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"A Good Morning" (Muse) Annallee woke not long after sunrise. She dressed and walked across the hall to see if Pico was up yet. His rumpled bed was empty, however, so she went downstairs in search of him. From the stairs, she looked out across the dining room. He was nowhere to be seen. Where could he be? she wondered. At that point, the inn keeper noticed her and waved her over. "Your friend left a little while earlier," he said, "He left this note for you." Annallee read over the note twice. So she'd be on her own again today. Everyone seemed to be tending towards solitude since their arrival in Muse. Maybe it was the way things ended up in war. She had never even been near war before, so she couldn't know. She sighed heavily and went in search of something to do with herself for the day. A short time later she found herself standing in front of a pastry stand in the market square, wishing she had the potch to purchase one for breakfast. But she rarely carried any money herself; Alberto always did. She was starting to try to put food out of her mind when the vendor motioned her over. "I saw you the other day singing by the meat-on-a-stick stand across the way," he said. "People like a good song, and when they're happy they eat more. I'll give you one of my pastries free if you sing by my stand this morning. How's that sound?" Annallee smiled and nodded. Often enough the trio would make such a deal with a vendor, together or individually. In times where there were many performers in a place at once, such as the Summer Faire, they would have to compete for vendors. But now, with most travellers having left the border areas, it was the other way around. She set up and ate her pastry, then got out her tambarine and started with a steady beat. She sang the song which came with the beat, not thinking about it at all when she started about which song it would be. "By the white cart-road,
A small crowd was gathering to listen to her. It was an old song, one she had hear her mother sing when she was little. "Or, where the footpath
Likely few people here knew the old Harmonian song, but the feeling of the song still carried. Hope. That when things seemed dim, they would always get better. She'd always believed that was so, and it always had been, even when things were at their worst. "Though they fade quickly,
A few listeners who had looked glum before looked a little heartened. Some of them were probably parents whose child had disappeared in the recent incidents. Maybe they had a small amount more hope that their child would return safely. The vendor was busy selling pastries and checking to make sure more were still being made. "Transmeo caliga," Annallee began another song, part of
a legend that she'd heard from a great bard once.
The listeners became puzzled by the song. Of course they did, it was always sung in Ancient Harmonian. It was a pretty song, though a person who understood it was rare. Only scholars or priests, who wouldn't care for songs anyway. "Egos propono is foedus sublimis,
Morning passed quickly enough, and at noon, as the crowd thinned, the vendor gave her another pastry in thanks. Business had been very good this morning. She picked up her hat. Business had been very good for both of them this morning.
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