“Welcome visitors, locals, regular customers, staff, passersby, and the cheap seats at the windows. Welcome to another evening in wonderful Tarnas!” the outlandish one shouts, somehow reaching me in the far corner as clearly as if I stood next to him.

  This remarkable presence. How did he do that? Is it a song?

  “For the uninitiated, they call me Ras, for reasons you are free to guess,” the Ras voice sneers at the crowd. “This evening, by the grace of his Lordship Thomas, it’s my illustrious responsibility to keep you all entertained.”

  The room immediately erupts into raucous applause and stomping cheers, shaking the foundations of my seat and dancing it ruggedly across the floor. One of the more precariously placed plates even shimmies off the side of the table, exploding into a wide splatter on the ground. However, no one seems to care. Observing nearby, the floor everywhere is already covered with the messes of others scattered all about. Did I accidentally join their foolish, wasteful tradition?

  “Yes. Thank you, thank you. Of course. Thank you,” the Ras voice calmly proclaims, performatively distributing the haughty gratitude all around before again holding his hands above his head to silence the crowd. “Quiet down, quiet down!”

  The room immediately returns to complete stillness at his command. All orient in his direction, ready for any next communication or demand. The Ras voice produces a very strangely shaped block of wood from somewhere, maybe a pocket? Holding it with both hands, one hand begins smoothly stroking a series of strings running along the center. Something new ambiently fills the room. I can hear it. Another voice? I can feel it.

  “Ready or not, thus begins the show!”

  His hands move faster. The room somehow fills even more, as if a vibrant, thick paint is coating every surface. A different sort of sound proceeds from every one of the strings and lithely tugs at me. Energy runs from the Ras voice and his strings to my ear and mind, thoroughly entrancing me. I too am ready to meet his demands. To take action. Something must be done! We have to go. We have to move!

  "Remember, remember, winter and spring.

  Lost to theft, stolen by some petty king.

  Remember, remember, summer and fall.

  But not all is gone, because Tranas calls."

  "Remember, remember, town and nation.

  Get ye, get ye, back to your right station.

  Remember, remember, goodwill and law.

  Take ye, take ye, we can fix all these flaws."

  "Remember, remember, folk and neighbor.

  Protect the weak, a rewarding labor.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Remember, remember, safety and home.

  Ladder willing, carry all from this dome."

  The Ras voice’s serenade keeps going, but my mind briefly snaps back for a moment to grab ahold of itself. This thing. It’s a song? A song song? It’s so powerful that I can barely think for myself. Many in the crowd lean forward in their seats, rapt in the big one’s talent. Others have jumped up and rabidly dance in the open rows between the tables. If I’m not careful, then I might lose my hood in this commotion, mindlessly joining into the demands of the hypnotizing merriment.

  I must risk leaving before that happens. Before the grinner comes back and chastens me down again. It was a valuable lesson coming here, but staying too long is much too dangerous. This Ras voice is far, far too powerful. If he sets his eyes specifically on me, then he’ll surely see through my ruse and call me out to the crowd. Then all this crazy energy will be solely vented at my destruction!

  Hopping off the chair, I stay low beneath the tables and scurry straight towards the nearest door. On the way out, a few pouches from the wholly distracted big ones happen to fall into my hands. It only takes a single, quick swing of my knife. Perhaps this place does have some merit worth coming back for? I’ll figure out their contents later.

  Snaking my way amongst a sea of animated legs, either dancing or tapping to the voice’s song, I finally reach the door and squeeze through without fully opening it, drawing as little attention as I can.

  Now outside in the alley, relief floods me. Freeing myself from the restricting walls and rhythm leads to an intense feeling of release. Most of all, I discover a kind of vibrant, jiggling jealousy in the mind mud. Was that magic? Was the Ras voice entrancing me via the expulsion of some kind of special arcane energy? Garret’s deceptions and the mind hierarchy may lead to such a place, but I never anticipated them holding this much power.

  Gathering my wits, I stoically recall the gossip of Thomas searching for the ears. For the library. I have to check the sewers. Did I leave anything behind? Do they already know?

  Scrambling down the nearest rat hole, I carefully walk along the main tunnel, carefully inspecting everything leading up to my ambush with amplified eyes. Then, following along where I dragged the body to the exit, I search for any careless leftovers. However, there’s nothing. Nothing covering the bars of the sewer’s exit either. After six months, it’s all so covered in slime and filth. It would be a wonder to find anything after this long. That should ease my anxiety.

  However, I remember the Ras voice’s song and its unexpected, exceptional power. How do I know some stupid arcane specialist won’t have found something that I can’t see? Those hunters. Do they have special eyes? A natural node in their noses? Can they work impossible magic that I can’t even fathom in order to clearly read my act like a book?

  Shivering at the thought, I don’t know what to do. Without knowing their exact capabilities, how can I hope to better cover any of this up? Does that mean that I have to abandon the library? If they’re still active in the sewers, then that also means that I can’t make a home down here either. Right, right, I’ll go back to Vastra. Safe Vastra. I’ll return to the library one more time, pack up everything that I’m able, and then flee to Vastra.

  Sighing out my lorn, I sadly watch the free wilderness outside the sewer gate. Why do I persistently stick to these stupid, dangerous big one dungeons? I’ve stolen so much power here, but at what cost? One mistake and I’m dead for good. Maybe I should go back out there and hide. I’ve already gained so much. I can still study and practice in the forest. Or in another good cave? There must be more mud out there somewhere. I could explore deeper down in that original cave! Forget these stupid cities, their stupid games, and their stupid customs. They can keep all this nonsense for themselves, that’s one thing that I’ll never steal.

  Turning around, resolute to head for safer adventure, a hand tightly grips my throat and lifts me high up into the air. Barely able to breath, I desperately grab at my hood to keep my face covered rather than bothering to try freeing myself.

  “Well, he’s definitely not supposed to be down here. Maybe he knows something about that Starna business? And here you thought that the bounty was impossible!”