Chapter 14
A Fireside Chat

Now, Suzy Skrew had a partner named Sasha (Sasha) Thumper (Thumper)
I remember her number like the summer
When her and Suzy, yeah, they threw a slumber - - party
But you can not call it that 'cause it was slummer
Well, it was more like spend the night
Three in the morning yawnin', dancin' under street lights
We chillin' like a villain and a nigga feelin' right
In the middle of the ghetto on the curb, but, in spite
All of the bullshit, we on our back starin' at the stars above
(aww man) Talkin' 'bout what we gonna be when we grow up
I said, "What you wanna be?"; she said, "Alive" (hmm)
It made me think for a minute, then looked in her eyes
I coulda died; time went on, I got grown
Rhyme got strong, mind got blown, I came back home
To find li'l' Sasha was gone
Her mamma said she with a nigga that be treatin' her wrong
I kept on singin' my song and hopin' at a show
That I would one day see her standin' in the front row
But two weeks later she got found in the back of a school
With a needle in her arm, baby two months due
Sasha Thumper
-Andre Benjamin

The moonlight drifted through the tree branches. A rabbit poked his head out of a hole, taking a quick glance around before ducking back in. The only noise in that night was the sound of crickets with an occasional croak from a frog. Handal and Strider disturbed the noise as they shuffled through some fallen leaves. They gazed out at the marsh: reeds poked up from the muddy water. Some frogs hopped from place to place. Occasionally a tongue could be seen grabbing a fly in mid-flight.

"It seems we have more than we had anticipated," Handal remarked. He bent down to pick up a leaf. He spun it in his hand by the stem, watching the light of the moon filter through the quick snatches of background the leaf revealed as it twisted back and forth on its stem. "He's beautiful," he softly remarked of the moon.

Strider broke off a trig from a nearby tree. He proceeded to peel it apart. "How many did you want or expect?"

Handal let the leaf drop and looked towards Strider. He straightened and brushed off his robes. "Nine – including you, me, Marisa, Henry, Mark, and Melissa – would have been ideal. Yet our number has grown beyond that."

Strider noticed a bug crawling along the bark of a tree trunk next to him. He eyed it before slowly squishing it with a twig. "We'll do with what we have, I suppose."

Handal stuck his pipe back in his mouth as he slowly let smoke out, drifting upwards. It curled slowly, barely being caressed by the wind. Again, the moon shone through the delicate filter in the night sky. "As we always do, Sire Brask; as we always do."

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The pearly light of the moon cascaded downward where it evaporated in the red glow of the fire. No one said anything as they sat there.

"So…" Mike started. There was no response. He sighed and tried again. "Where's everyone from?"

Laura shifted closer to the fire and pulled the sleeves of her zipped up sweatshirt further down.

"Isn't the fire enough?" Chelsea asked her.

Laura looked up, startled. She scooted further inward. "I'm cold," was her only response.

Spencer leaned against a tree, towards the ends of the circle around the fire. He glanced up towards the sky every so often. With every movement, his eyes darted over to the sound.

Barimir cleared his throat. His action didn't create his desired reaction; barely anyone looked up from the ground or stopped staring into the fire. Undaunted, he proceeded anyway. "As you all know, I fare from Goldir. My linage is from the royal blood of that realm."

"That is to say, of the bastard kingdom of the race of Grendvall?" Mallika asked. She didn't look up. There wasn't even much emotion in her voice when she asked the question.

Monica, Laila, Jonathan, and Chelsea all looked towards her. Being aggressive for no reason (or, really, ever) was not in her nature.

Barimir stood. "How dare you talk to a prince in that manner," he told her, slowly advancing.

"I don't see why not," she murmured, gazing at the ground. Barimir's boots stopped on a twig, snapping it in half. "Grendvall, 'the great race of old'? In what way? The leaders of the entire Musical World. And now – the only thing that remains is Goldir. Every other kingdom died out."

Barimir sneered towards the girl, but she didn't seem to be paying attention. "Are you blaming me for the world's divisions? I didn't create factions! If anyone did, it was that supposed prince out there with that daft wizard…. I dare say, what does he think he'll claim if he seeks the thrown again? Not Goldir; we stand on our own." He sniffed and went to sit back down.

Michelle broke her gaze with the fire to look towards Mallika. "And why should it be Clarinets that govern?" she inquired. It wasn't attacking yet it wasn't simply a musing either. When Mallika met her gaze, she understood the depth of Michelle's question.

"Petty," Barimir spat under his breath, breathing deeply afterwards. He pulled a flask from his jacket and took a deep swig of the continent.

"'Frailty, thy name is woman'," Mike spoke suddenly, surprising the entire group.

Barimir exhaled raggedly, hastily retightening the cap to his flask. "Yes…that's an excellent quote. From what is that?"

"Shakespeare," Mike told him. "Hamlet." Barimir nodded as he tucked his flask back away. "Of course though, Hamlet was mad." Mike shrugged and stoked the fire with a stick. Barimir just stared at Mike for a moment in confusion. After a length, he shifted himself towards the outsides of the circle and starred off into the forest.

Laura pulled out her iPod, in a black case, and proceeded to put the headphones into her ears.

"And how about you?" Jonathan asked her, cutting through the new, settling silence.

Again, startled, Laura looked up. "What?" she asked, taking an earphone out from one of her ears.

"Where are you from? What's your background? Your history?" Jonathan repeated.

Laura looked around, noticing that the spotlight had been put on her, though no one really moved or looked in her direction. "I – I don't know," she said uncertainly at first but then strengthened to a tone of indifference. She went back to looking for a song on her iPod. "I was adopted. I don't know who my original parents were."

Slowly, some movement was stirred from the sitting bandies.

Laura sighed. "I don't mean to sound like the old cliché, but I was adopted by a couple that couldn't have kids. Flutes, obviously. They found me as a baby." She closed her case and shifted around on the log she sat on. "In any case, I don't know where I'm from. You can ask me. I dunno."

"Well, what of your stepparents?" Jonathan continued.

Laura shrugged. "They're nice. They raised me well. I really can't complain." She seemed to stop for a moment, leaving a vacuum in her vacancy. "I miss them," she added at the end. She sort of stared forward, so that she looked to be just caught in her music.

"Do you have any siblings?" Victoria asked.

Laura looked up. "None that I know of," she told the Clarinet before staring off again.

"And how about you, Jon?" Victoria asked.

Jonathan didn't stir. The question repeated tore his eyes from the Flute. "I left them," he responded simply, pulling out his own cloth coat to wrap around himself.

"Why?"

"They're assholes," he told the group, covering up. "They cared more about themselves than they did anything else. Instead of doing the job of being parents, they were too busy worsening the job they should have already done – keeping their marriage."

Again, eyes were listless and heads wandered, but they all were listening.

"They were constantly bickering. It was always vindictive." Jonathan's eyes were terse as he glared into the fire. "So I left. I went out and fell into the army. Over time I rose in rank and eventually met Chelsea finally at the Battle of the Five Instruments. And I've kinda just worked with Chelsea since then and have stayed in touch with Victoria for nearly as far back as I can remember." Jonathan continued to stare before wrapping himself tighter.

"And you, Kristi?" Victoria then asked.

Kristina didn't look up. She simply softly exhaled. "I'm from Goldir as well," she told them. Barimir glanced towards her, then looked away abruptly. He continued to gaze out into the forest. "My parents allowed me to try another instrument other than the clarinet, like most Goldirian parents do, and I took to the flute. I could never get used to the clarinet, something that's not taken lightly in Goldir. So I finally left.

"My sister – she plays the clarinet. We don't talk much."

Smiley stirred in Andrew's lap. He pet the dragon on his head, lightly. In turn, Smiley curled himself more in Andrew's lap, softly growling in satisfaction.

"What about Jeff?" Spencer cut in, his first time speaking that night.

Jeff looked towards Spencer. He slowly shrugged, a feeling of ease radiating from him. "There's not much to say of me. Just kinda…freeloading." He gave a slight smile towards the group. "There's not much to say about a little Trumpet like me." Possibly due to his youth, Jeff did appear to you as just that – young. It was of the kind that was striking, that stood out. Yet his demeanor begged of unnoticed attributes.

He was towards the outskirts of the circle, so he leaned back against the trunk of a tree behind him. "No real issues for me, you know. Rather boring, actually."

A rustling from some of the side branches drew their attention away from each other. Strider and Handal emerged again from trees. Handal cast his eyes around at the bandies before him.

"I trust you all got along well," he breathed slowly. There wasn't much response.

"They seem to be tired," Strider whispered to the wizard. "Either today's events have tired them out or they all took part in a huge orgy during our absence." Handal cast a sidelong look at Strider, though the seriousness on his face never dissipated.

"Let's head on," Handal told the group. "The forces of Miseri do not rest, so ours shall be sparse. We have many leagues to go."