Book 5: Almost

Ingrid

I put the long lute—laz—down reluctantly. I’d love to spend the rest of the night getting to know the slightly off cadences of its new shape. “Which ones? Maybe we could play together sometime.”

“The laz, for one.” He points at the top of another pile, where a flat string instrument like the inside of a piano sits. “The naqun.” He reaches into the pile behind him and unearths a beautifully carved wooden flute. “The vey.”

“Impressive.” I roll out my shoulders, feeling much less tense after only a few minutes with an instrument that’s not even mine. “I play the lute, and anything that’s nearly a lute.”

“They all produce such different music,” he says softly. “You know the laz now, but the naqun has an almost percussive depth in larger bands, and the vey speaks like a voice in the hands of someone talented enough.”

I lean back on my hands and turn to Sash with a smile. “You should have told me you were a musician sooner. Even if you