If I Were a Herald

Chapter Four

Call of the Ocean

Disclaimer: I own the lyrics to "Call of the Ocean." Don't try to look it up, you won't find it. Maybe someday I'll make a CD and include it, but until then the music is just an idea in my head. The music is a take-off of "My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean." Actually I wrote the song specifically for this chapter. Call me OCD. Other than that, I own me, Lyrna owns herself. Most of the characters I made up out of necessity. Vanyel, Randale, Jisa, and Treven, are, of course, the property of Misty, although I may just have to kidnap Van-ashke. And I did write the song "I'm Coming Home." It was a couple years ago. Don't remember exactly what prompted me to write it. I believe I had some form of inspiration. So if ff.mort complains about this chapter, well, these lyrics are mine to give away.

I have heard the call of the ocean,
I have heard the call of the sea.
I have felt the pull of the water,
And oh, how it's calling to me.

There once was a time I went sailing.
I felt the ship move 'neath my feet.
And thought the winds blew and the sun baked,
I loved both the breeze and the heat.

I have heard the call of the ocean,
I have heard the call of the sea.
I have felt the pull of the water,
And oh, how it's calling to me.

I sailed the world as a pirate.
With fear and with skill I did reign.
And if I could live my life over,
I know I would live it the same.

I have heard the call of the ocean,
I have heard the call of the sea.
I have felt the pull of the water,
And oh, how it's calling to me.

I sit all alone in the jail cell,
My fate now a-hanging shall be.
I cannot regret of my actions,
And I still feel the call of the sea.

I have heard the call of the ocean,
I have heard the call of the sea.
Ihave felt the pull of the water,
And oh, how it's calling to me.

"So who can tell me the political implications of the marriage between Treven and his lifebonded, Jisa?" the teacher, Jervase, asked. Today, apparently, they were studying the reign of Randale, which meant that I was writing a pirate story on my hand and not paying much attention to the Jervase.

One of the boys responded without bothering to raise his hand. "Randale was dying by inches of a disease that hadn't shown up until he was in his twenties. Jisa, as his daughter, might have inherited the disease, and the marriage put her back into the succession."

"That's not true," I said, still looking at my hand.

I could hear Jervase's raised eyebrows. "Oh? Trainee—what is your name? I don't believe I've seen you before."

"Kali," I said. "And you haven't. I'm new."

"Would you care to enlighten us as to why Rory is incorrect?"

"Jisa wasn't Randale's daughter. She was never in any danger." Now I did look up, to see how the class was taking my shocking statement. Most looked skeptical, and a few were laughing. Stupid Trainee, doesn't know anything. Let them laugh. I was right.

"So whose daughter was she?" Jervase asked, humoring me.

I cocked my head. "Vanyel's. She was Vanyel's daughter. Randale's lifebonded desperately wanted a child, but Randale's disease rendered him sterile. They let everyone think that Jisa was Randale's to keep open the option of a political alliance-marriage. They wanted to quell rumors of Randale's sterility."

"That's an interesting theory."

I was in my element now. I knew this stuff. This was how it always happened back on Earth, as well; often I'd be the only one who volunteered to answer. It would get to the point where the teachers would specifically try to call on anyone but me. "Because Jisa was legally a bastard and couldn't inherit—and she hadn't yet been Chosen; Shavri's Companion was waiting to Choose her to be King's Own—Treven was next in line for the throne. All the adults wanted Treven to remain unmarried, to keep open the option of an alliance. But Trev did a bit of homework and found that there was no one among the neutrals near enough his age to make an alliance marriage. He figured why deny happiness to himself and his lifebonded, so they ran off and found a priest to marry them. It was all very romantic, and probably not very well thought-out, but it worked out okay in the end. And really, they did the right thing. It's wrong not to be with the love of your life, and it's wrong to cheat on your spouse. The only way to keep from doing wrong, if you're lifebonded, is to marry your love."

I doodled a bit more on my hand, adding depth to the story.

"But what if your duty prevents you from marrying?" Jervase asked. "What if, say, you fell in love with a thief? It would be your duty as a Herald to turn him over to the Guard. You couldn't very well marry a criminal."

"I could and I would," I replied, grinning at the irony. The story I was writing on my hand was about just that: a Navy officer who fell in love with a pirate. "Especially if there were a lifebond involved. If I'm lifebonded to the guy, that means we're meant to be together. That just wouldn't happen if he wasn't a decent sort. I happen to know that it's possible for a thief to be Chosen—it hasn't happened yet, but it will, someday. Duty as a Herald be cursed. Sometimes you have to choose between the lesser of two evils—or the greater of two goods."

"Sometimes I'm amazed at the people Companions will Choose," Jervase muttered. I couldn't hear him very clearly, but I could read his lips, so I was pretty sure that's what he said.

The discussion raged on, and I fell back to daydreaming. I must have dozed off, for I found myself on a ship, the deck rocking beneath my feet, the wind blowing my hair. Oh, the feel of the wind in my face, the smell of the sea. Salty tang that I could taste if I opened my mouth. This was heaven.

I looked up at the mast. No Jolly Roger flew from it, but I knew, somehow, that this was a pirate ship. The captain stood at the helm, proud and handsome. He looked at me, as if I had done something unexpected. "Why the silence? Sing for me, little songbird."

The distance was too great for me to see his face, but I sensed a connection between us. I began to sing the first song that came to mind—Disney's "Yo Ho, Yo Ho (A Pirate's Life for Me)." He nodded approvingly.

I moved closer to him as I sang, but I was still unable to see his face. In the dream, this seemed only natural, not something to puzzle over as it would have been had I been conscious. The song ended. "Why are you a pirate?" I asked him. "There are far less dangerous careers for a man of your talents."

He gave me a serious look. "I needed the money. No one would take me, starveling child that I was, so I joined a crew and put to sea. When our ship was attacked by pirates, I saw no reason not to join them. And when I realized how much money could be made by pirating…. I don't suppose you've ever been starving, not knowing when your next meal will come. Have you, songbird?"

I shook my head. No, I had never had to face starvation. But I understood. I understood, and I did not blame him for his actions.

"Why are you a pirate, songbird?" the captain asked. "You do not need the money; you had a steady job. Why throw that away?"

"The ocean," I replied, and it was the truth, though only half of it. There was another reason I could not tell him. "The ocean calls, and I must answer."

"But this is no ocean."

"Hey, Kali, wake up," the girl next to me said, shaking me gently. Stefany, that was her name.

I woke with a start, the dream still vividly clear in my head. "Huh-what?" I asked intelligently.

"Time to switch classes," Stefany said. "You dozed off. Lucky you managed not to pitch forward onto your desk, or Jervase would've noticed, and he'd've been pissed."

I smiled. "Well, thanks for not telling him. I was having the weirdest dream. I think I was lifebonded to a pirate."

"A pirate, huh? Even worse than a thief. I knew some nice thieves in my day, but pirates are nasty creatures, the lot of them. Come on, now, we've got songwriting together in half a candlemark."

"Really?" I perked up immediately. Stefany was a Bardic Trainee—more than that, I didn't know; her affiliation I knew only from the color of her uniform, which was rust-red.

"Yeah, really." She grimaced. "The teacher's a real devil, almost as bad as the voice teacher. We were supposed to have songs ready for this class, and mine's only half-finished. He's going to kill me."

"I can help you," I offered. "Can't write music worth diddly-squat, at least not on demand, but I'm great at writing lyrics to music that already exists."

"Oh, could you?" She checked herself. "I mean, you're a Herald Trainee, you really shouldn't be helping me cheat—"

"Nonsense," I interrupted. "It's not cheating. After all, it's your song. I'm just helping you edit it."

She giggled. "However did you manage to get yourself Chosen?"

"Not by choice, let me tell you that. If I'd had my druthers, I would've been a Bard. Or a pirate. Maybe both." I thought back to my dream, how the captain had called me "songbird." Had it just been wish-fulfillment? Me a minstrel or Bard, and lifebonded to a pirate. Certainly seemed the stuff of fantasies.

"So can you sing?" she asked, politely curious.

"Yeah, pretty well. My voice is untrained, but that's the way of things. Come on, let's go somewhere we can talk and work."

"My rooms'll do," Stefany offered. "I'm by myself right now—my roommate just got promoted to Journeyman, so she's off finding songs."

She led, and I followed. "What songs do you know?" she asked.

"Uh, I know Shadow Stalker," I replied. "Demonsbane. Nightblades. Vrondi's Eyes. The Sunhawks. Those're probably the only ones you've heard of. There's a lot I know from my homeland, which is far away from here."

"Like what?"

"Well, like—there's one called 'Have You Forgotten.' There was this terrorist group who blew up—that is, set fire to some very important buildings, killing many people. So my country declared war on the country harboring the terrorists, who were led by a man named Osama bin Laden. My country being what it is, many people protested the war, so one country singer wrote a song that basically asked them if they'd forgotten the pain and suffering of those people who died in the Twin Towers." I proceeded to sing it for her. "I hear people saying we don't need this war. But I say there's some things worth fighting for. What about our freedom and this piece of ground? We didn't get to keep 'em by backing down. They say we don't realize the mess we're getting in. Before you start your preaching let me ask you this, my friend. Have you forgotten how it felt that day to see your homeland under fire and her people blown away? Have you forgotten when those towers fell we had neighbors still inside going through a living hell? And you say we shouldn't worry 'bout bin Laden—have you forgotten?..."

"Have you ever written any songs?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Yeah, a few. A couple were actually halfway decent."

Stefany smiled. "Care to sing them?"

"Well, some of them are pretty long, but—there's one. It's called 'I'm Coming Home.' I'm not sure I can remember all the lyrics, but I'll try."

"Please do."

"When all seems hopeless, and nothing's going right/When Hope's faintest light is gone, and Day is worse than Night/I'll still hold my head up high, and see this journey through/'Cause I'm coming, oh I'm coming home to you./When the skies are cloudy, and rain just wants to fall/When there is no shelter in a neighbor's hall/I'll still hold my head up high, and see this journey through/'Cause I'm coming, oh I'm coming home to you./When a blizzard's coming, and I'm out in the cold/When all of the news is bad, with worse things yet untold/I'll still hold my head up high, and see this journey through/'Cause I'm coming, oh I'm coming home to you./When the war is coming near, and all my friends have died/When my mount is gone for good, that trusty steed I ride/I'll still hold my head up high, and see this journey through/'Cause I'm coming, oh I'm coming home to you."

"Well, I can't say it's the best I've ever heard, but you do have talent. I thought you said you couldn't write music." She held open the door to her room so I could step inside.

The room contained two beds, two dressers, two desks, and two chairs, rather like my own room. Music sheets were spread all over both desks, although only one seemed to be in use—the other was merely a storage place for what wouldn't fit on the first.

We spent the next fifteen minutes or so hashing out the rest of the lyrics to Stefany's song. Unlike myself, she had a good grasp of making the chorus differ from the verses, and it was quite a good song. Her version was a bit rough around the edges, but that's what I was there to solve.

There was a bit of extra time before class, so I decided to write my own song. I called it "Call of the Ocean." I suppose part of the inspiration came from "My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean," because I later realized that the tune bore a suspicious resemblance to that well-known song.

Then it was time for class. I followed Stefany, trying to remember all the crazy twists and turns. Within minutes I was hopelessly lost. Ah well. Eventually I'd know my way around. Until then I'd have to make do with a map.

"So," the teacher said as soon as we were all seated. "I see we have a new student. What's your name, trainee?"

"Kali," I replied, not bothering to stand. "Yours?"

The other students giggled nervously.

"I am Master Bard Tomas. What is a Herald Trainee doing in a songwriting class?"

"I wanted to be a Bard," I replied cheekily. "I was also told that this class included how to write music. There are a lot of songs I know from my homeland, and I can write the lyrics down for the benefit of the bards, but I couldn't record the music to save my life."

"Indeed. Have you ever written a song?"

"Which one do you want me to sing?"

"Come up here, in front of the class. Pick one of your songs, and sing it. I'll have your classmates critique you afterward."

For that I received several sympathetic glances. I just smiled back. I lived for this. I wanted to be noticed. If I couldn't be noticed by my clothing—bloody Grays—then I'd be unique through my actions.

As all eyes focused on me, my knees began to tremble, and my throat went dry. Thrice-accursed stage fright. I don't suppose there's any way to get a drink of alcohol.

:Not right now, no: Lyrna replied.

I rolled my eyes. Figured. Then I began to sing. I would've sung "Death and His Shadow," because that one showed off the entire range of my voice, and was much prettier, besides having been written, originally, with a Valdemar fanfic in mind, but I couldn't remember all of it. I'd have to check my notes after class—at least my Pictures and Poems binder had been packed in my trunk. "Daughter of a Pirate" was another good one, but that was very long, and I wasn't sure I could remember all of it, especially with all these people watching. I could've sung "Proud to Be a Buccaneer"—that one wasn't exactly original, since it was a parody of "God Bless the USA," but these people would never know that. And I'd already sung it in front of an audience—that had been my song of choice at the first Open Mic. But it also mentioned some places these people wouldn't recognize, and it was about pirates. Not a very Heraldic song. "I'm Coming Home" wasn't a very good song, and may have been suited to my voice three years ago but wasn't well suited to it anymore. That left my latest creation, "The Call of the Ocean." That one was also a pirate song, but at least it didn't glorify a pirate's life.

At first my voice trembled with my knees, like a leaf in the wind. "I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar." Gradually, though, my voice settled, even if my legs still refused to cooperate.

I held the last note until I just about died from lack of oxygen, then bowed floridly to my classmates. They applauded politely.

"So. Critique time. What did you notice about the song?"

A small boy with mussed-up blonde hair raised a timid hand.

"Yes, Charley?"

"The chorus and the verses had the same tune. There wasn't enough variation," Charley suggested.

I shrugged mentally. I already knew that.

Another hand. "She was nervous at the beginning. It showed in her voice."

"Heralds just aren't meant to be Bards," someone muttered. It was a guy, and his voice was rough, as if he had just gone through puberty.

"Excuse me?" I asked sweetly. "Care to put that to a test? How many songs have you written?"

A dark-haired, pinch-faced boy stared me straight in the eye. "Four, and they're all better than yours."

"Perhaps you would care to sing one for the class. Pick your best. Then I'll treat y'all to a few verses of 'Death and His Shadow.' We'll let the class decide whose song is better."

Rat-face tried to sink into his chair, but the teacher called him to the front of the classroom. He had no choice but to obey. I took my seat and grinned in anticipation.

Even in song, his voice was rough. It detracted from the song. I don't remember the exact lyrics, but it was something about a girl, with golden hair like sunshine and silver eyes to rival the moon. A descendant of Vanyel's, no doubt—where else would she get the silver eyes? His song didn't even have a chorus, and was very reminiscent of "My Lady's Eyes."

More polite applause as the song thankfully drew to an end. I returned to the front, bowed, and tried to slip into character as Taileffer, personal minstrel to Duke William of Normandy. Taileffer would never be nervous to perform before an audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to be treated to a special performance. This, my friends, is a song entitled 'Death and His Shadow.' I have not time to sing every verse, for the song is quite long, but I pray you will be content with a selection. I wrote this song based on the adventures of Duchess Si'arla of Besa and her bodyguard Zender, known to the world as Death." With that, I began to sing.

It was a cold-frozen winter when they never saw the sun,
And the snow fell by night and its stopping marked the dawn,
And the clouds never lifted while the snow was on the ground,
And there was neither warmth nor comfort to be found.

They cried, "Death, come protect us. Death, lead the way.
Death, please deliver us into the light of day."
While Death couldn't hear them, his Shadow heard their cry.
She said, "Death, we must help them, you and I."

War came upon them in the darkness of the night,
And they gathered their defenses, though they weren't prepared to fight;
And Death told his Shadow, "These people are going to die
If we don't do something, you and I."

They cried, "Death, come us. Death, lead the way.
Death, please deliver us into the light of day."
This time Death heard them, as his Shadow heard their cry.
"We'll help you together," they replied.

Death and his Shadow stood together, side by side,
And harm couldn't reach them, however hard it tried;
And Death's Shadow shouted, "For freedom and for love!"
And Death said, "For a golden sun above."

They cried, "Death did protect us. Death led the way.
Death has delivered us into the light of day.
But what of Death's Shadow, the one who heard our cry?
We'll keep her in our hearts until we die."

There was a moment of silence, then thunderous applause greeted the ending of my song. I bowed again, sweeping off a nonexistent hat. Rat-face glared daggers at me. Even the teacher looked impressed. "You said there were other verses?"

"Aye, quite a few. I haven't sung it in a while so I can't remember them all, but I have it written down, and I know where to find it."

"And this song is your own work? Not merely a song of your homeland?"

"Indeed, my own work. The events in the song—they never really happened. I made it all up. It's my best piece of work. Usually I write poetry. I'm not very good at melodies, but I can learn them quite easily."

At the end of class, the teacher pulled me aside. "I'd like to speak with you about your other song. 'Call of the Ocean.' I noticed that the protagonist was a pirate. Is this a song that you wrote for someone you once knew, or is there some other reason for it?"

"Oh, I've always found pirates fascinating. Rapacious killers, and yet many of them had wives and children, whom they loved very much. I grew up near the sea, and I have felt the ocean's call. That's what the song was about."

"When did you write it?"

"Today."

His eyebrows raised. "You mean you completed a song in a single day, and it turned out—well, it's certainly not the best I've heard, but it's not the worst, either."

I shrugged. "I hate doing rewrites of stuff. I much prefer to get it right the first time. If I can't think of the right words, I'll not write it. Or I'll leave a blank space, to be filled in later."

"I almost regret that you were Chosen. You would've made a fine Bard. Your voice could be quite beautiful with a small amount of training."

Lyrna seems to think otherwise. "I can still be a fine minstrel. Look, when I'm a Herald, I might well need to go places as a spy. That's what I want to do, at least. But I'll need a character. I can't make up lies unless I'm in character. Why not a minstrel? I learn a couple of instruments—that'll be the hard part, teaching me how to play all the songs; I never was good at anything but piano—and voila. Taileffer the minstrel. Vanyel did that, you know. When he was investigating the goings-on in—I forget what it was called, but it's part of Valdemar now. Disguised himself as a minstrel. He wanted to be a Bard, but he couldn't because he didn't have the Gift, or an ounce of creative talent."

"I'll speak with the other Bards. Your idea does have merit."

I thanked him, and left.

Somewhere deep inside, I felt a tug, and the sound of waves crashing upon the shore. The ocean was calling. Someday it would demand an answer.

The ocean is calling for you to review to my story, and I am demanding an answer. ;-) Just please review! CyberRum to everyone who does.