Shownotes
The Summer Festival is the year’s greatest holiday, but this year Brolio the traveling musician uncovers foul deeds about to mar it.
Today’s story is the first of two parts of “Songs in the Garden” by Matt Trepal, one of thirteen stories featured in SPECIES: Foxes, published by Thurston Howl Publications, but which is now unfortunately out of print.
Read for you by Rob MacWolf — werewolf hitchhiker.
thevoice.dog | Apple podcasts | Spotify | Google Podcasts
If you have a story you think would be a good fit, you can check out the requirements, fill out the submission template and get in touch with us.
https://thevoice.dog/episode/songs-in-the-garden-by-matt-trepal-part-1-of-2
Transcripts
You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.
Speaker:This is Rob MacWolf, your fellow traveler,
Speaker:and Today’s story is the first of two parts of
Speaker:“Songs in the Garden”
Speaker:by Matt Trepal, one of thirteen stories featured in SPECIES: Foxes,
Speaker:published by Thurston Howl Publications,
Speaker:but which is now unfortunately
Speaker:out of print. Please enjoy
Speaker:“Songs in the Garden”
Speaker:by Matt Trepal, Part 1
Speaker:of 2 Brolio stepped down from the steam tram and into the holiday crowd.
Speaker:Far better than walking all the way from the Sailors Quarter,
Speaker:he thought as the tram chugged away along its track,
Speaker:bell clanging to clear a path.
Speaker:He shielded his eyes
Speaker:against the brilliant sunshine
Speaker:and looked back down-slope,
Speaker:at the city of Casolina
Speaker:spread out below,
Speaker:toward the wharves he'd haunted the last few nights.
Speaker:Whitewashed, tile-roofed buildings of three and four storeys climbed the hill from the harbor.
Speaker:The streets were hung with red, orange, and yellow bunting and pennants,
Speaker:and were filled with feasting
Speaker:and singing Midsummer’s Day revelers,
Speaker:celebrating the climax of the Summer Festival.
Speaker:A tiger and his two cubs passed by,
Speaker:each of the youngsters bearing a full boove-leg over their shoulder,
Speaker:ready for the kitchen grill,
Speaker:and the father carrying an ale-cask in his burly striped arms.
Speaker:A young skunk woman crossed his path going the other way,
Speaker:her long black-and-white tail garlanded with rosettes
Speaker:in the Summer Festival colors and
Speaker:the basket on her arm
Speaker:filled to overflowing with fresh vegetables.
Speaker:Brolio sniffed the air,
Speaker:and the aromas of meats, and breads, and ripe fruits and vegetables filled his nose.
Speaker:He grinned. Casolina and her citizens were eagerly preparing for tonight’s feasting.
Speaker:He shook out his russet-colored tail
Speaker:and turned his fox’s face up-slope,
Speaker:into Vetzindario,
Speaker:the High Quarter around the Ducal Palace.
Speaker:At the top of the hill waited Brolio’s destination,
Speaker:the Ducal Palace Payadsul,
Speaker:named for the soft blue tinge of its stone,
Speaker:in contrast to the white stucco city surrounding it.
Speaker:From its high central tower flew the white-over-blue flag of the Duchy
Speaker:of Uzbarco, large enough to fully rig the sails of any of the pearling ships bobbing in the harbor.
Speaker:He hitched his biwehla
Speaker:higher on his shoulder
Speaker:and the stringed instrument bonged softly as its
Speaker:hollow body struck his back.
Speaker:I must not be late for my appointment,
Speaker:he thought. It will not reflect well upon me.
Speaker:As a trobodon, traveling between the cities of the Ducal States to play his music,
Speaker:and as one with a favorable reputation, Brolio had often taken commissions to perform before nobles at their estates.
Speaker:But never yet before a Duke or, in this case, a Duchess.
Speaker:A grand opportunity had been offered to him,
Speaker:and he intended to make the most of it.
Speaker:He crossed the tram tracks to climb toward the palace.
Speaker:Like the streets below,
Speaker:these were hung with bright Summer Festival banners,
Speaker:but were much narrower,
Speaker:and sometimes grew so steep as to become stairs.
Speaker:The town mansions of the Vetzindario
Speaker:kept their celebrations behind their white walls,
Speaker:allowing only brief splashes of color
Speaker:or dashes of song
Speaker:to escape from open gates and windows.
Speaker:He passed fewer revelers on these streets,
Speaker:a stoat couple arm in arm,
Speaker:a groundhog hurrying up-slope, a bottle of wine in each hand.
Speaker:By the time he reached the Payadsul
Speaker:Brolio was panting from the climb and the heat,
Speaker:and the bright sunlight reflecting from the town’s white walls had thoroughly dazzled him.
Speaker:He squinted at the four soldiers guarding the open gate.
Speaker:Two were pikemen,
Speaker:clad in traditional cuirass
Speaker:and conical steel helmet,
Speaker:but the other two were musketmen, with tall, feathered blue caps and white jackets over blue trousers.
Speaker:All the soldiers wore a sunflower on their breast,
Speaker:the symbol of the Summer Festival all across
Speaker:the Ducal States.
Speaker:Brolio brushed some long strands of hair out of his eyes,
Speaker:shook his tail, and approached the gate.
Speaker:One of the musketmen, a fox, stepped forward.
Speaker:"What business have you at the Payadsul?"
Speaker:he asked. "I am Master Brolio Pilegro,
Speaker:trobodon," Brolio answered,
Speaker:"come on invitation of the Steward, Sir Larno
Speaker:Resicasta, to play the Duchess's feast tonight.
Speaker:I have a letter of introduction.
Speaker:introduction." He dug into a pocket of his traveling bag and offered the letter he'd received the previous evening to the soldier.
Speaker:The other fox glanced at the letter,
Speaker:but did not read it.
Speaker:Brolio wondered if he could read at all. The Steward's sigil was prominent at the bottom, though, and he was sure the soldier recognized that.
Speaker:"Wait here." The guard withdrew beyond the gate and disappeared from Brolio's view.
Speaker:The other guards ignored Brolio.
Speaker:He sniffed the air, casually as he could, for telltale signs of fear or distrust,
Speaker:but detected none.
Speaker:If anything, the guards were bored.
Speaker:In a few minutes the guard returned with a lynx
Speaker:who wore a cutlass on his left hip,
Speaker:two pistols in a broad bandolier,
Speaker:and sergeant’s markings on his cuffs.
Speaker:He approached Brolio as the musketman resumed his place at guard.
Speaker:"You claim invitation?"
Speaker:the sergeant asked.
Speaker:Brolio proffered the letter.
Speaker:"I do." The lynx took the letter and read it,
Speaker:then read it again.
Speaker:Brolio caught the same scent of detachment,
Speaker:of routine duty, from the sergeant as he closely examined the sigil. Then he
Speaker:turned his attention to Brolio.
Speaker:"I am not at my best, presently,"
Speaker:Brolio told him.
Speaker:"While it was excellent for my constitution, the walk uphill was also in the midsummer sun. It is the Summer Festival, after all.
Speaker:If I seem to you underwhelming for a commission such as that described in the letter, be assured
Speaker:that I clean up nicely.
Speaker:nicely." One corner of the sergeant's mouth ticked up,
Speaker:almost a smile. He returned the letter to Brolio.
Speaker:"The servants' entrance is along the southern wall,"
Speaker:he said. "Knock there and present your letter, and the Steward will come eventually.
Speaker:eventually." Brolio placed the letter back in his traveling bag.
Speaker:"Eventually?" "Eventually," the
Speaker:lynx said. "Today is a busy day.
Speaker:It is the Summer Festival,
Speaker:after all." Brolio laughed. "Indeed it is,"
Speaker:he said as he passed through the palace gates.
Speaker:"Indeed it is." Through the front gates Brolio entered a wide courtyard before a broad flight of stairs up to the Payadsul’s main doors,
Speaker:hung with the Summer Festival colors.
Speaker:Two more pairs of musketmen
Speaker:flanked these doors,
Speaker:but the courtyard was otherwise clear of guards.
Speaker:Like the lightly guarded front gate,
Speaker:this was a reminder
Speaker:that Uzbarco was one of the more open
Speaker:Ducal States. Not at all like Puntorna,
Speaker:Brolio thought as he crossed the courtyard. There
Speaker:are no constant patrols here, no sumptuary laws,
Speaker:and certainly no Church Exalted.
Speaker:He did not care for Puntorna.
Speaker:At the servants’ door another soldier, then a female squirrel introduced as the Kitchen Mistress, examined his letter.
Speaker:“I’ll send a page for Sir Larno,”
Speaker:the woman said as she led Brolio to a bench set into a niche along the wall,
Speaker:her tail bouncing and jerking with each word,
Speaker:“but I don’t know when he might arrive.
Speaker:Today’s a busy day.”
Speaker:“I know,” Brolio said,
Speaker:setting his traveling pack on the floor against the bench.
Speaker:“It’s the Summer Festival, after all.”
Speaker:He unslung his biwhela, then sat down.
Speaker:He cradled the instrument in his lap and examined it for any damage. A trobodon's
Speaker:instrument had to be hardy to withstand the constant travel,
Speaker:and his certainly was,
Speaker:but it was also his duty -- and his pleasure --
Speaker:to ensure it remained whole.
Speaker:He ran his hands and his eyes carefully along it.
Speaker:The teardrop body was smooth beneath his touch,
Speaker:and the layers of varnish had aged to a beautiful amber.
Speaker:The wide neck, dark wood the length of his outstretched arm,
Speaker:was still unblemished
Speaker:and the silver frets were all solidly in place.
Speaker:He tuned the eight strings, plucking each in turn.
Speaker:When he was satisfied,
Speaker:he played a few chords.
Speaker:The kitchen bustled before him,
Speaker:cooks and servants rushing back and forth, preparing for tonight’s feast.
Speaker:Brolio caught the aroma of the citrus pastries that were a signature delicacy of the Summer Festival throughout the Ducal States.
Speaker:I wonder if I could make off with one or two before the Steward comes,
Speaker:he thought as he worked his fingers up and down
Speaker:the biwhela's neck. "Master
Speaker:Brolio," a voice said.
Speaker:"Welcome to the Payadsul.
Speaker:Payadsul." I suppose not,
Speaker:Brolio thought, and stood as the Steward approached.
Speaker:Larno Resicasta, Steward of Uzbarco,
Speaker:wore a uniform similar to those of the musketmen outside,
Speaker:but of a finer cut and
Speaker:material, and without the tall cap or ammunition box on his belt.
Speaker:To Brolio it looked comical
Speaker:on the Steward's long otter body,
Speaker:with his short legs and arms and long, thick tail.
Speaker:The fox bowed. "I thank you, Sir Larno," he said.
Speaker:"I am grateful for the opportunity to perform for the Duchess and her guests.
Speaker:guests." The Steward returned a brief dip of his head.
Speaker:"After hearing you at the Wide Wide Sea last evening," he said,
Speaker:"I knew you would be an excellent addition to tonight's feast.
Speaker:feast." He gestured to Brolio's pack.
Speaker:"Has your performing suit been
Speaker:cleaned recently?
Speaker:The Payadsul is at your service, today."
Speaker:"I would truly appreciate such assistance, my lord.
Speaker:I fear it has been too many nights since my suit has been appropriately tended.
Speaker:tended." The Steward snapped his fingers
Speaker:and a page stepped from behind the otter and picked up the bundle on the floor.
Speaker:Without a word, the colt dashed off through the kitchen.
Speaker:"It will be ready well before the feast begins," Sir
Speaker:Larno said as Brolio stared off after the youngster.
Speaker:The fox turned back toward his patron.
Speaker:"Of that I have no doubt,"
Speaker:he said. "The Payadsul seems a very efficient house."
Speaker:Sir Larno smiled, and his whiskers twitched in a way Brolio found disarming.
Speaker:He did not appear to take his high station within the Duchy and the palace too seriously.
Speaker:"I do my best to ensure it is so," the
Speaker:Steward said. "I will show you to the Garden, where you will perform. I expect you desire
Speaker:to gain the measure of the place."
Speaker:"Indeed so, sir," Brolio replied.
Speaker:"Knowledge of the stage
Speaker:is as important to the trobodon as knowledge of the battlefield to the Marshal.
Speaker:Marshal." The Steward led him through the Payadsul.
Speaker:"How did you come to be at the Wide Wide Sea?"
Speaker:Brolio asked as they walked.
Speaker:"The Sailors Quarter seems a world away from the Vetzindario."
Speaker:"My family is an old one in Casolina,”
Speaker:Sir Larno said. “It is nearly as old as that of the Duchess,
Speaker:and for all that time we have been associated with the sea.
Speaker:sea." He turned a corner and led Brolio up a flight of stairs. "While
Speaker:my great-grandfather entered the service of the Dukes,
Speaker:and his descendants followed,
Speaker:other branches have kept closer to the shore.
Speaker:The Wide Wide Sea is
Speaker:owned by one of those branches.
Speaker:It was no flop-house, was it?"
Speaker:"Not hardly," Brolio said. "I beg that you
Speaker:give my compliments to your cousins
Speaker:on the esteem I hold for that inn.
Speaker:inn." The Steward chuckled.
Speaker:"I shall," he said. “After tonight’s performance, they may seek to brag that you have stayed there.”
Speaker:They reached the top of the stairs
Speaker:and turned down another corridor,
Speaker:and if Sir Larno said anything more Brolio did not hear it,
Speaker:for he was before the most beautiful woman
Speaker:in the world. # The vixen in the corridor stood straight,
Speaker:tall and slender,
Speaker:her sleek fur the color of burnished copper,
Speaker:the brilliant white of mid-winter snows, and the glossy black of finest velvet.
Speaker:Her muzzle drew to a delicate point, her ears were pricked forward in attention,
Speaker:and her tail casually swayed behind her.
Speaker:Her green dress was traditionally styled, with a short cape,
Speaker:a bodice beaded in elaborate abstract patterns,
Speaker:and a heavily brocaded train,
Speaker:but included touches of
Speaker:modern fashion, with shorter sleeves,
Speaker:a wide neck that exposed her décolletage,
Speaker:and slits in the skirt rising above her knees.
Speaker:Pearl-drop earrings dangled from the lower corners of her ears with
Speaker:a small gold hoop
Speaker:through the tip of the right,
Speaker:and she wore a large sapphire-and-pearl ring
Speaker:on her right index finger.
Speaker:She turned from the cloud of attendants about her with sublime grace,
Speaker:and honeyed waves of hair
Speaker:bounced across her shoulders and back.
Speaker:Her ice-blue eyes, shining with laughter and wit, pierced Brolio to his heart
Speaker:as she offered a welcoming smile. She was
Speaker:far closer to his own thirty-five years than to the eighteen of majority,
Speaker:but she showed little
Speaker:of the burden of rule
Speaker:or age. He was smitten.
Speaker:Sir Larno was speaking. "...
Speaker:"...Master Brolio Pilegro, lately of Forvema.
Speaker:Master Brolio, I present you to Trella,
Speaker:by Grace of the Divine,
Speaker:Duchess of Uzbarco, Dame of Casolina,
Speaker:and First Lord of the National Convention.
Speaker:Convention." Brolio bowed deeply, sweeping one hand to his forehead and then away,
Speaker:as if doffing a hat.
Speaker:"It is my greatest pleasure, Your Grace,"
Speaker:he said. "I am Master Brolio Andro Capampa,
Speaker:Pilegro, da Maletescela,
Speaker:and I am at your service.
Speaker:service." The Duchess's attendants giggled at him from behind their hands,
Speaker:but a trobodon quickly learned to gauge his audiences,
Speaker:and he knew these tittering biddies could mostly be ignored.
Speaker:"Master Brolio," the Duchess said in a clear, strong contralto
Speaker:that settled sweetly into his bones.
Speaker:"I am pleased to know you will be performing at tonight's feast.
Speaker:Sir Larno was effusive after hearing you last evening.
Speaker:evening." As the Duchess Trella delivered such words in her delicious voice,
Speaker:Brolio’s tail quivered against his control.
Speaker:The ladies giggled more.
Speaker:He straightened, and found himself eye to eye with the Duchess. The scent of citrus water drifted from her.
Speaker:"I am pleased beyond measure to hear that the Steward has spoken of me so,"
Speaker:he said. "But not nearly as pleased as I am to find that
Speaker:the Midsummer feast,
Speaker:celebration of the Sun and all her virtues,
Speaker:will be attended by an avatar of the Sun herself.
Speaker:herself." Now the attendants were silent,
Speaker:hands raised not to stifle laughter,
Speaker:but to cover their shocked expressions.
Speaker:Out of the corner of his eye, Brolio saw Sir Larno stiffen.
Speaker:But the Duchess laughed,
Speaker:full and hearty, and clapped her hands. "Oh,
Speaker:the sugared tongue of a master trobodon!"
Speaker:she said. "Such audacious flattery I have not heard in many a year.
Speaker:year." Flattery it was, to be sure, and surely audacious, but not idle
Speaker:flummery; Brolio had rarely been more serious. She was the Sun to him,
Speaker:and all else was draped in shadow,
Speaker:but the difference in their stations made it nearly impossible for him to say such.
Speaker:"Your surname, 'da Maletescela',"
Speaker:the Duchess said,
Speaker:saving him from committing offense.
Speaker:"Am I correct in interpreting that to mean you are a member of the Maletsa School?
Speaker:Did you ever meet
Speaker:Master Guero Maletsa himself?"
Speaker:Brolio’s grin split his muzzle.
Speaker:"Know him? Your Grace,
Speaker:Master Guero and I
Speaker:spent half a year traveling the Pearl Coast together,
Speaker:performing in two score towns over that time.
Speaker:He taught me his unique biwhela techniques,
Speaker:and no more than ten of us ever fully mastered them before he passed on to the Divine.
Speaker:Divine." He unslung his biwhela and struck a chord,
Speaker:then rapidly plucked at the strings so that they chimed,
Speaker:notes falling in a cascade as Brolio's fingers raced up and down the biwhela’s neck.
Speaker:After playing a short tune
Speaker:he struck one last chord,
Speaker:then stilled the strings.
Speaker:The Duchess and her attendants were all laughing and clapping as he finished.
Speaker:"That was extraordinary,"
Speaker:the Duchess said.
Speaker:"What is that song?"
Speaker:The trobodon grinned.
Speaker:"An improvisation, Your Grace,
Speaker:born of the moment.
Speaker:If I may, I should entitle it
Speaker:'Hill House Chimes'." "I implore
Speaker:you to do so,"
Speaker:Duchess Trella replied, smiling.
Speaker:"An improvisation?
Speaker:I judge that you are far more skilled than Sir Larno initially reported." Brolio bowed again. "You humble me, Your Grace. Any trobodon worth his instrument should
Speaker:be able to do the same, but my work was truly inspired." The tittering recommenced. The Duchess cocked her head, her smile widening. "I anticipate one of the finest Midsummer feasts in many years," she said.
Speaker:"Do you play anything
Speaker:besides the biwhela?
Speaker:Will you do so tonight?"
Speaker:"Several others, Your Grace, as a good trobodon should.” Brolio’s tail swept back and forth behind him, increasing in speed the more he spoke,
Speaker:reflecting his excitement.
Speaker:“I know the tambor drum, the flared horn,
Speaker:and the greater and lesser shitarres,
Speaker:but travel only with my biwhela and my
Speaker:Caitavere flute.
Speaker:flute." He patted a bag about the length of his forearm that hung from his belt. The Duchess's
Speaker:eyes widened.
Speaker:"I played the Caitavere flute
Speaker:as a girl, though never very well,
Speaker:and I have not taken one up in many years.
Speaker:Do you know 'The Lovers of Campotrile'?" Brolio chuckled. "I know seven versions of it," he said, "and two more that use the melody for different lyrics. And an additional two unfit for performance in a house such as this.
Speaker:this."
Speaker:The Duchess's eyes glittered.
Speaker:"Indeed?” she asked with a sly grin.
Speaker:“Would one of those two be 'Seven Maids at Play'?
Speaker:What, Master Brolio? Has your tongue lost its sugar
Speaker:already?" For a moment, Brolio blinked stupidly, his ears flat and muzzle hanging wide
Speaker:at her mention of one of the most ribald songs he knew, or indeed
Speaker:had ever heard. But a trobodon learned also to think quickly
Speaker:in challenging situations. "Your Grace is
Speaker:obviously a scholar of the songs of the Ducal States," he said.
Speaker:"Your knowledge is deep and impressive.
Speaker:impressive." The Duchess flicked her tail, obviously amused at his discomfiture.
Speaker:"Life in the Payadsul is not all diplomacy and petitions," she said.
Speaker:"One learns what one can, as one can.
Speaker:can." "But if I recall, Your Grace does have petitions to address before the feast this evening," Sir
Speaker:Larno interjected before Brolio could speak.
Speaker:"We should not cause any more delay, should we?"
Speaker:The otter was frowning, though whether it was at him or at the Duchess, Brolio could not determine.
Speaker:Perhaps it was at the situation in general.
Speaker:Duchess Trella sighed theatrically.
Speaker:"Such unfortunate words you speak, Sir Larno,
Speaker:no matter how true they may be.
Speaker:You are the conscience
Speaker:of Uzbarco, and we are all better for it.
Speaker:it." She smiled at Brolio, her eyes gleaming,
Speaker:and his breath caught in his throat.
Speaker:"I look forward with pleasure to your performance this evening, Master Brolio,"
Speaker:she said, and he felt as though his heart might stop.
Speaker:"I have no doubts
Speaker:it will be a highlight of the feast.
Speaker:feast." She inclined her head first to Brolio, then to Sir Larno.
Speaker:"Until tonight, gentlemen,"
Speaker:she said. Brolio bowed deeply once again,
Speaker:then watched her and her retinue disappear down the corridor. #
Speaker:After another moment staring after the Duchess, Brolio hurried to catch up to the Steward,
Speaker:already some way down the corridor.
Speaker:The otter had closed in on himself, like one of the oysters the Uzbarcans pried open for pearls.
Speaker:He walked hunched over, staring at the floor,
Speaker:with his hands clasped tightly behind his back and his little ears
Speaker:turned downward and back.
Speaker:Brolio could smell the agitation rising from him,
Speaker:muddy and dark compared to the otter’s usual briny aroma.
Speaker:"The Duchess is a willful woman,"
Speaker:he said, to no one in particular.
Speaker:Unsure about how to respond,
Speaker:Brolio hesitated before replying.
Speaker:"I would have to agree,"
Speaker:he said, glancing at the Steward.
Speaker:The other man still stared downwards,
Speaker:his whiskers drooped in a severe frown.
Speaker:"It has ever been so since her majority," Sir
Speaker:Larno said as they walked.
Speaker:"After the fever struck Uzbarco,
Speaker:she and her uncle were the only remaining royalty.
Speaker:She was crowned Duchess at sixteen, with Lord Brescin as Regent,
Speaker:before ascending to the throne two years later.
Speaker:later." The Steward shrugged.
Speaker:"Without other examples at court, she has
Speaker:grown headstrong." There is nothing wrong with a willful woman,
Speaker:Brolio thought. A woman who knows what she wants, and works to get it,
Speaker:winds up happier more often than not.
Speaker:"Uzbarco is prosperous under her rule," he said.
Speaker:"And far friendlier than some countries I have visited.
Speaker:visited." The Steward did not look up,
Speaker:but his frown deepened
Speaker:and his agitated scent grew thicker.
Speaker:"But she is the last.
Speaker:What will happen when she dies?"
Speaker:he asked. "The line ends.
Speaker:What then?" To this Brolio had no response,
Speaker:and he left the Steward to his silence.
Speaker:Sir Larno led Brolio into a broad, vaulted chamber.
Speaker:Columns lined the center of the room,
Speaker:with matching pilasters on both the near and far walls,
Speaker:ornamented and painted to appear as trees
Speaker:with the vault ribs their branches,
Speaker:and the ceiling painted as leaves with blue sky peeking through.
Speaker:On three walls forest scenes decorated the spaces
Speaker:between the pilasters,
Speaker:receding into the distance,
Speaker:while the other showed the forest thinning to meadows and a distant village on a hill.
Speaker:A hunting party was riding out, towards the forest.
Speaker:A pair of large doors dominated the far wall.
Speaker:Brolio looked around, wide-eyed.
Speaker:"I am speechless, Sir Larno,"
Speaker:he said. "This room is unlike any I have seen.
Speaker:Will the feast will be held here tonight?"
Speaker:The Steward chuckled, his dark mood seemingly lifted.
Speaker:"Indeed it is a great work,"
Speaker:he said. "This is but
Speaker:the antechamber, however.
Speaker:The feast will be held in the Garden,
Speaker:beyond." Sir Larno crossed to the doors, Brolio in his wake still craning his neck to take in the room.
Speaker:"If this is only the
Speaker:entryway," Brolio said,
Speaker:"what wonder does it open upon?"
Speaker:The otter produced a finely-wrought key and unlocked the doors,
Speaker:then pushed on the right-hand one.
Speaker:"Welcome to the Shardonbiet,
Speaker:Master Brolio," he said.
Speaker:"The Garden in the Stone.
Speaker:Stone." Brolio stepped forward and for the second time in an hour, his breath was stolen away.
Speaker:Beyond the doors and down a set of flagstone steps lay
Speaker:a wonderland,
Speaker:a green space in the middle of this blue stone.
Speaker:Brolio stepped haltingly out onto the steps and gazed around. At the foot of the steps a manicured green led to a grove of mature broad-leafed trees.
Speaker:The tops of the tallest stood two rods or more above his head,
Speaker:and he could not see the grove’s far edge from where he stood.
Speaker:In the distance, a stand of conifers rose.
Speaker:He could smell wildflowers,
Speaker:and a bee wound its way around him, hovered for a moment, and then flew away.
Speaker:The chatter of flowing water came from deep within the grove.
Speaker:Above him was the clear midsummer sky. "This
Speaker:is a marvel!" he exclaimed.
Speaker:"Surely there is nothing like this elsewhere in the world!"
Speaker:He turned to Sir Larno, who watched him with amusement.
Speaker:"How is this possible?"
Speaker:The Steward looked out over the Garden.
Speaker:"It was made possible through a great deal of hard work,"
Speaker:he said, "and the vision
Speaker:of the palace builders. I am told the King of Tishamla
Speaker:has a lotus and orchid garden beneath a marble dome
Speaker:three hundred paces across,
Speaker:within which it may rain,
Speaker:but I have not seen it for myself,
Speaker:nor spoken with anyone who has,
Speaker:so I have my doubts.
Speaker:doubts." "How big is this?" the fox asked. "I cannot see the far edge."
Speaker:"One hundred paces on a side," the
Speaker:Steward said. He descended the steps.
Speaker:"Come, I will show it to you.
Speaker:you." Dumbstruck at its majesty,
Speaker:Brolio stumbled down into the Garden.
Speaker:As Sir Larno led him through he recognized the true skill and craftsmanship that built the place.
Speaker:The trees, appearing at first ancient and primeval, were actually
Speaker:carefully trained and directed
Speaker:to create the illusion of natural forest growth, often with several trunks intertwined
Speaker:to give the impression of a larger and more wizened bole.
Speaker:The thickets were revealed to contain cubbies beneath their thick foliage,
Speaker:each with a divan or bench nestled within.
Speaker:This artifice passing as nature only increased his wonder of the work.
Speaker:Lanterns were strung between many of the trees,
Speaker:awaiting their sunset lighting,
Speaker:and tables were placed within the groves.
Speaker:"Food and drink will be spread throughout," Sir Larno
Speaker:explained.
Speaker:"The Midsummer feast is an informal affair in Casolina,
Speaker:and the guests are encouraged
Speaker:to mix freely until the final toast at midnight.
Speaker:midnight." Brolio followed the Steward grinning widely
Speaker:and drinking in the Shardonbiet.
Speaker:"Never have I had such a stage,"
Speaker:he said. "Sir Larno, you have presented me with the opportunity of a lifetime.
Speaker:Already, I am devising my performance."
Speaker:"I am pleased to hear you say so, Master Brolio.
Speaker:I am sure your performance will be unforgettable.
Speaker:unforgettable." The pair passed through a final stand of trees to
Speaker:emerge before a dais of sorts
Speaker:along the far wall of the Garden,
Speaker:built of the same flagstone as the front steps and arranged with divans, and tables, and free-standing lanterns.
Speaker:"The Audience Stone,"
Speaker:Sir Larno said. "The Duchess will spend most of the feast here,
Speaker:entertaining the guests of
Speaker:highest status, though you may encounter her elsewhere during the evening.”
Speaker:Brolio considered the cubbies,
Speaker:and the cushioned couches within.
Speaker:I might only hope,
Speaker:he thought. "I must attend to other matters this afternoon,"
Speaker:the Steward said.
Speaker:"The feast begins at sunset, and you will be expected to serve from the beginning. Have you any questions before I go?"
Speaker:"None, my lord," Brolio said.
Speaker:"I am eager to present the Ducal Court with the performance such a venue deserves.”
Speaker:The Steward smiled. "Then
Speaker:I will leave you to it.
Speaker:it." He ducked his head.
Speaker:"Good afternoon, Master Brolio.
Speaker:Brolio." Brolio bowed in response, and when he straightened
Speaker:the otter was already trotting away on his short legs,
Speaker:and quickly disappeared among the trees. #
Speaker:Alone in the Shardonbiet,
Speaker:Brolio stared for a while into the trees.
Speaker:The place enchanted him,
Speaker:the very knowledge of its
Speaker:existence was intoxicating.
Speaker:He wanted to lose himself in the trees and live among the cubbies forever.
Speaker:She comes here, he thought.
Speaker:She will be here later.
Speaker:I will make this the performance of my life, for her.
Speaker:First, he needed to find the water.
Speaker:He could incorporate it into his playing and singing, could use it as a complement,
Speaker:but only if he knew its location and so not stumble across it while wandering, marring his performance.
Speaker:He walked into the trees, ears swiveling this way and that, tracking the sound to its source. There were no paths,
Speaker:but the grass was thick and soft underfoot,
Speaker:long enough to appear wild and unkempt
Speaker:but short enough not to impede walking.
Speaker:It was glorious. As he searched, he considered songs to play.
Speaker:"The Lifting of the Welcome-Cup" was traditional at any feast.
Speaker:The Summer Festival was a popular topic as well, songs such as "Midsummer's Wine",
Speaker:"Along the Banks of the Ambile",
Speaker:and "Further the Sun".
Speaker:Songs about lovers were a mainstay of the trobodon's trade, so he included "Fermena and Grello",
Speaker:"The Maiden Missed", and
Speaker:"One Hundred Leagues, My Love".
Speaker:Did he dare play "The Lovers of Campotrile" after his conversation with the Duchess?
Speaker:Perhaps later in the evening, he thought.
Speaker:He compiled a list of more than a dozen songs before he found the fountain in a clearing among the trees,
Speaker:water flowing from the ruins of an ancient shrine
Speaker:downhill into a shallow pool.
Speaker:It was a traditional pastoral scene, prominent in stories,
Speaker:and it reminded Brolio to include songs of the old heroes. Those were always popular,
Speaker:and his repertoire was as stuffed with those as with lovers' laments.
Speaker:He ducked into a nearby cubby to prepare,
Speaker:but before long found the fountain’s chatter too distracting.
Speaker:He relocated to another one deeper in the Garden
Speaker:and nestled into the soft pillows of the divan, his biwhela in his lap.
Speaker:His tail-tip flicked back and forth as he plucked softly at the strings,
Speaker:devising his approach for the feast.
Speaker:After a time he worked on the complicated arpeggios required by "Sir Mantell and the Thunder".
Speaker:Besides the far-off chuckle of the fountain, the only sound was the soft tap-tap-tap of his fingers on the fretboard
Speaker:as he worked them through their positions.
Speaker:Into this near silence came a rustling,
Speaker:then the indistinct murmur of low voices.
Speaker:Instinctively, Brolio turned his ears to catch the sound, and the voices resolved. "...
Speaker:"...she brought up that song about the whores.
Speaker:You know the one.
Speaker:one." It was Sir Larno's voice, but harder, angrier, than earlier.
Speaker:"I do," said another voice,
Speaker:exasperated, a voice Brolio did not recognize.
Speaker:He clutched his instrument to his chest, careful to still the strings.
Speaker:He slowed his breathing
Speaker:and did not move,
Speaker:hidden in the cubby.
Speaker:"I am glad this business is soon over, Camelo," Sir Larno
Speaker:said. "It is unpleasant,
Speaker:but necessary." "The Duchy must have an heir,"
Speaker:the other voice, Camelo, said.
Speaker:"If Trella dies without one, Uzbarco will be vulnerable to any number of assaults.
Speaker:assaults." The pair stopped,
Speaker:close enough that Brolio
Speaker:could both hear and smell them clearly. Sir Larno’s agitation was even thicker than before,
Speaker:and nearly obliterated his briny otter scent. Brolio wondered how he could hide that from the Duchess.
Speaker:The other’s scent was less agitated, with a heavy grassy aroma.
Speaker:He held his breath, listening, keeping as still as he could,
Speaker:knowing that discovery while overhearing this conversation would be disastrous. "Trella would
Speaker:tell us that the National Convention should rule, then,”
Speaker:the Steward said,
Speaker:and his voice dripped with scorn.
Speaker:“Can you imagine? Allowing
Speaker:commoners to govern?"
Speaker:"My understanding is that the King of Tsaletsnekopt has been forced to do something similar,"
Speaker:Camleo said. "There was a rebellion,
Speaker:and he is king only in name, now."
Speaker:Sir Larno made a disrespectful noise.
Speaker:"Ridiculous," he said.
Speaker:"In any event," he continued, "marriage to Duke Smolno will have many benefits, even if Trella does not
Speaker:immediately recognize them.
Speaker:An easing of the tensions with Puntorna,
Speaker:a secure source of coal, better protection for our traders.
Speaker:traders." Camelo chuckled without humor.
Speaker:"And the constraining of the Duchess's headstrong nature,"
Speaker:he said. "It is in her best interests!"
Speaker:Sir Larno said. "An heir, which Smolno will work to produce as quickly as possible,
Speaker:will give her occupations other than governing.
Speaker:It is in all of our interests for this to occur,
Speaker:whether we realize it or not.
Speaker:"Are your men ready? Is the Guard fully with us?"
Speaker:Brolio ground his teeth as he listened, fighting to keep control of his rising anger.
Speaker:His fur bristled.
Speaker:His ears lay flat against his head, and his lip curled in a silent snarl.
Speaker:The Steward and this Camelo were
Speaker:plotting to overthrow the Duchess.
Speaker:And turn her over to that repressive
Speaker:prig Smolno!
Speaker:That pompous, humorless, bullying Duke of Puntorna.
Speaker:Now Brolio had even more reason to hate that place, and he
Speaker:determined to do what he could to thwart this plot.
Speaker:"You know such a thing could not be possible and still remain secret,"
Speaker:Camelo said. "But enough are,
Speaker:and we have the Windlass Tower, at the harbor. The chain will be lowered.
Speaker:It will begin at midnight?"
Speaker:The two began to walk again,
Speaker:and Brolio strained to listen as they did.
Speaker:"With the fireworks, yes," Sir Larno said.
Speaker:"A rocket will go off from the tower here. Conspicuous, I suppose,
Speaker:with the main display rising from the barges in the harbor, but unmistakable to our
Speaker:allies. At the signal...." The
Speaker:Steward's voice faded out as they moved
Speaker:beyond Brolio's hearing.
Speaker:This was the first of two parts of “Songs in the Garden”
Speaker:by Matt Trepal, read for you by READER, with CALLSIGN.
Speaker:Tune in next time to find out how Brolio manages to thwart Sir Larno’s treason,
Speaker:if he can. As always, you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,
Speaker:or find the show wherever you get
Speaker:your podcasts. Thank you for listening
Speaker:to The Voice of Dog.