The Last Lady from Hell Read Online Free Page A

which the tune is played–has eight finger holes and a hard, double reed, which gives it plenty of crisp volume. The cane reeds, however, are more susceptible to temperature and moisture and can pull a bagpipe out of tune smartly.
    When a solo piper is tuned and playing, one would seldom notice the tonal changes brought on by environmental factors. But get a band of twenty pipers whose pipes all react to climate at a different rate and you have tonal chaos. Therefore, it is essential that a band be tuned as close to a parade step off as possible.

    I could hear the sounds of pipes being tuned as I opened the large oak doors to Grant Hall. As I entered Room 110, the combined noise of twenty plus chanters being played up and down the scale blasted me.
    Pipe Major Manning was keenly focused on the tuning and either didn’t notice my arrival or chose not to acknowledge it. I preferred to remain anonymous at the time anyway. I moved quietly to the periphery, content to watch and listen. Tuning is an important process, and requires some time to complete. A good piper with a good ear and a ready band can, however, make the process move along at about three minutes per piper.
    “You! Pipes up!” I was jarred from my thoughts to see the Pipe Major looking in my direction.
    A thump of adrenaline coursed through me as I hurried to the center of the room.
    “Blow up and tap off!” he barked.
    The reed of a drone is softer and more flexible than that of a chanter, so it makes a sound with less air pressure in the bag. To silence the drones, you tap your hand on top of the drone opening and it quiets. I can’t explain why it works, but it does. When all three are tapped off, you can blow more pressure into the bag and the chanter reed will sound.
    I quickly blew up my pipes, tapping off my drones, and continued to blow evenly into the blow pipe to keep constant pressure. Manning stepped directly in front of me and made a sideways fist, with his pinky outstretched. To me it looked as if he were choking an imaginary chicken in a dainty way. My puzzled look was all he needed to see.
    With his blow pipe still in his mouth, he continued to blow air into his bag. Between breaths, he commanded, “A! Give me a low A!”
    Then it dawned on me what his hand gesture meant. To produce a low A, you cover all the chanter holes except the one covered by your right hand pinky. I blew harder and squeezed the bag until the chanter barked out a low A.
    Manning did likewise and we played the same note for several seconds. Then he held up his hand with his middle three fingers outstretched to form the letter E. I was catching on.
    I followed his lead as he continued up and down the scale while he listened for the difference between our reeds. They were obviously off, so he stopped blowing, as did I, and he held out his hand. No words were necessary. I pulled out my chanter and placed it in his outstretched hand. He put the chanter to his mouth and blew an E on the exposed reed. With his teeth biting down on the base of the reed, he pushed it deeper into its seat, sharpening the note. When he satisfied with the tone he handed it back to me.
    I reset my chanter, blew up, tapped off my drones and waited for his next command. I followed Manning’s lead up and down the scale, now in perfect tune.
    Then, without a word, he turned away and moved on to the next piper. This fellow has a great ear for tuning, I thought. Minutes later, with the last player in tune, Manning moved to the center of the room.
    “Circle up,” he called out.
    I watched as all the pipers formed a circle so I followed their lead and joined in. An observant piper next to me noticed my slowness to respond to Manning’s command and tapped my shoulder.
    “Follow me,” he whispered.
    “Thanks, I’m Ian MacDonald,” I said.
    “Sean Lyons,” he replied.
    Sean was not a tall man, less than six feet, but he had a strong frame. Not a muscleman sort of build, but more like that of a farm