Cheno was happy. She was the star of the band, 'Lucid Dreams'. They made fair money playing at the cantina on Raegwilde, where she worked part-time. She was learning to play the simple reed flute Dak had carved for her. The people here had never heard of Caprice, of Odds, of anymuch beyond their own island, and she was glad. They were a friendly, close-knit community. There were other villages around the island, but Saradip�, where she was, was the biggest. Most of the townspeople had tattoos, not just the adolescents, and mant of the older folks were covered in them. Jewelry also was fairly common, from necklaces and bracelets to earrings, nose rings, and more. Though it was traditional on the island, much of the body art on the younger folks was thanks to Dura, who was both the smith at the forge and the resident tattoo artist, though Dak lent his artistic abilities to the tattooing whenever he could. There were few foreigners, and those were from islands even farther away from the mainland. The village had all the necessities of a self-sufficient island community; houses, a harbour, a forge, a windmill, a lighthouse, a small general store, a loom-house to weave cloth, and the cantina on the beach. A few people kept chickens, sheep, or goats, or grew useful things like cotton, herbs, or wheat. Most people grew their own vegetables, and fish were available in plenty, to catch or to buy. The boat she'd brought from the mainland had been painted, reworked, and renamed to Lucy, in honour of the band. All five of them could fit in the boat, almost comfortably, and they often went fishing or exploring the nearby island grottos. Her most common partners on these ventures were the twins, as Dura was often busy at the forge. Brujo joined in often, but was also commonly found in his kitchen, cooking either for himself or for anyone else who happened along. Their instrument cases had been waterproofed, and they were ready to leave the island to tour Capriscia. Cheno was slightly apprehensive, but as a musician she could travel, and not be in any place long enough to attract unwanted attention. So, she found herself putting up posters for the band's farewell concert at the cantina. There was, of course, no paper mill on the diminutive island, so the posters were painted on thin slices of wood. Dak was next to her, holding the stack of signs and a box of tacks.

           "So, Cheno, are you worried about the concert?"

           "No. But I'm nervous. I think the entire island is coming out."

           "And then some. This is quite an event. I even hear a couple foreign boats are in the harbour. One of them's huge...a pirate ship by some accounts, although if that's true they're exceedingly well-behaved. There also was a little ferry, but it dropped its passengers and left. Some sort of altercation. I think the ferry captain just got nervous because of the big scary pirates. Wanna go check it out?" he asked hopefully.

           "No, but thanks for the offer. As soon as I finish with this, I'm gonna go get packed. Get ready. Practice! Gah, I need more practice!"

           "Aw, you'll be fine." Dak grinned impishly, "Even if you were to make a mistake in the lyrics, they'll all be so hypnotized by the beauty of your voice, they won't notice. Why're you packing already, anyways? We aren't leaving until noon tomorrow."

           "I like to be prepared."

*****

           The beach where the audience gathered was packed. The nearby open-air cantina was doing booming business, from which the proprietor, Nari Tenom, was donating one-fifth to the travel fund of the five youths. The remainder would keep Ms. Tenom in business for months easily. The group stood behind the stage nervously, listening to the crowd�s restless murmur. Dak paced, fairly crackling with energy. Dura tuned her guitar, testing a few chords. Brujo was preening, smoothing some hair products into his wild mane: this was not to tame it, but to make it even wilder, tousling it into fluffy spikes. Indigo was meditating, breathing deeply and doing something akin to Tai Chi. Cheno simply sat, contemplating all sorts of dire possibilities. They had performed before, but never in front of such a crowd. Surely she�d lose her voice, or trip and fall, or have a sudden affliction of crisiswrath and massacre the entire audience.

           �What�s on your mind?� Dura asked, looking up from her guitar.

           �Ah�stuff. Y�know. Quite a crowd��

           �No worries.� Indigo broke in cheerfully. �We�re gonna rock this beach so hard the echoes of the cheers will be heard all the way to the mainland, so when we get there we�ll already be famous.�

           �Something tells me fame will require a bit more work than that. Tonight is just a stepping stone�but I�m not worried.� Dura responded calmly, smiling reassuringly.

           Nari poked her head backstage. �You guys ready? We�re gonna get Alba to say a few words, then you�re up.�

           �Okay. Thanks, Nari.�

           �Oh, and Cheno? Don�t worry so much! You�re gonna give yourself a tumour or something!�

           Cheno smiled weakly. �I�ll try not to.�

           The crowd hushed as Alba Normoon, chief elder of Raegwilde, stepped onstage. Her wizened body was still fit; though she walked with a staff, it was mostly ceremonial, and she gave the impression of using it more as a pole to vault with than as a crutch. She wore beautiful robes, which brought to mind all the colours of a sunset. Her hands and forearms were tattooed with delicate lavender, the spidery patterns somehow enhanced by the creases in her skin.

           �Friends of old, and visitors new! Thank you all for coming to bid farewell to five such talented youth!� As she named each, she paused as they ascended to the stage, greeted by cheers. �Dura Allegra, whose talents both at the forge and working the tattoo needles will be much missed; Brujo Pax, my own great-nephew, whose magical tendencies seem to be more at home in the kitchen than in the school of sorcery; Indigo and Dak Thoreau, whose respective talents in writing and drawing are the awe of many on this island, myself included; and our newest Raegwilder, Cheno Bellissimo, whose beautiful voice and person are leaving us far too soon. So, without further ado and whatnotting, it is my honour to present to you all, the farewell concert of Lucid Dreams!�

           The crowd cheered mightily, as some minor explosions occurred on stage, courtesy of Brujo. As the smoke cleared, the band stood on stage, silent for a moment, and then going into their first song. Indigo began with a quick drumbeat, as Cheno joined with her reed flute. Dak's violin soared into the fray, entwining sweetly, as the guitars made their subtle entries. Dura started singing, one of the group�s older hits, backed up by Indigo�s strong alto and Dak�s low tenor. As the song thundered to a close, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. This soon gave way to another song, and another, the role of lead singer being filled by each in turn. As the night drew to a close, Brujo asked for requests from the audience.

           There was a shout from the back. Cheno felt her innards turn to ice, hearing the title.

           Brujo turned to the others with confusion. �Have any of you heard of that one?�

           Cheno cleared her throat. �I have. It�s pretty popular on the mainland. I�ve sung it before�jazzy, kinda. You think you can follow along?�

           The band nodded, and she sang, all the while looking nervously at the crowd. There. Should have known better than to relax again. It would seem she had been tracked down for her crime, even here, to this remote island. She knew some places were like that; taking the honour of the group so seriously, that if you transgressed against it you would be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, as they would not allow you to get away. And it�s only logical that the town would send those who had gotten to know her best, who could best predict her movements. Just my luck they�d show up to ruin my last night here.

           She was broken out of her reverie by the appreciative roar of the crowd. The song was over. The concert was over. Her life of contentment was over. As the rest of the band were descending to the crowd, to bask in congratulations and cider, Cheno slipped backstage then ran quickly to her small house. It was bare inside, simply furnished, her belongings already gathered for tomorrow�s scheduled departure. She quickly threw on her cloak, grabbed her stuff, and left. She would not return to Raegwilde again.


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