30. Kal: Celebrity

  Kal’s growing musical skill had made him quite the attraction in Terenhill.

  Twice a week, he, his father, and Bertan gathered at the village inn, which – like in most of Stulan – served not only as a place for travelers to sleep but also as the local hub for drinking, gathering, and sharing news. They played together for the gathered villagers and staying travelers.

  Kal and his father played the voutar – Kal now having one of his own – while Bertan manned the tralkin, a wide, wood-framed instrument with hammers that struck taut strings beneath ivory keys. In Kal’s eyes, by all means, it was a piano.

  Kal had so much fun playing with them – but even more, he loved playing for the crowd. His early days of stage fright were long gone, forgotten after getting enough experience playing with Reinar and Bertan. Now, he yearned for an audience, for more ears to hear him, for more eyes to widen at his performances.

  He was even desperate for an opportunity to play for someone like Baron Rodan again. But that didn’t happen.

  Baron Rodan hadn’t returned to Terenhill for any of the past four Festivals of First Harvest. Rumor was, he had other villages to visit – but Kal couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed regardless.

  While Reinar and Bertan were skilled in their own right, Kal was the reason nearly the entire village gathered. He had become a kind of escape for the people – a break from muddy boots, aching backs, long days in the fields, and harsh work. Sometimes, the inn was so packed it spilled onto the street.

  It reached the point where Kal had his own solos built into their regular routines – moments where the music fell away, and all eyes turned to the ten-year-old sensation.

  This evening was one of those evenings.

  The tavern was warm with light, ale, and good company. Laughter and chatter filled the space, but as soon as Reinar began strumming the opening of their song on his voutar and Bertan joined in on the tralkin, the noise settled into anticipation.

  Kal sat perched on a stool beside them, cradling his own voutar, joining into his father’s rhythm. The three of them burst into a cheerful tune – a familiar-to-all country jig that made smiles rise and people join in singing. The tralkin’s hammered tones weaved between the strings of the voutars, and Kal, though youngest by decades, shone brightest of them all.

  He didn’t just play – he performed. He smiled at the crowd – and especially at Elara and Lucas – and gave nods to his biggest fans among the villagers. He even swayed in rhythm with his feet, drawing laughter from his classmates gathered in the front. His fingers moved expertly along the strings, sometimes adding flourishes just for fun – twisting the melody into something flashier, then bringing it back to its original shape.

  Then, right on cue, Reinar and Bertan slowed their playing, and slowly dropped away entirely.

  But Kal’s hands never paused. He slipped into a solo – his own arrangements of a song from Earth, disguised as a folk ballad.

  His fingers moved with emotion, creating an aching melody that immediately commanded the attention of everyone in the inn – even the waitresses. The acoustic cover of the unknown song touched the souls of everyone gathered.

  When the final note rang out and faded into silence, there was a brief moment of silence.

  And then – cheers.

  A loud applause.

  Tankards were raised. Boots stomped the floor. Hands clapped together.

  A couple of travelers shouted from the back. “By the gods, that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard! What is the name of this masterpiece?”

  Kal just smiled, setting the voutar down against the stool, hesitant to call the song by its Earthly name. “It’s called…ehhm…’Fire of the Heart’.”

  “Good lord,” someone muttered near the bar, ‘the boy’s a prodigy! A legend in the making!”

  “Thank you!” Kal called out, giving a theatrical bow with one arm across his chest and the other sweeping wide. The crowd laughed and cheered again, charmed by him even more.

  But it was when a certain man pushed his way gently to the front – that Kal actually froze.

  The man was tall and lean, wearing a colorful coat stitched with bright colored patches. A broad hat with a feather sat on his head, while a silver chain with a pendant in the shape of a clef hung on his neck. Strapped across his back was a beautifully carved lyroca – a lot fancier and expensive than Kal’s, that much was clear.

  No one needed to guess what occupation the man held. The village had seen many of his kind in the past few years – well…maybe not exactly like him, though.

  He was a bard.

  “It’s you!” The man called out, his eyes wide in awe as he pointed at Kal. “I couldn't believe the stories entirely, but it is you! A child prodigy! You’re Kal the String-kissed!”

  Kal blinked, exchanging a glance with his father. “The what now?”

  “You’re telling me you haven’t heard?!” The bard asked, stunned. “Your name caught fire from here to Dalina and all the way up to the north from where I hail!” He shook his head, still grinning, eyes wide in disbelief. “Every bard who’s passed through the central provinces is playing your original melodies – ballads, laments, the…how did they call it?” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Riffs!”

  He took another step forward, growing even more excited as he reached a hand forward. “They all say you’re just a child, but I couldn’t believe my ears, so I came to see the legend with my own eyes. And here you are, in the flesh!”

  Reinar stepped forward, standing between Kal and the bard. “I don’t know who you are, Mister, but please keep your distance from my son.”

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  “Oh, my, where are my manners!” The bard called out, bowing apologetically. “Allow me to introduce myself. The name is Cerci, a bard by profession, an artist by soul, and a charmer by nature. I’ve played in halls of barons such as Lafayette, Golron, Belan, and Marquise.”

  He straightened, visibly ecstatic by his self-introduction – which was far from over.

  “I’m part of the Circle of Velvet Strings, a fraternity of musicians through which I had learned about your music. One of us claimed to have performed your melody at the Starfield Theatre in Alcarith. Another said they brought it to a noble’s private wedding in Luthenhart. I myself hail from Feronelle, by the way, where your songs had also already made their appearance.”

  He gave Kal a deep nod. “I came all the way from the north to witness the legend with my own eyes.”

  Kal’s eyes widened, his heart racing in excitement. ‘Musicians are playing my songs all around the kingdom?!That's like...like watching covers of your songs on the internet!'

  Reinar kept his protective stance, eyes narrowed. “While I appreciate the compliments toward my son, I must remind you, Mr. Cerci, that he is still a child.”

  Cerci placed a hand over his heart. “Sir, I assure you, I mean no harm. I only seek to learn. I’m not here to steal anything – only to understand how such sounds can come from such…small fingers.” He chuckled, then glanced at Kal with something close to awe. “There are nobles who’d pay handsomely just to hear something this fresh. Something this Raw. Alive.” He turned back to Reinar – and to Elara, who had just approached with Lucas. “What your son has is a gift. I can’t even begin to imagine his ceiling!”

  Kal stayed quiet, stunned by the scope of it all.

  He had no idea the songs he’d been playing were being performed in theatres, weddings, and homes of nobles. No idea that people were traveling across the kingdom, discussing him, wanting to meet him – to learn from him, of all things.

  Elara chuckled, nudging her husband gently. “I told you it would happen eventually.”

  Reinar sighed, glancing at Kal, then back at Cerci. “Listen, Mr. Cerci – “

  “Please, just Cerci.” The bard interrupted with a wink.

  Reinar nodded once, continuing. “Mr. Just Cerci, it’s already late. My son has school tomorrow. Perhaps another time?”

  “Why, of course!” Cerci called out. “I wouldn’t want to be a burden. I’ll stay right here – in this lovely inn – for as long as needed.”

  His voice suddenly dipped into a whisper. “…Or at least until my funds run out.”

  Then, just as quickly, his voice rose again. “But hey! No pressure!”

  ***

  The stars shimmered above them as the Varrens made their way back to the house. The wind was quiet, and the only sounds were crickets, the soft scuff of their boots on the ground, and the occasional creaks of the voutars on Kal’s and Reinar’s backs.

  Reinar walked with Lucas cradled in one arm. Kal’s brother was already sound asleep against his father’s chest, mouth half-open. All the excitement of the evening got him tired, and his eyes had finally shut down.

  Elara walked on Kal’s other side, her hand gently resting on her pregnant belly, while her other one held Kal’s.

  Meanwhile, Kal’s mind raced. He was mad his father was so against him speaking with Cerci. There was so much Kal could have learned about the music scene of Stulan from him.

  Unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer, Kal finally broke the silence.

  “Why did you shut him down so quickly?” He asked, not looking up. “Cerci, I mean.”

  Reinar shifted Lucas in his arms, careful not to wake him. “Like I told him: it was getting late, and you have school tomorrow.”

  Kal frowned. “Yeah, but that’s not really the reason and I know it.”

  Reinar remained quiet at first, staring ahead. Their house was still a few minutes away.

  “No.” He admitted eventually. “It’s not.”

  Kal glanced at him. “So?” He asked, even though he had already known the answer since childhood. Deep inside, he had always hoped his father would change his mind eventually, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

  Reinar sighed. “Because I already made the hard decision of not bounding you to the fields, but if I have to choose if my son continues his studies or make a living off music…I’d rather choose the former and send you to Estenford. Music is a hobby, Kal. School – real learning – that’s your path.”

  “But music isn’t just a hobby.” Kal’s voice was quiet but sharp. “I could already be earning. You heard Cerci – he said nobles would pay. I could – “ He hesitated. “I could help. With the baby coming. With the field if it’s a bad season. With everything and anything.”

  The truth was that Kal believed that by becoming a musician he could travel a lot more – and start traveling a lot earlier – than if he continued studying. And by traveling more he believed he could find the answers he was looking for faster. Answers about Gartan.

  He also didn’t want to leave his parents behind like it was nothing – especially knowing their financial situation – and worrying about it constantly throughout most of his new life.

  Reinar stopped walking and turned to look at him. “Is that what worries you?”

  Kal shrugged, embarrassed. “Sometimes.”

  “Kal…” Reinar’s voice became softer. “Money is never going to be something I care about. And neither should you.”

  “But we don’t have much.” Kal pressed. “And I could – “

  “No.” Reinar said, more firmly this time. “Let me worry about that. The land is generous enough. The work is hard, but it’s honest. I don’t plow fields because I hope to become rich one day – I do it because people all around Stulan need to eat. Because what I do matters.”

  Kal didn’t like this argument. He didn’t intend for the conversation to go in this direction, but now he couldn’t stop himself.

  He looked down at his blistered fingers and recalled how people looked at him when he played – like he was giving them something they hadn’t felt in years.

  ‘Music matters too.’

  “When I play, it feels like I’m doing something important too. Like I’m giving people something that helps. Just like you do.” Kal said.

  Reinar studied him.

  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t play.” He said after a moment. “Gods know, it’s clearly part of what makes you who you are. What I’m saying is – don’t make decisions because of gold – because one way feels fancier than the other. If you walk that path, you’ll never stop chasing it. And you’ll forget why you ever loved it to begin with.”

  Elara joined in then, her voice soft and soothing. “I think Kal should choose for himself, either way. It’s not our choice to make.”

  They both turned to her.

  “I see it,” she said, looking at Kal. “How you are when you play. How you are when you study. You’re not like other children and we all know it.”

  Kal glanced away, embarrassed. ‘You have no idea…’

  Elara smiled softly and continued. “Whether it’s academics, music, or even magic, Kal was blessed. And I want him to follow the thing that makes him feel like he’s doing something that matters – not what makes us feel better.”

  Reinar remained quiet for a moment but nodded eventually. “I’d like that too.”

  “I won’t disappoint you.” Kal said, glancing between them.

  “We know. That's impossible.” Elara assured him with a squeeze of his hand.

  A moment of silence followed before Reinar grunted, changing the subject. “We need to talk with Bella about the paths in our area. I think it’s about time she worried about the village’s lighting. I can barely see a damn thing out here. And with you pregnant, it’s just a disaster waiting to happen.”

  “Relax, honey.” Elara said gently. “I’ve already been pregnant twice before, and this road’s always been this dark. Nothing happened then. Nothing will happen now.”

  Kal, eager to feel useful, jumped ahead. “Leave it to me.”

  Before either of his parents could respond, he stepped toward his father’s back, reaching for the polished body of the voutar hanging there. It reflected the moonlight perfectly – the moon’s image visible clearly on the instrument.

  Kal focused on the moon’s reflection and using his Light Magic Cognition Thread, he pulled forth a glowing orb – a small sphere of light that floated up, then drifted forward by his command.

  The road ahead lit up as if a small fraction of the moon descended just for them.

  “My little genius.” Elara whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

  Reinar, however, looked less impressed. “You should be careful, Kal. You know the rule – no using magic outside of the house under any circumstances.”

  “Don’t worry.” Kal said with a confident smile. “We’re the only ones who live in this part of the village. Who’s gonna see?”

  But he was wrong.

  Someone had seen.