Musical Interludes
By Gaeriel Mallory
NOTE: The very first Photon's Crossing story. The writing is not as well done as in later stories, but that is to be expected. You'll notice also that as time progresses, the characters stop being so two-dimensional. That is also to be expected. :-) Well, here it is. The first time you meet the Photon's crowd.
Maybe one day, if you are really lucky, you might stumble on (or in) a little tavern called Photon’s Crossing. The tavern acquired that unusual name because it was formed through an act of pure serendipity when an extremely large number of photons collided with each other and created a tear in the space-continuum. Oddly enough, this created an interdimensional crossroads, accessible from any world that you can imagine and causing Photon’s Crossing to exist in every place of existence.
Now, Photon’s Crossing gets a lot of traffic and some of that traffic is—well let’s just say you need to have an open mind if you want to frequent there. I’ve been the musician there for a few years and I have seen all manner of people (and non-people) come into the tavern—everything from elves, wizards and spacemen. There was on evening when a dragon poked his head through the door and stretched his neck until the head reached the bar and politely enquired if they served any maiden’s blood. There is one rule at Photon’s and that is no violence. Anyone who even looks like he was about to attack another customer is efficiently placed on the other side of the door by Samm, the owner.
I have developed a nonchalant attitude towards most anything that can come in through the door. But there was one customer in particular that surprised me.
I was sitting in my corner playing a simple ballad on my lute and hoping that someone would toss a coin into my hat, when in walked in an honest-to-gods god. Now, this god looked like a god. He was well over six feet, possibly closer to seven, and had piercing blue eyes under a mane of blond hair. He wore a white toga-like garment that showed off his impressive chest muscles and carried in one well-muscled but sensitive hand a lyre. And to cinch it all, he shone with an internal light. Wow, was my brain’s only intelligible response to seeing him.
Samm was behind the counter that night and her eyes shone when she noticed the newcomer. Smiling widely, she came to the front of the counter and for a moment, I thought she would embrace him.
She did not however. She did cry out, “Apollo!” like she was greeting a long lost friend. “I see you’ve finally come to collect on those free drinks I owe you.”
Apollo smiled back. I do not know why I was shocked at that. As an Amazon who left her clan because she liked the company of men a little too much, being acquainted with a god should have been no surprise.
Pretty soon, Apollo was sitting at a table with a pitcher of Photon’s best peach brandy and a huge deep-dish sausage and pineapple pizza. I guess gods find pizza just as addicting as us mere mortals do.
Scarlet Louis, a highwayman with shockingly red hair, called out to me, “Hey, Anne, how about a song?”
“Sure thing,” I called back, managing with some reluctance to pull my eyes away from Apollo (My, was he handsome!) and began strumming my lute. “Any requests?”
Louis named a piece with a deceptively simple tune but required an enormous amount of concentration from the musician. “Only if you sing the words,” I replied.
The opening chords of “These Rolling Hills” issued forth from the lute and Louis joined in. When we reached the first chorus the entire tavern sang along:
Oh how I would love to see once again
Before they put me in the ground
Those lovely lovely rolling hills
Where childhood loves are found.
These rolling rolling rolling hills
Rolling rolling hills.
Not the most inventive lyrics but it had a catchy tune and it was a popular drinking song. And the crowd that night was particularly rowdy and seemed to find it appropriate to take a nice big gulp of whatever happened to be in front of them at the end of each verse. As the last notes faded into the noise of the tavern, the musically inclined (and drunk) customers began wildly clapping and a tiny shower of gold fell in the general vicinity of my hat on the floor. Strangely enough, some of the gold actually made it into the hat. (Photon’s, being at an interdimensional crossroads, accepts a number of different currencies but we do prefer gold. It is the easiest to buy things with.)
One particular sound drew my attention. Apollo was applauding. He was applauding me! I was mesmerized by the way the light reflected off his bare and muscular arms and the way it glinted off his golden hair. Wow.
“Very good.” He flashed a blinding smile in my direction. “But I can do better.” He then picked up his lyre and strummed a chord that seemed to leap from the instrument and hang in the air for a moment before gently fading away to oblivion. (You can tell how his music was affecting me. It made me wax poetic!) And for the first time I’ve ever witnessed, the entire tavern fell silent. The notes flowed from Apollo’s fingers like water over the rocks of a brook. It was magical.
And then he began to sing. I doubt an angel’s voice could have been sweeter. I closed my eyes and savored the sounds that assailed me. I knew that if I died right then that I would have died fully content with that music in my ears.
The song ended and I wanted to weep. The entire tavern was hushed as if even breathing would have broken that moment. But just then, a snore penetrated the quiet and Apollo looked over at Tim propped up in the corner, sleeping with his head in his arms.
“He—he fell asleep?” Apollo asked in disbelief.
I couldn’t help it. I just started laughing at the look on his face. Now, maybe I should explain something about Tim. He was not one with a fine appreciation for music except for rowdy drinking songs (to my regret). So I suppose that it wasn’t that much of a surprise that he had fallen asleep during Apollo’s playing, which while mesmerizing and extraordinarily beautiful, was just not something that you could sing along to while drunk off your ass.
Of course, my laughing had to wake Tim and he sat up in his chair and stretched. He looked at Apollo with a smile and said, “Well, kid, that was pretty fine, but could you play something with a little beat to it?”
The god’s eyes just got wide. “Something with a beat?”
“Well, sure! Anne here is the best durn musicker I’ve ever met and I’m sorry, son, but you just don’t measure up.”
Apollo looked around the room. “And what about the rest of you? Do you think that Anne is better than me?”
The people in Photon’s are nothing if not loyal. Now, no matter what their personal feelings, they were never going to admit that any outsider, god or no, could possibly beat one of them at anything. And me, Anne, in my corner with my lute and my hat, was one of them. Almost immediately, people jumped to defend my musical skills and with each new person the descriptions of my playing just got grander and grander until Samm walked up. “Enough!” she called out. Turning to Apollo, she smiled. “Well, I think you’ve finally met your match.” She then threw back her head and gave and long and healthy laugh.
Eventually, the god saw the humor in the situation and laughed along with Samm and the rest of the tavern. Frankly, I was rather relieved. Before discovering Photon’s, I had heard a number of stories from my uncle and I had no intentions of ending up with donkey ears like Midas had, thank you very much.
Apollo walked over to me and extended his hand. “Well, it seems that you have a very loyal audience. And for that, I find myself humbled before you.” If his smile had been blinding from across the room, imagine how it looked like when it was right in front of you. Wow. I shook his hand, my brain not quiet functioning properly.
“How about I find a suitable reward for your besting me?” he murmured in my ear as his hand moved in mine, hinting.
“Sure,” I whispered back. My brain was just a jumble of neurons at the time but even if I had been thinking correctly, I’m positive I would have still said yes. Well Apollo then reached over and took my lute from me and set it gently against the wall. He leaned over and scooped me up in his arms with one smooth motion and started making for the stairs. “Sorry, Samm, but you’re going to be short one musician the rest of the night!” I called to my boss as the tavern filled with laughter and good-natured jibes.
I’m sure she understood. I’m almost positive she winked at me from behind the bar.
And as for what happened the rest of the night—it’s none of your business. Though let me just say one thing: Wow.
--fin--