The Dawn Chorus: A Bone Season novella (The Bone Season)

by Samantha Shannon

Inside, the organ thundered. Its sound filled every vault and corner. I closed the doors behind me and leaned against them, eyes drifting shut as his music rang a thousand bells inside me. His last piece had evoked regret – it had been a call for death, for an ending – but this one was all mettle and beauty and defiance. Even though it was loud enough to make my ears ache and my chest vibrate, it calmed me. I remembered this melody from somewhere. Words, still unstrung from the notes, were honey-sweet on the tip of my tongue. For a long time, I let the warp and weft of the music knot itself around and through me. When I stirred from the trance, I made my way up to the organ loft, where Warden sat on the bench, as straight-backed as if it were a throne, playing by candlelight. He used no sheet music. All of this was from memory. Note after note soared from the pipes to the ceiling. I watched his hands gusting over the keys, his leather boots keeping time on the pedalboard. He played like a storm in the shape of a man. All too soon, he stopped. The echoes faded from the vaults.