The Grantville Gazette - Volume 4 Part 33

and declared, "Enough of this noodling. Time to talk about important things. Herr Bledsoe, this piano, it

is ein grosse dulcimer, yes? Hammers strike the strings, yes?"The others stepped back as Master Hans, Ingram and Friedrich took over the piano and spent the next little while examining its construction and mechanisms. Exclamations such as "Himmel!" and "Aha!" punctuated the conversation.

While this was going on, Anna visibly steeled herself, turned to Marla and said, "Franz says that you sing. Do you sing as well as you play?"

"Well . . ."

"Yes," Franz said. "If anything, she is better." Marla flushed again.

"Er," Anna hemmed, "um, if-you-teach-Thomas-will-you-teach-me-please?" It all came out in a rush, and she in turn blushed, but still continued to hold her head up and look the taller woman in the eye.

Marla reached out and took her hand, saying, "Of course. I would love to."

"You know," said Thomas, "that some people will disapprove."

Two heads turned as one toward him, two sets of female eyes focused on him, and if pointed glances had

been daggers and stilettos he would have been well and truly nailed to the nearest wall. He quickly held up his hands in surrender. "Not me! I would never object. I just meant that others would."

"Smart man," Franz muttered under his breath.

He thought. The heads turned toward him now, the eyes boring, and Marla gently said, "Did you say something?"

"No, nothing, not a word."

"I didn't think so."

"I will deal with Papa and Friedrich and my brother Karl," Anna said. "No one else matters." The two

women talked together about singing, while Franz and Thomas silently congratulated each other on

narrowly escaping with their skins intact.Finally, Master Hans pushed away from the piano, and said, "Enough. I must think. Herr Bledsoe, now go to your workshop? I would see more of the wonders of Grantville, bitte."

After Marla closed the piano top and put the quilted cover over it, nothing would do but for them all to bundle up against the cold and traipse back out into the bright day, all load into the visitors' wagon and drive the few blocks to the Bledsoe residence.

Ingram's workshop turned out to be in an old detached garage building behind his house. He ushered them into it and turned on the lights. They all looked around at the neatly racked tools, the power saws and lathe. Both Master Hans and Friedrich were immediately drawn to the workbench where a work was in progress.

"This is?" Master Hans looked to Ingram."A guitar, the kind that's called a cla.s.sical guitar.""Is this . . . what strange word was it, Franz?""Kit.""Thank you. Is this eine kit?"Ingram chuckled, and said, "Yep. I got this one and a steel-string guitar kit in right before the Ring fell.

Didn't start it until recently, but it's coming along well. I had it in mind to build these, learn from them and try producing my own."

"So, this is apprentice work?"

Ingram blinked. "Well, you might say so."

"If you please, show me this kit."

"Sure." Ingram hauled out the box, laid out all the parts and showed them the instructions. Master Hans

and Friedrich looked them over, examined everything, tried to read the instructions and understand

enough to follow the pictures.

"Hmm. These writings-good. Friedrich, think about these, how we might use them." To Ingram, "How good will this guitar be?"

Turning to a nearby cabinet, Ingram brought out something wrapped in a sc.r.a.p of old blanket, which he unwrapped to reveal a lap harp. "This was made from a kit from the same company. I a.s.sume the guitar will be similar in quality-not great, but good enough for a beginning student to play." He held it out to the two down-time craftsmen.

As they scrutinized the harp, Marla whispered to Anna, "Why is your father quizzing Ingram this way?"

"Quizzing?" with a perplexed expression.

"Why is he questioning him, and poking into everything?"

Anna shook her head, "I do not know. Papa always wants to know how good other craftsmen are, but I

have never seen him this direct before."

"Good, Herr Bledsoe." Master Hans handed the harp back.

"Call me Ingram."

"Herr Ingram, have you zomezing of your own that I can see, zomezing not a . . . kit?" Master Hans

seemed to be getting excited. His accent was getting thicker.

Wrapping the harp up and putting it back in the cabinet, Ingram said nothing. Marla could tell he was beginning to get irritated with the down-timers because a muscle in his jaw was jumping. She went over and helped him clear the guitar kit from the workbench. Still not saying a word, he went back to the cabinet and removed a much larger blanket-wrapped parcel which he carefully set down on the workbench and equally carefully unwrapped. Stepping back, he waved a hand at what was revealed-a

dulcimer of beauty and quality. There was a faint "Oooh" sound from the others in the room, and they stepped closer.

Marla clapped her hands. "Ingram, you finished it! You didn't tell me!"

"Yep. Finished it last week. Figured I'd tell you the next time I saw you, which turned out to be today."

Master Hans and Friedrich peered at the dulcimer closely, muttering to each other. The craftmaster

looked to Ingram for permission. At his nod, they picked it up carefully, turning it this way and that, examining the wood grain and joins, plucking at the strings, nodding approval at the sound.

"Pardon," Friedrich said, "I must be sure. This is not a kit?"

"Nope," said Ingram tightly. "I haven't made a hammer dulcimer from a kit in, oh, twenty years or more."

"A fine work, this," Master Hans declared. "Worthy of rank." Ingram looked pleased.

"Old Bessie MacLaren from Clarksburg commissioned that, before the Ring. She's . . . or I should say, she was . . . one of the best players in the country, and I was right pleased that she called on me. I finished it up after the Ring fell, even though she's not around to get it. Couldn't stand to leave it undone, and I figured that sooner or later I'd have a chance to sell it. Anyway, I have to admit that's probably the

best piece I've done.""Ist gut," Master Hans repeated. "Master Ingram"-who now looked very pleased at the compliment-"from this I see that du bist craftsman." He waved at the dulcimer, which Friedrich was carefully placing back on the workbench. "You know wood, you have skills, yes? Now, let us talk of pianos. To make pianos, here, now, what do we need?"

The newly dubbed master pulled at his chin with his thick-fingered hand. "I'm not an expert," he said

slowly. "I moonlighted for a music store in Clarksville, Tennessee, when I was working for a contractor at Fort Campbell a lot of years ago. That's where I learned what I know, including how to tune pianos.

But I suspect you-all have a handle on the woodworking part of it. The soundboard is large, but shouldn't be a problem, and a cabinet is a cabinet."

Master Hans nodded impatiently, and motioned for him to continue.

"No, the two things that you will need to make one right are the cast-iron harp and the steel wire. You need the wire to stand up to the tension and the hammering and not stretch or break, and you need the

harp to brace the soundboard so it will stand up to the tension that has to be placed on the wire to tune it.

Otherwise, sooner or later the soundboard will warp and all your work will be wasted."

"As I thought," said the German craftmaster. "For the piano, for the music, it must be this cold heavy

metal." Marla choked. He looked at her quizzically, but she waved him to go on. "Good copper and

bronze and bra.s.s too warm, too soft would be, not hard as iron."

As the craftsmen discussed the metals and their availability, Franz leaned over to Marla and asked, "What was so funny?"

"Heavy metal . . . music. I'll explain later."

"Iron we can get," Riebeck concluded. ">From Muehlhausen or even Nuernberg. Wire from steel, difficult."

"Especially that much of it," Friedrich said, "and in those lengths. Steel wire is not common, and is

ruinously expensive."

There was silence in the shop, while they all ruminated on that thought.

"There might be a way around that problem," Marla said, "at least until they start making the stuff in

Magdeburg that they keep talking about."

Both older men turned and looked at her, identical expressions with raised eyebrows on their faces. She smiled, and said, "You know, Aunt Susan's got that old upright piano in her parlor, Ingram? The one you

said had a cracked soundboard? I bet you could buy it from her for not much, strip out the harp and wire and other fittings, and use them to build a new piano."