Successive Iterations

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"Hiya, Chadei," Dawn said brightly as she jogged into the guild hall. She was both excited and nervous about her upcoming mastery presentation. More than a decade of study had gone into this one event.

"Stop worrying," Chadei replied, blocking her from running into her favorite practice room. "You know the chronicle better than you know yourself. Nothing will go wrong. You'll be fine." He had been trying desperately to get her to calm down for the past two weeks.

Dawn collapsed onto a bench, sighing in exasperation. "No, I don't. I never can remember where to put the accents. It's not like playing the cyar'dil; I don't ever forget those."

"I haven't heard you make a mistake yet," Chadei countered, pouring Dawn a mug of cold water. "And if I can't hear a mistake, then no one else will either."

Dawn nodded and took the water. Tonight was the big night; the entire guild, as well as a good number of the residents of the hold, would be present in the main hall to listen to her and Bai present their mastery work. She was envious of the dalhari apprentice; his instrument of choice was the bal-liow, which could be played along with the lamentation he had written for the performance. Dawn, however, wanted to show her mastery of both the cyar'dil and of lyrical composition. That meant two presentations, since no one could sing and play the cyar'dil at the same time. Two presentations, twice the practice, twice the anxiety. Why did she do this to herself?

At least Zhaen and Duens would be there. Zhaen was returning from Faion freehold just for the event. She had accepted a teaching position at the bardic guild there—and was doing nicely, according to everyone Dawn had talked to. Duens had left the freehold several years before and was working as a ritual musician in Ysys, a hold in the northernmost reaches of Faion. All that Dawn knew about the place was that it was extremely cold. Duens was combining his trip to see her performance with other guild business, namely accompanying the new elder guild master for Ysys back up to the hold. Dawn couldn't think of a reason why anyone would want to live somewhere where the snow stayed on the ground for three straight seasons, but then again she was biased. Tereva'diel was a pleasant hold, particularly when its hilly location was taken into account.

"Did you ever decide on a mark?" Chadei asked, hoping to change the subject.

Dawn shook her head. "Nope. I've been looking through the books you gave me, and I asked the elders like you suggested. I just can't find anything. I mean, it feels weird. I want to be part of the house, but I'm not dalhari. I think I'd feel funny with a mark and no wings."

Chadei shook his head. "You're being silly, Dawn. To everyone in the hold, you're already of the Dyasa of the Hailae. If not being dalhari bothers you that much, just ask to be changed."

Dawn's head whipped up. "Ask to be changed?"

"Mm hmm. It's not a very common request, but one that is granted occasionally. Of course, it's usually done because a dalhari and a human want to bond—that can't occur between two different species. Actually, the bonding ritual would change the human anyway, but the bond wouldn't take, so it would just have to be done again. That's why humans in that situation are changed ahead of time," Chadei explained. "But humans have been changed without such extenuating circumstances. As long as everyone is sure that it's really what you want, they'll see to it that you get what you want."

Dawn nodded. "Never thought about it, to be completely honest." The truth was, she considered herself dalhari most of the time. She spoke their language and lived by their customs and laws far more than the human ones that existed here—or the ones she was used to. In the past twelve years, she had used English so little that when she spoke it now she had a distinct dalhari accent. But she'd also told Chadei nothing less than the truth about changing; she hadn't considered it at all. Oh, she knew that it could be done, but it hadn't even entered her mind.

"Ah, it's not for everyone. But you shouldn't worry about that now," Chadei reassured her. "Why don't you run through each piece twice before lunch? That should be enough practice before tonight."

"Just twice?" Dawn screeched, leaping off the bench. "No way!"

"You'll be too stiff, as nervous as you are," Chadei remarked. "Twice will familiarize you with what you're performing. Three times will tire you out too much."

"Fine. Twice," She said. "But I get extra time to warm up!"

"Of course. Go, practice, eat and sleep," Chadei said, waving her off. She was his favorite of al the apprentices—a bright and enthusiastic student with few reservations. Once she had gotten over some problems with confidence she had become a star of the guild. He thought that some of that came from her background. She had experience with musical styles that he'd never heard before, and they definitely influenced what she wrote.

Chadei had no idea, though, that Dawn was from another dimension. Shortly after arriving in Tereva'diel, she and the elders had agreed that it might be best to keep such information quiet until Dawn knew people better. She had agreed, since she didn't really feel like explaining her entire saga several times each day. It got annoying very quickly, and it was far easier to explain that she was from another human tribe across the sea. Since most people didn't travel that much outside their own species' regions, the story was readily accepted.

People in this dimension didn't seem to be particularly shocked about transdimensional travel, but she didn't want to chance it. There were rumors here and there about other people just appearing out of nowhere, but Dawn never could make anything of the rumors. The supposed events had happened a long time ago and few, if any, people had accurate information. To most people they were witches' tales; something best left to those who practiced magic. Dawn certainly didn't think that the stories were about Xander because they were too far in the past. Even if there was a time distortion between this world and hers, surely it wasn't more than a hundred years. That was just too extreme.

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Dawn warmed up playing a few scales before practicing her cyar'dil piece for the first time. She was particularly proud of it; months of study had preceded its writing. Unlike many unaccompanied pieces, it wasn't really about nature or the changing seasons. Not that she didn't love those pieces—they were beautiful, and fun to write. She wanted something a little more memorable, though. After a lot of looking around, she had decided on a train-of-thought piece inspired by watching the hold's warriors practice sword fighting. The end result was fifteen minutes of whirling, racing music that got the heart pumping. According to Chadei, it was one of a kind in terms of mastery presentations. When she had expressed doubts as to its appropriateness, he reassured her that it was fine—just different. He'd gone on to say that apprentices tended to be overly conservative in their presentations, preferring to show how technically accomplished they were instead of how innovative they could be.

Because of that comment, Dawn was less fearful of messing with the traditions of the lyrical composition segment of her presentation. Most apprentices wrote a lamentation or a celebration. Some did chronicles instead. Dawn had a definite preference for chronicles, but she found most of them rather dry or too romantic. During the years of her apprenticeship she had gained quite a reputation for performing grittier, darker chronicles. Some of her original compositions had been well-received, even though the audience had found them a bit disturbing.

For her mastery presentation, Dawn chose to expand on a short chronicle she'd started in her seventh year of apprenticeship. The piece was about war, and was unique for several reasons. First of all, it was in the first-person point of view—very few chronicles were written in that manner. Secondly, instead of focusing on large-scale historical events, it was centered around the fictional warrior's thoughts and feelings before, during and after battle. In a way, it crossed the line between chronicle and lamentation—the setting and events were historical, but the perspective was personal.

Chadei thought that between the structural variations and the starkness of the content, the chronicle would stand out as a uniquely accomplished piece of work. Dawn certainly hoped so. She had had to work for so long on it that she wasn't sure she'd survive if it wasn't accepted. What worried her the most, though, was that she was performing it with music played on the akr-traedl, instead of the liow. She wanted lower notes to accompany her piece; only the deepest bass would suffice. Unfortunately, even the largest of the liow family wasn't what she wanted. That had necessitated acquiring and learning to play the akr-traedl, a large, unwieldy instrument that would have done Prall proud. The traedl was an orth instrument anyway, and sized for their giant hands. Dawn had had to alter the akr-traedl she'd gotten so that she could play it; the strings were too far apart for her comfort.

Prall had been very pleased that she had chosen an orth instrument for her mastery presentation. She and he had become good pen-pals, writing letters back and forth on a regular basis. He had found a home in northern Ranver, working in a hold near the border with Adrut. Neither he nor Marni could come to the presentation; Prall because of his responsibilities to the bardic guild there—he was a teacher for young children—and Marni because she was newly mated and had duties to fulfill within her new family. The f'lh had sent her congratulations, however, as well as a set of tiny jajaua—miniature flutes that were common in f'lh music. Dawn had had a lot of fun playing with the finger-sized flutes, which were piercingly high-pitched.

A few hours later Dawn was somewhat satisfied with the results of her practice, so she left the guild hall for her quarters. When she got there, she picked her way through the piles of papers and books on the floor to retrieve some leftover sweetcakes from breakfast. It really would be best for her to get some sleep before the evening's performance. Otherwise she might fall asleep, which would fall into the category of very bad things.

She couldn't make herself sleep, however. The offhand comment by Chadei about getting changed kept circling in her head. She couldn't help but think that it was what she should do. She pretty much was dalhari now, in every way but one. It was only when she thought about creating her mark and being formally adopted by the clan and the house that she felt out of place. Sometimes, too, she felt rather acutely the brief nature of her own existence. While the time she'd spent finishing her apprenticeship with the guild was about average, she still had years to go before she would be a true master. Oh, she'd have the title, but it was just that—a title. If she failed this, she would be Arka—a rank somewhere around journeyman. If that happened, she would spend another decade or more working on her skills before trying again. That happened more often than she'd like to think about, and there were some musicians who never left that level. They made up the bulk of what she called back-up musicians and those who played locally for parties and the like. She wasn't going to settle for that, and had at one point thought about putting off her mastery presentation until she was better prepared. Chadei had insisted, though, that she was more than ready.

But what bothered her was that as a human she only had perhaps another forty years here—at most—to work on her music. That was nothing more than a speck for the dalhari—many dalhari didn't apprentice until they were older than that! How could she ever hope to reach the level of Chadei—or of Zhaen—if she died that young?

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Dawn sat patiently while Bai worked his way through his lamentation. It was technically solid and his voice was more than acceptable. That didn't mean she liked the piece; it was a bit melodramatic for her tastes, and she thought that he could have pushed the music a little—he stuck closely to convention, though he played it well. The audience, which was full of apprentices from other guilds, seemed to like it ok, though.

Once he was through, the hall fell silent for a few moments, showing that the dalhari enjoyed and respected his talent. The elder masters of the bardic guild stood as a group and nodded once, indicating that he had performed acceptably and had attained master status. Bai bowed his acceptance and then went over to a group of his friends to celebrate.

Dawn wasn't among that group of dalhari. The crush she'd had on Bai had long since faded. Once Dawn's talent and unusual perspective on music had become obvious, he had distanced himself from her, partly to keep from being tainted by any backlash and partly because of envy. Dawn had turned out to be a better musician than he had, and it irked him, because he'd been working at it for a lot longer than she had. In fact, he had spent seventeen years as an apprentice, where she had spent twelve. So when Bai went off to glean congratulations and token gifts from his friends, Dawn hung back with Zhaen and Duens on the opposite side of the hall.

"Ignore him," Duens whispered in her ear. "Envy isn't a very pretty trait."

"In my old world, it's an ugly green color," Dawn commented. "One that wouldn't compliment his skin tone at all."

Zhaen laughed at the comment. "No, I'm sure it wouldn't. Perhaps you should have gotten him a gift in that color."

"Waste of money," Dawn muttered. "Well, I'd better get ready. There's not anyone else to distract this bunch, and Chadei will kill me if I run away."

Zhaen and Duens nodded and she left for her practice room, where she had her akr-traedl and her cyar'dil stored. She checked the strings on the akr-traedl once again and applied rosin to its bow. Then she checked her cyar'dil one last time. It wasn't the same one that had come with her to Tereva'diel; that one held a place of honor in her quarters. This one Chadei had given to her several years ago, when she had outgrown the inconsistent sound of the other one. In honor of her first instrument, she had this one dyed the same midnight blue. Since most people left their instruments natural colored, or dyed them black, it stood out a bit. But then again, most of her instruments did. She had amassed a collection of at least one of nearly every type of woodwind, and they were all dyed bright and bold colors. The akr-traedl she now possessed had been slightly damaged when she'd gotten it, and in the course of its rehabilitation it had been stained a rather violent red.

"It's time," Chadei said from the doorway. Dawn looked up and nodded. She gathered her cloak and slung it over her shoulders, fastening it at the neck. She frowned momentarily; at an event like this a dalhari would have worn her mark; but she hadn't been able to think up one for herself. Ah, well. It wasn't like anyone would confuse her with someone else. The passing years had matured her a lot, but she was still the only human in the guild. Due to the luck of genetics, she'd ended up quite tall, taller than most of her dalhari friends. The only dalhari that were consistently taller than her were the Narmunan, and she didn't run into them very often.

The main hall was a rustle of hushed voices when she arrived. The bare, open platform where she would play looked rather cold and imposing sitting as it was at the front of the room. The elder masters stood directly opposite it, spread out all along its front side. She climbed the low steps up the platform and set her akr-traedl on the seat positioned there. She wanted to get the cyar'dil piece out of the way. Not only was it shorter, but it was easier as well.

As soon as she started playing, Dawn could tell that it wasn't what the non-guild audience was expecting. The song zipped through the room, never slowing or fading. By the time she finished, everyone in the audience was vibrating with nervous anticipation. She was shaking a little too, but that was from fear. The few times she'd glanced at the elder masters she'd been unable to determine if they found the piece acceptable or not.

When she finished, the hall was silent. Dawn felt a ripple of relief pass through her. At least the audience had found the piece acceptable and wasn't shaking their wings over it. That would have been humiliating. When she looked at the elder masters, they simply gestured for her to continue. They wouldn't pass judgment on her abilities until she'd finished both pieces.

Dawn laid aside her cyar'dil and picked up the akr-traedl, sitting in its place on the chair. An orth would have sat on the floor to play the instrument, but she was just too small to do that. The first deep, low notes of the song floated over the audience and Dawn began to sing without any preamble.

About a third of the way through the chronicle, Dawn swore she felt the room grow cold. Several audience members had their eyes pressed tightly closed, and many more were clasping their hands tightly together. The elders were staring blankly. The only person she could read was Chadei, and he looked encouraging. Perhaps this wouldn't be a complete disaster. By the halfway point Dawn's throat and hands were beginning to hurt. She had been singing continuously for almost forty minutes. She pressed on, determined to finish the piece, even if she started to bleed and couldn't talk for days afterward.

Finally the chronicle ended, the last grating note churning through the air as her bow dropped to her lap and she let her head fall against the akr-traedl. Dawn closed her eyes, waiting to hear the telltale sound of rustling wings. Much to her surprise, only silence greeted her. They'd liked it? Dawn raised her head to take in the audience.

Well, maybe like was a strong word. Perhaps they weren't expressing their dislike because they were so stunned. There wasn't a dry face in the hall, and dalhari didn’t' cry easily. That wasn't what she'd been going for. When she looked at the elders, they stood to pass judgment. She stood as well, akr-traedl in hand.

When the elders bowed deeply, Dawn almost passed out. They'd liked it that much? She didn't know what to think. She had been hoping and praying for the briefest of head bobs, telling her that she could at least tack the title 'master' in front of her name. Instead, she'd been informed that the guild was most highly impressed with her abilities and performance. Wow.

The audience was still silent, another testament to her excellence. Eventually Dawn got a bit unnerved by the stares, but she stayed up on the platform. Until the audience dismissed her, she had to. It was tradition. After what seemed like an eternity, the dalhari below her started to move around. She took that as her cue to leave and she did so very quickly. Of course, Zhaen, Duens and Chadei were waiting right by the platform to congratulate her.

"Dawn!" Zhaen called out, stopping her retreat. "Master Dawn!"

Dawn blushed. "Just Dawn, hmm? I don't call you Master Zhaen."

Zhaen smirked. "And my audience didn't stare at me for nearly half an hour either."

"My audience didn't stare at me for half an hour either," Chadei remarked. "So stop complaining about the title. You've earned it."

Dawn walked backward very carefully, wanting to get her instruments into her practice room. She was tired enough that she didn't want to get cornered into entertaining the crowd for a few hours. "Fine, fine. No complaints from me—as long as I can sleep in for at least a month."

"As you wish," Chadai replied as he, Zhaen and Duens followed her out of the main hall. "The house elders have invited you to dine with them, in celebration of your accomplishment."

Dawn's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really," Chadei echoed. "It is tradition for your house's elders to do so."

"Oh," Dawn murmured. That meant Bai would be there. Well, she wasn't the one being immature. "Sounds great. Tonight, then?"

"Yes," Chadei replied.

"Can Zhaen and Duens and you go?" Dawn inquired.

"You may invite whomever you wish," Chadei replied.

"Please?" Dawn pleaded, looking at the others. Duens grinned but nodded, as did Zhaen.

"Yes, we'll protect you from those awful elders," Chadei replied.

Dawn snorted. "It's not the elders I worry about. Bai will be there, won't he?"

To her surprise, Chadei shook his head. "He chose to be entertained by the elders tomorrow. Not surprising, you know. He doesn't like spending time with you."

"The feeling's mutual," Dawn shot back.

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When Dawn got to the elders' dining hall, Zhaen and Duens were already there, waiting for her to arrive. "You're late," Duens accused.

"No, I'm not. Everyone else is way early," Dawn replied, grinning sheepishly. "One of the guards wanted to talk about that chronicle."

Zhaen rolled her eyes. "One of the guards wanted to flirt."

"No, she was interested in the music," Dawn defended.

"Right," Duens muttered. "The music. We should take our seats."

"Ah, Dawn! Congratulations!" Osta said cheerfully. She waved Dawn over to his side. "It is not often that an apprentice impresses so many at such a young age."

Dawn blushed. "I try."

Dinner was a lot more fun than Dawn had thought it would be; the elders could be a lot of fun after a mug of poel and a belly full of verdrin. In honor of Dawn, there wasn't a speck of yimkia on the table. Duens couldn't help but poke fun at her due to her dislike for the ubiquitous food. She just tossed a piece of bread at him, hitting him square in the face. Only a sharp look from Zhaen kept the burgundy dalhari from starting a food fight.

"So, Dawn," Pruhsu began. "Have you thought any further about what we discussed earlier?"

Dawn frowned thoughtfully. The elder was discussing her adoption into the clan and the house. Although she was close to both Osta and Pruhsu, neither elder was of the Dyasa. Her semi-adopted clan's elder in the hold was Chadei, but she wasn't currently an active hold elder. "Yes, I have."

"And?" Normally the elder wouldn't have pushed the subject, but for once Dawn was surrounded by her closest friends—so the normal taboos about such private issues weren't applicable.

"Could you just change me into a dalhari?"

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