From now on, it's going to start looking a little longer; it's only because now we've got conversations instead of just detailed descriptions. (She's getting older and remembers more clearly, so she remembers more dialogue, get it? But it's no longer than before.)

Chapter 4

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I kept an ear out at all times of the day for weeks and weeks for some far-off harp song, but it didn't come for a long time. I almost forgot what it was I was listening for as the end of spring came and the hot desert smmer blew in. School was now out for the summer, but I continued to study anyway.

It was August, and I had almost forgotten what I was listening for. Then one day, as I sat under a tree reading, I heard it. That enchanting silvery melody from the inn came floting over the town wall on the wind, and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I ran out of the yard and headed for the gate.

To my amusement , no one else seemed to notice the music. It was, indeed, Gilbert's calling-song; and it was calling me.

The troupe was already on the outskirts of town when I arrived. They all seemed surprised yet happy to see me—except for Gilbert, sitting nonchalantly on top of their caravan wagon and still playing merrily on his lyre, who knew exactly why I had come.

"You took your sweet time," he teased. Once again he was wearing his costume green lipstick, ever a clown, and it made me laugh.

Maestro Roland was immensely pleased to see me again, and was very pleased to announce that they would be staying for the week in Kaipo, hopefully putting on a show toward the weeknd.

"We hope that you and your family will be there," he said.

"Naturally," I agreed. "Perhaps we'll be by later today?"

"It would be a pleasure."

Sure enough, Mama, Daddy and I went to the inn to visit the troupe that afternoon. Mama was excited, but Daddy was, as always, suspicious.

"It's not like you to go making friends with out-of-town weirdos," he scolded.

"They're nice people," I insisted, unbufetted by his critisism.

"I think it's good of you to meet people like these," Mama intervened. "Gypsies aren't always the most trustworthy of people, but there's no end to what you can learn from them."

"I know," I agreed excitedly. "They come from all over the world. Maestro Roland and his protégé, Gilbert, they both come from Damcyan—"

"The waterway?" Daddy interupted nervously.

"Oh, they come over the shoals, not through the waterway," I explained.

"Ah…"

It didn't sound like he totally understood, but then he usually didn't try to.

"Go on dear, we're listening," Mama asked, fully fascinated.

"Anyways," I continued, "their two flautists, Chi and Yin, they came all the way from Fabul—they're twin sisters."

Daddy made an uncomfortable noise, and I pretended not to notice. When I realized that Chi and Yin were twins, I felt my heart and soul lurch as well.

"There's also a girl about my age from Eblan named Shika, and she's a dancer; she's also learning how to play drums. Metis plays a tamborine and a bunch of other percusion instruments, and she's from Baron. Andrea plays the lute, and he's actually all the way from Troia."

"No one from Mysidia?" Daddy inquired.

"Maestro Roland says that they frequently travel to Mysidia, and the people are big fans, but they generally prefer to stick to their books. They've tried to recruit there, but no one's really interested," I explained.

"And what does your friend Gilbert play?" Mama asked. "I don't know if you ever mentioned it."

Mama was right about that. The calling-song was a sort of secret of ours, obvious only to the other members of the troupe. So I had never mentioned anything that might lead to questioning.

"He plays a lyre. But he's upgraded to a harp since we met," I said cheerily, proud of my friend's accomplishment.

"That's a big and complicated instrument," Daddy noted, sounding almost impressed.

"It's a small one, just big enough to fit in his backpack. The way he can play… It's like the strings are an extention of himself. It's like us, with our magic, almost."

Daddy eyed me suspciously. It made me sort of sad—his glases were getting thicker with every year that passed. Ever the drama queen, he had begun tinting his glasses purple. As the years progressed and the lenses got thicker and thicker, the tinting became darker and darker, to match his mood. When I was dying in his arms, I had tried my best to look through the dark tinting into his eyes; but it turned out to be a fail for the ages. What a way to die, huh?

Luckily, Gilbert had the sense to take off his riduculous green lipstick and change into less bright clothes before we arrived. He looked normal, and it was a little strange, but I liked it. We found him in the main room, waiting patiently and lovingly tuning his new harp. When he looked up and saw us, he jumped up, harp still in hand, and ran to meet us. He actually caught me in a friendly hug; I could feel Daddy burning up, and it made things even more fun.

"I've missed you," he informed.

"It's only been a few hours," I pointed out. "I brought my parents to meet everyone," I added, dragging him over to them. Mama was smoothing down her hair, genteel and perfect as always, and Daddy was fuming, his arms crossed and a pout painted across his aging faces.

"You must be Gilbert," Mama said aimiably, shaking his hand warmly. "It's such a pleasure to meet you. Anna's told us so much about you."

"She said you wore green lipstick; I was afraid that she'd fallen in love with a transvestite," Daddy growled. Gilbert cringed, afraid of what he had gotten himself into, and I blushed, totally embarassed.

"Tellah," Mama hissed, punching Daddy's shoulder. "Apologize, and say hello to the boy."

Daddy grumbled a bit but extended his hand. "I'm Tellah Faraxhae, Anna's father," he stated flatly. Gilbert timidly shook Daddy's hand, probably afraid that his hand would catch on fire.

"And I'm Samantha, her mother," Mama added. "It really is a treat to finally meet you; we were so sorry that we missed you last time."

"Thanks," Gilbert said bashfully, glad that Mama at least wasn't scary. "I'm glad to finally meet you too."

Daddy made a pensive noise. "Over all, not a total loss, I suppose."

Not exactly a compliment, but it gave Gilbert a small measure of hope.

"So, where are the others?" I asked.

"In their rooms, mostly," Gilbert answered. "Maestro went out earlier to scout out a venure for Friday night."

"A venue?" Daddy asked.

"We're trying to get a show togeter for Friday and Saturday," Gilbert answered, a little more confident.

"We'd be pleased to help you in any way," Mama offered.

"That would be very kind of you," Gilbert agreed. "We don't come here often; I've never been here myself."

"Well," Mama said with a sigh, "I've got to get Tellah home, but perhaps Anna could show you around?"

"I'd love to," I agreed.

"That's totally ridiculous," Daddy protested. "One of us should go with them."

"They'll be fine," Mama insisted. "You need to get home and rest, and I need to start dinner. They'll be fine on their own."

Mama finally dragged Daddy away and Gilbert and I were on our own. As mad as Daddy was, it couldn't mask how nervous he was. He never like the idea of boys, even when I was small. If he didn't calm down soon, his health might hang in the balance. But I chose not to think about that; Mama would take care of him.

"So, where would you like to go first?" I asked Gilbert.

"Where do you think we should go?" he asked. "I don't know whats here."

I had some good ideas of where to take him first, but I didn't know where to go first. I got the general feeling that he wouldn't mind seeing the local bazzare, which carried a few exotic instruments that he'd probably enjoy.

We spent the rest of the day wandering around in the bazzares and markets, and a good deal of the next day as well. The things the traders brought in from around the world were all so fascinating, and Gilbert semeed to know something interesting about everything we saw, because he had been so many places. His surplus of foreign knowledge would have otherwise made me feel painfully inferior, but instead it held me captive for hours and hours.

On the third day we were still wandering around in the bazzares. Maestro had gotten permission to set up a small stage in the town square and the whole troupe and a few small children they had paid were advertsing all over the place. We were feeling incredibly good that morning. But as we wandered deeper into the markets the stands grew thinner and thinner, and the two of us realized that we had actually wandered out of the bazzare.

"I can't believe that we've finished the whole thing," he said, slightly dissapointed. "What else is there?"

I had been toying with an idea to take him to a very special place; a place that I didn't normally go anyway. But Gilbert was special.

"I've got something to show you," I informed, hauling him away toward—of all places—the cemetery. He seemed a little surprised at my decision, but he didn't argue, only let me lead him deeper and deeper into the sea of headstones. At last we came to a stop, close to the back, before my brother's grave.

"Why here?" Gilbert asked.

"You know why everyone is so freaked out that you came from the north?" I asked. "Why we're all so afraid of the waterway and the virus?"

"I've noticed, but no one wants to talk about it," he answered.

"A bunch of traders came here through the waterway and they were all sick with this virus. It infected and destroyed half the town," I explained sombelry. "This is my twin brother," I concluded, pointing down at the ground.

"Your twin?"

"He was a white mage; he died saving my life."

Gilbert looked shocked and sadened. "It's all beginning to make sense now. Everyone's been avoiding us since they found out that we came from the north. So… What was your brother's name?"

"Edward," I answered.

Gilbert gasped suddenly and gave me a quizzical look. "Are you serious?"

"Of course. Why? What's the matter?"

He hesitated, his mouth open to speak but no sound coming out. "I… I'll tell you later, when we aren't here."

"When?" I asked, a little conerned.

"Just later," he insisted.

I was still a little worried, but I didn't press him. Something had shaken him; perhaps he too had a family member—a brother of his own, even—who had died named Edward? It would be a coincidence for the ages, and it would have made me feel a little uncomfortable too. Talking about it here, in the cemetery, at my brother's own grave, would have been awkward and disrespectful anyway.

We spent a little more time in the cemetery before walking back to the world of the living. Somehow, Gilbert walked out seeming a little stronger.

"Will you tell me what's wrong now?" I asked, once we were in the square again.

"No; wait until the conert tomorrow night, okay?" he requested. "I'll have it all figured out by then."

Now he had something planned.

"You're not going to kill yourself, are you?" I asked tentitively.

"Of course not!"

"Then I'll wait," I agreed.

That night I fell alseep wondering what Gilbert had to tell me and why he was being so secretive about it. I prayed that he was okay and that he wouldn't do anything stupid and then slipped off to sleep, wishing sorely that Edward were alive to meet Gilbert too. Perhaps now, that I wasn't qute so lonesome and friendless, my brother's soul would rest a little easier in the netherworld.

We didn't meet again until the next evening, when the concert finally began. One of the troupe's two wagons served as a stage: one side of it was built on hinges and easy to unfold and lean on a set of wooden supports. After that, it was a matter of décor which the women delved into with enthusiasm. The whole place was lit brightly with paper lanterns and candles, covered in bright silk and paper flowers and draped with richly colored exotic cloths. It was a surprise for the whole town; I was glad that I hadn't come around earlier, though I would have loved to.

Gilbert, however, wasn't around. Maestro Roland laughed merrily when I asked after him.

"He's busy working on a new song, I believe," he explained. "He came up with a tune and some lyrics today, and he's been working on them all day. Actually, he said that it was for you."

"Me?"

"That's what he said. You're sure to be surprised tonight."

"Only if Daddy doesn't 'surprise' Gilbert all over the square first," I retorted. "As it is, I'm surprised enough. The stage looks great!"

"So glad you approve."

I had never actually been to a concert like this before; certainly there were people in town, who played instruments for fun, but never like this. The music was lively enough to make one dance in strange almost unnatural steps that one didn't even know. There was a song from every land in the world, and seemingly a dance to accompany them all. One or two people in the crowd knew these steps well enough, but the rest of us were lost. I wanted to join in, but I was antsy and nervous: Gilbert hadn't shown up yet, and his surprise hovering over my head was almost painful.

While I stood near the stage, waiting patiently and dancing to myself, Daddy found me.

"It's music, Anna; you're supposed to dance to it, not sit around like a fool," he teased. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

Daddy was actually dancing, and enjoying himself. He wasn't normally in a good mood like this, and it made me feel really happy to see him so.

"Just waiting," I answered, glancing impatiently at the stage. "Gilbert has a surprise for me, but he hasn't come out yet."

"Standing there waiting like a statue will only make the time go slower," Daddy pointed out. "Come dance with us."

"Nah; I don't know how," I protested.

"One dance with your poor old father," he insisted.

For my father and his unusual and wonderfully good mood, anything. I had seen my parents dance with each other before on other occasions, but had never bothered to learn myself; let alone had I ever actually danced with him or anyone else for that matter. At that point, the best I could do was ring-around-the-rosie, and now that Daddy was making me dance with him, it made me feel childish and silly. But as he talked me through the steps—which weren't quite so complex as I had anticipated—I found that I rather enjoyed it.

"You learn quickly, Anna; that's a good sign," Daddy praised once I was moving fluently. "You know, your mother and I danced this one at our wedding?"

"Really?" I asked, fascinated.

"Really. It's always been a sort of dream of hers—ours—that you would dance it too, on your wedding day," he mentioned, and I laughed.

"You hardly want me walking past boys on the sidewalk!"

"I keep telling you, Anna: no dating until after you're married."

"Daddy…"

The music winded down, and the steps stopped with it. Everyone in the square applauded for our friends on the stage, and a few of the "cool" boys hollered after Shika and her dancing. One icy stare from her dark Eblanian eyes stopped them in an instant; she wasn't a dancer to fool around with, for she was traveled and wise.

Maestro Roland came forward for a brief speech.

"Thank you all for coming tonight," he began. "You've been a great audience and gracious hosts to us thus far; we can't have had a finer audience before."

I think we all knew that this wasn't totally true, but it sure sounded great, so we gave him another round of applause.

"Obviously, it's still pretty early in the evening, so we're only just getting started," he continued. "But our next performance is of particular importance to me. The next piece is actually being performed by my own apprentice, Gilbert, on the harp. It's a new song that he wrote just today for a very dear friend of his. It's his first solo performance, and we're all very proud of him. I should tell you all: coming out and standing up in front of people—be it one person or a crown of millions—can be gut-wrenching at times. It takes a lot of courage to do such a thing, especially when you're a young man or woman who is still so unsure of him or herself. And perhaps, even after years of experience, it's a thing that some may never get totally used to.

"So then, for his courage and his excellent music, please give a warm welcome to my protégé, Gilbert Christian!"

Amid the applause, Daddy leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Ever the ham, certainly, but very true. Suppose this is the surprise the boy had for you?"

"Must be," I agreed. "I can't wait."

Finally Gilbert stepped out of the wings with his harp in hand. He looked slightly embarrassed from the attention his master had drawn to him, but glad to be there and excited for the opportunity. Once again, he was dressed in bright colors like the others, but he wasn't wearing his lipstick this time; for his first solo performance, he wasn't going to look anymore foolish than he absolutely had to. He took a seat next to the other and cleared his throat to speak.

"Thanks everyone," he said sheepishly to the audience. "I only wrote this song today, so if I mess up don't come after me, alright?"

Everyone laughed softly, amused. For his first solo, Gilbert seemed confident enough; he must have been really excited.

"This song's for my friend Anna; most of you probably know her," he added, checking the strings one last time.

The song was vaguely familiar—underneath the lilting melody were the same meter and a few traces of the calling-song we loved so much. And, even though I was only a few yards away, the song still called out my name, begging me to come closer. Anyone with a lesser understanding would have been pulled involuntarily to the stage in a sort of trance. My mind and senses were too sharp from all my years of magical training to let the song's charm overtake me to such an extent; and Daddy's presence, still overbearing in spite of his mood, also kept me in place.

But that didn't mean that my mind didn't wander for the duration of the song. In my mind, I was dancing in a field of green grass and wildflowers, a soft wind caught in my brown hair and yellow dress. It was warm and pleasant, wherever it was. I had no idea where I had placed myself, but I liked it; I had never seen such a place but in books.

To my astonishment, Edward was there with me, not the child I had last seen him as but a young man, my own age, as if he had never died. In my mind, it was as if we had grown up together the way it was supposed to be. As before, the combination of his bright red hair and violet eyes was comical, and yet refined in his age.

I must have started crying, because when I came out of my daydream a few minutes later when the song ended, my whole face was wet and a painful lump was stuck in my throat.

The first thing that Gilbert did when his act was over was to run into the crowd and find me.

"How did you like the song?" he asked.

"It was amazing! You did that in one afternoon?"

"I had to get it done by tonight. You were crying though; are you okay?"

"I'm fine; the music was just so beautiful. I wish I could get surprises like this all the time."

Gilbert hesitated. "…I'm glad you think that, but that wasn't really the surprise I had in mind."

Now I was puzzled. "Really?"

"Come with me; I have to tell you something," he said, taking me by the hand and pulling me away from the crowd. We had gone a little way, still in sight of everyone but far away so that they wouldn't hear, when we stopped.

"You know how some great artists—for whatever reason—take pennames to hide their true identity?" he asked.

"I've heard of it," I agreed. "When Edward and I were small, we tried to make up pennames ourselves; he thought it sounded fun, but I didn't understand it at the time."

"Exactly," he answered, "about your brother—Edward… Gilbert's not my real name. It's the pseudonym I chose when I started traveling with Maestro Roland."

I was a little surprised, though I wasn't really. It made a lot of sense.

"…I understand," I said slowly, "but what does this have to do with my brother?"

"Yesterday when we were in the cemetery and you told me that your twin's name was Edward, I could barely believe it… My real name is Edward."

Far from what I had guessed the day before, this was an even greater coincidence than I had though possible. Such a turn of fate was a sign; surely it was. But what could it mean?

Edward and I would have plenty of time to find out in the years to come: the next few of them would change everything.

Author's Notes…

A slight glitch. I've accidentally updated with the wrong chapter (my computer's being stupid again) and I think I've finally got the right one this time. If you've got me on story alert and have gotten a half-finished chapter or this chapter with the beginning of the next one tacked on the end, I'm sorry.