Zuri and the Round Window Song

“Does the castle hum because it's sleepy?” Zuri asked. Zuri was a fox cub, rust-red and small, with a tail far too big for her and a nose that asked questions all by itself. Grandma Dara set down her teacup. “Listen first,” she said. “Then tell me what you think.”

So Zuri listened. The hum was everywhere and nowhere at once. It slid down the velvet corridor, past the tall clock that stood as tall as a door, past the smell of beeswax and old books, and it settled inside Zuri's ears like a warm scarf. Hmmm, went the castle. Hmmm-mmm.

“Is it the clock?” Zuri asked. She put her ear right against the clock's wooden belly. “Tick,” said the clock. “Tock. Tick. I only tick. I never hum. Ask somebody else.”

“Is it the curtains?” Zuri asked. She hummed into the velvet. The velvet took the sound right in, soft as a pillow. “Not everything hums,” said Grandma Dara. “Only the hollow ones.”

“Then it's the dragon,” said Zuri. At the very top of the tower, on a stone as warm as fresh bread, slept a dragon no bigger than a cat, curled up like a cinnamon roll with wings. “Perhaps,” said Grandma Dara. “But first, finish your honey. The dragon's not going anywhere.”

Zuri finished her honey, all the way to the bottom of the little pot. Then, because her nose asked questions all by itself, she put her mouth to the empty pot and hummed. Mmmm, said the pot. It hummed right back at her, low and round and much bigger than a fox cub.

Zuri laughed so hard that her tail swept the spoon right off the table. Clatter, it went. “It hums!” she said. “Grandma, the pot hums!” Grandma Dara picked up the spoon and listened. “So it does,” she said.

“Hollow things hum,” said Grandma Dara. “If the air can slide in and out, it likes to sing. Jars hum. Pots hum. Bottles hum, if you're lucky.” Zuri's ears went up. “Do big hollow things hum bigger?” she asked. “Bigger and lower,” said Grandma Dara. “You'll hear.”

Zuri trotted to the kitchen shelf, with Grandma Dara right behind her, and found the big brass jug beside the teacups. She hummed into it. Booooom, said the jug. It was deeper than the pot and deeper than her chest, and it made her whiskers tickle.

“Bigger and lower,” said Zuri, very pleased with herself. “So the biggest hollow thing in the castle would hum the lowest of all.” She looked up at the ceiling. Somewhere above her, the hum went on. Hmmm, went the castle. Hmmm-mmm.

“Come along,” said Grandma Dara, picking up her long brass taper. “Candles first.” She walked the corridor and lit them one by one, one, two, three, each little flame standing up straight and gold. Zuri followed, sniffing beeswax, humming into her pot.

Up the spiral stairs they went, where the velvet turned to stone and the air turned cool. The higher they climbed, the louder the hum grew. At the third turn, Zuri could feel it in her paws.

“It's in the wall,” she whispered. She pressed one ear flat against the stone. The stone was warm. The hum was right behind it, humming into her ear like a secret.

At the top of the stairs they peeked around the door. The little dragon was fast asleep, its sides going up and down, its tail curled around its nose. Now and then it made a small whistling sound. Once it let out a puff of warm air. But its mouth was shut tight, and it was not humming. Not one little bit.

Zuri crept closer. The dragon's stone was warm as a sunbaked doorstep, and its breath smelled faintly of toast. Grandma Dara put one paw on Zuri's back, warm and steady. “Go on,” she whispered. “Ask your question.”

Zuri's ears went flat. “It's not the dragon,” she said. “And it's not the clock. And my pot only hums when I hum at it.” She looked up at Grandma Dara. “So what is it?”

And then the hum stopped. Just like that. The tower went quiet as a held breath. Zuri's tail drooped all the way down to the step. “It stopped,” she whispered. “Grandma, it stopped. Where did it go?”

“It didn't go anywhere,” said Grandma Dara softly. “Listen to the window.”

High in the tower wall was a round window, as wide as a soup plate, with no glass in it at all. Through it Zuri could see a patch of deep blue sky and one star, blinking slowly. A moth went past, soft as a whisper. She waited. Her nose twitched. Her tail stayed very still.

A breeze slid up the stairs behind them, warm from the candles far below. It slipped past Zuri's ears and out through the round window. And the hum came back. Soft at first, then rounder, then full as a bell, humming right up through Zuri's paws and into her chest.

Zuri stared at the window. Then she looked down at the little pot in her paws. Then she looked back at the window again, and her ears stood up straight as two small towers.

“Grandma,” she said. “The castle is a jar.”

Grandma Dara's whiskers curled up at the ends the way they did when she was pleased. “It is,” she said. “In a way. The night wind comes over the round rim of the tower the same way your breath comes over the round rim of your pot. The tower is full of air, and the air likes to sing.”

Zuri held up her pot beside the window and hummed. The pot hummed back. The tower hummed back, lower and rounder and much, much bigger. Zuri hummed high. The tower hummed high. She hummed low. The tower hummed low. The little dragon opened one eye, yawned an enormous yawn, tapped its tail twice on the warm stone, and went back to sleep.

“Does it hum when I'm not here?” Zuri asked. “All night long,” said Grandma Dara. “Every night. It hums whether anybody listens or not.” Zuri liked that very much.

They sat on the top step for a while, Zuri and Grandma Dara, humming with the castle. Far below, the candles made small gold dots along the corridor. The tall clock said tick, and then, a long slow while later, it said tock.

“Time to go down,” said Grandma Dara. “Slow paws, now.” So they went down one paw at a time, and the hum followed them, softer and softer and softer, until it was only a warm feeling behind Zuri's ears.

In her little bed by the window, Zuri set the empty honey pot on the shelf where she could see it. The castle hummed. The clock ticked. Her big tail curled up around her nose, just the way a dragon's did.

And her last question of the night hummed itself, soft and round, into a dream.