When the fire crackled it seemed to whisper to him. A musician heard a song in every sound, no matter how callous and harsh the sound. If music was the collection of sounds to express something - an idea, a thought or an emotion - than even the most terrible of sounds had a place in the pantheon of performance. Even the most wretched terrible things could be made beautiful if they were molded by the right hands. Koe had no such illusions about his own hands, but he had an ear for the sounds which gave lie to the state of things. A fire was a destructive force, but it could be the bringer of life as well. A snore could be a breath gone wrong or a true sign of sleep. In Ilyien's case it was the latter. And in the case of Onainat, who was a tricksome creature at the core of her being, it was the former. Still he didn't look up from his work. Cleaning each and every opening atop his ocarina was proving to be more trouble than he was used to. At least, on the road. He didn't want to miss anything. And he didn't want to let Onainat know that he was watching.

There had been times when she was a child that he thought they would never be separated. Minaht had been more interested in crusades than in raising a child, and if Koe had no taste for them it was because he had seen what a country in upheaval could do to those who looked to a crown or a throne for protection. Times of great change were not kind to those who endured the worst of it. And anyway he didn't thrive on such things. His desire to see the world existed in a different place from Onainat's. And her mother's desire was somewhere far, far gone from both of them. The distance Minaht had created between father and daughter with her stupidity was very real. Very real, and very heartbreaking for a father who was used to being worshiped. Who actually had been worshiped once. Ending and beginning her world with a nod was not what he wanted, but at the same time he couldn't imagine a life without having some sort of...

( Now he sounded like he was about to weep. )