Heartfelt Sounds Read Free Page B

You'll be giving your life—all for your ideals? For this whore you've never met?”
    Red hair flashes like flame when the woman bends down to slice the rope from my ankle. But for the few seconds she is blind-sighted, the old man roars as he rushes at her—sprints with a wiry fist aimed for her face.
    The boy flashes a knife and throws it to the old man. He catches it. Grips it in both hands. Aims the blade down.
    He goes for her skull.
    I heft my zither over my shoulder. It's heavy. A fine instrument. A beautiful voice.
    My only piece of home.
    I slam it into the old man's stomach. The instrument splinters. Cracking in two. Sighing its high-pitched song—it's final breath. The old man staggers. Chokes on his breath.
    As the redheaded woman shoots up and stabs him in the stomach. Once. Twice. He drops to his knees.
    “Take him.” she spits to the boy. “Take him and never come my way again.”

4. Gifts of Misfortune
    I mourned it.
    Fell to my knees, threw my head back and cried out as the boy and his father disappeared down the alleyway.
    Beseeched the gods.
    Beseeched the zither.
    But it sang its final swansong and lay upon the ground in brown pieces. Silver strings will never be played again. Its unique voice of crystal bells will forever be silent.
    I cried.
    “Hey,”
    A gentle touch—tentative. Unsure.
    “Hey?” she says again, hand to my shoulder. Her fingers pinch. “You need to get up and get inside—if that boy makes good on his father's threat to get Kapua, you're going to need to hide—”
    I turn to look into her face. Pale. Freckled. Dancing green eyes that are confident. Cheery. “Don't worry.” she says. Winks. “I've done this thousands of times before.”
    She forces me up—invites me inside.
    Brown tile shines beneath me when I'm in. She slams the door behind us— bam! Ushers me forward through an airy hallway lined with wood. A wide room opens up before me with bright sun. Light pours from the far wall, from a bay window. A round table of wood sits just beneath the light. Opposite it, multiple cupboards line the walls. They're heavy with jars. Strange jars—but my vision is blurry. Tears threaten to fall and I hang my head.
    She sits me down at the round table. Four chairs, I count. A small place. Tall. Cupboards jut across from me—holding the strange jars. Jars with strange energies. They're little balls of black light wearing thin veils that end in a tail. The tails dance as if someone's blowing on them. Are they magic? I wonder. Could a person capture magic?
    I had never seen anything like it.
    I stare at the jars. The tears disappear as my eyes follow the bouncy movement of the little balls. Some of them swish around in their jars—like dancing fish.
    The redhead walks towards the cupboards opposite me. The bloodied knife falls to the counter with a clang before she pulls out two cups and leaves them. Moves away to handle an oval shaped jug that's larger than her head. Opens its lid with a sigh and pours something gray into the cups.
    Drops of gray splash upon the counter as her hands tremble slightly. “Plum wine.” she murmurs. Halfway gazes over her shoulder. “This'll help your nerves—and mine.”
    Softly—silently, I watch a sliding door crack slightly open towards my left. Opposite the redhead. Opposite the cupboards.
    She approaches the table and places two porcelain cups before me. Moves to scrape a chair out for herself and sits next to me. She offers a hand. “Akane Kokoros.” Akane smiles, but I hesitate. I look down at her hand. “I run a shelter here. First and— probably last— of it's kind. Women only.” her grin widens. I take her hand. I shake it.
    What luck.
    “Naia.” I tell her. My lips mimic her grin.
    “ Naia.” Akane nods, red hair tumbles down thin shoulders. The green of her long tunic mingles with red. “You'll be at home here. And if Kapua comes knocking, we'll stand for you. You'll never have to go back there again, you hear me?” she