Page 55 of Tiger's Tale
It saddened him in a way that made his heart ache. On nights when he played his music, he’d seen creatures of the forest draw close, even when he had a roaring fire between them. He’d fed forest squirrels before and watched them play and their antics as they stuffed their cheeks full to the brim with nuts and then scurried to hide them from one another, screeching when a fellow dared to dig up his brother’s hidden stash, making him laugh.
To him, each animal had a soul, just like the tsarevnas. Even when he didn’t know Veru for who she was, he knew she was special. He couldn’t have killed her even then, no matter how beautiful her coat. The thought that some man might end her life simply to use her as a floor decoration or to hang her on a wall sickened him.
Though it was his job, Danik felt that someday there would be a reckoning for what he’d done. Following the tsarevnas and serving them was a small way he could pay a penance. He felt he owed it to them and to every creature he’d hunted to keep the tigers alive. If there was a way to make a livelihood from his music, he’d prefer to do that, but without his parents, he wasn’t sure how.
Still he played at night, even while noticing that Nik cringed every time he did. He thought to inquire about it, but Nik simply rolled over and tried to sleep. It was obvious he still didn’t want to share anything about his past. Even so, the music was the only thing that soothed Danik after a long day of hunting. It was how he apologized to the creatures that remained. Most of the time his songs were melancholy, but occasionally, he remembered the squirrels or the birds and played happy, lilting songs for them.
When Danik announced they had plenty to trade, they set off downriver, seeking signs of a settlement. The first group they came across were less than friendly. In fact, they shoved the three men to the ground, grabbed their bags, rifled through them, and took everything they had. Then they used their fishing spears to point them in an opposite direction so they’d clearly get the idea to vacate the clan’s family lands.
“Well, that didn’t exactly go as planned,” Danik said, circling back to the camp.
“Not at all,” Zakhar agreed. “It was a good idea, though, to leave behind the tigers and most of our gear and pelts. I’ll calculate our losses when we return. Thank you for that, Nikolai.”
“Yes, thank you,” Danik echoed.
“Right. Well. I’ve learned from a few tough lessons over the years. There are some things I’d rather not risk.”
“Makes sense. I, for one, am delighted that my domra wasn’t taken. Spasibo, again.”
“Pozhaluysta.”
“But areyouglad, Nikolai, my new friend? You don’t seem to enjoy Danik’s music, even though he is quite good at it. Do you not find his skills excellent? Perhaps you are used to musicians of exceeding talent, having been one of the trusted palace Guardsmen.”
Nik clasped his hands behind his back, an easy thing to do now that his bag was emptied. He spoke hesitantly. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate Danik’s ability. As far as musicians go, I’m sure he’s quite good. I simply dislike music in general.”
“Certainly not all music,” Zakhar exclaimed. “What about songs celebrating our Lord?”
Shrugging, Nik replied, “I’m not too familiar with most of those.”
“Music of Christmastide?” Danik asked.
“Those tunes I especially loathe.”
“But... why?” Zakhar said.
They waited, staring at Nik until he grew uncomfortable. Finally, he said, “My mother had a music box. She loved it, and I did, too, for a while. Then she died, and it was horrible. Anytime I hear music, it reminds me of her death. And that’s all I want to say about it.”
Zakhar replied in his soothing priest’s voice. “I’m so sorry, my son. If you ever wish to talk more of this, you may speak to me of it by requesting a confessionary meeting in private.”
Nik snorted. “Sure. When I want absolution, I’ll ask you.”
“I did not mean to suggest you needed absolution. I merely wanted you to know that I am available as a priest, should you wish to use me as such.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Nik said.
“I’ve never met anyone who hates music,” Danik interjected. “How can you blame music for a tragedy like that. It just doesn’t make sense.”
It didn’t seem like Danik wanted anyone to answer. He appeared to be simply talking to himself. Zakhar patted him on the arm as if attempting to soothe his feelings as well. Nik’s mouth twisted up in a wry sort of smirk. He wondered if by just saying what he did he’d been able to spare himself music in the evenings. If so, it would be worth it. Nik doubted it would work for long though. Trying to keep Danik from his songs would be like trying to keep Zakhar from his studies.
The priest had brought a fat tome of scripture; it had been one he’d personally been copying from various scrolls, and it was filled with his own flourishes on each title page. Nik didn’t tell him, but he thought the artwork quite beautiful. When Zakhar wasn’t reading scripture, he was studying maps or creating new ones with various colors of bottled ink and parchment. As they camped that evening, Zakhar worked on his rendering of the tigers pulling their sleigh with the three of them riding along. Nik was holding the reins, and there was a painted smile on his face.
Had he been smiling? He couldn’t remember. Actually, Nik hadn’t recalled smiling in a long while. The last time he could remember being truly happy was when he’d danced with his mother. Since then he’d been enthusiastic, such as when he thought he might win the affection of a tsarevna, but he hadn’t felt happy, at least not in a carefree sense. Glancing over at Danik that evening as they camped, he could almost see the distress on Danik’s face. Even without an instrument in his hands, the man was drumming his fingers against his leg.
He sighed, acknowledging that even to him it was too quiet in the camp. “It’s fine with me if you want to play something,” he said to Danik. “I’ll suffer through it.”
“No. No. I don’t want you to remember your mother like that.”
“It’s not like you’ve played that one song of hers anyway.”
