Yuen-Mong's Revenge (40 page)

 
     
"You never act erratically. It’s always calculated, often for the
greatest effect. Admit it."

 
     
"Yes, and it has worked so far."

 
     
Syd laughed out loud. "You know, Yuen-mong, I admire you greatly.
You have already become a household name."

 
     
"Household name?"

 
     
"Everybody knows your name and face."

 
     
"I see."

 
     
"Is that all you say to that?"

 
     
"What else am I expected to say? Is it good or bad?"

 
     
"It can be either," remarked Atun, "and most people try to avoid becoming one."

 
     
"Then it cannot be helped anymore."

 
     
Both men laughed.

     
They spent a pleasant evening of conversation at the Lake Terrace
Bar. She sensed both Syd’s heightened positive vibes as well as Atun’s
partial withdrawal.

     
When they went to bed that night, she lay awake for a long time,
images of Syd’s handsome features and positive vibes floating in her
mind. She again wondered how it would be to make love to him.

     
Next day she made a deliberate effort to lift Atun’s spirits and let him
know that he was her man.

* * *

She got a formal written reprimand from the Foundation Secretariat for
having led the partial exodus in the middle of a concert that had greatly
insulted one of the foremost composers of the galaxy, and she was
reminded that all Foundation members were honor-bound to follow
Foundation etiquette and rules.

     
Naturally, the news media gave it top coverage, both highly negative
and cautiously positive, the latter pointing out that Mendel’s dissonance
music had left the listening public well behind and really should be reserved to specially dedicated sessions for the small fringe avant-guard
public capable of appreciating such music. It also reported that the
second performance of the same concert the following night was poorly
attended.

     
When she visited her grandfather the following Tuesday, he let her
kneel for more than a minute before he asked her to rise, although her
reading of his mind did not convey disapproval, but rather concern.

     
"Yuen-mong, I hope you realize that what you did at the concert
showed deep disrespect for the composer and for those who attended and
wanted to hear the music without a scandal interrupting it."

 
     
She did not respond, but lowered her head respectfully. She knew that
there was some truth to it, but she also knew from her reading of the
minds that night that many people only went because of the fame of the
composer and to be seen by other Foundation members.

     
"Do you have nothing to say? … This is unlike you."

 
     
She sensed the sarcasm. "No, grandfather, what you say is correct. I
will in the future be more discerning in my choice of concerts."

 
     
"You admit that what you did was not acceptable, but I also sense that
you do not regret what you did."

 
     
"You are correct."

 
     
He looked at her pensively for a long time.

     
"Grandfather, I have been honest with you. Will you be honest with
me?"

 
     
"Yes."

 
     
"Did you enjoy that concert or did your ears ring for a long time afterward?"

 
     
Again he remained silent for a while and then his eyes lit up in amusement. "To be perfectly honest, I did not enjoy it, and my ears kept ringing
until I fell asleep."

 
     
"Thank you, grandfather." She paused briefly. "This was my first
concert, but I am not new to music. My mother taught me how to play the
flute, and we often sang together. And after her death, I played music
with the dawn birds almost every day before the first rays of the sun
warmed me. And it was music to uplift the spirits. There were disharmonies too, but even those were beautiful and brought joy when they
resolved. The music we were assaulted with the other night had none of
this. It was nothing but a chaotic sequence of shrieking discords, and he
had the presumption of naming it ‘The dawn of the universe’. Was it not
creating order from chaos; was there no glory, no hope … nothing
uplifting in the dawn of the universe? The vultures on Aros do better."

 
     
"You are rather severe in your criticism."

 
     
"Then show me then where I went wrong?"

 
     
He chuckled. "Yuen-mong, if I were not supposed to be a respectable
old man, I could not help agreeing with you wholeheartedly. But you do
not make your life in the Foundation easy with your behavior."

 
     
"Is life supposed to be easy?"

 
     
"Do you always have the last word?"

 
     
She smiled and pinched her mouth closed with two fingers. For the
first time, she heard him laugh heartily.

* * *

They attended the first of Anco Molena’s flute concerts. Again nobody
questioned Atun’s presence, as if the Foundation had adopted a policy of
not rising to her challenges. She made an effort to ignore the stares and
mixed emotions of the people, although the composition of the audience
was somewhat different. Moira Grant and her husband greeted them
warmly and waved them over to take the two seats next to them. Yuen-mong enjoyed the concert fully, and she made up her mind to pick up her
own playing again. She mentioned to Moira that she played the flute
herself, and Moira asked her if she would like to get to know the artist.

     
"He’s a friend of ours and I’m sure he would be delighted to get to
know you. You’re a bit of a celebrity too," she said with a smile.

     
They went backstage after the performance and after a while Moira
managed to catch Anco Molena’s attention and introduced them.

     
"Moira told me of your courage to walk out of a Mendel concert," he
said as he took her hand. "I must admit that I’m surprised that it hasn’t
happened a long time ago."

 
     
"Anco, Yuen-mong plays the flute," said Moira eagerly.

     
"You had a flute on Aros? How extraordinary!"

 
     
"It was my mother’s. A silver Yamaha. May I?" He nodded and she
picked up his flute. "It got damaged when they crashed and its sound was
not as silky as yours."

 
     
"What kind of music did you play?"

 
     
"My mother liked the old baroque masters."

 
     
"Yuen-mong, why don’t you play your own morning song?" interjected Atun.

     
"You composed your own song?"

 
     
"It may be more accurate to say that I accompanied the dawn bird for
his song."

 
     
"That sounds intriguing. Please, play. I would like to hear it."

 
     
With a shy smile she put the flute to her mouth, sounding the dissonance, resolving it, repeating it three times and then launched into the
jubilant song of the dawn bird, improvising around it at the repeat.

     
After the last sound had faded away, the people in the small reception
room applauded enthusiastically.

     
"Bravo, bravo. You must let me record this. This is the most joyful
piece of new music I’ve heard in a long time." He went over to the recording device, set it going and then said: "Please, once more."

 
     
She repeated it, even more jubilantly, having found her rhythm again.

     
"Will you allow me to play your composition at my next concert?"

 
     
"It’s not mine, it’s the dawn birds’ on Aros. Anybody can play it."

 
     
"Oh no. This is an original composition and deserves copyright
protection. I’ll see to that. You’ll earn royalties from it."

 
     
"Royalties? Please donate them to some good cause."

 
     
"That’s very generous of you. I sponsor free tuition for young artists.
Would that be the kind of cause you had in mind?"

 
"Yes, I would like that."

* * *

Three days later, Anco Molena gave the second concert. Yuen-mong
would not have missed it for anything. To her relief, her presence did not
cause a stir. She also noticed her grandfather with several other family
members in his stall, and Syd also waved to her from his. The performance was mainly Mozart, including the concert in C-major for flute and
harp. She recognized its central theme. Her mother had often played it
and it triggered a deep longing in her. She let her tears flow unashamedly.

     
After the applause had subsided, Anco Molena announced that as an
encore he would play a short original contemporary piece entitled ‘Song
of the dawn bird.’ Her heart jumped to her throat, but she also became
aware of the consternation in the audience. Moira Grant whispered:
"That’s a first. He only plays the masters," and then added excitedly:
"But this is your composition."

 
     
Yuen-mong closed her eyes when he sounded the first chords, letting
the vision of dawn on Aros fill her mind. She had the urge to play along,
to raise the tension of the song and its release. The tumultuous applause
in the hall rudely brought her back to the present. Moira’s excited
exclamations got drowned in the noise. It went on and on, until Anco
Molena raised his hands, put his flute to his mouth again, waited a
moment for complete silence, and then played it a second time. The
applause only ended when it became clear that the artist would not
reappear. The buzz of minds in the concert hall was almost more than
Yuen-mong could bear.

     
They again went backstage with Moira Grant. Anco Molena was surrounded by a throng, including reporters. She decided that she would
rather avoid getting dragged into another display, and they left quietly.

* * *
 

Next day, he called, begging her to meet him at his hotel. They went
there, and he asked her to come up to his rooms. He showed her a
contract for the release of the song as a single. It needed her signature as
the composer.

     
"Yuen-mong, I saw that you had your eyes closed while I played. I
hope that wasn’t a sign of disappointment."

 
     
"Oh no, to the contrary. I relived the waking of Aros."

 
     
"I must admit, I didn’t expect such an enthusiastic reception since
people come to my concerts because I only play classical music. Have
you composed any other pieces?"

 
     
She was just going to say no — somehow the song of greeting the
night hunters, her song of calling the souls of her parents, was too sacred
for her — when Atun said: "That beautiful tune of the night hunters —"

 
     
"No Atun!" she exclaimed at the same time.

     
"But it’s such a wonderful song, so full of longing and sadness."

 
     
"It’s my song to grieve my parents," she murmured.

     
"Oh love, I’m sorry." She felt his surge of regret and, had they been
alone, she would have cried in his embrace.

     
Nobody said anything for a while.

     
"Yuen-mong, I understand your pain, but maybe it would help you to
share this pain with others. Will you play it for me?"