The Circle of Fyfths
Listen well, children, and I will tell you why the wind sings in the desert!
Long ago, when the sands were softer and the stars leaned close, there were five companions who walked together.
One was a Singer, whose voice could hush a storm.
One was a Piper, whose reed flute carried joy from tent to tent.
One was a Drummer, whose hands beat the heart of every caravan.
One was a Dancer, whose feet told the stories no tongue could hold.
And one was a Scribe, who carried no music at all, but wrote down every note so it would not be lost.
They brought laughter to the oases, rest to the weary, courage to the fearful. Wherever they passed, even the dunes seemed lighter. But hear this: the desert is jealous. It does not share joy for long.
The year of the burning winds came. The wells went dry. The rivers turned to dust. The five wandered with empty skins and hollow bellies. They cried out:
The Singer sang for mercy — but the desert swallowed her voice.
The Piper played for rain — but the reeds cracked and split.
The Drummer struck the ground — but the earth gave no echo.
The Dancer spun for life — but the sands took her steps.
Only the Scribe remained, and he said: “If we cannot live, then let us remain.”
So they lay down together, hand in hand. The storm rose high, the dunes roared, and when the sun returned, five stones stood in their place, set in a circle.
Now, when the wind runs through that circle, the desert remembers. The Singer’s song, the Piper’s tune, the Drummer’s beat, the Dancer’s rhythm, and the Scribe’s silence between. Harmony woven tighter than flesh, tighter than bone.
So walk carefully, children. If ever you find five stones standing hand to hand, walk the circle three times, and listen. If you hear their song, your heart will never keep its old time again.
That is why the wind sings in the desert.
Summary
In the shifting wastes of the Rhegev, travelers speak of a place where five stones stand in a perfect ring. These stones, weatherworn and half-buried, are said to hum with music when the desert wind passes between them. The circle is so socially ubiquitous that the governing council of Tulara University named itself after it.
According to legend, those who walk the circle three times beneath a star-filled sky will hear a harmony no mortal throat can produce — a tone layered upon itself in fifths, ringing clear as crystal. The music, once heard, changes the listener. Some report joy beyond measure; others a sorrow too deep to speak. In rare cases, it is said the stones grant “the gift of tuning,” allowing a minstrel to play with unearthly precision until the end of their days.
Field Notes
Variations & Mutation
The Harp of Sand: One tale claims the Circle is the remnant of a giant’s harp, its strings long since vanished, leaving only the tuning pegs behind. The wind itself is said to pluck what strings remain, weaving endless melodies across the dunes.
The Five Companions: Minstrel ballads speak of five companions — a singer, a piper, a drummer, a dancer, and a scribe — who laid down their lives in the desert, transformed into stones so their art would never fade. Their harmony became the “Circle of Fyfths.”
The Scholar’s Visit: An oft-retold University variant describes a musicologist who brought measuring instruments to the site. He claimed the tones were real, a resonance of the stones’ shape. Yet his notes end abruptly, the last page smudged by sand and sweat, as though he left in haste.
Cultural Reception
- Musicians of Tulara sometimes swear by the phrase “in the fifth circle” to describe a moment of perfect harmony.
- Caravan guards warn one another not to fall asleep inside the stones; a sleeper who rests there wakes “a beat behind the world", always slightly out of time.
- Among some nomad clans, lovers walk the circle three times together before marriage, hoping their voices will blend as one.
- University composers occasionally stage performances “in the style of the Circle,” attempting to layer voices in perfect fifths, though none agree whether the effect is faithful.
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