Homecoming

My father is dead.
 
It had been nearly twelve years since I've set foot in Swannport. While I've written to my father and seen him from time to time, I didn't know he was ill. No one did. The Kindly Mothers of the Dréama gave me leave to return for his funeral. We don't mourn in the Sisterhood. My father's song is still being played. His voice echoes in eternity. For we are all song, all eternal, all magic. In a way, I envy him. Yet I do miss him as a child who looked up to him every day and never was able to grow up in his presence. Such is fate of my kind. But the Enigma cannot be solved though nostalgia or sympathy. It takes work.
 
Mother met me at city gates and brought me to the wake where I was to sing a requiem in his honor. My cousin was now the ruler of Swannport and I was still, legally, a Swann, so he was there all grown up. The Dréama is looked upon well by his family, and in the City, unlike some other local traditions like our ancient friends the Druids, who are held under suspicion. Indeed, as members of our calling have dispersed on the Wandering, they have been welcomed wherever they go – usually – including across the sea. Someday I hope to go there. Heh he. I digress.
 
I sang the requiem in his memory and brought both joy and tears to family, friends, and guests. They probably thought I loved him more than I do. Love. Mother I think loved him after a fashion, though she was only a concubine to some. A trophy willingly contracted to be a companion, friend, lover, and producer of two children. My younger brother Shaun, and myself.
 
The Dréama are not about love though, at least not on the surface.
 
You see, the emotion of unbridled romantic love is intensely distrusted by us Dréama. We are not immune to it, indeed Thon (as my father's people call it) is central to all we do, but it tends to get in the way. That feeling is considered a source of disorder, confusion, chaos and was credited with some of the larger failures of individual Sisters, not to mention being the devourer of both peasants and kings. Thus, as a preventative measure, I was taught from early childhood to be suspicious of love, to understand that in its many manifestations the emotion is overpowering and that it breaks discipline and our goals. We do not therefore marry. Lovers are fine. Service is fine. But all emotion goes to the Dréama, the Gods, and to Our Craft. That is where we apply our love.
 
Where was I?
 
Oh, the requiem. My mother is well known as a singer and bard. I'm expected to follow in her footsteps, musically at least, in the theaters and music-houses. Indeed, I was asked to perform The Dance of the Three and The Sad Lady of the High Moor soon after the funeral. I wanted to decline, but mother insisted. Sometimes I prefer singing to the common folk, like the tribes I've known and met over the years. Perhaps I do both? But nevertheless soon I must begin the Wandering. The funeral, though sad, is the beginning of that, until the Kindly Mothers choose another path for me so I might get closer to the Enigma.
 
What is that you ask?
 
The Enigma is the ultimate question of magic and sound. You see, we believe that sound, music, and harmony are part and parcel of magic and magic is the expression of the Song of the Gods and thus Creation. To know music, the right music, is to begin to understand the voice of the Three. With music we make magic. With music we will change the world. Such it shall be Sung, such it shall be Done. That is the Way of the Dréama. The frustrating question is that nobody has figured the Enigma out. Generations have gone by and we have made progress. But not enough. So the Wandering began a hundred years ago. We learned the music of new places and create the perfect singers though careful choices of partners and members. Someday someone will sing the Perfect Song, and unlock the secret of Creation itself.
 
We don't tend to talk about that though...
 
Enough blathering. I'm probably boring you. Hah! For now I have a leg up from the Dréama's reputation, my cousin's name, and more. But I can't do this alone. Opportunity will arrive, I just need to recognize it and be ready. I've been practicing. The practices and rituals of the Dréama Craft and Way are meant to sharpen the body while enhancing a sense of control. I do them every day. Referring back to love, the mind must be its own master, desires never exceeding too far the grasp and capabilities of the desirer. Our practices also include fighting disciplines meant to let Sisters like me defend themselves while at the same time giving me confidence. In truth, as the Dréama say, we each control our own reality, to the degree that what we perceive and experience is shaped by our own preconceptions and expectations. Our way is far more profound than this simple truism, in that a mistress of sound and song is able to make herself behave in accordance with this idea and have others do so as well. My...contribution...to any group is my voice and what comes with it.
 
Now, who are the lucky people whom I might wander with? Or do I go it alone? Home is rather boring.