Mute-iny

By Pamela Love

Yesterday, I declared war.

On a bugle.

0600. Time for “Reveille.” Our base commander, Wizard-General Lytton, won’t waste even the newest recruit mage on that duty. A simple spell makes the bugle perpetually hovering by the flagpole sound any required call at the proper time.

Until yesterday. Ten seconds into the silence under a rising sun, a different call rocked the base: “Sergeant!”

Before Lytton hollered the second syllable, I’d teleported from my bunk to the flagpole. Lytton didn’t bother adding my name—it’s Salazar, if anyone’s wondering. When the Wizard-General bellows for me, some enchanted object is on the fritz. My job is fixing whatever is broken.

Finding no blockage in the instrument, and knowing a bugle has no moving parts to jam, I tapped it with my wand, casting a compliance spell. No change. Then I redid the original “Reveille” and timing spells. Still no results.

By now, Lytton had come storming outside his tent. Literally storming, with miniature lightning bolts and rumbling thunderclouds surrounding the six-foot-six sorcerer. “What’s wrong with that hunk of junk?”

I saluted, resisting the temptation to wipe raindrops off my face. “Unclear, sir. Still working on the problem.”

“Fix it! We need the base awake.” Fact is, between his bellowing and the thunderstorm, every soldier was already up. We both knew the real problem: this brass instrument was defying the biggest Brass around.

“If you don’t get that thing blowing “Reveille” by tomorrow, I’ll get a mechanic mage who can and give you the boot.” Lytton stomped off.

So, I carried that mixture of two-thirds copper, one-third zinc, and three-thirds aggravation to my workshop, kicking the door shut behind me. “All right,” I grumbled. “Round two.”

I played “Reveille,” non-magically, with no trouble. And just to be sure, I followed up with “Taps.” “So you’re the problem, huh, bugle? You just want someone else to do the work.” This was a power play. Did I imagine the instrument twinkling at me? No, I did not.

But I did stick it on a shelf while I performed my usual maintenance duties. A bit of a timeout for the both of us. My options certainly weren’t the best. Should I get up early and play the wretched thing myself? No, the Wizard-General wouldn’t call that fixed. Or ask Lytton to set up a breeze to play it? Sure, if I wanted to spend the rest of my enlistment as a squirrel. The Wizard-General expects his soldiers to solve their own problems. “That’s why you’re here.” And while he may be kind of a blowhard, I have to agree with him on that—

A blowhard. My gritted teeth slid into a grin. “You want to be played? Okay, bugle, I’ll get you played tomorrow. And for as long as you want after that.”

Stepping outside my workshop, I cast a spell to contact my sister. Fortunately, she wasn’t busy, so I explained my plan.

“Sure thing, little brother.”

At dawn this morning, my left arm was wrapped around the flagpole as I stretched out my right arm, clutching the bugle. My wristwatch clicked over to 0600.

The wind hit the bugle’s mouthpiece like a jackhammer, driving each note through the twists and turns of the instrument. Blaat! Blaat! Blaat! It didn’t sound great, but it did sound like “Reveille.” I should’ve worn ear protection.

The soldiers assembled, and the Wizard-General marched up to me. We exchanged salutes. “Sergeant, what was that performance?”

“’Reveille,’ sir.”

“Is it going to sound like that from now on?”

I released the bugle. The mouthpiece drooped as it hung midair. “Show the Wizard-General how you’re going to play from now on.”

It performed “Reveille” perfectly.

Lytton nodded. “Dismissed.”

I don’t anticipate further problems. The bugle has surrendered. See, my sister works in Enlistment. She let me borrow the army’s most powerful wind: The Draft.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Pamela Love was born in New Jersey, and worked as a teacher and in marketing before becoming a writer. Her work has appeared in Havok, Page & Spine, and Luna Station Quarterly. She is the 2020 winner of the Magazine Merit Fiction Award for her story “The Fog Test”, which appeared in Cricket. She and her family live in Maryland.

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