The buzzing across his lap rose and fell with the music, his hands feverishly moving across the variety of strings as the rest of the world fell away around him. The piece fell from the instrument across his crossed legs, the sounds swelling, each note pushing the next forward, almost like a race.

  There was a feverish panic to the song, something that couldn't be found in the notes or the dynamics or even accents. There was some sort of deep undercurrent in the way that the notes hung in the air that you couldn't quite place but it felt like someone was there was something catching up, something chasing.

  Marques De Devli'er Branchouste was a master with the zither, the way he pulled emotion from even the most simple of notes was otherworldly. Unfortunately, the zither had fallen from the popular eye far before Devli'er had even been born. He could of course make similar effects with a number of instruments, they just didn't have the same lingering effect that Devli'er relied on to make such complicated and emotional music.

  Devli'er ignored his surroundings and played, even as the boat crested a large wave and pitched him about his plush room. His focus never left the song, never pausing, never making a mistake.

  You could hear the monster that gave chase get closer, the music rising with every weary footstep, the panic intensifying until it stopped with a sudden and jolting silence as Devli'er laid his hand on the strings to choke the sound.

  The chase had ended, and no one had escaped.

  Devli'er had put his entire life into his music. Nothing was as important as this one love, this one thing he could do better than anyone else. His zither was nice, nothing too elaborate. The stained wood and quality strings were evidence that it was no cheap piece, but it wasn't as gaudy as people liked to make instruments then. The harpsicords were a particular pain in Devli'er's side, the overworked paintings along every surface. It hid the beauty of the true instrument. No one had tried to make violins more of a piece of art than they already were, or at least, they never got very popular. As it should be.

  The beauty is in the simple purity of the instrument and the sounds it can make, not some visual production that draws eyes from the talent of the musician and takes attention from the music that they truly came for. Progress would surely see that he's right in time, music will stop being some visual production, just musicians playing music on plain instruments on an otherwise empty stage in front of a quiet audience. People would see, it would be the most popular way to listen to music. Maybe not soon, but eventually.

  Devli'er sighed, setting his beloved zither down on his bedside table atop the pile of unread letters from Silence. He almost never read them, though he always opened them to appear to his parents that he cared. Music was not the most lucrative of passions, not when he was so accustomed to the lavish lifestyle he currently enjoyed.

  Often the letters would contain some odd memento that Devli'er had to pretend was important. It was almost never anything valuable, usually some kind of shell or a lock of hair. Unfortunately marriage was an important part of inheriting his fathers title, and he figured that someone named Silence could at least sit quietly for a performance.

  He lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the room lit only by the morning light filtering in through the partially submerged window in the side of the boat. It was a neat effect, but it became monotonous after a few days. The British colonies of Africa were so far away, and for what? Devli'er wouldn't even be playing an instrument, he was the concert master for a symphonic orchestra. They were playing his pieces, but it wouldn't be the same, it wouldn't have the passion, the love, the sorrow of stopping.

  Every once in a while he would send a piece to Silence, just so she'd think he loved her and not that he was using her for his own personal gain. It would be easier if she was infatuated. He didn't have to reveal that the pieces of love were never meant for her, but for his music. His life resonated with it, in fact, he couldn't imagine himself without something to play. He would make music even if he had to beat it from his own bones, it was his only reason for existence.

  The bed rocked weakly underneath him, almost a lazy staggering, like a commoner deep in his cups. Devli'er grimaced at the thought. Drunks couldn't appreciate much of anything, let alone the intricacies of a masterful piece of music. Anything other than a simple glass of wine or two with dinner should be looked down on. The lack of grace exemplified by the sloppy behavior of people like his father, people that clouded their minds with drink so heavily that they couldn't recognize their own son. Devli'er shivered at the thought.

  He pulled himself upright once more, the swaying of the boat amplifying the motion and bringing a fierce dizziness to his mind for a long moment. Shaking it off he got to his feet. He was, of course, fully dressed. He simply hadn't had the desire to got join the sailors, their lack of culture making them nigh unbearable to be around.

  "I suppose it's nearly time to see the sun and collect some food," he muttered to himself, throwing a longing glance back at his zither. He could bring it, but it could be bad, the water had a chance to spill over, and water isn't good for instruments, especially not wooden ones. There's also the food, that could make a mess on her, it could ruin her.

  Devli'er had started viewing his instrument as a person several years prior, his one true soul mate. He had even named it. Anais was his first and favorite instrument, it had been the only thing to hold him together when things got bad for him. He had known hardship, his parents had never understood his music, and it took so many years for him to convince them of it's worth.

  He opened the door and walked down the lazily swaying hallway and out towards the dining room. The on board chef would surely prepare something for him, even though he had missed the breakfast that would have been prepared for him and every other high class temporary resident of the boat.

  His shoes clicked on the wooden floor as he made his way through the boat and into the large gilded room with the long table to eat at. He pushed the doors open, walking in and sitting down in the first chair he came across, waiting quietly.

  "Branchouste! Ah see yer finally awake!" shouted the Irish chef as she walked into the room. It was incredibly unprofessional, and talking so familiarly with such a large gap in status was atrocious behavior, but from the sounds Devli'er had heard from the kitchens made it clear that he could not push this woman around, no matter how large the status gap was.

  "Yes, I am. You wouldn't happen to have breakfast ready for me?" he asked hopefully as he stared the robust woman down.

  "Ya frustrate meh boy! Yer lucky ah like ya," she said before disappearing into the kitchen.

  Soon several young women filtered out from the kitchen carrying various plates filled with far more food than he would realistically eat. Devli'er, of course, waited for each steaming plate to be set in front of him before dismissing the servants and daintily taking small bites of the food. It was well made, but it couldn't compare to the sensations of music. Devli'er could never understand those that grew fat, food simply wasn't worth the effort like music was.

  If man could eat sound Devli'er would surely be the fattest around, but sound was to be enjoyed, experienced. Food was messy, even the cleanest of food still leaving a residue. Sound was momentary, a special moment in time that existed for just as long as it needed to, not a moment longer. That tantalizing impermanence tickled his mind like nothing else.

  Devli'er soon finished his food and rose to his feet, leaving what was left of his meal for the servants, who would surely not let the food go to waste. Unsophisticated animals.

  He walked up to the top deck, up where the captain of the ship shouted orders for navigation. "Captain," he said as he moved up near the large man.

  "Marque, I see you've finally joined the world of the living! Come to ask how close we are again?" the captain asked.

  "I am. I'd like to be done with this so I might be the one preforming," Devli'er responded, exactly as he had every day since the start of the journey.

  "Well, we should be there before sunset, Marque Branchouste." The captain didn't say more. I'd heard the man talk to many other people, and he seemed to carry a conversation well, but he was always terse with Devli'er. It didn't bother him, he wasn't much for pointless blathering anyways, but he knew it wasn't out of respect. It irked him that people would look down on him even as they worshipped him with their words. His eye twitched as he nodded curtly and walked away.

  "I will have respect. I will be remembered, unlike that fool of a captain," muttered Devli'er as he made his way below deck. He packed his things, excited to finally leave this ship that had been his prison for several days. The lack of options for food alone was an abhorrence to his station. He should be able to request whatever he pleased made for him, even though he usually didn't care. He liked to have the option, an option that had been crudely ripped from him.

  "I'll have to take a caravan back home, I'd much prefer that over this ship." He pushed the door open and closed it with a muted clicking noise.

  He pulled his zither from the bedside table and started plucking the stings, pulling notes from the tension and size of the strings, the sound hanging in the air as each note pushed itself to the forefront of the cloud of noise, emotion dripping from the notes as they flew about the room in a dizzying tornado.

  The song winded down, the notes fading from the air like paint in the sun, slowly returning to the monotony of reality.

  "That was gorgeous," gasped a tear worn feminine voice.

  Devli'er whipped his head up to see that a servant had entered the room to ask if he was in need of anything. "Someone with taste I see. Pack my things, I intend to be off this ship before sunset." He appreciated that someone could at least acknowledge the beauty of the notes he wove. Unfortunately it was a commoner that couldn't understand the complexities of the music she heard. Progress was progress, regardless of where it started.

  Almost unconsciously he started plucking his zither once more, no particular song in mind. Sometimes he just let Anais tell her own story through him. She wanted off the boat as much as he did, telling Devli'er with sad notes that swung about like the waves they rode on their way to Africa.

  "I know, love," he muttered under the hanging cloud of music. The song ended, leaving a feeling of being trapped in the salty waters with no hope of rescue.

  "Don't worry, Anais, we'll be there soon." Devli'er lay his hands on the strings in a comforting manner.

  "My lord?" asked the servant girl. "I am Hailey, I do not know of an Anais on the ship. Perhaps it would be best if you got some fresh air, the stale indoor drafts may be getting to you."

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  "I did not speak to you, girl. Finish packing my things and leave me be," Devli'er said dismissively.

  She bowed lightly with thin lips and packed his things with much less care than she had before. When she left Devli'er muttered under his breath "servants," in a pompous tone. All his things were in various bags, so he did nothing more than play and lay on his simple bed until he heard a rapid knocking on his door.

  "Marque! It's time, we're at port!"

  "Finally. Send servants in for my things," said Devli'er as he swung the door open to reveal a captain that was far too excited to get rid of the prodigy. Devli'er didn't pause, simply walking out with Anais under his arm and through the corridors to finally be back on land. He pushed himself out to see the port of the African city. It wasn't anything super nice, but was a colony, not much to be expected. Luckily there was a building that was of at least standard European quality to stay in and another to preform.

  "I hope I don't have to play for any of the natives. Savages, the lot of them," Devli'er muttered. He would, of course, play for whoever he had to, but he was so tired of playing for people who couldn't fathom the intricacies of his glorious works. "It must be how our Lord the Christ felt upon his cross," he remarked under his breath. He wasn't comparing himself to Him, never. He was simply remarking that they were both above all others in their respective fields, and how hard it must have been. Devli'er knew he wasn't strong enough to give up his music for the chance that others might have music through effort. Not in his wildest dreams was he strong enough to give up his music, no matter the cost that came with keeping it.

  Devli'er left the ship with great haste, rocking heavily and almost falling over as soon as he was on the stability of the ground. The change was unexpected to Devli'er and he almost pitched into the water, barely catching himself and taking a long moment to gather himself before continuing with a steady confidence.

  He strolled to the building where he would spend the night, expecting his servants to have him set up in good time. He made his way directly to the dining hall, trusting Anais with a servant after a number of stern words with the boy. The hall was large, and stable. There wasn't any rocking and there was a number of tables and slaves about the room. He sat down, putting a napkin on his lap and waiting for a long moment before one of the slaves approached him.

  "What can we do for you?" he asked simply. He seemed to barely be getting his way through the words, but he did, which was commendable for a slave.

  "I want Coq Au Vin, make it happen," Devli'er said in his most spoiled and uppity tone.

  The slave nodded and backed away and out of the room. They'd trained him well, it was a well known fact that the savages had trouble learning, so teaching this one manners must have been quite the chore. Devli'er wasn't sure if they would actually be able to get him Coq Au Vin, but he had a craving for it and they didn't have it on the ship at all.

  After nearly an hour had passed the dish was brought out to him. It wasn't the best presentation he had seen, and the taste was on the bottom end of average for the dish, but was still good. It was one of his favorites for a reason. He ate quickly before abruptly standing up and wiping his face with his napkin. Devli'er stole out of the room quickly with half of his plate still full of food. He was impressed that the savages waited at least until he had left the room to devour what was left, it was truly a testament to their owners.

  He wound through the hallways until he found the one that sat open with his things inside. Stupid servants, didn't they know there were savages about that would surely destroy his things? No harm, he thought. Anais was still in perfect condition and she sat daintily on the sea of down that was the bed in the center of the room.

  Devli'er shut the door to his room as he walked in. The sun had set while he was waiting for his food, as evidenced by the darkness spread over the world outside of the small window. Luckily the candles were still lit so the room was visible.

  Devli'er put out each of the candles one by one, slowly plunging the world into darkness. With nothing but his sense of touch and his connection to his true love his hands found the zither sitting on his bed and he brought it up on his lap, fingers strumming cords with a practiced ease that showed the world what he was capable of, even without his sight.

  Devli'er let the sound hang in the air, his eyes sliding closed and his mind drifting off to sleep even as his fingers finished the song.

  Devli'er slowly came to, his fingers feeling the brush of strings against his flesh. Before he really gained consciousness he started plucking the strings, letting Anais talk to him in the only way she could, through song. The notes came slowly at first, hesitantly. Worry bled from each note as it reverberated throughout the room.

  "I know, love." Anais did bring up good points, the colonies weren't well defended and there could be a chance of real danger here. "We won't be here long, we'll be home to safety in no time, I just need to do this one show." The notes slowly shifted, pushing the worry down and covering it with a thick layer of resolve. If you knew to look the nerves were still there, hidden almost imperceptibly beneath the resolute notes flowing from Anais.

  "It's alright, love. Not long now, it's concert day," Devli'er reassured his instrument. The notes slowly faded as the conversation resolved, reassurance and resolve mixing with nervous undertones hanging around Anais even as Devli'er stopped plucking the strings.

  Devli'ers musicians knew of his concert day ritual. Even though he wasn't particularly exited about not playing, he still had his rules that he followed on days such as this. Rule one, do not play the instrument you will be playing in the concert until the concert. Rule two, do not speak to the help. Rule three, isolate, listen, train the ears to pick the emotion, the feeling, the subtle twists and turns that made every sound carry intense meaning. Rule four, do not eat. These rules were made to keep the mind on task, focused on nothing but music and emotion. Performance.

  Devli'er got dressed. It wasn't necessary this early, but it allowed him to isolate right until the time of the concert, something he preferred. It made him feel more in tune with the music, more aware of the sounds he was making and how they felt if you just plucked it slightly differently, an imperceptible change that made all the difference.

  Devli'er lay on the floor, fully dressed, and closed his eyes, letting the sounds of the buildings, the wind, the people roaming about within these simple walls of stone. Things without thought displaying emotion and intent with such simple things as subtle variations in tone and frequency, imperceptible shifts in the sounds make the wind seem alive, the building fighting against it in stalwart defiance, nature trying to take back the world as God intended and design fighting the force of nature for control. A clash of titans, a story told in subtle words only those who know to listen can hear even as it plays out around them.

  Voices telling stories of lives of hardship, potential and work, not with their words but with their tone, volume, style, and rhythm of speech. Each sound built from experiences both minor and major that build the subtleties of a complete person, something only God can truly see in anyone, though Devli'er felt he was seeing through God's eyes when he focused like this. He could see all the intricacies that made up the world he lived in, the wonderful world that could be truly experienced only with the art of music.

  No other art could hold a candle to such a beautiful thing as music. Other things may last longer, may immortalize moments or people, but that doesn't make it art. That makes it a prison for aspects of humanity. The momentary nature of music is what made it true art, the only true expression of humanity that could ever exist, the only true way to tell a tale that could be felt by anyone of any language or gender.

  It just pissed him off when no one truly understood his genius for what it was. Commoners would say the piece was beautiful but they couldn't point out what made it distinctive from basic composers, what drove the notes to sound how they did, and what they prompted in people who could finally hear the stories they'd been ignoring for so long. It made him sick that so many couldn't appreciate what he had built here, not fully.

  Eventually a heavyset man in shoes with wooden soles wearily made his way to my door, the floorboards creaking ever so slightly at his size and heavy emotional state. This was the kind of man that had given up on anything coming of his life and was now just trying to make it through, something Devli'er had heard time and time again.

  Devli'er got to his feet and picked Anais up from his bed, holding her close to his chest as a knock came at the door. Devli'er flung the door open before any words could flow from the man and he silently stole from the room, bushing past the large man rather disrespectfully. Distractions wouldn't do, it was concert day.

  Devli'er quickly tore down the halls and out the the concert hall where he would be preforming, never letting his mind relax from his God given perceptive state. He needed it to truly hear the majesty of the music and make sure it was preformed well enough that at least the people in the crowd would feel something, even if it wasn't quite to his standards.

  He quickly made his way backstage, watching as his musicians, already set up on stage, prepared themselves for the performance. Devli'er realized that he was still holding Anais, even though he wouldn't be using her throughout the performance. "My apologies, love. I'll find you somewhere safe to rest," he muttered as he glanced around. There really wasn't much of anything that could be safe enough for his heart to be left without him there.

  He poked around for a few minutes, muttering sweet nothings to the zither between his arms, eventually pulling back a curtain to reveal several crates with a dark residue on them. "This'll have to do, love," he whispered as he lay Anais gently on the crate. As he turned back he saw something odd. Someone was on stage in front of his musicians, wearing ratty clothes. Where he was standing it looked like he had trailed in water from outside, coming from right where I was standing. It was odd, because the man didn't look wet at all, and in fact he looked like he was in late stages of dehydration, barely able to stand on his own feet.

  Most importantly, it was ruining Devli'er's show. Devli'er ran out to take him off stage, but as soon as he stepped foot into the public eye he heard a faint click resound from all the doors, and a muffled grinding sound that he was sure no one else had heard. There was a finality to the noises, an inescapable resounding noise that seemed to spell death. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

  He raised his hand, barely able to keep his arm up and his muscles straining visibly at the minute effort. He was asking for attention, calling for silence in the dull roar of the crowd, which soon fell quiet, a quiet filled with confusion and a bit of disappointment laced throughout the resounding absence of sound. Music was, of course, made as much with the absence of sound as the notes themselves.

  "Thank you for so kindly filling this space with the most important people in the colony," rasped the man on the stage, a sort of sick accomplishment nearly dripped from the words, though Devli'er could almost pick out. . . Fear? Devli'er was frozen on the stage, not sure what to do and he barely heard the words, so the audience leaned forward almost as one entity to try and catch the phrase. Devli'er stood awkwardly, listening as his concert was ruined before him. Where were the guards he had brought, shouldn't they have dealt with this man before he got here? "This place. . . You spent more money than any of us have seen in generations for this man to come and play a silly song for you while we starve, we don't have water, we die. Yet you live in comfort while we do your dirty work." Rage laced itself into the words, covering the fear further, but Devli'er could still pick it out.

  The stranger, clearly on some sort of rebel quest, reached his hand into his coat, his fingers sliding through holes as he fumbled to find the pocket before he pulled out a small stick with stark white at the tip. It took a long moment to realize what it was and what the smell my mind had subconsciously ignored was.

  Petroleum. How had this depraved man gained access to petroleum?

  A flourish started a flame on the match which he then dropped, the fire racing down the line of petroleum, straight for Anais. Devli'er ran towards his love, sitting on the crates that, in hindsight, were also covered in petroleum and were assuredly filled with something malevolent. Devli'er could hear the sizzle of the petroleum heating to a boil and burning, the crackle of the fire spreading to the wood of the stage underneath the percussive beat of his shoes hitting the floor with a frantic rhythm as he drew close, staying just ahead of the flames.

  Devli'er heard the roar of the crowd panicking as they tried hopelessly to break through the hardwood doors that had been locked from the outside with heavy beams it would take several people to move, let alone break with the door from the inside as would be required to leave.

  Devli'er reached Anais, scooping his love into his arms, taking a moment to appreciate her safety in his arms. The moment was far too long as the flames quickly raced between his legs and lit the crates on fire, almost blinding Devli'er with their brightness. The flames quickly caught on his clothes as he tried to dance away, his clumsy moves catching himself and Anais on fire and the pain was exquisite, the only thing Devli'er had ever felt that overpowered his hearing.

  Suddenly the gunpowder within the crates caught fire and quickly exploded, leaving many dead and any survivors burning in the aftermath with no hope of survival.

  There wasn't enough left of Devli'er to identify, himself and his zither both destroyed in their entirety. Impossible to distinguish from the smoke, a silver mist hovered over what was left of the two for a few brief moments before fading to nothing.

  Devli'er, master musician and true child prodigy, went on to be forgotten by history, even the dead would be unsure when asked about Marques De Devli'er Branchouste, never seen as he was in life by another soul ever again.