Tenebrae Manor Read Free Page B

stood and strode to the cobweb encrusted writing desk in the corner of his small abode. He scratched at his head and stroked his ruff before his hands set into actions more erratic than those of his delicate music making. Rummaging through papers and knocking over one unfortunate vile of ink, the jittery man turned about face and threw his chest out with pomp and circumstance. The tails of his bottle green cardigan swayed to a halt and he straightened out a sheet of paper in his hands.
    Inhaling to speak, he hesitated on a sudden. “Ah sir, I must warn, it is rather… Erm how to say? Unfinished?”
    “Just what you have so far will be fine, my friend.”
    The composer grinned, cleared his throat and proceeded to fling his limbs about himself in some whimsical dance. His voice boomed in baritone:
    ‘tis blood I’m told
    that perks the soul
    with life entwined
    upon the divine
     
    As eternal epoch
    Tick-tocks the clock
    A jubilant lark
    Springs forth from the dark!
     
    Radiant lass
    Of luminous class
    Tonight we boast
    To your beauty, a toast!
    Arpage finished his recital by holding himself in position similar to that of a flamingo standing upon one foot and spreading its wings.
    Bordeaux’s thin mouth curled at one corner before peeling open into a smirk of fangs, his hands clapping in slow applause.
    “Very good sir,” he said. “The Lady will be most pleased.”
    “Yes, Yes. Thank you, Master B. Yes,” stuttered Arpage. “But the length, sir. The length is not quite, hmm, long? As to its continuation, I find myself suffering from writer’s block! Oh woe! Oh the intolerable!”
    “There there, my good friend. Patience, good citizen!” Bordeaux reassured, “You have plenty of time remaining until Libra’s birthday to complete your task! I merely arrived into your quarters to inquire on the progress!”
    “You are kind, Bordeaux, sir.” Arpage rubbed his hands together. 
    “There’s a good lad.”
    The slit of Arpage’s mouth split open like a wound, his ghastly crooked teeth beamed in a sour and yellowed smile. A hesitant utterance escaped betwixt those two craggy rows before the corners of his mouth collapsed as if of exertion and his shoulders hunched ever further.
    “Now now, Arpage, there’s no need to be uncivil. A few minutes of entertainment is all that is asked. Surely you can hide your tepid feelings towards this project behind tricky lyrics and giddy strains.”
    Arpage was feebly indignant, throwing an arm into the air and turning his back to the demon visitor. “Sir, I am afraid that goes against all my musical instincts. I’m troubled, sir. Troubled, I say again! To conjure this, this, piece ! This piffle ! How can one summon passion to draw forth quality when one is so, so…”
    “Indifferent?” offered Bordeaux.
    “Indifferent! Marvellous, sir!”
    The loquacious Arpage seemed set to roll off into another prattle, before Bordeaux silenced him with a finger to his lips and a hush. “My dear friend - confidentially, all of us are somewhat, disinclined , shall we say, towards the lofty importance Libra has placed upon her birthday. But need I remind you of her position in Tenebrae? It is she who keeps this night sky strong for us, only she knows the spell!”
    “She could do something about this heat, surely.”
    “Ha, my friend. Your churlishness amuses me. There are things we simply must withstand with Libra at our hierarchic zenith and her birthday is but once a year.”
    “But Master B! Each year it is more! More and more she wants! I cannot keep up at this rate!”
    Arpage was becoming flustered, stamping his feet like an unruly child.
    “Arpage, I am aware of her increased appetite for all things but what are we to do? Surely you see the predicament I am in?”
    Arpage considered his master’s words a moment before sighing longingly and, having been beaten into submission, returned to his post at the foot of the monumental instrument.
    Bordeaux clapped his hand upon the