Free Singing the Dogstar Blues by Alison Goodman Page A

wormed my hand through it. Of course my harp was at the very bottom. I can screen out the world when I’m playing the blues. I just slide behind the melody until the harp sings in my head. No more spooky humming. No more unanswered questions. No more Camden-Stone. The harp just fills in all my gaps.
    I stretched out on the bed and stormed out some percussive tonguing, the fuzzy hard sound used in blues solos. I bent an A down to an A flat and let the note reverberate through my bones. It was the start of the blues duet I was writing. The whole idea was to make the two melody lines weave around each other like a Chorian harmony. I was even going to call it the Chorian Blues until that stupid group with the freckly singer stole the name for their pop song. How did it go?
    Don’t be an alien to me, baby,
    Don’t be an alien,
    Don’t be an alien to me, baby,
    Cause aliens don’t have lips.
    What a load of tox and it wasn’t even blues. Anyway, I had come up with another name: The Dogstar Blues. Not bad, if I say so myself.
    The band at the Buzz Bar said they’d give The Dogstar Blues a go when it was finished. I’d even talked Jonas, the alto sax, into playing the second harp. The only problem was that I couldn’t work out how to finish the damned thing.
    I played the trill that I thought might work as the lead-in to the final section for the first harp. It sounded good, but I needed to hear the whole song to make sure it worked. So I started from the beginning, mentally humming the second harp part to check the movement. That’s probably why I yelped when Mavkel ran into the room. It harmonised a sound that dug straight through my melodies, souring the chords. I felt like I’d been doused with cold water.
    â€˜Is Joss-partner ill?’ Mavkel shrilled, its ears flat against its head. ‘Mavkel will call Refmol. Refmol will chant.’ It ran over and cupped its hands over my ears.
    â€˜I’m fine,’ I said. ‘For God’s sake stop patting my ears.’ I pushed its hands away.
    â€˜Why does Joss-partner make healing sounds?’ Mavkel had flicked back its second eyelids to peer closely at my left ear.
    I moved my head away. ‘I’m just playing some blues.’
    â€˜What are blues?’ it sang, its hands were still hovering near my ears. Mavkel didn’t give up easily.
    â€˜It’s a kind of music. Here listen.’
    I played the chorus of The Dogstar Blues , ready to block Mavkel’s hands with my elbows. It wasn’t necessary. Mavkel was completely still as I played.
    â€˜Ahh, this blues has many of the sounds Mavkel uses to heal minds,’ it sang as the last note faded.
    â€˜You use music to heal people?’
    â€˜Yes, Mavkel and Kelmav were Chanters. What do humans use music for?’
    â€˜We use it for lots of things. Mostly for fun and relaxation.’
    Mavkel sat back. I didn’t need to understand ear-speak to see that it was appalled.
    â€˜Then how do humans heal?’
    â€˜We’ve got doctors who learn how to heal. They use drugs and surgery. Things like that.’
    â€˜Doc-tors.’ Mavkel repeated the word a few times. ‘Doctors heal?’
    I nodded.
    â€˜Then Mavkel and Kelmav were learning to be doc-tors.’
    â€˜You were going to be a doctor?’
    â€˜Yes. Mavkel and Kelmav were learning the chants until the pair became a one.’
    I wanted to ask more, but Mavkel was backing out of the room.
    â€˜This is a time for apology, yes? Sorry for disturbing,’ it said. The door closed behind it.
    How come no one had told me about the Chorian’s using music as medicine? Or that Mavkel was one of their Chanter-doctors? I felt like I was picking my way through a VR maze without the help icon. I tapped out my harp and slipped it back into its case. Maybe there was more information on that Reader I’d downloaded. I pulled it out of my duffel bag. Time to start