Project Boussh: In Accord by Durandir A voice sounded over her ill-tuned chords: "I thought I might find you here." Becki looked up from the dusty old piano. It was Thayer, of course. Perhaps she ought to be surprised to see him, yet somehow... "Good guess," she smiled cautiously. "Where to find a musician, if not in the music room?" "I was going to check the library next," he grinned. "Also a good guess. I was heading there after a little while, in fact. But first..." She looked back to the keyboard and ran through a few more chords. "You know, this thing is horribly out of tune." "Hasn't seen much use since..." His voice trailed off until finally she looked up at him. "We'll get it fixed soon," he shrugged. "You'd better," she smiled, and went back to the chording. Well, though it sounded bad, she'd played worse: that decrepit old piano they'd once had in the youth room at church...Tiring of the mere chords, she tried a bit of a song she used to play for youth group; nothing too elaborate, so as to minimize the grating effect of this instrument's pitch problems. Thayer came to sit by her at the keyboard, watching with fascination as her fingers moved over the keys. "You make this old thing sound better than it ought," he said at last. "Trust me," she laughed, "I do *not*. You are now hearing one of about three whole songs that I know how to play. And that only just barely. My mom's the pianist of the family. She plays for church-- plays by ear, and it's simply amazing. Me, I do better to stick with the flute--it's much easier playing just one note at a time." "My mother also plays the piano," Thayer smiled suddenly. "Although it's been years since I heard her." "She's coming home now?" "Yes, and soon, I hope." "I'd love to hear her play..." One of the chords just then, something minor, sounded a good deal more dreadful than most. Becki winced at the harshness, then sighed and gave up on the song. Suddenly uncomfortable at Thayer's nearness, she stood and wandered over toward the percussion cluster. He followed hesitantly. "I was surprised," she said to break the silence, "to learn that Kirret used to play in the orchestra. I wouldn't have guessed..." "She did, for several years," Thayer nodded. "I used to tease her that it was a convenient way for her to take out her frustrations-- let her beat on the kettledrum there, so she'd be less likely to beat on *me*." Becki laughed. "Yes, I can see that... And what about you? Do you play anything?" "I'm afraid not. Mother hoped I'd learn the piano, once upon a time, but I never took to it, and she let me be." "It's a pity." "I wish sometimes I had learned..." She tilted her head and gave him a curious look. "I'd teach you--if I actually knew enough to be teaching it. Literature, yes. Grammar, yes. Piano, definitely not." "That's a pity, too." He stepped closer, but she moved away again, making a circuit of the dusty room. Stifling a sigh, he followed. "I've not yet heard you play your own instrument, you know." "I didn't bring my flute," she smiled. "If you mean the piccolo, you really don't want to hear that. It's deadly." "Especially to droids," he grinned. "Yes," she returned the grin, "but also to sensitive human ears." "Still..." he persisted, "I would like to hear." Her smile was shy, yet not without pride. "Well...maybe sometime." She paused by a shelf filled with smaller instrument cases. "You've got flutes of your own here. I wonder if any of them work?" "Try and see." "No. Later." She looked back at him suddenly, and her expression changed, but he could not guess what the change meant. "Anyway..." she continued, "I have to go now. See if I can find Macavity; Lord knows what trouble he's been into in the past few hours. Bye..." And then she was gone. Thayer finally released the sigh he'd been holding back. What was he to make of her? Shy one moment, merry the next... He wandered back to the piano and sat down, staring for a moment at the inexplicable field of keys there. They meant nothing to him, and yet... Cautiously, he placed a finger to one of the keys, then another, and another. The notes were without form or sense as he played them; yet it was perhaps a beginning. So as the minutes passed, Thayer sat there, randomly plucking notes, and wondering at mysteries.