40 Music

Awestruck, bereft of his breath, Corco stared at the stars up above.

High above the cloud layer, the firmament was so much brighter than it had been at a lower altitude, a view any man had to see at least once in his life. As if intent to compete for a place across the black velvet of the night, there were so many stars that the sky looked crowded. Nowhere was this more obvious than along what the Yaku called the road of stars. Bulked together, they formed one arm of a galaxy, clear and undisguised, for everyone to admire in all of its splendor.

After their caravan had crossed the highest portion of the pass, Corco's group had set up camp for the night. Meanwhile, Corco himself had left them on the road down below and made his way up the mountain side by himself. Even though the path via the long, narrow pilgrim's steps was difficult, not even Fadelio had felt the need to come along. No one in Medala would dare attack a pilgrim of Pacha.

Alone with his thoughts, the prince had climbed the winding stairs past the tree line and into the barren purity of the snow-covered mountain tops. Although he was prepared with a fur robe for protection against the cold, it had proved of little use. As he marched ahead, he had drawn it ever tighter to his body, while his breath formed clouds before his eyes. At last Corco had arrived at the final ritual bell of the pilgrimage, had rung it like all the others in the past centuries and taken the last few steps to the top. Exhausted, he had reached a plateau and seen the goal of his journey: Urquna, the celestial mountain.

Beneath the starry sky, he found himself upon a wide plateau, the white snow almost blinding, even in the darkness. A world of wonder, covered in an eternal blanket of ice and snow. Even so, within this frozen picture sat a lake, as clear as glass, yet unfrozen. Through the darkness, Corco could only just spot the Pacha temple complex on the opposite shore. Circled around an indented court yard, the short wooden buildings formed a bowl-like structure with the center.

As Corco's steps led him up to the lake, he realized that he was not the only pilgrim on this winter night. Sat by the pond, deep in meditation, Corco spotted a middle-aged man, his back towards the new arrival, a desperate fire against the omnipresent veil of the frozen darkness. Like a statue the man sat, dressed in nothing but simple robes, barely protected from the icy bite of the air. With his head shaven in the style of the Pacha priests, his status became clear. With slow, careful steps, so as to not disturb the priest, Corco approached the holy lake, the crunches of fresh snow under his feet.

A few steps short of the shoreline, he looked down to admire the clear reflections of the stars on the mirrored surface. For a while he lost himself in the beauty of the moment. Ever since he had received the gift of knowledge five years ago, back when he was at his lowest, he had questioned the nature of the Pacha faith, of his own faith, again and again. The event itself should have hinted at a higher power at play, but he still could never quite shake his doubt. At last, while he stood on the ground and felt his mind sink into the stars, he could accept his beliefs once more. Once again he realized that they were part of who he was, who he had been. Whoever he had become in his time abroad might cast away his faith in the future, but not now. After a while, he couldn't say how long, he had forgotten whether his eyes were aimed down at the lake or up at the stars. Throughout the trance-like calm, a raspy voice offered Corco a line to connect the illusion to reality.

"What do you think they mean, youngster?"

Immovable, the old man still sat there and stared into the lake as he asked his question. Unsure of what the priest had meant, Corco looked at him with a raised eyebrow and waited for an explanation. With patience, the man obliged."The stars, what meaning do they have for you to make this harsh journey in the middle of winter?"

With a smile the prince stared up into the lake once more.

"Humility. And opportunity. They are a proof of humanity's meager stature in the face of the eternal universe. Despite our insistence in our own importance, we can neither fathom nor control them. So they make us aware of our humble nature. And yet, they're also the greatest goal for us to aspire to. Though we should always remain humble and free from arrogance, our goal is in clear view, just above our heads. It is up to us whether or not we can rise beyond ourselves to reach it."

When Corco looked back over, the old man seemed pensive, his lowered eyes focused on the lake's deep reflection.

"You don't think they appear cold? Just look up at the sky. High up there, shining so brightly like a distant flame in the night, yet they illuminate nothing for the mortals down below, to leave the world a place of cold and darkness. They sit up there in all their splendor, but would provide nothing for beggars such as us. And like beggars, we sit here and beg, as we hope for salvation. In plain view and yet out of reach forever, only there to promise eternal suffering and vain hope."

His head still down and his shoulders slumped, the priest's posture reflected his state of mind.

"Is that something a priest should be saying?" Corco asked

"I am not a priest and had no intention to pretend otherwise. I hope this old man did not waste your time with his incessant babbling," he said as he looked up at Corco for the first time since his arrival.

What stared back at the prince were hollow eyes, sunk in and desperate, as if their owner had given up, though on what Corco did not know. With a quick wave, Corco accepted the apology, if only to ease the man's suffering. In reply, the old man pointed towards the temple off in the distant darkness.

"If you are in need of the priests, they should all be inside. You should go as well. The night is cold. It might get colder."

"What about you, old man?" Corco asked.

"This old man is quite robust. This is not the first night I have spent out here and I am sure it will not be my last." A tired smile crept onto the man's chapped lips, to complete the picture of a futile struggle.

With only the crunching sound of the snow under his feet to accompany him, Corco followed the only footsteps on the plateau and made his way around the lake and towards the temple complex.

Soon he entered into the courtyard and headed past the large, elevated ceremonial bell in its center, towards the only light source he could find, a dim lamp in front of one of the low-built wooden huts. His frozen fingers slid open the paper door and brought him into the cold interior. Compared to the frozen world outside, the room felt almost war.

"Oh, ahem... greetings honored pilgrim."

To Corco's surprise, he was greeted by friendly, if awkward words. Below the dim lamp at the room's entrance, a bald-headed boy sat with a koto on his knees. While Corco took off his coat and shoes to honor the hallowed ground, he frowned, eager to understand the boy's identity.

"Hello. You're not a priest either?"

"Oh no, I erm... This mortal is, honored pilgrim. Why would he not be?" the young priest asked, clearly still surprised from Corco's sudden entry.

"You can drop the formalities. I don't really mind. And I asked because I just don't see many Pacha priests playing music. Aren't you guys all about meditation and watering flowers?"

"Ah, yes. The grand reader suggested I should train to focus through music, since I cannot hold meditation well."

As soon as he dropped his formal speech for a more natural approach, the priests stutter was cured, calmed down by Corco's direct attitude

"Is the grand reader still available tonight? I would like to see him for a reading."

"Ah, yes...." the boy's eyes went wide as he realized that he had neglected his duties all this time. "My deepest apologies! This apprentice will inform the master post-haste."

His eyes fixated on Corco's clothes, the boy began to sweat in the cold, before he ran off to do his duties. From the expensive silk the prince wore under his fur coat, the priest must have realized his guest's status. With a smile, Corco watched as the boy jumped up and ran towards the back, his zither abandoned and thrown to the floor like yesterday's clothes. As if it was natural, Corco walked forward, picked up the instrument and tried a few notes. After what seemed to be mere moments, the young priest was back.

"The master will see you, honored guest."

Called back to reality, Corco lifted his head, uttered a "thank you" and followed the apprentice inside.

__________________________

Pure darkness filled the room Corco had been led to. Only the biting cold all around him reminded the prince of his own existence. In his surroundings, the only source of light were the moon and the stars visible through a large, round hole in the ceiling.

"What can this old priest do for you, guest?" While he was only a voice out of the darkness at first, Corco's eyes soon adjusted and peeled back the shadows. Revealed from within the darkness, a hunched silhouette sat towards the far side of the room. First the prince gave a silent bow, before he sat down opposite the old priest. With movements which seemed so familiar even after all these years, he put a few pieces of gold into the bowl which had been readied in front of the grand reader.

"I want a reading for a descended family member," Corco said.

"The name," came back a voice like gravel.

"My father. Titu Caelestis Pluritac."

With no show of surprise despite the emperor's name, the grand reader grabbed a small clay pot by his side and poured a strange liquid over the gold pieces in the bowl. Like a living creature, the liquid rushed out of the cup until the gold was fully submerged. Although Corco couldn't see much, he still recognized the silvery liquid as mercury, or quicksilver as it was called here. Accompanied by a low hum, the grand reader stared at the metal's mirrored surface, an attempt to read the thoughts of the stars in their reflections. After quite a while, he once again looked up to fulfill Corco's request.

"It seems as if this soul's path is troubling indeed. The spirit is restless, the path is blocked. A most trying journey and a long descent await him."

Shocked, Corco tried to get up for a second, before he remembered his hallowed surroundings. After a deep breath, he still had to seek an explanation.

"How could that be? Even up here, my father's name and status should be well known."

With his words, the priest had implied that there was trouble on his father's – the emperor's – journey through the underworld. An unusual reading, since the imperial burial rites were designed specifically to guarantee smooth passage.

With the stoic calm of an ancient tree, the priest illuminated his reading.

"Young prince seems unaware of the tasteless dealings of his brothers. Their actions have dirtied all aspects of life, even the path to the gods. A great calamity awaits."

"...in that case, I want to ask the reader for some of the lake's celestial water. To purify my father's spirit." Helpless, Corco did whatever he could.

"Of course, young prince. Will young prince begin his descent right away?"

"No, I will meditate on the stars for the night and be on my way by dawn. There is still many estates I have to visit. I need the calm, time to think."

Although he had not received the answers he had wanted, Corco still got up and turned to leave the room without a complaint. Even so, the old priest held him back.

"Young prince may be well-advised to pass by the estate of Lord Nasica. Prince will not find shelter there."

Confused by the cryptic message, Corco turned back and studied the priest's expression. However, there wasn't much to see within the darkness.

"And why is that?" he asked.

"Lord Nasica has blocked off all entry to his estates and moved here, to find peace in meditation. The lord has been here since the emperor's departure."

"The man at the lake," Corco realized, "what would a lord do here for so long?"

"Lord Nasica searches peace in the face of destiny. Young prince has been away for far too long. Prince might not know of the solstice oracle."

Although he could not see the priest, Corco still felt the profound sadness, the deep resignation in the old man's voice.

"The stars have foretold great turmoil. Man's greedy and wicked nature has angered the Earth. The tiger will sink into darkness. The serpent will bite off the road to heaven. "

Lost in thought, Corco looked at the dark silhouette for a few seconds, before he turned to leave, without a word. Outside, he found that the young priest had waited for his return, so the prince let himself be guided back into the light and warmth of the entry hall.

"All guests have been discouraged by the solstice oracle, honored guest," the boy said. "Even master is distraught. With the sudden arrival of the foreigners and the death of the emperor, many have given up, ready to submit to their fate. It is the beginning of the apocalypse."

Corco sighed in response. If there was a danger to their people, none of this would help them fight for their future.

"To be honest, I've never liked this fatalistic part of the Pacha faith. In that regard, my perspective hasn't changed, despite everything. Say..."

In contemplation, Corco looked towards the koto he had placed down before, reminded of days long past. From within his memory, he reached for bit of skill from this world and a piece of knowledge from another.

"...can I borrow your koto for a while?"

"Of course, honored guest. I cannot play the thing anyways."

Right on the lake's shore, Corco sat down on the bare snow while he tuned the instrument by ear. With all his heart, he tried to remember the melody he had heard a long time ago, in a different life.

"You know," he said to the apprentice monk who watched him from inside an opened door, "I can't resent the people like your master does... and I can't resent the stars like that man across the lake."

With a single, shaky note, and then a second, Corco began to play. His memory was still excellent, but he hadn't practiced in a long time and found it difficult to play a new piece by memory alone. Yet as time went on, his fingers began to produce the harmonies in his head.

"There is nothing malignant about the stars, the world or the people. I also don't think turmoil is always a bad thing. Turmoil means change. Change can be good. If the turmoil is inevitable, let me be the one to bring it about. There are many things which need changing after all. From the lowest valleys to the highest mountains."

Corco looked down to focus on his play. For the first time since he had arrived In Medala, he felt at peace. As the night went on and his play became more adept, fluid music began to travel across the lake and up into the sky. When Corco looked back up, the sun had risen over the holy mountain and the shore across the lake was empty.

He was no longer cold.