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No one compares to Sienna.
The club owners say that someone bought her contract. Some other club, or venue, or…I hope it wasn’t some guy, but how could I know? The owners claim they have no idea, and they don’t care.
A dark voice whispers that maybe she went willingly. She’d have known she could come to me, wouldn’t she? I’d have done anything to keep her safe. Keep her here. There must have been a reason she left without telling me.
I just hope she did go willingly. That’s the thing that keeps me up some nights. What if she didn’t? What if she was taken, purchased against her will… My sister assures me she left of her own accord, but how would she know for sure? The owners might have told her that just to keep me pacified.
My friends act like I’m a joke whenever I bring it up. They’ve never seen me worry about anything. Thenzi’s at least tried to find a few girls who can tune instruments well, but I haven’t been able to stomach having another human backstage with me. Sienna isn’t a thing to be replaced, as disposable as most elves find human help.
She’s not disposable to me.
I’ve tried to track her down. No club on Vhoig has heard her name. Shit, I’ve stalked the port asking about her, begging any elf on a damned boat to tell me if they’ve seen a human like her. A few times I nearly set sail. Wouldn’t my sister have a fit then, winding everyone up before showtime just to have the main event crossing the seas? I think she might actually explode.
It’s almost enough to make me hop on a boat. If I thought I could risk it, I’d go. But what if she comes back and I’m not here?
Thenzi had thought this was all some sort of joke until I very nearly punched a sailor who grinned and said she sounded like a girl he’d like to fuck. I’ve never punched anyone in my life. The things she’s doing to me, and she’s not even here to see them.
Thenzi had looked at me like he’d never seen me properly before.
“Master! We’re setting up now.”
Right. And the homre is still in my hands, poorly tuned.
I stand and walk to the stage. Honestly, who gives a fuck? I’m half-convinced these people would pay to see a taurus eat its own shit, that’s about as well as I play these days. As much as I care.
The curtain draws back and the announcer drones on. I’m still holding the homre, even though my first song is supposed to be with a jinrayaha.
“And now…” the crowd roars as the lights around me bounce and glow. No spell caster tonight, one of them almost takes out my damned eye. “Ausdrice Rusodosh!”
I always look for her. Every night, I search the wings where she used to sit, the front rows, the back. I look at every rapturous face in the crowd. There are a lot of them here tonight, packed shoulder to shoulder with standing room only towards the back.
She isn’t there.
I pretend she is.
Ignoring the jinrayaha, I play the same tune on the homre that I played with her years ago. The song I sing is one I just wrote. It’s about the blossoms on the tizret tree falling before they become sweet fruit. The wind that carries them away.
It’s about her.
It’s always about her.
Music is the only thing holding me together. I sing and I play my new set– there’s plenty of time to compose music when your nights are as empty as mine are. A glimpse of my sister’s face from the side of the stage shows that she’s bewildered – none of these songs are on the set list. None of the stage movements are prepared.
But I pretend she’s listening, that she can hear me begging her to come back. That I’m sorry for whatever it is I’ve done. I play every single song on the poorly tuned homre, and it wails and cries just like I do. The poor tuning only serves to highlight how raw I feel.
My last song ends in a plaintive shout, and if she could only hear it, she’d know what she’s done to me.
There’s a lump in my throat, and my voice dies on stage just like that. Cut short by grief. The crowd thunders to their feet, but I’m already leaving the stage. I don’t care if they like it. I sang it for myself.
For Sienna.
The crowd is shouting for an encore, but there’s nothing left in me to give.
“What the fuck was that?” My sister isn’t upset, not at all. She looks so impressed that her mouth gapes. “Ris, when did you write those? They’re going to have to build another wing just for you! Did you see the people standing in the back tonight?”
Only long enough to see that they weren’t the person I wanted to see.
I grunt an affirmative and shoulder past her into the dressing room, locking the door before she can barge in.
