Chapter 15Another trumpet joined the first. Then another. The sounds cascaded over one another, filling the hall. Traditionally, fighting pits always opened with a fanfare of some kind. More often than not it would be a teeth-clenching affair of split notes and dissonances, though occasionally it could be martial and stirring. Pinnatte liked that — he responded to music, and a good fanfare thrilled him. So much so, that when he heard one he would walk back to the Den, whistling a tuneless and inadequate descant to its echoing memory softly under his breath.
But this was such as he had never heard before. It was not merely confidently and accurately played, it had a driving, rhythmic power that seemed to pick him up and shake him. At its climax, he felt as though he was being transported t
