Page 54 of Sequel to the Easter Bunny

When I open the door, a trill echoes overhead, from the harp placed there to alert the small woman behind the counter to our presence. Deep wrinkles crease her face, the remnants of decades of grins and laughter.

She looks up at us with a smile, that immediately brightens as her eyes go wide. “Oh! Good afternoon.”

I can’t tell if the reaction is for me, or for Ari.

“Good afternoon, Celene.” Ari says, making me certain that she’s the one the woman is glad to see. “This is Lily, and we are looking for something to make a lot of noise.”

“Lily?” Celene’s gaze turns to me and I know she knows who I am. Swallowing heavily, she nods. “Of course, anything you need, my Lady.”

I shake my head, “Please, just Lily.”

Nodding, she steps out from behind the counter, jingling sounds coming from both of her ankles. “I’ve known this one since I was a little girl,” Celene says, and I don’t correct the mistake.

My grandmother mixed up that sort of thing all the time.

“What sort of instrument do you need? I’m afraid my stock was not meant to grace the tower.”

I almost don’t tell her what it’s for. After all, if she doesn’t think her wares worthy of the tower, I don’t imagine she’ll think them worthy of the spire either, but… she can’t help us if she doesn’t know what we need.

“The gods have chosen to play a game, and I am just one of their many pawns.” I offer her a smile as I pick up a tiny pair of wooden castanets. “I need to find an instrument to replace Diyo’s flute.”

Celene’s eyes go round. “That is not an easy task.”

“The gods rarely give those.”

“Well, I don’t have much…” she offers me an apologetic smile. “People don’t really have time for music anymore. I mostly sell things for kids.”

“Honestly, that’s probably perfect.”

I can imagine why no one has time. Jamus was slowly running this Valley—and its citizens—into the ground.

“Show me anything that will make a racket… and will fit into a bag.” I don’t need to advertise what I’m doing until Juun has the flute and I’ve moved on to the next task.

Celene’s brows fly high, but she points Ari toward the percussion section and lets me wander.

“You have to take them one of these.” Ari shakes a tambourine at me and I wince, because yeah, that’s awful.

But I set it on the counter and turn back to look around the room. There are dozens of stringed instruments hanging on the wall, a piano half hidden in the corner. And a clear container of brightly coloured little tubes.

I pluck one out before I realise… “I haven’t seen a kazoo in decades.”

Chuckling, I hum into the red plastic tube and it makes a horrific, but quiet sound.

“Here,” Celene says, drawing out a much bigger plastic horn—but still small enough it will fit in the bag Ari brought from the car. “Anyone who says they like a vuvuzela is lying.”

Ari supplies us with a recorder, a cowbell, and a triangle, and I see something in a box that draws me immediately.

I pick up the harmonica. In the wrong hands, it sounds awful…. It might be perfect.

“Well,” Celene says with a pained smile as I add it to the pile. “There you are. I wish I had more to choose from.”

“There should be something in here that works.” There has to be.

Ari hands me my wallet and I pretend to ignore the visible relief that washes over Celene.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Celene hurries to her register and rings up the total while Ari puts them in the bag.

As she puts the bills in her drawer, she looks up at me, shyly. “Would you mind coming back… to tell me what they chose?”

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