The story of Israfel’s first love is so closely intertwined with the story of Israfel’s second love that one cannot be told without telling the other.
He still had duties to be done, as he had done none this day and spent the entire day in the warm spring sun playing on his old Lute that his mother had given him a year ago, when he had begged her repeatedly for weeks on end. He knew he was gonna get in trouble when he got home, so he had no intention of going there just yet. His dad would be furious. His mother would likely be busy trying to make things good with Lord Gorndai Falcor insisting that Israfel was a good boy and would do his duties the next time.
Outside of the tavern he could hear music coming from the tavern. Someone was playing a violin, a tune of melancholy and pain. The song about about a woman who was called The Wild Rose. The song was like none he had heard before. So full of life and yet so full of tragedy.
It was still only early evening as Israfel entered the tavern. “The Singing Slap” was not yet full, people were still on their way here for the night. But tonight there seemed to be more people than usual and the mood was entirely different.
Israfel was still too young to be allowed to drink, but he didn’t come here for the alcohol. He was here for the music. And tonight, he knew,would be a night like none other. He had never heard music like this before. It called out to him, he listened to the composition and was amazed with the multitudes of ups and downs, so beautifully woven into a story and making the small hairs on his arms stand up in a tingle.
He tried to make his way up to the stage, but there already was too much of a crowd, and he was still just a boy. Try as he might, he couldn’t get up and see who was playing.
That was when it happened. He heard the most incredible voice he had ever heard. A silky fine and jolly womans voice started to sing. Stretching across several octaves, the voice reached out and Israfel felt drawn to it. But he couldn’t get through the crowd in front of the stage. Israfel never saw the singer. He was lost in the song, he felt as though his soul was on fire. This, he knew, was the music he wanted to play! Music that touched people, that gathered people. Music that would be recorded for history to marvel over.
Later, as he went home, he couldn’t stop thinking about the music. How it had called to him and how he had wanted to play such music himself.