The bow slid over the Violin strings in a glide, giving off a coarse yet smooth rhythm that spoke of lost centuries and the lamentations of a far gone way of life. The fetching, youthful looking fellow played with a passionate ease, as if music was the stuff of the very air he breathed. Before the gathered crowd, a tall, red headed beauty sang with the very soul of the Emerald Isle.  

"[i]Oh it's meetings a pleasure and it's parting a grieve.
And an unconstant lover is worse not a thief.
For the thief he will rob you and just steal what you have
But an unconstant lover will follow you to your grave.~[/i]" 

The pub was full tonight, and there was little else Caber had felt like doing rather than playing an instrument and relieving others of inhibitions. Those that had at first been annoyed at the interruption of their drinking conversations were soon enraptured by the merry, forlorn tune accompanied by the bold and honeyed voice of the mystery woman. They all pulled up seats and enjoyed their drinks as they watched. A few men began to tear up, obviously having taken solace in their drinks this night, fleeing from their own lover quarrels. 

"[i]Oh they'll buy you fine trinkets, fine garments and flowers
And they'll call in at tea-time to pay their devours
They'll swear that they love you by the light of the moon! 
And propooose (beat) marriage?  
No, sherry cobblers at Taylor's Saloon!~[/i]"

So at ease was Caber, that his mind went the way of the wandering doe, searching back to earlier in the day as he remembered his argument with Hieronymus Mauser. The fat human had only sympathies for Montego, laughing at Caber's story of betrayal and having the nerve to call Caber petty for wishing to seek justice. It had been all he could do to not tranform into his wild state and slit the wizard's throat there! It was because Montego was now a wizard like he, demon patron or no. Men today, even wizards, had forgotten the price of the Iron Word. 

He had only been lucky that he had found this woman walking home. Tall and supple like a tree, it had taken a very short amount of time to beguile her. Even now, she was under his enchantment, singing with a passion that had been incited by the fey's eyes. A dark blue void she had inexplicably drowned in, and it brought out her deepest, most passionate feelings now directed by he. Oh, the spell was not permanent, nor was it hard to break out of. But only if you were aware of such things. A normal mortal woman could be ensnared as easily as a hare. 

He would not use her. Such a thing there was no sport in. Instead she merely served to sing as he played, and attempted to cheer himself up with a song. But even as his mind wandered into old paths and rooted streams of thought, did his acute hearing pick up a familiar sound. A sound he had heard innumerable times in his many years on this earth. 

A scream.