School of Tieflings (#scofti)

II, Past and Future

— Boy, where ar'cha? — The old man asked, looking around the warehouse in the docks. This memory was vivid in Tief's mind. Still vivid.

— Bo-o-oy? C'mon, I know ye are 'ere... 'got a new chord for ye! C'mon, quit hidin'.

Tief was hiding behind a large box of something. He couldn't read back then. But he memorized many melodies, many songs, so much...

Tief wasn't showing himself. Seth chuckled, sitting on a chair in the middle of the room.

— Aight pal, ol' papa Seth will try to entertain ye'musical thirst. Now, tell papa, what's this a'chord? — He said, tuning the lute. His lute. The lute that now was in the corner of Tief's room, on which he played magic.

Geth, Cess and Doht. Three most useful chords. He didn't know what they were called in reality, in fact, Seth didn't know either. But Tief knew how they were labeled in his mind.. These three were the most common, simple, useful. But after using them so many times, they became dull.

But this chord... Seth played some new tone, something interesting. Major. Bright. Warm. In the light of the cracked oil lantern on the table he played.

He didn't memorise it well back then, but now he could play it with ease without thinking. The Ayem-meht Nehtiya chord. Tief didn't know what this language was, he knew it, but couldn't speak in it, he could sing it, but didn't understand what he was singing. Seth was saying that this language is "spooky", and always said he liked it. It was fiery. Fiendish. Of his tiefling nature. And Tief didn't quite like it. He was curious about what it was, but was afraid of it, as it was something completely unknown for him.

He remembered Seth's melodies. The Duckling Song, In Tabernia, Ol' My Rucksack, Black Cape Mystery... But he couldn't remember the exact look of Seth's face. Tief was always afraid to look into people's eyes, because once he scared some lady on the street. It was his most early memory.

Tief remembered Seth having white hair, long to the shoulders, and a moustache looking like a lowercase-N. He remembered him being tall and skinny, with a breathy voice, as if he was a castaway in a desert and didn't drink water in months. But when he sang... His voice became soft, like silk, like the fur of a kitten. Everytime Seth sang Tief lullabies, Tief felt like he was a kitten, and Seth's song was a petting hand.

It was all around six years ago. In spring, Seth was visited by some men. Tief could hear them talking. He heard their words. "Tax", "Payment", "Owe", "Credit", "Fucking Fiend Bastard You Keep In Here". Tief was hiding in the dark behind the boxes and barrels.

Then he heard no words, but a sound. A sound of a dagger piercing into flesh. A gulping sound of Seth as he fell on the floor.

They left.

Seth was sitting on the chair, his hand red, his stomach stabbed and bleeding.

— Sunny, dear... — He called him. — I can see yer' eyes, boy, c'mere... — Seth was weakening. Tief was crying, a small child, walking to him slowly with tears in his eyes, sobbing with the most bitter sorrow.

— Sunny, it's fine, I'm okay, see? Tis' jus'a scratch... — Seth was pale. His eyes were full of fear. But not of death. He was afraid of what would happen to Tief.

— Yer'a good boy, sunny, don't be afraid. I'm sleepy, okay? 'member my lute? I 'ive it to ye. Ye deserve it. Yer a good boy sunny. You play very well, with those claws, yes... — Seth petted Tief's cheek with the clean hand.

— Good boy... Take it, it's yours. Now ye'll b'free to wander, run 'way from 'ere... This place's bad. Play music and don't let go of the lute. 'member me, sunny... 'member my words: Yer a good p'rson, a good boy of papa... Good... Boy...