The music ended with a crashing silence followed a moment later by crushing

applause. People began to talk louder at their tables and booths to one another as they

adjusted to the new reality of not having to compete with the band on the small stage at the far side of the room.

As ‘Ker looked up, he noticed Elgin had remade his face, the man’s harsh features instantly and with jarring suddenness into a wide, and quite jovial smile; the sun suddenly shining immediately after the storm had already taken down the walls around you.

‘Ker’s peripheral vision warned him of the rapid approach of the woman before she

reached them; it was the woman who had been caterwauling up on stage as the band had rushed to play around her vocalizations. Taking his cues from the Dancer, the bewildered ‘Tj’Shae man quickly overwrote all of his pain, irritation and confusion with a bland smile.

“HEY! WOW!” Her accent pulled the simple word into far too many syllables for ‘Ker’s comfort, “Y’all must be the family Elgin was waiting on!” The woman’s speaking voice was just plain annoying; not quite shrill, as such, but certainly entertaining thoughts and ambitions of becoming the dominant force in that field.

It was a marked change from her singing voice, which ‘Ker wasn’t too much enamored of itself. While he didn’t recognise her singing style, he might generously venture that it was something akin to the chanting of the old Greek Choruses that accompanied some of the theater the Greeks and Romans enjoyed so much when ‘Ker had been a child, and traveled in their lands with his oldest brother’s mercenary company, working for this or that minor king, or sometimes just for wealthy troublemakers. But, this woman’s speaking was far worse than her singing voice. She had just come from the small stage to sit with them after singing for an hour of the worst music ‘Tj’Chin’Ker had ever heard. Her entry was abrupt, intrusive, and in ‘Ker’s

estimation, utterly uncalled for.

Elgin had called it something like fuzzy jizz, or fused spazz, or some other

nonsense term the old man must have been making up. Just like the ancient stories of “The Dancer” told to all young ‘Tj’Shae, this must have been one of his “three bullshit answers

for every question asked…and one straight answer you can never be sure about…”

While she had sung this monstrous melodic nightmare well, better than the musicians

with her had any call for; she spoke with the nasal croaking voice of a magpie. Almost

hypnotic in its ability to slowly drill into ‘Ker’s head as he listened to her drone on and on

to Elgin as he sat at the little table beside her. It was amazing, if he actually considered it in depth.

Some words slowed down at odd moments, others were altered or stopped before completion. Anne’s, as she had been quickly introduced between her rushed flow of nonstop comments, pitch as she spoke rose and fell with no pattern he could discern. It was all excitement and enthusiasm, as far as he could tell.

But Elgin just smiled and nodded his head as Anne blathered on about a career she

hoped would take off soon, and how she wanted to be famous; but needing to be a

photographer by day to pay the bills. It apparently paid her very well, but singing was her life’s

goal; she also enjoyed painting. And millinery…? Maybe she would start entering painting contests and art shows… and what did he think she should do first? Maybe interpretive video shorts? Whatever that was, ‘Ker had few and fewer clues.

Her topics of conversation skittered back and forth across many random topics.

When she began to talk about a special school for talented collegians she had attended years

before up in “N’York” for her vocal training, ‘Ker found he could no longer hold in his

frustrations and gave a great sigh of boredom. The older Maker shot him a reproachful

look, quieting all further outbursts, at least for the time being.

‘Tj’Chin’Ker knew he needed Elgin. He knew his people needed the man.

Elgin just nodded and said some noncommittal words meant to placate the chattering woman as the deranged verbal corvids of her conversation cawed and croaked their way from one thing to the next. Stoppering his ears with willpower, he tried to just watch Anne as she rattled on.

With skin as pale as fresh snow littered with a spray of dark freckles across a long

powerful nose and broad, angular cheeks, she wasn’t a bad looking woman in the least. Quite fetching in fact. Anne was on the later part of her mid-thirties he had to guess, with unmemorable brown hair cut short to just below her ears, and was as yet free of the silvering humans earned quickly throughout their brief lives; her most noticeable feature were a pair of dark, wild eyebrows running amok above large, brown, shining eyes.

While just a thumb’s width taller than him, he would have estimated, with a fine if very lean and unforgivingly bony figure, Anne was sat on a broader base than

‘Ker would have expected, just looking at her from the waist up. It was, he thought, a nice hint of softness in an otherwise hard-edged figure.

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But her buzzing, droning voice was closer to shattering his patience than all the physical

abuse he had suffered in Shoat’s care so long ago; though, he supposed, his time in that dungeon room also merely a few months ago in his own subjective reckoning of time. A year at most. But, also two to three years past, and a world away.

When his patience was clearly in the shallows, Elgin dipped a finger in his drink

and used the liquid to doodle a complicated figure on the glossy table top before the cawing magpie of a woman. Anne’s talking slowed as a startled look took up residence wren-like in her expression.

“Ahm sorreh, looook at th’ tahme! Ah gotta go powde mah nose b’fo mah nex

set!”

Scooting back her chair, she stood, and quickly flowed from the table with a sensuous, dancer-like grace. She had run off to the ladies’ room to do whatever it was ladies did to their noses with “powde.”

Elgin just sat across from ‘Ker, grinning. All easy and calm in his manner.

“It’s Virginia.” Mister Stark said it as if it would mean something to ‘Ker.

‘What?”

“Her accent is pure Virginia.”

‘Ker was confused but game. “So, you’re saying she talks like that from lack of

sex? I’m not too shocked, I guess. THat voice, and her raining patter must drive men off by the score. Awful cycle to be caught up in, speaking like that from a lack, but it then causing more of that same lack…wow.” A short, sharp shiver danced up his back as if to say hello to Elgin.

“No, you’re being dense, or you misunderstand me by intent.” The ever patient

immortal began to explain, “The place she was raised, it’s called Virginia. The state we

are in now, in fact.”

“And they don’t have sex there? Er, here?” Turning his head to survey, Banner

gave the room a glower of suspicion.

“They do, trust me, and often. This land was named for a queen.”

“And she had no sex? She was a sex starved queen? You would think if

ANYONE could find someone, it would be a ruler. Most human rulers I remember would

bounce into a bed like bunnies if given the right mood, and a moment’s notice. Did she have some hormonal problems? Or just vastly ugly? Well, that wouldn’t stop a ruling queen in any country, there’s always someone willing to do anyone for a grab at power, or even just because they’re bored. She must have been practically deformed…That’s so sad, but that’s humanity for you.”

Now he felt he had a grasp of the idea, but was babbling now to in a petty match for what he saw in Anne’s manner of speech.

And when he thought to much about who, or WHAT, was across this little table from him right now. He was in a meeting with what was, to the ‘Tj’Shea, both their progenitor, and their worst boogeyman. Live, and in the flesh, every ‘Tj’Shea child’s worst nightmare come true,

and drinking a sticky syrupy almond scented glass of brown liquor.

“No, she had plenty; she was like a weasel in heat, if truth be known. But the lie

that she was virginal was ceremoniously and scrupulously held to by her subjects; and her

iron will, good head for governance, and notoriously short temper helped to make a truth

of the lie to all who respected or feared her. Then it just spread through the history books

like a damp mold.”

Elgin smiled to help the sour and silly explanation go down better.

“So…” ‘Ker started, as he sat chewing this over. “She did, said she didn’t, they all do, living in a place that says they don’t, and now this Anne woman sings bad music very well, but

talks like she has something hot stuck to the roof of her mouth because of it, and regardless of whether or not she has or hasn’t?”

“If you understand that and nothing else, I will feel I have done my job well this weary night.”

Elgin turned back to the stage as the rest of Anne’s band prepped things for her next set.

A tight smile stole the frown ‘Tj’Chin’Ker had seen Elgin wear these last few minutes. “You

could sing with them this next round. I bet every warm body in this room would count it

as the best thing they’ve heard in years. Anne’s voice is actually better suited to ballads and

big band era torch songs, but she loves the Jazz. Go on, get up there. Show them all what

singing should be.”

“I could spin gold from grass, too!” ‘Tj’Chin’Ker snickered into his mug. “I just have no time to learn bad lyrics to music only half composed, and yet with gusto so greatly overplayed. Sing with them, with HER?” His snort of amused contempt sent a fine stream of beery foam from his mug onto the table.

“Tell the drummer the beat you want, and sing whatever you want. He’ll keep up, he’s Tavakia. And no one here cares what language you sing. If they don’t know the words, they listen to the feeling of the performance. It's how the best music is done now. Quality of performance and the ability of the artist to perform is what counts.”

Elgin’s grin began to worry ‘Ker as he listened. “The ability of the average person to know all the lyrics has gone so far out of fashion that many modern singers have come up with styles specifically to make lyrics useless; though some two hundred or so years ago all you needed was to look sexed up and have a bit of rhythm. I’m glad THAT era’s over!”

The thin waif of a waitress dropped another glass of cider in front of ‘Ker, and

another nut-syrup in front of his host. A flat face with high cheekbones and a jaw square enough to cut stones couldn't hide her beauty. Blue eyes so startlingly light in hue, they almost faded to a silver-gray caught ‘Ker and held him firm as she smiled and gracefully swanned away to visit the next table. Her dark brown hair twisted into intricate knots and then to larger braids cloaked her shoulders, and swayed as she walked, mimicking her sinuous movements. Each step delicate and catlike, as she slowly danced around the tables and patrons to take orders and ask after those customers who she surely knew. As he watched her thin frame, delighting over the lovely little treasures her dress tried to hide as it swung and belled with her movements, Elgin’s words brought him back to the table.

“Do it, you’ll be surprised at how well they like you, if you sing them a few bars.”

When no answer came to Elgin, he waved a hand in front of ‘Ker’s face and laughed as the obvious spell was broken.

“Humm? What?” ‘Ker’s eyes suddenly swiveled and refocused on the grinning face of the legend across the table.

“She’s too young,” the old man said. An obvious lie; she had to be at least in her

early twenties, as a human, and by those human standards ‘Ker knew from before the Migration, well past marrying age.

“And… she is the granddaughter of a good friend.”

He let the rebuke work its way through the haze of alcohol, and grinned even more at ‘Ker discomfort at being too easily caught out. “Her grandmother is the local Yaga, and not even the return of the Dancer’s Children would stop her from skinning you and wearing you for a

bathrobe, though with her tastes she might let you live long enough after the skinning to use you up a little herself first.”

As his eyes narrowed at ‘Ker, he took a breath and said sternly, “Really.”

‘Ker watched the suddenly serious lines of Elgin’s face soften and he winked, as if sharing a great joke. A joke with a nauseating carnal ending, but still a Joke…maybe.