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luthier_balloonistOriginally posted here
Oh, but it was marvelous to be up in the air once again. It was strange, to be flying in winter: usually the park below was bright and green, and the England stretching out beyond London was full of life. Now, everything was white, grey, brown but the sky, which was turning an icy blue. Barir took the balloon to a thousand feet, not quite daring to go higher yet in the frosty air, tentative of the more unpredictable air currents, and then let her sail.
He closed his eyes and breathed in. The cold air hurt his nose, and he felt clearer than he had done in days.
“It never fails to impress,” said Jenny, leaning against the basket beside him. “It looks so different at this time of year! Oh look, there’s Carlos there, do you see? You shall have to see some of his sketches; he’s rather good. I had no idea he had ever picked up a pencil until a few weeks ago.”
“He’s a man of many talents.”
“Yes, it’s rather vexing. One day perhaps he will find something at which he cannot succeed; it will do him good.”
Barir laughed. “Has he turned egoist, then?”
“No, that’s the worst part: he’s also disgustingly humble.” Jenny said this with a grin, waving at the tiny figure of Amador below. “Now, what’s on your mind? Don’t dither: I can tell it’s something.”
“A few hundred years ago you would have been burned as a witch,” Barir told her. He turned away from the side of the balloon to pointlessly check his instruments, to give himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He reminded himself, once again, of what Kay had said only two days’ previously: If you truly trust to Mrs Amador’s discretion, you may tell her anything you need to.
“I told you a few days ago that I was very happy, though I couldn’t divulge details,” he began slowly.
“Ah. And now you may divulge, while we’re all the way up here? And will you explain why you do not, in fact, seem to be very happy?”
“If you will give me a chance!” Barir exclaimed. “But you must swear to me, Jenny, that what I tell you won’t leave this gondola. Not even to the ears of your talented husband.”
Jenny frowned at him. “You have my word. Believe me, I have never breathed a word about your secrets to Carlos, and nor will I. You know me better than that.”
Barir sighed. “I do, but these secrets aren’t mine alone.”
“Ah. My suspicions were correct then?”
“Your suspicions?”
“That you have a sweetheart. I congratulate you, my dear. I know you’ve longed for such a thing.”
“You’re quite right, then, Yes.” Barir hesitated, and finally met Jenny’s eyes properly. “You know him, in fact.”
“I do? Who is it? Ben Eder? He seemed rather taken with you in the summer…”
For a moment Barir imagined Kay’s expression should he hear Jenny’s guess. “Not Eder, no. It’s, ah. Kay Tumoe.”
There was a silence, so huge that they could have heard a penny dropped in the park below. Jenny looked astonished. “Mr Tumoe? But he— that is to say, he is so—” She waved her hands vaguely. “He is so sullen, and not at all sociable! How can you bear it?”
“Very well, in fact.” Despite everything, Barir felt a warm amusement. “He truly isn’t so sullen, once you know him a little better.”
“Carlos has said much the same, though I’ve seen little in the way of evidence. But really Barir, wouldn’t you do better with someone a little more personable?”
“I am very happy with the arrangement thus far,” said Barir firmly. “And I mean it, Jenny: you cannot tell Amador. Tumoe loves him as any man ever loved a friend, and he couldn’t bear for him to find out.”
Jenny looked as though she would like to respond to this, but she said simply, “I will say nothing, I promise you. Though I must say, I had wondered once or twice if Tumoe weren’t… well. Carlos once told me that he had never known him to ever look twice at a woman.”
“It helps, that people think him entirely unsociable.”
“That is understandable, I suppose. And he makes you happy, Barir? Truly?”
“Truly, yes.” Barir bit his lip, worrying at the sore spot left from all the other times he had bitten it recently. “But I’m afraid there is a complication. I attended his concert, earlier in the week, and at the drinks’ reception afterwards we… met… Marcus Lowry.”
Jenny’s look of fond concern transformed into one of fury, her lip curling. Barir told her everything about that evening: Marcus’s connection to Kay, his suggestive remarks, and his own fear that Marcus had come to the correct conclusion about his association with Kay. When he was finished the old sense of panic had risen in the base of his throat and his voice was higher and shakier than usual.
“The bastard,” said Jenny angrily. She put a hand on Barir’s arm. “My dear fellow, take a breath. I can see what a shock it must have been! Has anything happened since? Does Mr Tumoe know?”
Barir nodded. “He was angry, at first. He thought I had known, and kept it from him.”
Jenny snorted. “Did he, now? I thought the man was meant to be intelligent. I hope you put him right.”
“I did. You musn’t blame him, Jenny; it was an enormous shock to him, as well. But oh, what am I to do? I adore him, but because of me Marcus may be able to hurt him terribly. Ashdown’s Strings is so important to him; the old man was like his father, though he never puts it that way, and he would be devastated to lose it.”
“No, of course Mr Tumoe cannot lose his business. To nobody, but especially not to Marcus Lowry. I don’t know what we could do, but I swear we’ll help if we can.” Jenny caught his hand and pressed it. Barir blinked back the treacherous tears that had threatened him for the last few days and met her fierce gaze. “I will tell Carlos nothing, if you wish it, but I think it would be helpful if he knew at least some of this. We can tell him that Lowry is an old friend of yours, who treated you badly, stole from you, and fled to America. We can tell him about the gambling, and the debts. That will be quite enough to explain without the… specifics. He is very concerned about Mr Tumoe; he loves him dearly, for some reason.”
Barir dashed a hand over his eyes and gave her a flat look. “You may have to admit to Tumoe’s good qualities, Jenny, now that both your husband and I can see them.”
Jenny wrinkled her nose. “He has passable taste in literature,” she allowed. “And I enjoy violin music. That is quite enough to be getting on with.”
Oh, but it was marvelous to be up in the air once again. It was strange, to be flying in winter: usually the park below was bright and green, and the England stretching out beyond London was full of life. Now, everything was white, grey, brown but the sky, which was turning an icy blue. Barir took the balloon to a thousand feet, not quite daring to go higher yet in the frosty air, tentative of the more unpredictable air currents, and then let her sail.
He closed his eyes and breathed in. The cold air hurt his nose, and he felt clearer than he had done in days.
“It never fails to impress,” said Jenny, leaning against the basket beside him. “It looks so different at this time of year! Oh look, there’s Carlos there, do you see? You shall have to see some of his sketches; he’s rather good. I had no idea he had ever picked up a pencil until a few weeks ago.”
“He’s a man of many talents.”
“Yes, it’s rather vexing. One day perhaps he will find something at which he cannot succeed; it will do him good.”
Barir laughed. “Has he turned egoist, then?”
“No, that’s the worst part: he’s also disgustingly humble.” Jenny said this with a grin, waving at the tiny figure of Amador below. “Now, what’s on your mind? Don’t dither: I can tell it’s something.”
“A few hundred years ago you would have been burned as a witch,” Barir told her. He turned away from the side of the balloon to pointlessly check his instruments, to give himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He reminded himself, once again, of what Kay had said only two days’ previously: If you truly trust to Mrs Amador’s discretion, you may tell her anything you need to.
“I told you a few days ago that I was very happy, though I couldn’t divulge details,” he began slowly.
“Ah. And now you may divulge, while we’re all the way up here? And will you explain why you do not, in fact, seem to be very happy?”
“If you will give me a chance!” Barir exclaimed. “But you must swear to me, Jenny, that what I tell you won’t leave this gondola. Not even to the ears of your talented husband.”
Jenny frowned at him. “You have my word. Believe me, I have never breathed a word about your secrets to Carlos, and nor will I. You know me better than that.”
Barir sighed. “I do, but these secrets aren’t mine alone.”
“Ah. My suspicions were correct then?”
“Your suspicions?”
“That you have a sweetheart. I congratulate you, my dear. I know you’ve longed for such a thing.”
“You’re quite right, then, Yes.” Barir hesitated, and finally met Jenny’s eyes properly. “You know him, in fact.”
“I do? Who is it? Ben Eder? He seemed rather taken with you in the summer…”
For a moment Barir imagined Kay’s expression should he hear Jenny’s guess. “Not Eder, no. It’s, ah. Kay Tumoe.”
There was a silence, so huge that they could have heard a penny dropped in the park below. Jenny looked astonished. “Mr Tumoe? But he— that is to say, he is so—” She waved her hands vaguely. “He is so sullen, and not at all sociable! How can you bear it?”
“Very well, in fact.” Despite everything, Barir felt a warm amusement. “He truly isn’t so sullen, once you know him a little better.”
“Carlos has said much the same, though I’ve seen little in the way of evidence. But really Barir, wouldn’t you do better with someone a little more personable?”
“I am very happy with the arrangement thus far,” said Barir firmly. “And I mean it, Jenny: you cannot tell Amador. Tumoe loves him as any man ever loved a friend, and he couldn’t bear for him to find out.”
Jenny looked as though she would like to respond to this, but she said simply, “I will say nothing, I promise you. Though I must say, I had wondered once or twice if Tumoe weren’t… well. Carlos once told me that he had never known him to ever look twice at a woman.”
“It helps, that people think him entirely unsociable.”
“That is understandable, I suppose. And he makes you happy, Barir? Truly?”
“Truly, yes.” Barir bit his lip, worrying at the sore spot left from all the other times he had bitten it recently. “But I’m afraid there is a complication. I attended his concert, earlier in the week, and at the drinks’ reception afterwards we… met… Marcus Lowry.”
Jenny’s look of fond concern transformed into one of fury, her lip curling. Barir told her everything about that evening: Marcus’s connection to Kay, his suggestive remarks, and his own fear that Marcus had come to the correct conclusion about his association with Kay. When he was finished the old sense of panic had risen in the base of his throat and his voice was higher and shakier than usual.
“The bastard,” said Jenny angrily. She put a hand on Barir’s arm. “My dear fellow, take a breath. I can see what a shock it must have been! Has anything happened since? Does Mr Tumoe know?”
Barir nodded. “He was angry, at first. He thought I had known, and kept it from him.”
Jenny snorted. “Did he, now? I thought the man was meant to be intelligent. I hope you put him right.”
“I did. You musn’t blame him, Jenny; it was an enormous shock to him, as well. But oh, what am I to do? I adore him, but because of me Marcus may be able to hurt him terribly. Ashdown’s Strings is so important to him; the old man was like his father, though he never puts it that way, and he would be devastated to lose it.”
“No, of course Mr Tumoe cannot lose his business. To nobody, but especially not to Marcus Lowry. I don’t know what we could do, but I swear we’ll help if we can.” Jenny caught his hand and pressed it. Barir blinked back the treacherous tears that had threatened him for the last few days and met her fierce gaze. “I will tell Carlos nothing, if you wish it, but I think it would be helpful if he knew at least some of this. We can tell him that Lowry is an old friend of yours, who treated you badly, stole from you, and fled to America. We can tell him about the gambling, and the debts. That will be quite enough to explain without the… specifics. He is very concerned about Mr Tumoe; he loves him dearly, for some reason.”
Barir dashed a hand over his eyes and gave her a flat look. “You may have to admit to Tumoe’s good qualities, Jenny, now that both your husband and I can see them.”
Jenny wrinkled her nose. “He has passable taste in literature,” she allowed. “And I enjoy violin music. That is quite enough to be getting on with.”
