Folly of Wise Men

Chapter - 4 An offer you cannot refuse

Samira took out a small, glowing marble from the desk and brought it close to the machine called the fan. The pale blue light contained within the glass sphere ebbed out, animating the fan, which churned the wind to remove any dampness from our skins.

As the cool air stole the sweat from my skin, I glanced around, taking in my surroundings. The room was cozy and spacious enough for two people to practice.

In the middle of the room there was a beautiful maroon carpet adorned with motifs and geometric patterns, stitched with golden thread. In one corner sat musical instruments such as bansuri, sarod, and veena, carefully arranged in their respective areas. At the opposite corner, there was a shelf to neatly organize musical compositions and texts related to music theory.

The glass spheres that held the mana gave off a warm luminescence, providing the perfect amount of light to set the mood for artistic endeavors. Fixed to the ceilings and mounted on the walls' torch holders, these spheres were carefully positioned to illuminate the room.

Some rakshakas carried these spheres using rectangular wooden bars with a glass frame and a hole underneath to hold the spheres. These tools were instrumental in finding nightcrawlers in dark corners—thieving wretches who desired to put their sticky fingers where they did not belong.

There are fortunate few who has spheres filled with colorful mana taken from magical beasts. But one rarely see such opulence, for it is only reserved for the richest of merchants, kshatriyas, and royalty.

"Let us begin," she said, her voice becoming stern, devoid of the previous sweetness, as if my willingness had licked the honey from her voice. Her once kind gaze regarded me as the worst possible creature in the world, and the only way to bring back her kindness was to master what she taught.

At first, she wasn't too strict. Our initial vocal and instrument sessions were simple. However, as time went by, my progress exceeded her expectations, prompting her to intensify the pace.

During this intense training, I found job opportunities for my sisters to work as servants in the house of a retired merchant who was in need of household help.

Each day, I faced a demanding schedule. I worked hard to acquire proficiency in vocals while also mastering the sarod and esrag, with the former becoming my favorite instrument. Though it may appear unbelievable, my learning journey was not solely driven by talent but also aided by vials of amrutham that revitalized my body. She explained to me that it is used by crows, the monster hunters.

To ensure that this isn't misused by others, every varna from birth is injected with a poison that counteracts the effects of amrutham, as well as other mutagens used by the crows. Ironically, they never considered doing it with untouchables. We were never seen as a threat. That was a mistake on their part. They made it easy for the asuras.

"I know you are gloating inside," she began.

She was right; I was gloating inside. In fact, I still gloat about it, as music was the only thing that I learned with little difficulty. Don't get me wrong, it was not an easy endeavour, but to be so good at something that you are passionate about is a feeling unmatched.

"Don't let it get to your head," she warned, and followed it with a surprise. "Today, I am going to take you somewhere to see something."

"Show me what?"

"To a luxurious inn owned by a wealthy merchant with a great love for music," I instinctively looked at my hand and spoke, without looking at her.

"I won't be there with you, I can't be there with you."

"We'll assume the roles of two strangers meeting for the first time," she said. "You will join me, taking on the persona of a skilled musician from a distant land. Tell them you learned from this unknown master, a drunken leech named Shankara, who met an early grave."