slavoep-carev-grad

Veles' player III

Chapter 1 | January 04, 2020.

“We have one room for you, fourteen kovancies!” Yelled the fat woman to his father, who was gripping his ear because of the pain of her yelling.

“This city is very expensive,” he complained, giving thin iron kovancies. The kovancies were coins of less value than the crown. One gold crown had one thousand kovancies and was the official and strongest currency of the empire. There were other currencies as well. The Volosadian silver coin, the Medvedinsk golden zakivak, the Vionetian dener and the northern copper liv were the currencies most commonly traded in the empire, but sometimes foreign currency from other kingdoms and countries can be found on the markets. 

The room they bought already had guests. Some lay on the floor wrapped in thin blankets. There were only two beds and people were already on them. The air was sweaty. They sat on a blanket that was a little far from the rest of the people. Father took off his boots and placed them aside. He lay down on the hard floor and put his cap under his head.

“I am very tired. Rest, son, ” he told him.

He seemed to fall asleep immediately as soon as he closed his eyes. The journey and the discussion with the tailor seem to have exhausted him.

Zharkozel was sitting on a blanket thinking about the boy. As tired as he was of the road, he felt full of strength. There was a strange energy in him. He wanted to play music with the boy again. Maybe it’s in the square again. I could jump in and see for myself. He was looking at his father, who was carelessly snoring on his blanket. Not even a military parade could wake him up. Zharkozel therefore quickly jumped to his feet and slowly left the room.

The street was empty. In the afternoon, people mostly lunch at their homes. This worried Zharkozel. He was trying to find his way to the square. He remembered well where he was going and where he was. The city reminded him a little to the forest where he could manage when a sheep was lost.

There were few people in the Vivid square. Even the merchants sank behind their counters to lunch. He carefully checked the center of the square. As much as he tried to find the boy with eyes, he found his mark with ears. From a corner of a side street came short and simple tones of volyopred. The boy was tweaking the strings and trying out new tones.

“Oh that’s you,” he was pleasantly surprised when he saw Zharkozel.

“I assumed you were in the square,” he said, sitting next to him.

“I’m here all the time,” he replied.

“Where do you live, where is your home?” The young man asked.

The boy looked at him with joyful eyes. “Everywhere, the whole world is my home.”

The young man thought the boy was a vagrant and had no family. It saddened him.

“Are you hungry?” He asked.

“Thanks, but I didn’t, I just ate cherry cookies,” the boy said, taking one out of the wooden box. “Take!”

“No, no, leave it for yourself, you will need it,” refused Zharkozel.

“It’s not nice to refuse me,” he said, clattering a small bag on his leg. “I have enough for the whole bakery.”

He thought the boy must have made a lot of money from music. He took the cake and ate it quickly. He realized he was hungry and hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

“It’s delicious,” he admitted.

“Take another one, you look exhausted and hungry,” the boy offered another cake, and Zharkozel ate that too.

“Where did you get that instrument?” he asked.

“I made it,” the boy smiled.

Zharkozel looked at the boy’s yellow eyes suspiciously. “You made it by yourself? Where did you learn it?”

The boy puts his finger on his lower lip. “It was a long time ago. A very long time. “

There was something strange about this boy. No matter how young he looked on the outside, his eyes were shining with maturity and experience. An old man in a boy’s body, thought Zharkozel.

“While you were playing in the square with other musicians, I had a strange vision,” he said. “The sky turned purple with green stars and black sun swirling around the rings. There were also tall people in black suits. “

The boy jumps to his feet. “Did you have a vision of my wish?”

“Your wish?” He replied confused.

“What you saw was my wish,” the boy jumped happily. “You’re the first in city to see it!”

“I don’t understand anything,” he admitted.

The boy sat cross-legged and began explaining. “Volyopred is a special instrument that enables a player to create a vision of his desire with his music. The strings are made of a special silver alloy that drives cords and particles of matter wherever the music comes in so that they cause you to see what the player imagines. These tiny cords of matter connect everything in the universe, and that’s how music connected us. ”

Zharkozel blushed red in the face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it sounds really interesting.”

“Sorry if I confused you,” he said. “Simply put, music can change reality.”

A river of ideas suddenly began to pop in his mind. How nice it would be to change my reality, he thought.

“Could I do that with my flute?” He asked.

“Since it’s made of wood, it’s not possible. Maybe if I coated it with silver. ”

“Can you do this to my flute?” He gave the wooden instrument to the boy.

“You should learn how to play so that you cause visions in people’s minds,” he told him.

Zharkozel drew a pair of kovancies out of his bag. “Here, I suppose that’s enough.”

The boy looked at the coins and happily stuffed them in his bag. “By tonight, I’ll make you a flute to learn how to play and create visions. Until then, think about your wishes and find out what you want most.”

Zharkozel got up and walked toward the accommodation. His mind suddenly became flooded with thoughts about his desire.

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