An Immortal's Favour

Jack- The Country of Music

"Did you tell him where we're going?"

Her quiet breathing punctured the silence, adding fuel to my worry.

"Mother?"

"I've told him about all the places you've planned to pass through, but-" She paused.

"But what?"

"Nothing. Don't mind me."

A soft knock came from the other side of the door.

"Come in." A dark hand pushed it open, clutching at its edge. Gale leaned her head through the gap, her expression bright as she looked at me tentatively.

"It's almost six o'clock. I'm sorry, you're not yet finished?"

"Gale-"

"Immortal Gale's with you? Let me speak to her." Eager as ever, Mother insisted, so much so that I had no choice but to beckon the woman over.

As they talked, I decided to sort out what we'd need for tonight and, despite my sense of unease, I swapped my scowl for a smile.

~

Egordi is a beautiful country and is wonderful in many ways. But it's music is what really makes it famous.

In every street corner, at any time, there's always something playing. At night, soft beats and melodies drift from the various attractions, squares and parks scattered throughout the country. You'd think it'd be annoying. Maybe at first. But after a while, everything fades into the background.

Our hotel wasn't far from Dead Forest, a popular cultural site where the Egordish and tourists from all over come and take part in the annual music festival. I tapped to the beat of a far off tune as our carriage trembled along the dirt tracks, through an older part of the city. You don't skip out on the carriage ride. Nothing beats it.

Our abo lizard drew us through the crowded streets, which were lined with lit torches, their flames bright orange. Next to me, Gale smiled and shifted closer, gesturing at the torches moving by.

"Watch this." She wiggled her fingers and the flames grew slightly, transitioning from orange to blue before returning to their original colour. Some people did a double-take at that.

I closed my eyes and listened to the steady stride of our abo lizard and the others that were also pulling private carriages forward. The sound of scaled feet striking the tough dirt beneath dissolved into the talk of the crowd as we surged forward.

"How did you do that with the fire?"

"I increased its temperature for a short while. It's tiring, though."

"I'll bet," I said, sinking further into my seat and wanting to say nothing more on the topic.

"We're here!" Cheering rippled through the crowd. The carriages pulled into a large area, which was dotted with leafless trees and shrouded in a gauzy layer of dust. Giant tents had been set up, and underneath one was the main stage. Already, a performer was up, accompanied by musicians who played the drums and pulled at the strings of a joba. The crowd joined in enthusiastically while the singer swayed from side to side, her expression ecstatic, as she sang louder.

And our evening continued just as well as it'd began. Towards the end, long after the day's stage performers had finished, the general air of festivity continued. Those who had brought some instruments with them started to play, and others managed to persuade a few of the performers to stay a little while longer, and before we knew it, a sort of freestyle concert began. We danced and sang as well as we could- some definitely better than others -and seemed so carefree you'd think we didn't know the meaning of the word trouble.

Once we'd finally tired ourselves out, Gale and I decided to head back to the hotel. It was well past midnight by the time we stumbled through the front doors and feeling rather peckish, I suggested we stop for a quick meal. The hotel restaurant wasn't as empty as I'd anticipated, but I suppose that was to be expected; plenty of the guests, like us, had just returned from the festival.

Inside, the walls had been lined with lights, tracing a glowing pattern of triangles over the geometric wallpaper, and were bright against the restaurant's dim lighting. All this was in celebration of the festival, but there were no traditional Egordish decorations of any kind. Every table was crammed with people- mostly tourists. Children toyed with the red napkins. Adults, the majority young and fresh-faced, balanced wine glasses in their hands, talking to each other with animation.

Gale and I seated ourselves by the bar near the entrance, both of us smiling. Something slid out of my pocket and fell, despite my hands flying to my shorts to try and catch it. Gale plucked the piece of paper swiftly from the air and turned it over.

"What's this?" A wrinkle formed between her eyebrows.

"Notes. For a new cookbook." I snatched the piece of paper back.

"You better not be working, Jacob," she warned.

"It's nothing much."

"Hm, nothing much indeed." She turned back around as I hid the scrap in my pocket once more.

Even after the festival, despite how much I'd enjoyed myself, the thought of Father coming to the house started to eat away at my mind again. A bartender with neatly trimmed hair sidled up to us and asked for our order, and I came to. My lips parted, ready to reply before a deep voice beat me to it.

"Two citrus bubbles, my good man."

*

Discussion: Things are really heating up now. What might Abal be hiding from Jacob? Share your thoughts!

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