex, Eddie, I have a proposition for you. The initial arrangement was for you to work with us on the task Geren sent you for, and my hall would provide living arrangements. In light of this night, I want to amend our deal, add to it. You will continue to perform here and in this city, bringing in money which we will split. In return, I will find resources for you both to better your understanding of your abilities. The contract will naturally prevent military scouts from taking you.”

The lack of details and a few small things he said were off putting to me. “What do you mean the military scouts? They lookin’ for people like us?”

“Always. So, unless you are conscripted into my court, then you will be, as it is often put, free pickings.”

“So that means we have to work for you forever then?”

“Not nece-” Hallax was cut off by Al’Li.

“Become merthenary in writing. No conthcript.” She had a smug, and somewhat dangerous smile revealing her fangs to Hallax, who glared at her.

The irritation didn’t leave his face. “Al’Li is correct. A contract of tentative labor rather than direct management. However, that would only grant you protection within Count Jeun Wey’s jurisdiction. Think of it as hired hands in place of direct servants. Less benefits and protection, but more personal freedom to come and go.”

I took a moment to think while Brenden asked, “So what would we learn?”

“Sigils, if I can find them, and potentially instruction. But, contractually, I will require you to perform and serve in my name, potentially taking on duties as Miriel, Al’Li and their companions do. Think on it, we can deliberate this contract to some extent. If that is clear, then I must attend to my court. Please resume your music once you feel fit.”

Brenden and I shot glances at each other as he walked away.

“Detheptive one, Hallakth. He hath taken to you both. He want to keep both you. Valuable thanmah.”

“Al’Li!” Miriel cut in. “Do not slander the Lord to newcomers.”

Al’Li chuckled deviously. “Hmm what will he do to them? Nothing.”

“You may be correct, but our positions here are still important.”

“Your one be important, not mine.”

“All the more reason to be careful, Al’Li!”

Brenden cut their bickering off. “I know I’ve already asked a lot of questions, but why is everyone so excited about our jzanmah? I’ve already done the fire and lightning stuff. Isn’t that normal?”

Miriel’s eyes glazed over, like a teacher who had been asked the same question ten different ways and had to explain it to the one kid who couldn’t keep up with the rest of the class. She smiled through the exasperation. Her confrontational, proper manner broke down when she looked at Brenden, and she chuckled.

“In all Rhial, I have never met anyone like you.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing? And Rhial? What’s that?”

Al'Li and Miriel both looked at Brenden like he was the dumbest motherfucker on the planet.

Miriel seemed like she was struggling to speak in light of learning how stupid Brenden was. “Th-that-that’s the place that- it’s where we live. Every continent, country. The land, the water, time, existence, all of us. It’s all Rhial.”

Brenden was speechless, probably insulting himself in that noggin of his.

I had to play this off like we were hicks from the boonies. We couldn’t have people catching on that we were from another world.

I picked my head up. “Well, we’re from pretty deep out in the woods. Never got a good education. Y’know, ya miss some of the most simple things out there, I guess. It’s almost like where we came from is a different world with how cut off we were.”

“Apparently,” Miriel said, shrugging it away with growing suspicion.

Al’Li’s eyes were cutting into me, though. It was creepy, almost invasive how those black beads read me over. “It really be like another world out there, hmm?” Al’Li laughed. “Khikhikhi. I will teach you thanmah. Beginner thanmah.”

Brenden cut back in. “What kind of jzanmah are we even dealing with here? I said before, I did the fire and electric types, but never the invisible kind.”

“Right,” Miriel seemed like she was getting weary of all the questions. “Eddie is in tune with sonic jzanmah and Alex is connected with spectral jzanmah. Manipulation of sound, and manipulation of light, essentially. Thermal jzanmah, or fire, lightning and cold for you, is the most simple form of jzanmah for jorlad. Most jorlad energists can use advanced sigils for thermal, even if it is not their expertise. Different races of humanity have different forms of jzanmah they’re naturally inclined toward.” She sighed her buzz away. “Can we continue this some other time?”

Brenden snapped back to reality. “Um, yeah. Sorry for all the questions again.”

A smile broke her exasperation. “It’s no issue. I know what it’s like being completely struck by a place so different from what you’re used to.”

Honestly, I just wanted to get back to playing. “If you want, I’ll play some ambient shit and you can go mingle and eat. I play better on an empty stomach anyway.”

“Okay. Guess that works. I’ll come back up and take over when I’m done.” He turned to Miriel and Al’Li. “It’s not dangerous for him to play again, is it?”

Al’Li grinned. “I thought you were done with the inquiry? You ask like a kinajor ladin but you are kijzanya ladin.”

Kinajor ladin and kijzanya ladin, old Triali phrases I’m not sure how I know. Like they’re just in my memory. Kinajor meaning intelligent questioner, ladin meaning eared biped, and kijzanya meaning intelligent jzanmah breather.

Miriel put a hand up to her and lightly shook her head. “He should be fine. Forgive Al’Li, she can be very… contrary.”

I laughed. “Then we’ll probably get along great. I’m gonna fuck off now.”

Too many questions and lectures. It reminded me of being in school. We’d go over simple physics shit and some moron would ask four million questions about the same thing until class ended. No offense to Brenden, but there was definitely a reason he didn’t do well in school.

I sat up on stage and strummed away some comfort songs. I’d been playing so long that they were basically ingrained in my memory. “Hotel California,” “I Won’t Back Down,” “Sweet Home Alabama.” I got me wondering though.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Why do we need Hallax’s protection from being enlisted as soldiers? We could easily just not use our sigils, so they would never notice us or our abilities. Too much thinking for me. It isn’t thinking time.

Brenden eventually came back, still chewing and licking red sauce from fingers. He held his thumb up like he was impressed, and I couldn’t help noticing what looked like black ink on his thumb print.

“Riviera talked to me, and said she wants to talk to you too. Said to grab food and go find her.”

“Fuck. I just wanted to take it easy.”

“Viscount’s orders, I guess.”

I got up and walked off as Brenden began playing uisukaifo. Riviera was waiting over by the long table that was stacked with food. I wanted to demolish that whole table, go absolutely hog wild and eat my fill. I hadn’t had a proper, good meal in so long, just jerky, fruit, and the occasional animal that we caught.

As I began stacking a brass platter high with meat and blue biscuit things, I heard Riviera’s feathers rustle up next to me.

“Eddie, how are you enjoying the night?” She didn’t sound as raspy or out of breath as Geren, but her slow paced words flourished with birdlike chirps and tones, sounding oddly forced and unnatural.

“It’s good. What’s the news? Got another business proposition?”

“I wished to speak with you earlier, but Lord Hallax wanted to postpone matters longer. I am now more confident asking you this. I wish for you to infiltrate.”

“Neat, infiltrate what?”

She leaned in close as to not be heard. “Infiltrate the Amien Manor.”

Fuckin’ what? “Fuckin’ what? Is there a plan?”

She looked at me quizzically. “Did Geren not inform you of the parcel you delivered? The map?”

“No. No he didn’t. What are we doing with the Amien Manor?”

“Please, mind your volume. Perhaps I have misspoken. Are you allies of Viscount Amien?”

“Very big no.”

“Then you wish to see the manor disbanded?”

“That sounds pretty good to me.”

“So will you infiltrate them once the plan and time are finalized?”

“Wait a sec. What do you mean, disbanded? You talkin’ about killin’ the Viscount?”

She leaned in and practically hissed. “Mutually beneficial political overthrow. With a person of power on the inside.”

“That’s a tall task to be talkin’ about so casually.”

“And yet, it is possible. Geren trusted you with this.”

“Geren. There it is again. I know he seems like a nice guy, but you keep talking about him like he’s got some powerful say around here, like he’s the fuckin’ messiah.”

She was a little confused at that last part, but didn’t seem to worry about it. “Geren was the leader of our order. Exiled. But he is the reason we were inducted into humanity. Back when our people were allied with the Amiens.”

“Sounds like there’s a lot to catch up on. Who’s the one on the inside? Am I gonna be working with ‘em?”

“I cannot tell you that. Our path will be clear once we complete the delivery.”

“I thought we were done with the package. Got it to you and that was it.”

“You are done with the package. Your worries can wait while we exchange the package for something very important to Lord Hallax’s collaboration in this endeavor. For now, the Viscount wishes for you to sign a contract with him and establish your name in the city as musicians.”

That sounds like a bad idea. Last thing we need is to gain a reputation and then have the Amiens sniffing us out.

“What’s the point of gettin’ famous? Didn’t he want to keep our asses out of sight from the military?”

“Sign the mercenary contract. Gain reputation in the city. Your lack of affiliation and fame can make gaining access to certain places easier. I see a possible path toward amicable infiltration. Our contact can certainly assist us if this is properly achieved.”

“Cool, but one caveat…” I didn’t want to tell her of our… ill relations with Simira, but it was too big a problem to let go. “We had a run in with Lady Simira’s gang on the road here. Right before we met Geren. She hates our guts. If her or that blue guy see us, they’ll probably arrest us.”

“There were more of you before, no?”

My body went cold, but I tried to keep my cool. “What makes you think that?”

“I recognize you. Wanted signs. Your friend is very noticeable in this city. Nyadin are rare here.”

“So what if there were more of us?”

“Where are they now?”

“No clue. Taken by guards after the signs went up.”

“Then they are likely prisoners in House Amien. I did hear a rumor that Viscount Amien found a new regenerator. And he ceased his persistent letters to purchase Miriel from Hallax.”

“Wait, so you think they’re all still alive?”

“Most likely. For now. Amien has a way of using his regenerators very quickly.”

“Alright. Okay. We’ll get famous doing music ‘n shit. How long’s this gonna take? How much time do they have until Ve- the regenerator is used up?”

“Before winter. And I do not know. The Viscount has no ailments currently.”

“Great, then let’s get this shit rolling. Hell, I’ll take the letter to the contact now. Me or Br-” I caught myself slipping up and coughed into my arm.

She chirped to stop me. “Relax, we have an order to follow. A dozen days or so before the plan moves forward. If our contact is smart, she will make use of her new acquisitions, as we have. Do not act rash. There is one man within that court perceptive enough to ruin us. He is the eyes of the Viscount. Rezyn serves under Amien’s daughter as a guise to monitor the goings-on of the entire court, and report back to him. Quick tongue and careful eyes. Be wary when you venture out, and learn from Al’Li.”

“Kay. So what now.”

She glanced around casually. “Alex already completed this. Print your sign, and go make a quick reputation.” She passed me a piece of parchment with words scrawled into it. She passed me a parchment with an ink pad. I pressed my thumb onto the ink pad, then the paper. She cood lightly as she pulled the parchment away and dismissed herself. In the meantime, I mingled and ate some food, telling everybody that “Alex and Eddie Van Halen are here to stay.”

* * * * *

What ensued for about the next week was chaotic at best. Al'Li introduced me to sonic jzanmah. There wasn’t anybody around that was actually educated in it and would teach me, so I had to make do with a couple of things Al'Li learned from her old friend.

The lessons were odd. Al'Li didn’t do much talking aside from showing me how to scribe and adjust the sigils. Every now and then, she would make a quip or snide comment that helped keep the mood light. I learned the properties of the sigils, which were unlike anything I had seen from what Brenden and Vetia had done. They weren’t complicated or advanced, just very delicate, volatile, and required high levels of focus to execute. The user had to be entirely honed in to apply them. Apparently it was similar to how people could be naturally connected to regenerative jzanmah, except instead of destroying their limbs if the sigil went out of control, it would just emit high or low pitched whistles that would cause people around to get pissed off at the dipshit who couldn’t do sigils right. Or it could blow out my eardrums in a feedback loop of sorts, but magical.

Al'Li couldn’t actually show me the sigils in action. She only had drawings of them. Some rudimentary scrawlings of ink on scrap cloth. So I practiced them in the morning and then Brenden and I went out to the local dives to discuss playing music with the owners. At first, they were afraid we would attract military attention, so we had to get small medallions to show we were in service of Hallax. Apparently, the Triali military, whatever that was, grabbed musicians up like hot cakes and trained them to communicate orders in battle. Like drummer boys but with a bunch more instruments to communicate with different battalions and whatnot. Sounded cool, but not my type of thing.

We got our first gig set for about a week after we arrived at manor. I had to pry loverboy from his nurse kink just about every day including today.

“Thanks, I’ll try.” Brenden was basically skipping out as I caught the scowling eyes of the red mohawk guy, pretty sure his name was Deb, clocking Brenden the whole way out. I was almost a little jealous of how much game Brenden had. This Miriel woman really seemed to like him, even if he was acting a bit like a lost puppy. My options felt way more limited. The only women I regularly interacted with were Al'Li and Riviera, and lord knows I wasn’t desperate enough to try screwing with either of them. That had to be what scared me about Al'Li so much. I couldn’t tell if that look in her eyes was her wanting to fuck, kill, or eat me. Maybe all three.

“You ready to go? All the shit’s packed in the wagon. You’re welcome.” I side-eyed him.

He pulled his eyes out of dreamworld and finally looked at me. “Oh, shit. My bad. I would have helped.”

“Don’t sweat it. If it means you’ll finally get laid, I’ll do my best to be your wingman.”

He gibberished trying to figure out his own thoughts. “It’s not like that! I’m learning about this world. About nyadin and stuff. It’s important to know all there is to know about where my race is from.”

“Uh huh, and how many nyadin have we met so far that you’ve had to explain yourself to, huh?”

“Well- it- I… None. But still. It’s good to know! And we don’t talk that much. I have to do a lot of practice with my sigils. Hallax gave me a couple planks with some sigils and instructions on them, but they’re more of party tricks than anything.”

We hopped in the wagon and set off. The tavern we were headed to was pretty far. It was near the outside of the Hallax Quarter. I figured it was probably the best place to catch the attention of common crowds and possibly influential personnel. Evenings in the city became oddly relaxing to me. The orange rays of sunlight glinted off of everything, sparkling like gentle fires across the whole quarter. Out by the shops, the smell of sweet breads and succulent meats filled the air. My nose was more sensitive than everyone else’s were, but the area still smelled clean. There wasn’t piss and shit being dumped into the gutters of the road here like in the ungilded quarters. Image was everything. Even Brenden and I had to adhere to that. Everything we wore was either gaudy gold or brash brass.

The fashion here was confusing. Depending on the race and build, the clothes could be vastly different. In general, though, people who were more “naturally gilded” wore much less. Skin, hair, eyes. If everything was like a warm bronzed or tan look, that person was basically in the upper echelon of society by default. Even if you weren’t perfectly gold, you could wear shitloads of expensive makeup and clothes that were basically crutches to stand a class higher than the rest.

I had on what was basically a pair of loose and light slacks, golden leather cowboy boots, and a sparkly golden vest that exposed my bare chest and arms. I only wore a little bit of eye makeup to make them “pop” as the servants said. Brenden was draped in a short sleeveless kimono-style shirt of sparkling gild, loosely wrapped to expose his bare chest. His pants and shoes were the same as mine. They didn’t even give him any makeup because he fit the gilded look.

That’s how the city and bars were organized too. Gold in front, brass behind them, then bronze, copper, imitators, and finally common people with no natural gild. Even the buildings were like this. Like a gradient of gold to bronze to bland. I wasn’t much of an expert, but in my opinion, it didn’t seem like a great way to organize a city.

“These people are so fuckin’ weird, dude.”

Brenden shushed me. “Quiet. And, yeah, probably all thanks to Hallax.”

“Eh, whatever, we’re skipping town right after we get the others back. No skin off our backs, whatever goes on here.”

“Doesn’t it still piss you off, though?”

“What?”

“Y’know. If it was any of the others, they’d have a hell of a time just trying to meet up with Hallax ‘cause they got no gild.”

“Well, lucky it’s us, I guess. I’ll take good luck any day. And again, we’re leaving once we’re done. Start right somewhere new. We don’t need to worry about what goes on here afterward.”

He shook his head. “Yeah. Sure.” I knew that look he had. There was something else going on in that dense head of his.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about staying after this.”

“What? Why would I want to stay?”

“Yeah. Uh huh.”

The tavern quickly approached. Black Gold. The outside was poorly maintained and unpolished brass, but the inside was what mattered. It was spacious as hell. A long wooden bar with tables set out around the place. It was a seedy little hole in the wall, and certainly not the cleanest, but nothing we weren’t used to. The bouncer, a bald tanned man in a long robe, let us in.

We’d spoken with the manager about performing, but the owner was one Madam Diona. Apparently she funded a few joints like this around the city, and she was giving us a chance at the bottom rung.

“Oh, gentlemen, how good it is to see you!” She emerged from a door behind the bar and danced over to us. “I’ve been awaiting your arrival all these days.” When she reached us, she clasped both of our hands upright, interlacing her fingers with ours. It seemed to be some kind of proper familiar greeting in this world.

I stepped forward. “Glad to hear it, Madam.”

Her round face was smooth and shiny, almost perfectly. I figured it was the work of the excess amount of makeup. Her blonde hair was tied into triple buns, which matched her bubbly pant suit. It hugged her figure and puffed out in all the right places until the pants part of it started. Her style was freakish, but she was kind of a milf so I was thinking more about what was under the clothes.

She showed us where to set up, and we brought the instruments in. If we did well here, she would let us perform at a nicer place. Hallax recommended her, and while I definitely agreed with his taste, I was a little pissed that we were starting so low. For a city without much music, I figured we would be a little more valuable right off the bat. Then again, Hallax didn’t want her to know that we worked with him. He didn’t like her for reasons he wouldn’t tell us, but he needed to use her influence.

By the time we were ready to get going, the bar was… barely populated. I counted seventeen people in a bar that seemed like it could fit a couple hundred. Fuck it, the show had to go on.

We had everything set, I was ready with the stuff I learned from Al'Li, and I’d just downed another caffeine shot drink. Now we just had to put it in action.

“How are you all doing tonight?!” I yelled out smiling and hoping for a little more energy than the banquet.

There were a few yells from the crowd. “Good.” “Alright.” “I miss my kjzae.”

Brenden covered a laugh from behind his drums, so I kept the act up. “Broken spirits and partiers alike, we’re all here for some music. I’m Eddie, and this is my adopted brother Alex. We’re gonna play some songs for you tonight!”

There were some modest cheers from the crowd, so I started my shit. It was the same set of songs from the banquet plus “Bad Company” and the guitar songs I played when Brenden was away. It was time to make shit happen. My finger radiated a dull ocean blue glow that I used to scribe across the guitar. As I drew, the guitar hummed and vibrated. It was a simple rectangle, as long and wide as I wanted, so long as it fit on the guitar. Al’Li had shown me how to create dials and tuners for sound, but ultimately it wasn’t reliant on the sigils themselves, but the will behind the sigils. According to Al’Li, these exhausted the user much faster than typical sonic sigils, but they were more versatile and personalized. I basically had a dial to alter the sound of my salufo like any old amp, and I could do this for any instrument.

The podium next to me was where I stored the thin music planks. I grabbed the first one and began my magic. These used more typical sigils that didn’t constantly drain me. Bluish gray jzanmah coalesced at the tip of my finger and I traced a circle in the wood. It attached to the surface and became hazy, like it was blurring from the jzanmah. The second shape was a line drawn from the box to the guitar, which would react as soon as I started playing. The third shape was a second circle around the initial one. This meant whatever I played would repeat. Sigils were strange because you could activate or deactivate them mentally, but only after they were constructed. These ones, however, could lie unused for quite a while, but only repeated for a time depending on how much jzanmah I put into them. I had more than long enough to do a show, so I didn’t have to worry about them expiring. Basically, I used the sigils to create an electric guitar and a set of loop pedals that could loop anything, just as long as I could touch it. I did this several more times for each song to construct the backup bass and guitar, as well as some vocals. I could even make the uisukaifo sound similar to synth. With this shit, we didn’t need any more band members other than me and Brenden. It was fucking awesome.

The audience was really confused as they witnessed me drawing sigils in the air and on the planks, but as soon as they heard the quick tunes and looped sound, the excitement spread rapidly around the room.

We followed the order of our first time playing at the banquet. After the first song, people from outside began pouring in. By the third song, the bar was almost full and people were still piling in. The coolest part of the whole performance, though, was how I could adjust my voice. It was just like the rectangle dials on my guitar. And with it, I could make myself perfectly mimic any audible voice. And it looked really cool. There was a hazy blue glow around my neck. I switched up the vocals between songs so the music sounded almost entirely authentic, like the original singers were doing it. There had to be about nine simultaneous sigils going at one point during the concert, and it twisted and tore through my head. The mental strain, concentrating on playing, singing, and commanding the sigils in and out resonated throughout my entire exhausted body, but it was just like typing on a keyboard. Like it was ingrained in me to pay attention to the sigils without training in them.

None of the people in the bar knew the songs, but we learned that head banging was not just an Earth thing. People in the front row were bobbing along with the faster songs and grooving to the slower ones. This was the first time anyone in this world was hearing real rock. Aside from Hallax, who spent his free time sitting in on our practices.

By the end, the crowd packing the bar was rowdy beyond compare. Cheering like I’d never heard before. We were basically cheap impressionists and these people were eating it up because they didn’t know any better.

“Thanks for coming out! And tell everyone you know about us! Alex and Eddie Van Halen!”

I walked off stage with the roaring applause and stumbled into the room behind the bar, head spinning and body giving out.

“Holy fuck, I can’t see straight. These sigil things hit like a fuckin’ truck.” I collapsed into a chair and held my head in my hands to collect my thoughts. I had so much jzanmah and adrenaline pumping after the end of the show, but no brainpower left to keep any sigils going.

Brenden pumped his fist in the air, absolutely beaming. “Yo, we fucking killed it bro! Those sigils are insane. You could basically be a one man band!”

Must be nice to have so much vigor left after such a crazy show.

“I agree, gentlemen.” Madam Diona slinked her way in from the bar. “I certainly didn’t expect such eclectic sounds, and yet they were so electrifying! It really makes a woman my age feel like I’m young and wild again.”

That woman has a vibe like she is gonna shatter a man’s pelvis this very night. God, I want it to be mine.

I looked up. “Thank you, Madam. You think we’d be able to do this again, maybe at one of the other locations?”

She pursed her lips, smiled, and leaned right down to my face. “Oh sweetie, you can come any time you’d like. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Quickly placing my arms across my lap, I sat erect in my chair. Oddly enough, the fatigue was gone and my mood suddenly perked up. If I had tried to speak, it would have been grunts and gibberish with the lack of blood flowing to my brain.

Brenden took over. “That would be great! What about our payment?”

“Oh, dear. Ask Orbert, the bouncer you saw on the way in. Unfortunately, I must be elsewhere. Business calls.”

I shook my head and took a quick breath. One burning question for the Madam. “Sorry, Madam, just one last thing. We’re still new to the area. Could you point me in the direction of a, um, some place where I might spend the night with a lady?”

Madam Diona chuckled. “Oh, dear, of course. There’s a pleasure parlor up near the park. One of mine. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“And what are the rates like?”

“Don’t you worry about that. After such a show it’s well deserved. Take this.” She leaned down and planted one right on my left cheek. The sticky residue of her lipstick tugged my cheek with her retreating lips. “Show them that and ask for Fera. She’s quite the luxurious lady.”

My head was soaring. “Thank you, Madam.” I shakily stood up, barely catching myself from falling. “Sorry, I’m fine, that performance took a lot of jzanmah.”

“I’m sure it did. Bye now, boys.” She sauntered out of the room just as gracefully as she entered.

“Desmond, what the fuck? We said we weren’t gonna do any of that shit! No bullshitting around while we’re on the mission.”

I stood up.

He doesn’t understand. How could he? He has yet to taste of the forbidden fruit that I've been without for so long and is driving me nuts.

“Brenden. From person to person. Man to man. Brother to brother. I can’t put this business off any longer.”

“What?”

“My body is Yosemite and the geyser is about to burst.”

“Desmond, what the fuck are you talking about?”

I placed my hand on his shoulder and looked deep into his young, naive virgin eyes. “The way she was, the way she talked to me, touched me, awakened something deep within me. Deeper than anything I’ve experienced before. I gotta get my rocks off!”

“What, your mommy kink? You already had that! Just fuckin’ think about something else.”

“It’s not the only one, and I can’t, it’s not possible.”

“Why isn’t it possible?”

“It’s just not!”

“Why not, you horny bastard?!”

I walked past him. “Get the money yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow, Alex.”

I didn’t listen to his response. My mind was in a completely different place. I walked out of the bar, a man on a mission. My senses were honed in on finding whatever this “pleasure parlor” was. Recalling my trip there would be impossible, but at some point shortly after the show, I arrived at a building with a golden sign and red, curling letters that said “Good Moaning”.

I caught my breath and took a think before I stepped up to the door.

Pros: Free sex

Cons: Can’t think of any

Good enough for me. It’s settled.

Past the golden doors was a warmly lit room of black walls with silky scarlet curtains and furnishings separated by golden trim. There were only a few other people in here, and they were gathered around a set of windows, like a pharmacy. A few others were waiting on chairs and benches casually sipping what looked like red wine. The whole place was pungent with perfume, flowers, and body odor. I strutted up to a window operated by a clean chubby man in very formal golden robes and makeup.

“Do you have a reservation for the night, sir? Or shall we schedule something?”

“I just spoke to Madam Diona. She said to show you this and ask for Fera?” I pointed to my cheek and the man nodded knowingly.

“I see. She is available currently, so I will summon her to meet you right away.”

“Really?” It just slipped out. This place seemed really bougie and I had gotten a little worried things might be booked up.

He turned to another man in formal robes behind him, who walked out of the room and through the large doors to my right. As soon as they swung open, I heard the muffled sounds of God-only-knows-what going on in other parts of the building.

Shortly after, he emerged again and told me to follow him. The sounds and smells intensified to the point of being dizzying. He stopped at the end of the hall of red doors and opened one to my right. I nodded and thanked him, walking in.

It was really spacious inside. More black walls and scarlet curtains, sofa, and bed. On the sofa was a woman probably in her early twenties, but gorgeous beyond comparison. Maybe it was the tiredness or the horniness, but her stark black wavy hair glittered with gold dust and toned voluptuous caramel-colored figure had me speechless. Her bright emerald eyes entranced me. For how casually she sat, there was a certain captivation that her rounded, thin face exuded. A sense of confidence in her enthralling appearance. She played with the skirt of her see-through golden nightgown and peered enticingly at me.

“Come, sit.” She spoke with a soft sing-songy hum of a voice as she gestured to the sofa cushion next to her.

I was still trying to keep my cool, but it was definitely difficult to do so. I casually sat down next to her and placed my arm around the back of the sofa, gently resting my hand near her shoulder, not trying to be too aggressive because I didn’t know the rules yet.

I looked away and cleared my throat real quick. “So, how we doin’ this? Any rules?”

She put on a cocky smile and climbed onto my lap, caressing the sides of my face. Her finger gently prodded at the lipstick on my cheek as she whispered. “She gave you unrestricted service, so anything you desire.”

“Anything?”

She slowly and sensually pulled the vest down my arms and off. She leaned in and dragged her lips up my neck until she was whispering in my ear. “Anything. You’re new, I take it. The Madam has made me the lead for every show led by a woman. I’ve had so many men begging for me, but only another performer knows how to perfectly please.”

It was like a dream I had many a nights back on Earth, except I wasn’t dreaming this. However, the prick of a blade warmed by her body shot a rush through me.

My eyes went wide. “Woah, interesting foreplay.”

She pulled back slightly, gyrating her hips on my lap. “Unfortunately, we have to be a little thorough. If you tell me the information I need to know, we’ll get to our duet. I can feel you’ve quite the instrument.”

I smiled a little, not expecting this. “You wanna know my numbers? I haven’t exactly measured anything yet, but there’s still plenty of room to grow.”

She chuckled and bit her lip. “You’ve an alias, don’t you? You’re not who you say you are? Mysterious stranger.” She tapped the warm flat of the blade against my pec.

“I’m a mysterious man of music. Like a drifter. I speak through my actions.”

Her face turned almost pouty. “Eddie, the Madam’s business is very precious to her, so I need to make sure you’re not trying to steal any inside secrets. I need you to tell me your real name.”

“Heh, do I look like a spy?” The sudden change of mood struck me like a tractor trailer with failed brakes going down a hill.

Definitely fishy business going on, but if I play along right, I probably won’t get too deep into it.

“Spies come in many shapes and sizes.” She gently caressed my chest with her free hand.

“Ah, can’t we save it for after?”

A feisty smile crawled across her cheek as she dragged her hand toward my stomach. “Oh, don’t be like that. I know you want it now. You’re all perked up, and I know that feeling when you’re so warm, like your body is itching, craving to grab on and go wild.” She moved her lips right to my ear. “Won’t you tell me? I want everything from you.”

Fuck it, I’ll just stick to the story.

I smoothed my voice, trying to play it cool. “I’m Eddie. Eddie Van Halen. I do music.”

“Where are you from, Eddie?”

“An orphanage. All over the place. Never settled down.”

“Are you sure you’re telling me the truth, Eddie?”

God damnit I just wanna FUCK! Wait, there’s no fuckin’ way these people like Simira. I can use that and get this bullshit over with.

“It passes well enough for Hallax. We’re just using him for some quick money. The guy fuckin’ loves music. My actual name is Desmond Fischer. I’m from way out in the sticks. Living free and playing music on a farm. We came to the city for real work when my bandmate and I pissed off that bitch Simira Amien. Got in hot water with that house. We’re using aliases so they don’t track us down.”

“There we go, Desmond.” She leaned in, her sweet minty breath passing over my nose with every word. Hallax must have a very good reason for keeping you, no?”

I chuckled, trying to stave off my irritation. “He caught us in his quarter after our friends got taken by the Amiens. We asked about financial opportunities with some advisor of his, and after some bullshit we said we could play music and we ended up talkin’ to the big man.”

“So you’re not with the Triali military? A sonic energist like yourself ought to be on their watch.”

“The military? Pfft. Where’s the fun in that? Hallax’s contract keeps us safe from that.” I raised an eyebrow. “We better now?”

“Oh?” She purred. “We’re so much better.”

I smiled coyly, trying to act all proper. “Now that we’re done with that, what’s the move? Shall I leave now that business is conducted? I’m a man of music looking for inspiration. I don’t have time to waste.”

She pouted playfully. “So soon? I haven’t ever been this excited to meet a handsome, strong, mysterious stranger, or a musician.” Her hand softly traced down to my belt, sending shivers through my whole body as she whispered so closely to me. “We’ll make great use of this time, and I’ll give you all the inspiration you could ever want.”

Vigor rushed through every point her delicate finger caressed. I smirked at her, unable to hold myself back. “You wanna lead the first measure?”

“It would be my delight.”

And I got my happy ending to the night.