Right. Of all places, I walk into one filled with musical instruments.
Angus had never been in a music store. His eyes fell on an electric-blue guitar and then a sparkling candy-apple red drum kit that begged to pound out beats. Trombones, trumpets, saxophones, and horns adorned the walls, brassy mouths gaping wide.
Angus turned back to the grand piano in the front window.
I’ll play those notes and prove that it wasn't real, thought Angus. Then I can put this all behind me.
He lifted the keyboard lid and hovered his hands above the keys.
"Here we go."
A black key, skipping four,
another black key, then skip three,
and finally, a white key.
Nothing.
Angus tried again, louder, pressing one key at a time.
A black key, skipping four,
another black key, then skip three,
and finally, a white key.
Again, nothing.
"I knew it wasn't real!" he exclaimed.
"It's the E key, not F," rumbled a gentle old voice. Angus froze.
"The last key you played was one note too high," explained the voice, with a subtle New Orleans accent. "Just remember it's the first three notes of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata."
Angus spun around, embarrassed, his cheeks flushing pink. He felt a wave of guilt for playing the piano. "I'm sorry, Sir. I promise I won't touch it again."
Before him stood a dark-skinned older man whose intelligent eyes danced with life behind tiny circular glasses. He wore a very old tuxedo with tails and, in his left hand, held a cane with a fat, sparkling white crystal on top.
"No, no, son, pianos want to be played. They feel neglected if you don't. The name is Clavis." He stretched out his hand.
Angus shook cautiously, "Are you the owner or something?"
"Or something." Clavis looked around and smiled, “I suppose you could say I work here. These lovely Instruments cannot be owned.”
Puzzled, Angus tilted his head.
“You must be Angus,” said Clavis, adjusting his red bowtie to ensure it was slightly crooked.
“I believe you’ve met my friend, Tuner. You almost had his calling phrase right."
Angus stared, "No, that was from when I bumped my head. Did you have the same dream as me? And how do you know my name?"
Angus’s eyes widened as he realized that people do not generally share dreams unless they are telepathic. He wasn’t. His uncle had tested him many times.
"Tuner is not a dream," said Clavis. "He sometimes gets mistaken for a ghost, but unlike ghosts, he is quite real."
Clavis flicked a triangle hanging on the wall with his fingers. A pure note rang through the music store.
"I heard you misplaced your invitation to the city of Benthos," said Clavis with a grin.
"The ticket disappeared," said Angus, "I’m not sure what happened to it. But why me? Why am I invited?”
“Because you resonate with Thrum, of course,” said Clavis, “and when it comes to resonating, you do it quite loudly.”
“Thrum? What on earth is that?” asked Angus, “Tuner mentioned that word to me as well."
"Now, that's a complex but interesting question," said Clavis. "It's one of my favorite subjects, and I hope it will soon be yours."
Clavis cleared his throat and stood taller.
"Let's start with what Thrum is." said Clavis, "Thrum puts sounds in sequence to make a melody and orders words to create a story. Thrum is everything that randomness isn't. Thrum is the opposite of entropy. It brings order to a chaotic universe."
Clavis picked up a pair of sticks and lightly tapped the snare drum in a crisp marching pattern. When he stopped, the drum continued to play very softly.
"Thrum is like a universal heartbeat that runs through everything; an internal rhythm that connects us all through vibrations. Thrum is about change and transformation. We are all part of something bigger, and Thrum is the binding force of that something."
Clavis plucked the strings on a cello one by one and listened to them resonate for a moment. Again, like a faint echo, Angus heard the cello softly continue to play in time with the snare.
Great, now I’m hearing things, Angus thought to himself.
"In a way, Thrum is consciousness." continued Clavis, "It's the dance between past and future, matter and energy, joy and grief. It is the binding force of the universe, and for humans, at least, it is perceived as music."
"Music?" said Angus, "That doesn't make sense at all."
"No, it probably does not… at least not yet" Clavis agreed, "You see, Thrum is difficult to explain. It is more something one experiences."
"But music is just a bunch of noise," said Angus, "It has nothing to do with the universe."
Other instruments in the store softly joined in on their own.
"Music is not noise," corrected Clavis, "Music is a purposefully ordered sequence of sounds. And if done correctly, it can exert a deep and powerful influence on reality. Let me show you."
Clavis pulled a flute from nowhere, his glasses darkened, and he began to play. Softly at first, but the music swelled, and a mote of light appeared before them, slowly growing into an incandescent bubble.
"Now, hold out your hand," said Clavis.
The sphere moved to hover just above his palm. Clavis stopped playing, and his glasses cleared. The bubble burst with a pop, and a ticket fell into Angus’s hand.
"Wow, that was like magic."
"That was music," said Clavis with a wink, “a piece called Boléro by Maurice Ravel. It’s particularly effective for creating portals.” Clavis gestured towards the instruments, which were now clearly playing independently.
Angus listened raptly. He could feel the music course through his body, every note and sound penetrating the depths of his being. He looked down, his thumb stroking the engraved writing on the ticket.
“Come to Benthos,” assured Clavis, “a city that studies, teaches, and creates new technologies using Thrum’s principles."
"Why doesn't everyone know about this… Thrum?" asked Angus.
"Most people do not significantly resonate with Thrum," said Clavis, "and cannot access it. Some technologies of Thrum are potent and dangerous, and if those who do not resonate found out about those of us who do, they would feel deeply threatened. We have chosen not to reveal ourselves, and Angus, you mustn't either."
"I shouldn’t talk about Thrum?" Angus tilted his head inquisitively.
"Only with people who resonate," said Clavis, "In time, you will learn how to spot them easily, and in the city of Benthos, everyone resonates. I must warn you about something else. Now that you have touched an Instrument, others will know of your existence. Some musicians have drifted out of tune and stopped listening to Thrum. They may wish you harm."
"Yes," said Angus, "Tuner mentioned them, and I think I saw one earlier today. Do they look like pirates?"
The music suddenly sounded off. Had Angus known better, he might have recognized the incorrect notes.
"Some do," Clavis frowned in concern. “Angus, you must stay away from the ocean until you come to the city. They cannot touch you unless you enter international waters, where the laws get fuzzy."
“Why would anyone be interested in me?” asked Angus. “I’m nothing special.”
“Your resonance pattern is that of a Descant,” Clavis gently explained, “Descants are rare and very special. They can lead music into undiscovered frontiers and new directions.”
“Like how animals evolve?” asked Angus, “or the mutants in comic books?”
“I suppose you could say that” said Clavis, “and like your comic books, some are good and others evil.”
“So, am I good or evil?”
“I do not know,” said Clavis, “Although some may disagree, I believe that everyone can be both. As a Descant, you have the potential to be extremely good or extremely evil.”
Angus pondered a bit, looking for holes in the story.
“How do I know which side you’re on?” he asked, pointing at Clavis.
“Ah, good question! You are wise to be doubtful of strangers. I cannot prove my motives. I do not want you to work for me, but some will try to bind you into service. You will have to listen to Thrum and trust your instincts. I would like to help you learn more about the musical world so you can choose your own path.”
“What if I don’t want to follow any path?” Angus challenged, “What if I don’t want to learn about Thrum?”
To Angus’s surprise, Clavis beamed with delight at the question. “A true Descant, one who writes their own melody. You do not have to follow anything.”
Clavis presented a tiny bell about the size of his thumb. “This is called a Sordino Bell.” said Clavis, “If you ring it, your resonance with Thrum will cease, and your life will return to normal. You will forget encounters with Tuner, myself, and the out-of-tune pirate, who will quickly lose interest. Everything is up to you now.” He passed the bell to Angus, pinching the clapper against the wall. “Be sure to damp it in your pocket. You wouldn’t want to ring it accidentally!”
Angus palmed the silver bell, etched with symbols that resembled ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs but somehow even older. He put it in his pocket and made sure it wouldn’t make a sound.
Clavis sat beside Angus on the piano bench. "It’s your choice, but please consider my invitation, Angus, and come to the dock tomorrow. We expect a group of about twenty-five novices, and you’ll fit right in. Our city is absolutely safe."
"There's no way I could just leave," said Angus. "My uncle or grandparents would have to come with me."
"Take a look at the ticket," said Clavis.
Clavis's Junior Sailing Camp.
Learn to sail and make new friends!
All meals and lodging are included.
Friday through Monday, Labor Day weekend
Dock 17 Lunenburg Harbor
5:14 pm sharp!
"I also have a sailing camp, it turns out," said Clavis. "And a free spot has just opened. Do you think we've been keeping the secret of Thrum this long without a cover story?"
Angus put the ticket in his pocket and then took it out again to ensure it was still there.
"Should I call my uncle for a ride home?" asked Angus, "The walk seems pretty dangerous with that guy around."
"I can do better than that," said Clavis as his glasses darkened. Again, he pulled out a violin from nowhere and started to play along with the Boléro. A door materialized before him, and Angus recognized his grandparents’ tidy front hall through the window.
"Quick now, run along, and you'll be home safe," said Clavis. "Do me a favor; knock on the door thrice once you're back. That will close the portal. We wouldn't want someone to walk through it accidentally!"
Angus turned the knob and stepped into his grandparents’ foyer. He gently closed the faintly glimmering door, knocked three times, and the light dissipated. Angus stared momentarily, kneeled, and felt the wooden floor to ensure it was real.
His mind whirled. The day’s events seemed impossible, but the idea of being hunted down by pirates was disturbing. He pulled the bell from his pocket and wondered how it might sound.
I’ll see if I’m allowed to go and then decide.