— Boy, where ar’cha? — The old man asked, looking around the warehouse in the docks. This memory was vivid in Tief’s mind. Still vivid.
— Bo-o-oy? C’mon, I know ye are 'ere… ‘got a new chord for ye! C’mon, quit hidin’.
Tief was hiding behind a large box of something. He couldn’t read back then. But he memorized many melodies, many songs, so much…
Tief wasn’t showing himself. Seth chuckled, sitting on a chair in the middle of the room.
— Aight pal, ol’ papa Seth will try to entertain ye’musical thirst. Now, tell papa, what’s this a’chord? — He said, tuning the lute. His lute. The lute that now was in the corner of Tief’s room, on which he played magic.
Geth, Cess and Doht. Three most useful chords. He didn’t know what they were called in reality, in fact, Seth didn’t know either. But Tief knew how they were labeled in his mind.. These three were the most common, simple, useful. But after using them so many times, they became dull.
But this chord… Seth played some new tone, something interesting. Major. Bright. Warm. In the light of the cracked oil lantern on the table he played.
He didn’t memorise it well back then, but now he could play it with ease without thinking. The Ayem-meht Nehtiya chord. Tief didn’t know what this language was, he knew it, but couldn’t speak in it, he could sing it, but didn’t understand what he was singing. Seth was saying that this language is “spooky”, and always said he liked it. It was fiery. Fiendish. Of his tiefling nature. And Tief didn’t quite like it. He was curious about what it was, but was afraid of it, as it was something completely unknown for him.
He remembered Seth’s melodies. The Duckling Song, In Tabernia, Ol’ My Rucksack, Black Cape Mystery… But he couldn’t remember the exact look of Seth’s face. Tief was always afraid to look into people's eyes, because once he scared some lady on the street. It was his most early memory.
Tief remembered Seth having white hair, long to the shoulders, and a moustache looking like a lowercase-N. He remembered him being tall and skinny, with a breathy voice, as if he was a castaway in a desert and didn’t drink water in months. But when he sang… His voice became soft, like silk, like the fur of a kitten. Everytime Seth sang Tief lullabies, Tief felt like he was a kitten, and Seth’s song was a petting hand.
It was all around six years ago. In spring, Seth was visited by some men. Tief could hear them talking. He heard their words. “Tax”, “Payment”, “Owe”, “Credit”, “Fucking Fiend Bastard You Keep In Here”. Tief was hiding in the dark behind the boxes and barrels.
Then he heard no words, but a sound. A sound of a dagger piercing into flesh. A gulping sound of Seth as he fell on the floor.
Seth was sitting on the chair, his hand red, his stomach stabbed and bleeding.
— Sunny, dear… — He called him. — I can see yer’ eyes, boy, c’mere… — Seth was weakening. Tief was crying, a small child, walking to him slowly with tears in his eyes, sobbing with the most bitter sorrow.
— Sunny, it’s fine, I’m okay, see? Tis’ jus’a scratch… — Seth was pale. His eyes were full of fear. But not of death. He was afraid of what would happen to Tief.
— Yer’a good boy, sunny, don’t be afraid. I’m sleepy, okay? ’member my lute? I ‘ive it to ye. Ye deserve it. Yer a good boy sunny. You play very well, with those claws, yes… — Seth petted Tief’s cheek with the clean hand.
— Good boy… Take it, it’s yours. Now ye’ll b’free to wander, run ‘way from ‘ere… This place’s bad. Play music and don’t let go of the lute. ‘member me, sunny… ‘member my words: Yer a good p’rson, a good boy of papa… Good… Boy…
Tief was crying the whole day over Seth’s lifeless body. He was still warm, his hand on his shoulder, a slight sad smile on his elderly lips, a trail of salt from a dried tear.
— ‘tis bastard’s dead already, go look for the fiend spawn… — Tief heard in the dark of the night, as two people walked into the warehouse. He took the lute, and fled.
So the night passed, in the morning Tief still felt pain in his back. He woke up slowly, with grunts, with little gasps of pain.
— Ouch… — He held the hit place, on his lower back right under the ribs, on the left. Tief was struggling to fight the pain when he reached to check his goods. In place. Two golden coins among 6 silver ones and 43 coppers. It was such a big lot…
But the paper… What was it? In the morning light coming from between the planks, he looked at the paper. It was… A letter. His hair went on end. He could read, but… It was hard. He would try…
To: The tiefling bard child playing in the Serreip Sed district of Revenland.
If you can read, then read carefully. If not, then to the one reading this message: please speak the letter the way it’s written without skipping anything.
We from the School of Tieflings are giving you an invitation to our school. The given two galleons might be enough for you to buy suiting clothing and everything listed below, it will be useful if you wish to study at us:
A suitcase full of comfortable semi-formal clothing. Preferably a good amount of spare socks
An empty book or diary (x5)
A cape with a hood, comfortable and weatherproof to some degree
It is allowed to take any possessions, such as jewelry, musical instruments, talismans and so on with you. We are waiting for you in the village of Cargealdor, in the Amperholm territories. Look for a tall male tiefling with red skin, or let yourself be seen by him.
Everything best, Prof. Aiv Avlis
Tief was confused. He did understand most of the message. But why? Why was he invited there? It made no sense. And why was it so important? Was this… Prof Aiv Avlis the man who gave him those two golden coins? It must be, right?
His back hurt, and his head ached. He needed to do something…
— Here mister officer, he’s under the stairs. Yes he lives ‘ere, go take ‘im.
Tief’s eyes went wide as he heard the voice of John Billiehorn, one of the brothers who owned this building. Officer? A guard was there to take him to jail, or worse, execution. He was trapped, framed, with no way out. His claws were the only thing he had to fight back.
...grabbing the lute, the hat, the fortune of coins (which he put in the little pouch-pocket on his raggy clothing), and the blood-stained letter tucked into her top clothing, he limped a little while the guard was coming.
— Right here officer, here’s the door yes. He’s still sleeping, yes, a lazy freak he is… — John Billyhorn spoke in his grumpy manner.
— Turn around, sir, leave us. He’s needed to be… — The guard, probably a huge man, judging by his deep voice, didn’t finish the phrase, but Tief knew what he meant. Through the planks he saw the great pike that the guard had…
The guardian of peace opened the door in one great swing move and looked inside.
Inside, there was no one.
— Huh? — He grunted confused. Tief was there, on the ceiling of the room, flat, his tail between his legs. Now.
Tief dropped on the floor holding the pike by the shaft, sticking it into the ground and rushing past the guard and John Billiehorn. The guard shouted in shock. Tief’s lower back still hurt sharply, but he ran. To the fence and over it, onto the street…
There were two more guards. One of them got time to blow in the whistle, and thus alerted the other. Tief hesitated before running away with all the stamina he had, hungry, wounded. He was running for his life.
The morning lights were shining bright, the sun rising, people were waking up. It was around 10 o’clock in the morning, and the city was already sprouting with life.
Tief knew a route. On the bazaar he rushed to one specific place in the backstreet, and there easily and fastly climbed a wall. One of the guards almost hit him with his halberd. Now, on the roofs, he could get anywhere he wanted.
Running on the red roofs of Revenland, he soon got the chase off his tail, leaving the guards alone in the streets, tricked.
He instinctively sang, feeling his ancestry's magic flow. His pain got numbed, and stamina somehow reloaded.
And he ran, ran fast, until he reached the highway. There were many carts and coaches going in and out of the city. He sneaked down on the ground and sat by the way. He was hoping to get out of the district, and then to some better place. Blood rushing, heart thumping in his chest loudly, Tief let himself relax a bit.
Here is a good cart. With hay, and that was all. Quickly, he stood and rushed to walk by it’s side. No one was looking at him, which was strange, considering his looks. He felt it was magic, but didn’t have time to think about it. He jumped in the hay, and hid there. Breathing through the hat to have some better air, he laid there, relaxing.
Hay in the district. Maybe it was coming from the Emirpal district? There were mostly farms, perhaps this cart was just passing by…
It was pure luck to find a cart like this. A single horse, the rider, and a lot of hay to hide in.
— Didn’t even… break… a sweat… — He spoke, at first feeling fresh but suddenly feeling tired, and the pain in his back coming in a great wave, strong enough to knock him out completely…
...he woke up after some time. His first thought was “I am a wanted man”, before he looked around in the hay scared. Memories came back and he tried not to whine from the pain in his back. This was no good, he needed rest. But where? He felt paranoid. Anywhere he would go he would be met with dangers. And there…
He carefully looked out of the hay, towards the cart’s direction of movement. Other than horse arse and the tired looking farmer, he saw only one thing.
Golden plains of wheat. As far as the eye could see, and a little town in the far.
— Holy name of Ueid! Fiend! — The farmer shouted scared, startling the horse. Tief backed away, showing himself.
— Please, have mercy! — Tief shouted instinctively, covering himself. — I just needed a lift, I’m sorry sir! I-I can pay!
The farmer had a pitchfork by him, and now had it in his hands. He stopped the horse.
— Ayh? Pay? Who's ya fiendling!? Tella name!
— Ex! — He said. It wasn’t his true name, but it was close to it. He didn’t trust anyone to give them his true name.
— Ex? Aight aight, — The farmer said putting the pitchfork away. — Ex! How much do you have, in coins?
— T-thirteen coppers… — Tief lied bluntly.
— Nghrh… Give me five of ‘em ‘n ye’ll be fine. Just sit in ‘ere, c’mon! Give the coins!
— Y-yes sir… — He tried not to tinkle his fortune, and tried to act sad to give such a big part of his already small balance. He pulled out not five but six, giving them to him.
— P-please, I need to see my dad…
— Shoo! Shutcha and sit still, bunny- — He said taking the coins and putting them in a little linen pouch.
Tief gulped nervously, sitting by the man, who now was looking nervious.
— Knew’t, Ueid… Knew’t there’s s’one in’e cart ay… Is that a cithara?
— N-no sir, this is a lute.
— ‘en play somethin’. — Was the dry answer of the man. Tief uncomfortably took the lute and cleared his throat. Tuning it, he put the hat with the letter on his own head, and played the first chord. The man raised a brow of interest.
— I-I made it up just now sir-
— Are you reading my mind? How do you know about my wife?
— I-I- sir, forgive me, but I am not gifted with the quirk to read minds. It was just a poking guess… — Tief said, still playing the tune.
— ...aye like it. — The man said, looking a little thoughtful. — Ya know ‘at song, “Raise yer cup, an’ bottoms up, bottoms up!”, aye?
— Oi matey! Play it, let’s sing together-
Tief asked for a moment to tune the lute, and then nodded. The man started singing, very out of tune:
`Aye who’s coming with me to walk long way’t’e’sky?
I love boozey, let’s jus’ drink that thing dry
Whatta place, whatta place ‘ere to be-
Have a cup fromme bottle, hava’drink ‘ere with me!
Raise yer cup, bottoms up - bottoms up!
Raise yo cup, bottoms up - drink it up!
Aye who’s comin’ with me to a quest?
Whoza comin’ with me, oh with me an’e rest?
Whoza comin’ with me, whoza comes is the best
Whoza coming with me, raise yo cup - take a rest!
Raise yer cup, bottoms up - bottoms up!
Raise yer cup, bottoms up - bottoms up!
Aye raise yer cup, bottoms up - bottoms up!
Raise yo cup, bottoms up - drink it up!
It sounded awful, truly, but Tief managed to fit the bad rhythm and the horrible accent of the man with a suitable melody. The man demanded to sing again, and thus the song was sung thrice.
— Actually the song’s different lyrics sir, it goes…
— Do aye look ‘ike I care? Tis’ my cart, I sing the way I want.
This… Was a good point, truly. Tief thought about it. “My cart, my songway” - that was the idea he got solid.
— Aight, here’s your coppy matey, ‘atas nice. — He threw Tief one of the coins he gave him, and laughed a little madly.
They soon arrived at that town Tief saw from a distance. Tief thanked him, and walked off. The sun was setting, and he needed to find a safe place for tonight.
Tief walked through the streets, and finally had some time to think.
— I’m in another town… Where do I go next? — He didn’t quite believe the letter he still had in his hat, nor did he trust that Profaiv Avlis person.
School of Tieflings… What was that? He didn’t know at all, he didn’t even dream of going into a school for he knew he wouldn’t have the money for that. He learnt to read Common by walking through the city with Seth, as he showed him the signboards of different merchants. “Butcher”, “Smith”, “Locksmith”, “Clothing”, these words he learnt to read first. Then Seth teached him how to read and write whatever he pleased. Many walls in the docks were covered in meaningless word-experiments, “oongooloostoo”, “biblidygook”, “vararansque”...
There were several town people looking at him, but it wasn’t bothering him much right now. What catched his interest was a large sign by a three-story building.
Was written on a wooden sign with pyrography. Tief easily read the word “tavern”, but “Duglew” was a little odd for him. He thought a little bit.
It was getting dark, late evening, and inside the tavern there was some light. Tief inhaled and with courage walked in.
The insides of the house were pretty poor: several square tables placed in rows, chaotic placement of chairs made it look like they were dancing around each other. There were some people - all humans, a mature woman and two men, all smoking cheap weeds and looking at Tief confused. The woman spoke first.
— Bar’s closed kid. Shoo-
— I need a room. — Tief said confidently. He knew he had the money, and could afford the luxury. He never slept in a real bed before, but saw those through the windows and in Billiehorn’s house.
— Yes. For two nights paying in advance. — As Tief said this, the faces of all three went long.
— Y’see lil’ pal, it ain’t for free y’know…
— Half a stag for a’nite’n’day. — One silver coin for two days? Tief couldn’t believe his pointy ears.
— Here I have one, show me a free room, — Tief said, pulling out the coin. — Servin’ food?
— Offerin’ ‘eakfast’n’lunche deal. — The man with darker and longer hair said.
After a quarter of an hour, Tief was in his room alone. Hungry and his stomach growling, he thought about what to eat. There must’ve been leftovers in the kitchen which he could have bought, perhaps… Not leaving anything in the room, he walked out of it and downstairs. There were several new patrons, four men drinking and talking with each other quietly.
Walking to the dark haired man of the staff, Tief spoke.
— So is there anything to eat, sir?
— We have some bread and cold stew. Want me to heat’t up a bit, chum?
— Sure, how much will it be?
The said coins were already being placed on the counter as Tief nodded and walked to take a seat at one of the tables. Everyone here seemed pretty friendly, though he still kept his ears sharp and eyes peeled.
He ate the pork stew, and the bread, now feeling so sleepy and tired… Tief slowly made his way to his bed and found himself sleeping tight.
Tief didn’t have dreams, he had memories. Some were pretty distant, some current, but now he was thinking about the Billiehorn Roost. He remembered petting the peepers several times when nobody watched, these fluffy little chicks…
Then, unexpectedly for himself, he woke up covered in cold sweat. He found it difficult to breathe, laying on his stomach. Confusion grew into fair fear, because Tief couldn’t move. Outside it was late night, but he could see in the dark as if it was nothing but slight dusk.
— Shutcha, let’s-a see… — Behind the door of his room the familiar voices talked among themselves. Tief made a crippled sound, trying his best to move a muscle.
— The dreamnut must’ve got ‘im ‘lready, ‘ike a log he’s… — One of the men said, opening the door with an audible creak.
Tief made a scared squeak, looking at the silhouettes of the two.
— Easy, it’s only his glowin’ eyes, focking fiend’s a liver huh. Take his cithara, — One of the male silhouettes said. Tief wanted to scream, trapped in his body and unable to move at all. His head felt dizzy, he had trouble telling where’s the ground and where’s the ceiling.
— Look in’e chest, ‘s goods mus’be ‘ere… — Said one while the other tried to walk past Tief, who was laying helpless on the bed. Tief teared up huffing into his pillow as the men looked for his money.
— Look a’dat! — He raised the pouch with the tiefling kid’s money. — He’s a thief-ling oaye mate?
`Dohtiekem hefhed ilthyahkem bedtast ardoht’seht-`
— Whot was’at? Y’said something?
Tief was feeling fear and hate, raw magic flowing in his mind and forming in subconscious thoughts in the ancient language he knew from very birth:
`Cesshokekem oht’neht yahkemou’roht bedt-lackoht hekheme’art’seht-`
One of the two men coughed a little into his fist. Tief was hearing thunder in his mind. The other man stepped to him and pulled the pillow from under Tief’s head-
`Dohtiekem hefhed ilthyahkem bedtast ardoht’seht
Cesshokekem oht’neht yahkemou’roht bedt-lackoht hekheme’art’seht
Hefhede’elyr tayem’hekem webrathekhem ohthefhed mehtekem-`
The man pushed Tief to lay on his back and placed the pillow on his face, smothering him.
— Prolly ‘e wind- — The second one answered coughing once more, now uncontrollably while smothering Tief.
Tief tried to hold his breath. He was afraid to die. He was betrayed, he was poisoned with paralytics, he was helpless and robbed, but in his mind was still reading the darkest curses known, even when slowly drifting asleep, unconscious:
`Hefhede’elyr tayem’hekem webrathekhem ohthefhed mehtekem
Sehtwall’oweb yahkemo’uroht bedtraineht’seht ayemn’doht dohtiekem
Dohtiekem, dohtiekem, dohtiekem-hefhedoroht’ekemveroht-`
At this point, Tief was prepared to see Seth in the afterlife, drifting to complete darkness. He heard something distorted, but couldn’t tell what it was. He heard his lute falling on the ground, but was too late to think about it…
