Music Magic
This is a Favorite Tale for the Myth of the Drink of Music
He stood on the cliff, the wind whipping around him, the feel of the rain down his back making him involuntarily shiver. Next to him, Tira Haven, said to be the best violinist in all the lands, stood. He wore a thick cloak and looked slightly irritated.
“You pay me well, but I’m still not sure it will be worth it. That light in the sky hitting me would not be worth any amount of money.”
Oli pushed his dripping hair off his forehead. “My sister is dying. And she wants to be a musician for six days. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“No, not if I die. Let’s just do this.”
Silently, Oli carefully took out the metal box, sealed carefully. No drop of rain could get into this. He checked quickly, but there was no moon in sight. He sighed in relief. Tira took up his battered violin, his delicate face set and annoyed. He set his chin into its rest and took up his position. The first strains of his music echoed through the canyon, swelling slowly through the noise of the storm. The constant flashing of lightning revealed the way his features softened as he allowed himself to get lost in the music. Oli kept an eye on the time. One minute passed. And then two. And then three. The music began to swell louder and louder, its magic overcoming the noise of the storm. Oli closed his eyes and listened. Louder and louder, the noise of the storm vanished, light sparkled in the air, the smell of violets and pine grew strong, and the little metal box in his hand quivered. Five minutes… and then six. Oli took a breath as the music slowed, and vanished. Tira stood, dripping wet, his eyes wide as he stared at Oli.
“What was that?” His voice was awed.
Oli smiled a bit. “Magic. My father was a great wizard, you know. And he had many formulas. Not one for temporary musicians. I followed his technique as best as I could, so I hope this works.” He put the metal box back in his tunic pocket. “Come on.”
Tira followed, dripping wet, his face pale against the flashes of lightning. The storm was still going strong.
“This,” Oli held up the box, “will make my sister be a musician for six days. It will begin its effects as soon as she drinks it.”
Tira looked puzzled. “Is it not violets and pine needles? How is that a drink?”
Oli shrugged. “The music got into it. It makes it into a potion.”
The Drink of Music is made by mixing wild violets and pine needles together. A master of music must then play near the mixture in the middle of a rainstorm for six minutes. Any longer than this is said to invite death. The wilder, the better. If one wants to become a master at violin, it must be a master of that particular instrument. Or piano. However, it is also crucial that not a drop of the water from the rainstorm gets into it. It must be done at night, preferably with no moon or at least, the moon must be covered fully with clouds. Last but not least, it must be done on an extremely high cliff. It lasts for six days, makes the drinker become a master for six days. People tell stories of the old who would do it for parties.
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