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"Na, ma'am, it's only me here now. I haven't seen Vyra since, well, since the festivities began. Is there aught I can do for you?"
"No," Vigdis replied bluntly and turned to go.
At that exact moment, she heard a lone high note in the air. It was followed by another, and yet another and many others. Together they wove a tapestry of sorrow, loss and remembrance, a force so strong Vigdis felt her legs go weak with it.
"Wait," she said, turning. Her voice came out as a whisper. "You can help me, if you will. Vyra - she's my friend - she keeps a bottle of rum in one of the knife lockers. If you could fetch it?" The girl nodded and disappeared.
Vigdis found a chair to sit on and wiped the corners of her eyes. Her sleeve was now moist. The music was still there, distant but still powerful enough that Vigdis had to keep her guard to stay calm. There was a soft thud of a cupboard being closed. Vigdis turned to the girl. She did not fake a smile, but her voice was uncharacteristically kind. "Oh, and hey, you may take some of the rum too. I'm sure Vyra wouldn't mind, on a day like this."
She paused and forced her tone to sound lighter. "And I have to add, you have a nice troubadour here to entertain you."
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