The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [59]
“Well, Mery, you might have asked. I wouldn’t mind you listening sometimes.”
She hung her head a little. “I just try to stay quiet and not be seen. It’s best that way.”
“Nonsense. You’re a beautiful little girl. There’s no reason to be shy.”
She didn’t answer, but stared at him as if he were speaking Vitellian.
He pulled another stool up to the hammarharp. “Sit here. I’ll play you something.”
Her eyes widened further, and then she frowned, as if doubting him. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
She did as he said, settling on the stool.
“Now, what’s your favorite song?”
She thought for a moment. “I like ‘Round the Hill and Back Again.’ ”
“I know that one,” he said. “It was a favorite of mine when I was your age. Let’s see—does it go like this?” He picked out the melody line.
She smiled.
“I thought so. Now let me play it with two hands.” He started a simple bass line and played through again, and on the third pass added a counterpoint.
“It’s like a dance now,” she observed.
“Yes,” he said. “But listen, I can change it into a hymn.” He dropped the moving bass line and went into four-part harmony. “Or I can make it sad.” He shifted into a more plaintive mode.
She smiled again. “I like it like that. How can you make one song into so many songs?”
“That’s what I do,” he said.
“But how?”
“Well—imagine you want to say something. ‘I want some water to drink.’ How many ways could you say that?”
Mery considered. “Some water I want to drink?”
“Right. How else?”
“I’d like some water to drink, please.”
“Just so. Politely.”
“I want some water, now.”
“Commanding, yes. Angrily?”
“Give me some water!” She supressed a giggle at her feigned rage.
“And so on,” Leoff said. “It’s the same with music. There are many ways of expressing the same idea. It’s a matter of choosing the right ones.”
“Can you do it with another song?”
“Of course. What song would you like?
“I don’t know the name of it.”
“Can you hum it?”
“I think so.” She concentrated, and began humming.
Two things struck Leoff immediately. The first was that she was humming the main theme from the “Song of the Malend,” which he’d just written down only a few days before.
The second was that she was humming it exactly in key, with perfect pitch.
“You heard that in here, didn’t you?”
She looked abashed. “Yes, please.”
“How many times?”
“Just once.”
“Once.” Interest went quicker in his chest. “Mery, would you play something on the hammarharp for me? Something you used to play when you came in here alone?”
“But you’re so much better.”
“But I’ve been playing longer, and I was trained. Have you ever had a lesson in music?”
She shook her head.
“Play something, then. I’d like to hear it.”
“Very well,” she said. “But it won’t be good.”
She settled onto the little stool and spread her tiny fingers on the keyboard and began to play. It was just a melody, a single line, but he knew it immediately as “The Fine Maid of Dalwis.”
“That’s really very good, Mery,” he said. He pulled up another stool next to her. “Play it again, and I’ll play with you.”
She started again, and he added only chords at first, then a walking bass line. Mery’s smile grew more and more delighted.
After they were done, she looked at him, her blue eyes glittering.
“I wish I could play with both hands,” she said, “the way you do.”
“You could, Mery. I could teach you, if you would like.”
She opened her mouth, then hesitated. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“It would be my honor.”
“I’d like to learn.”
“Very well. But you must be serious. You must do what I say. You have an excellent ear, but the way you’re using your hands is wrong. You must place them thusly—”
Two bells passed almost without Leoff’s realizing it. Mery picked up the exercises quickly. Her mind and ear were quite amazing, and it delighted him to see her progress.
He certainly didn’t hear anyone approaching, not until they were rapping on the open door.
He swiveled in his chair. The queen, Muriele Dare, stood there. She wasn’t looking at him, but at Mery.