Ista's Journey
Chapter One
Morning in Jkatha
Authors note: I own almost all the characters in this chapter. 'Cept for Merili and Albayah. This is the story that comes after 'The rise and the fall'. I would've used the other story as a prologue, but I think it's better as a stand alone because it's so long.
I like reviews. Please review. I'll have more up this week, but I needed to put this up and get a feeling for what people think. Yes, some things don't make sense, but all will be explained in the coming chapters.
In short, Please review!
As the sun burst through the window in the morning, a small shape stirred inside the even smaller bed. With a sleepy grumble, a young girl of about 14 rose from her comfortable bed and walked the few paces over to the overly large bed in the center of the sun drenched room, then paused to think.
With a start, the girl twirled around and walked over to the large dresser and removed several sets of clothing. A pair of plain khaki coloured breeches, some small clothes, an overly elaborately red and silver embroidered top and a simple grey woollen cloak were pulled from the dresser with care and brought to the side of the large bed.
Pausing for a moment, Genyi watched the young woman who was sleeping in the bed and wondered how someone who looked so innocent by night could be such a holy terror when she was awake. Though her Temper was legendary among the halls of the Jkatha Bardic Institute, so was her talent. And though many students thought she was a complete monster, those generally were the students who did not possess the level of Talent that was needed to be a master Bard.
"Ista," said Genyi, reaching over and shaking the young bard from her slumber, "Ista it's time to get up. It's a bright and sunny day. No clouds anywhere."
"Damn, what do I have to do today?" replied the blind bard, sitting up and running her hands through her long brown locks. No one would ever really say that Ista was a beauty to behold, because she wasn't. She looked like every other woman you could find on the streets of Throne City, compounded by the fact that the faraway glazed look in her eyes gave off the notion of stupidity to the untrained eye.
"We have class this morning," answered Genyi, walking over to her own dresser to pull on her own simple khaki robes which marked her place as a personal assistant to a 'highborn', "And then we have a meeting with some of the new children. Talent discovery. And then dinner, and in the evening we have a meeting with King Albayah and a private performance for he and his court. Oh, and Noran wants you to finally put the final touches on that dance piece you wrote."
"I do so like Queen Merili," said Ista, smiling as she groped around on the bed for the clothes she knew that Genyi had set out for her, "Wait what dance piece?"
"The one for fiddle, drums, guitar, harp and voice. The one about being up and not coming down. The happy one. You were dancing around the room when you wrote it."
"I gave him that one? And now I have to finish it? Gods I work too much…Where are my clothes!" shouted Ista, her voice filled with frustrations at her own limitations.
"They're on the bedside table," said Genyi gently, watching as the blind bard fumbled for her clothing. Genyi and Ista were a perfect match for each other. Genyi was a minstrel with incredible talent for performance, but no Bardic gift and no creativity. When she was told she would never be a bard, she broke down and cried. Ista, who was a bard with eight years on the girl, found her crying in her study. Ista was outraged that the college would turn away someone with the makings of a fantastic minstrel. She took the girl as her apprentice, and in turn Genyi began to act as a guide for Ista.
Though Ista, at 23, was well known all through Jkatha, she was unable to function on her own. Half of being a bard was appearance, and Ista never got that down. When she started out, she often showed up late, or looking like a ragbag. Genyi fixed that, ordering Ista's schedule and arranging her life to make it easier. Genyi, in turn, got access to all of Ista's incredible music, and the chance to perform without being expected to compose. And though she took all of Ista's music through dictation, she knew that it would never be hers. But for Genyi, the chance to be known for her performances was worth anything, even being nursemaid for a sometimes cranky and temperamental bard.
"Am I wearing something overly delicate?" asked Ista, "Because I am going riding today and you're not coming with me, and I refuse to look like a slob."
"The shirt's embroidered. We'll change before your performance tonight, so no worries there, so yes, you can ride and there's nothing they can do or say."
"What classes do I have this morning?" queried Ista as she pulled on her cloak. Genyi walked over and got onto the bed behind Ista and began to pull the woman's long brown hair into a pile that would sit and stay on top of her head. Though Ista wasn't beautiful in the traditional sense, she was able to have any man she wanted. This meant any man with a brain, which suited Ista just fine. If some man wanted her just cause she was pretty, she wasn't sure if she wanted him.
"You have four exams in the first candlemark, then a mark of wind choir, then two half mark private lessons. One is with Fridley, and that's to help with his composition, and the other is with a new student, Elbe. She's a good bard but lacks the performance skills. The headmaster isn't sure if she doesn't have it in her, or if she's just not confident," listed Genyi, taking mental notes of what she would be doing during the lessons. In addition to her basic duties with Ista, she performed many others, such as arranging for performances of Ista's work, and writing out Ista's new music when it was being submitted. The only time Genyi ever sat in on lessons was in the private lessons, and only for the first bit.
Ista had the bad habit of freezing up young performers, and Genyi knew that her presence could help alleviate that nervousness.
"All right. I'll head down to the hall for breakfast. Exams are in the performance hall, right?" said Ista, trying her hardest to not sound pathetic. She knew how dependant she was on Genyi. Without Genyi, Ista would be relegated to the ranks of the bards, and not have her cushy job as a high level instructor at the Jkatha Baric Institute. Genyi kept Ista's life in order.
"Just like your choir and your classes. They decided it was better if you could just stay where YOU and make everyone else move to you, oh great bard of Legend," mocked Genyi with a childish giggle.
"You know, if I wasn't so blind, I would throw something at you," muttered Ista, knowing full well Genyi could hear her. Genyi tried to stifle a giggle, but burst out laughing, full on with snorts and everything. Ista smiled and rose to her feet, and reached for the stick she carried at all times that she used to check where she was walking.
"You could always beat me with that stick of yours," giggled Genyi, "I mean it's so damned BIG you couldn't miss me with it."
"Despite the rumours," snapped Ista, with mock indignation, "I do NOT beat people with my stick. Except for Johan and he doesn't count because I do not like him. At all. And he's too slick."
"You like him. Now go on," said Genyi, laughing heartily as her friend walked towards the door.
"Uh, Genyi," said Ista, "My shoes seem to have migrated from their accustomed place beside the door."
"OH!" said Genyi, searching franticly for a pair of shoes, and then tossing the leather thong sandals at Ista. Ista snapped her hand up and grabbed them out of mid-air, smiling.
"You like to test that, don't you?"
"Sorry," said Genyi, smiling as Ista left the room, the rhythmic tapping of her stick on the floor echoing down the stone hallway.
"What in gods name is that man doing," thought Ista as she sat through the fourth of her morning exams, "He calls this a ready student. This is not a bard, and he's not even close. Why does Johan think that this student is ready?"
Ista often ran the exams for the Institute. Ista was somewhat of a legend in the school. She had arrived at the age of eight, and was a full bard by sixteen. Some of her professors scoffed at Valdemar's lack of foresight. She had not been accepted by the Bardic Collegium on the grounds she only had one of the three gifts. Had anyone TESTED Ista, they would've found that she did indeed possess the Bardic Gift in spades, but just hadn't shown it when she was young. Instead she was sent, by some well meaning friends, to a small music school in Throne City, the Capital of Jkatha.
Ista had lasted all of three months in the school before a bard actually found her, and realised that the compositions that the headmaster of the school had been submitting were, inactuality, written by a young, lonely Ista. Ista had been dragged, kicking and screaming, to the Institute, and now had to be dragged kicking and screaming to get her OFF institute property.
At twenty-three, Ista was the youngest of the teaching bards. As such, she was given some of the odder assignments. She had not the patience that the older bards had, and therefore was almost never given the young students. She tended to lull them with her kind words, but gods HELP them if they slacked off in Ista's class. Ista only ever took on advanced students, if she had anything to do with it. She ran the fife choir, which played at most of the royal events, and she did the exams.
Ista was a blessing for the examiners of the Institute. Here was someone who could, should and would walk into a room, listen to the technical aspects of a piece, and give her honest opinion. She was never swayed by liking or disliking a student because she never knew who was playing. The technical exam pieces were all alike, and made it impossible to tell one student from another. Ista would never pass a student she didn't think was up to it. Just ask several would be bards who were relegated to minstrel status because they couldn't live up to Ista's standards.
As Ista listened to the student run through one of the advanced level guitar pieces, she ran over in her head all his mistakes. His timing was off. And his pitch was off, but at least that was consistent. He was obviously using alternate chording on the harder parts, and he was slowing down where he shouldn't. Artistic license was important to bards, but that was best left to the final performance exam. The technical exams, a key part of Jkathan Bardic training, were just that. Technical. Play the song as it is written and don't make parts up. Ista had no patience for wanna be improvisers. As the student added an extra arpeggio, Ista stood up, signifying she had had enough.
"You are Johan's student, right?" demanded Ista.
"Yes ma'am," said a timid female voice, which Ista recognized as Angie, a flute virtuoso.
"Well, Miss Angie, that was not acceptable. It was off beat and slow and not up to this level. I'm sorry to say you're going to fail this exam."
"I know miss." Replied Angie, the disgrace evident in her voice.
"You know?" questioned Ista, wondering why this girl took the technical exam if she KNEW she would fail.
"Johan said I needed to. I need two instruments. And he said flute was not enough."
"He didn't allow you to specialize in flute?" asked Ista, her voice softening, trying to use her Bardic gift to sooth the frazzled girl without alerting her.
"He said that I wasn't up to it. That I needed a second instrument," whimpered Angie, who Ista could feel was trying hard not to cry.
"Angie, Sweetling, Johan is being a horses ass and I will fix this. I passed you on your advanced level flute piece a long time ago. I know you're more than capable of being a full level bard soon. And if he Johan tries to say you can't sing, he's just stupid. Your second minor instrument is drums. I'd rather hear a good drummer sing than a bad guitarist. You're not a guitarist and you never will be. But you don't have to be," said Ista, "Now, go and see Genyi. Tell her I sent you to set up an appointment for you and me and the headmaster to talk about this situation. We'll work this out."
"But I have fife choir now," said Angie.
"Yes, yes you do," said Ista, trying to sound tough and strict, "But you never seem to do anything but sit and giggle. You don't need the work. The rest of them, they need help. Go and take a break. I'm sure you can find SOMETHING to do with a free mark."
"Yes ma'am," said Angie, getting up from her seat, taking her instrument and actually running out the door.
"Miss Ista," said the Scribe who was sitting next to Ista, "What shall I write down for her mark?"
"No mark given. See me for details. I'll have Genyi put a note in the file. Angie shouldn't have a bad mark because Johan is so anxious to see her pass on."
"You know Miss," said the Scribe, "For a blind bard, you seem to see everything."
"I'm a bard. My job is to disseminate information. And being blind has nothing to do with that."
"Okay, Elbe," said Ista, "Now, again from the top."
"Ista," said Elbe, sounding confident for the first time in weeks, "May I ignore the retard in measure fifty two in place of a two measure retard in measure fifty four and fifty five."
"You're the bard," said Ista, walking around the stage.
"Yes, but you wrote this piece. I've learned that you should never take too much licence when dealing with the actual composer," retorted Elbe.
"Good point. No, I don't mind. As long as you make it sound deliberate. That's the problem with my pieces. I know how they SHOULD sound, and don't take kindly to them being played badly," said Ista, placing her hand on Elbe's shoulder as she began to pluck the strains of the slow harp melody. Ista, listening closely, walked over to the door of the hall and opened it slightly; waiting to hear what the person who was breathing heavily behind the door was waiting to say.
"I'm always amused when you do that," whispered Headmaster Epjay, "You just KNOW!"
"You just breathe loud," said Ista, shrugging her shouldered, "What need ye?"
"How's Elbe?"
"Did you know she isn't from Jkatha?" asked Ista, toning her voice to make the headmaster more interested in her little story.
"I thought she was a border brat like you and me."
"No," said Ista, "She's from inner Karse. And the reason she rarely sings is because she has a heavy accent, even in singing. And Johan made her sing, every time she played. Hence the shyness. Look, she could pass my technical exam right now."
"Ah," said Epjay, "You've done it again."
"Seems so."
"Johan would like to see you for lunch."
"I'm aware. I annoyed him. I'll get chewed out, but nothing I've done is not within the powers you've given me."
"Yes," said the headmaster hesitantly, "But you still have to deal with his ravings."
"The trials of Bardic life, right Epjay?"
"I wouldn't change them for the world," said Epjay, as he gently shut the door.
"Elbe," chimed Ista, "That was wonderful. I think this lesson is over because I think we've cured your shyness."
"But but but," stammered Elbe, "I'm still shy. And my Jkathan!"
"Is not a problem," chided Ista, slipping into her 'teacher's voice', "Sweetling, I'm going to give you some of MY music. It's written in Karsite, and you can use it. When someone asks, explain that you prefer to not translate music. As well, I'll see to it that Genyi arranges for you to see someone to aid in your accent. I'm certain I could get you into the diplomatic classes in one of the Karsite Embassy."
"Miss Ista, you're too kind!" said Elbe, practically squealing.
"Don't you tell a soul," snapped Ista, brandishing her stick like a sword, "You'd ruin my reputation for being an iron hearted bitch, and then where would I be?"
"Yes ma'am," replied and ecstatic Elbe, practically bowing and scraping at Ista.
"Now, go for lunch, and eat well!" admonished Ista as Elbe bolted out of the room, "No one likes a scrawny bard. They assume they're not good enough to warrant dinner!"
"You know Ista, I wish you had more students so that I could find more ways to meddle in YOUR affairs," toned a silky voice from behind Ista. Ista stood there and made a face before turning around to face the one bard who always was able to sneak up on her.
"Good day to you Johan. Lovely bright weather we're having," drawled Ista batting her eyelashes at Johan, trying her best to resemble one of the cowed court flowers that overpopulated the city.
"Don't good day me, wench," said Johan, walking forward to the table that sat in front of the performance stage.
"Well, go to hell you stuck up artisto sounded a little pretentious," remarked Ista, turning and following the smell of food to the table. Johan, ever the gentleman, pulled Ista's chair out from behind her and allowed her to sit down.
"So you've been meddling again," said Johan, as he sat down across from Ista and began to eat his lunch. Johan had decided that since Ista was always being dragged from lunch by students, he would bring HER lunch and trap her in the one place people knew not to bother her.
"Angie was terrible. Oh my lord was she bad," wailed Ista, biting into her portion of fish.
"I thought she might pass," said Johan, hopefully.
"No," said Ista, brandishing a fork full of potatoes at Johan, "She was adding things, and didn't you realise she was using alternate chording for key points. And you do know she was playing one of MY pieces. If you wanted her to try and fake it, you should've chosen one I don't know that well."
"Yes well, she should learn guitar! You made her think she doesn't need it and that I'm an idiot," snapped Johan, smacking the table with his spoon.
"And for that I am truly sorry," said Ista, "But she can use the guitar. Just not advanced level. So she'll never be a great guitarist like you or me. Big deal. She's a wonderful flute player. The Queen is already making noise about adding her to the royal orchestra and she's still a year or so from advancing."
"Angie seems to think that she is ready now!" said Johan sarcastically.
"Just wait," said Ista, "She'll come running in to do her advanced drum exam and I'll fairly fail her. She's not ready yet with drums, but she'll NEVER be ready with guitar."
"Whatever," said Johan with a flourish of his hand.
"Are you my partner for the royal performance tonight?" asked Ista, trying to change the subject.
"Indeed," said Johan, "The queen does get tired of the stuffy old guys."
"And we're just…not like them."
"No, we're not," said Johan, wishing for once that Ista could see him smile. He and Ista were Kindred spirits and always had been. They met when she arrived at the Institute. He was fourteen at the time and very annoyed that a little child had been placed in his class, and even more annoyed when she surpassed him in talent. But over the years they had developed a great friendship, and were among the most requested performers in Throne City. Johan was a guitarist like no other, and Ista was known for her warm Mezzo soprano voice that could carry through a hall like a warm summer breeze.
"I was looking through your scores again," sputter Johan, ending the awkward silence, "and found a song we've never played. It's had, like, four titles. 'Rise up and face the fear, or 'See me' but the last one says 'Bergen's night'. Why haven't we played it? I love this song. I love the duelling guitar parts, and the string arrangement is just heaven. The harmonies are so daring yet beautiful, yes discordant."
"I'm saving that one," said Ista, "It's saved for when we see someone from Valdemar. It's actually popular there."
"It is?" puzzled Johan, "Why?"
"It's about a…my…past. And I left my first score of it in Valdemar. They don't have the same one we have, but it's similar."
"Okay. Then what shall we perform?"
"How about Patience is a virtue, followed by that new modern piece that you and Fridley arranged," suggested Johan, "It's a private short performance. One ballad and one of our songs is all they need."
"Do you have an extra good guitar? Mine is in the shop. Some lazy minstrel sat on it. I was appalled. I mean, I'm BLIND for heavens sakes and I don't sit on stuff!" whined Ista.
"True," said Johan, "But you do have a tendency to smack people with that damn stick of yours."
"Only below the knees!" interjected Ista with a smile, "And we bards don't need our legs! And short children with hands at that level just need to be careful. I'm the blind one, I get to win!"
"You know what I think!" said Johan in mock anger.
"Don't know. Don't care. Don't have time," said Ista, getting up and hurrying off a split second before the bell rang to signify the lunch hour. Johan shook his head of red curls and sighed. Ista frustrated him, and he was never sure why. And if he was sure, he would not admit it.
