Soul's Song (Chapter 1.2)

Creaking open, a heavy oak door swung inwards. The incessant sounds of wood being sanded reverberated throughout a small shop-space. A slim counter lay almost across the entire room, curving towards the back end where there was another open doorway, from which, the rough sounds emanated. Shelving and wooden stands lined the walls of what was obviously the showroom; cradling dozens of finely crafted lutes, delicate wooden flutes, lyres of all shapes and sizes, and plethora of other more exotic musical instruments that a lay-man would have trouble discerning how they could produce a pitch. With purposeful intention, a large beautiful harp as tall as a grown man stood as a centre-piece, almost beaming with tastefully gilt designs that wrapped around its wooden struct like golden vines. Behind the counter stood a grizzled middle-aged man, sporting a large, bulky, and heavily muscled frame. In his over-sized arms lay a thin flute which he was gently wiping down with a small cloth that was dwarfed in his meaty hands. His gruff look belied his demeanor much.

"Mother's love grace ye," he greeted without looking up from his work; carefully tracing the designs with the edge of his cloth, "and to ye... " Added almost as an afterthought. "So lad, what brings ye back? One's honoured to have company in his old age, but for sure ye'd be out stamping on poor citizens with impunity eh?" His eyes glinted with mirth.

"Pah! They'd jump with just a sneeze from any one in a bleached-white smock old man," sneered a spectre in disgust.

The man ignored Goza. "Did ye have to bring that one?"

"He set fire to the conservatory the last time I left him alone. I fear every time I make a trip to the privy," said Darran with an exasperated sigh. "Father's light on you Marlon."

"Aye. Seems ye have a pest problem," guffawed Marlon while giving a sidewards glance at the invisibly fuming spectre.

"Aye... and larceny seethes in his soul," smiled Darran while mirroring the shopkeeper's glance.

"Do the both of you mind?"

"Go sulk in the corner Goza. Reach for nothing, touch nothing, and for peace do not breathe on anything. You have a nasty habit of not reining in your flames." Darran's voice was emphatic and mockingly stern.

"And if ye do... the old lady will have a few words with ye... at length," added Marlon and effectively shut the spirit up.

Reluctantly and in a huff, Darran and Marlon felt Goza's presence disappear from their immediate surroundings. Probably gnashing his teeth in some corner of the shop.