The music reached them before the town did. It drifted through the trees like smoke, all pipes and strings and drums keeping time with something that might have been dancing or might have been marching. Hard to tell from a distance. What wasn't hard to tell was how the rhythm seemingly went into their bones, even Turnip nodding its head alongside the melody as they approached.

  ?Is that a festival?? Venn asked, her tiredness suddenly forgotten.

  ?A festival.? Randulph's voice could have curdled milk. ?How delightfully convenient. Nothing suspicious about a random celebration in a town we're investigating for magical crimes.?

  ?Not everything is sinister,? Venn said. ?Sometimes people just celebrate things. Harvests. Weddings. Not having to walk anymore.?

  They crested the hill and Falun spread before them, awash in bright colors. Banners of yellow and green stretched between buildings. Paper lanterns hung unlit, waiting for evening. The streets were full of people, locals and travelers alike, all moving to the music's rhythm, making chores and preparations look like one massive semi-choreographed dance.

  ?It looks fun,? Venn said.

  ?It looks like a headache,? Randulph said, though his head bobbed alongside the beat.

  ?It looks loud,? Reyn observed. Turnip chittered agreement from her shoulder, its ears perking as if it heard something no one else could. Everything is loud around here.

  The town's entrance had been decorated with an arch of wheat stalks and wildflowers. A sign proclaimed: ?FALUN FEST OF MUSIC AND VAELENI ART! ALL WELCOME!?

  ?I've heard of Falun's musical festival,? Randulph muttered. ?It was all the talk years ago. Why haven't I heard about it lately? Something feels off, and I'm not referring to the juggler over there who loses his balls all the time. Oh, look, now he’s bringing on the axes.?

  ?Not everything is sinister.? Venn gave him a sideways glance. "Maybe you got old and boring?"

  Randulph lowered his eyebrows at her, but even his sour mood couldn't dampen the atmosphere. The music was genuinely good, the kind that made feet itch to move. The smell of roasting meat and fresh bread competed with flowers and spilled wine, while underneath it all lurked the sharp tang of sawdust from the wooden dance platforms. Children ran between legs, chasing each other with colorful ribbons that snapped like tiny whips in the breeze.

  A woman in a dress that seemingly couldn't decide between colors approached them. ?Visitors! Welcome! You're just in time for the dancing!?

  ?We're just passing through,? Reyn said.

  The woman's eyes widened as she looked up at the Bormecian, before she turned back into the smiling human equivalent of joy. ?Nonsense! Everyone dances at the Falun Festival!? She grabbed Venn's hand. ?Come! You'll learn the steps!?

  Venn looked back at Reyn with an expression of shock and pure delight before being pulled into the crowd.

  ?You, grandfather!? Another local, a woman with ponytails, approached Randulph. ?We have the finest wine! Imported from the capital!?

  ?I'm not a grandfather,? Randulph said, straightening himself. ?Although I won't say no to good wine.?

  ?It will make you feel younger!?

  ?Of course it will. And I’ll be stronger and faster, and better in every way.?

  He followed anyway, muttering something about never missing an opportunity, leaving Reyn standing at the entrance with Turnip like a misplaced statue.

  The square was packed. Musicians on a raised platform played with an enthusiasm that made hard to tell if they were either very good or very drunk. Both, most likely. The lead fiddler's bow moved so fast it blurred, producing notes that seemed to chase each other through the air. The dancers moved in patterns that made no sense to Reyn; partners switching, circles forming and breaking, everyone seeming to know exactly where to step except her.

  She spotted other travelers easily, with their road-stained clothes contrasting with the clean colors of the locals. They danced out of rythm, stepped late and laughed at their mistakes. A merchant family with two daughters. Three sellswords who'd clearly started drinking early. A priest who kept trying to bless people mid-dance. A young couple who only had eyes for each other.

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  ?You're not dancing!? A man appeared at her elbow, already bowing. He had the kind of face of someone that bowed a lot.

  ?I don't know how,? Reyn said.

  ?Perfect! Neither do I!? He grabbed her hand. ?We'll be terrible together!?

  Reyn raised an eyebrow at the man, who stood a head shorter than her. ?Is this a challenge to combat??

  ?What? No! It's an invitation to dance!?

  ?What's the difference??

  He laughed like she'd made a joke and pulled her into the crowd before she could ask what he laughed about.

  The dance was insane. Partners changed every eight beats. Reyn found herself passed from person to person, spinning with strangers, trying to follow steps that everyone else seemed born knowing. Someone stepped on her foot. She stepped on several feet. Turnip abandoned ship, leaping to safety on a roof beam. Reyn could feel Rage build within her, and the occasional urge to defend herself, doing her best not to show that she was having a little bit of fun.

  ?You're doing wonderfully!? Venn laughed as they briefly became partners.

  ?I have no idea what I'm doing!?

  ?Me neither! That's what makes it wonderful!?

  Then Venn was spun away with a gleeful sound of joy, replaced by one of the sellswords who reeked of wine and kept trying to explain the steps while getting them wrong. His breath was so thick with alcohol that Reyn could practically see it.

  Somewhere in the chaos, she lost track of Randulph. She caught glimpses of Venn, flushed and laughing, being taught something complex by the merchant's daughters. The priest had given up dancing and was now blessing the wine instead.

  The music grew faster. The sun began to set, painting everything gold. The lanterns were lit, adding warm light to the cooling evening. More wine appeared. Food was passed hand to hand -- meat on sticks, sweet bread, things fried in shapes that defied nature.

  Reyn finally escaped the dancing and found herself at the wine merchant's stall, where Randulph had been earlier. No sign of him now.

  ?Your friend enjoyed our finest vintage!? the merchant said cheerfully. ?Had quite a lot of it, actually. Wandered off muttering about 'investigative drinking' or some such! Care for a taste??

  Reyn shook her head. ?Thank you, but no thank you. I do not drink wine.?

  The festival continued. The music never stopped, just shifted between songs that all sounded vaguely the same. Happy. Insistent. The kind of music that grabbed you by the ears and demanded you enjoy yourself.

  As the moon rose, Reyn noticed the other travelers had thinned out. Where were the sellswords? The priest was gone too. The merchant family...

  ?Venn,? she called, finding her friend watching a juggler. ?Where did everyone go??

  Venn looked around, wine-flushed and confused. ?Who??

  ?The other out-of-towners. The merchants with the daughters who taught you that dance.?

  ?Oh.? Venn frowned and looked around. ?I don't... they were just here...?

  ?Must have gone to bed!? a local said cheerfully. ?Festival's winding down! You should rest too! Big day tomorrow!?

  ?What's tomorrow?? Reyn asked.

  ?A new day! What’s tomorrow, she says!?

  They found rooms at an inn that seemed too empty for a festival night. The innkeeper, a woman with a smile that never quite reached her eyes, showed them to adjacent rooms. The floorboards creaked under their feet with the groan of wood that had borne too many footsteps in the same places.

  ?Your friend already retired,? she said. ?The older gentleman? Took his room an hour ago.?

  But Randulph's room was empty when Reyn checked.

  ?He probably found better wine somewhere,? Venn yawned. ?He seems the type, don’t he??

  They separated for the night. Reyn lay in bed, listening to the last of the music finally, finally dying away. Something felt off, but the bed was soft, and the day had been long, and even unease eventually gives way to exhaustion.

  ?Reyn?? she heard from the other room.

  ?Yes, Venn??

  ?Are you awake??

  Reyn smiled at the way Venn slurred her words. ?Yes??

  ?Oh. Good. Good night.?

  ?Get a good night’s sleep, Venn.? Reyn smiled as she closed her eyes, listening to the music fading away.

  She woke to music.

  The same music.

  Exactly the same music.

  Reyn got dressed and went to Venn's room. The bed was empty. It hadn’t even been slept in. But Venn's pack was there, her staff leaning against the wall.

  Strange, Reyn thought and headed out.

  Outside, the same banners from the day before were being hung. ?FALUN FEST OF MUSIC AND VAELENI ART! ALL WELCOME!?

  The same woman in the same dress approached. ?Visitor! Welcome! You're just in time for the dancing!?

  ?Dancing? Where's my friend?? Reyn asked. ?The healer with dark hair? Small girl, big eyes? Too much joy for such a small frame??

  The woman's smile never wavered. ?What friend? You arrived alone, didn't you? With that adorable rabbit!?

  Turnip chittered uneasily from Reyn's shoulder and showed its teeth.

  The merchant family was back, but their wagon looked older, weathered. The sellswords' horses were in the stable, but no sellswords. The priest's robes hung from a washing line, but no priest was to be seen.

  The music started again. The same songs. The same rhythm.

  The same dance that grabbed you and wouldn't let go.

  ?Reyn??

  She spun. Randulph stood there, covered in mud, looking deeply offended by his own existence.

  Reyn looked around, as if she expected to see Venn pop out from somewhere too. ?Where were you??

  ?Fell in a ditch,? he said with a shrug, as if it was something that happened every once in a while. ?The wine was stronger than I tthought.Sweet taste. I've spent the morning extracting myself from mud and glitter.? He paused. ?Where's the girl??

  Reyn looked out at the town, feeling her fingers itch after the hilt of Good Deeds. ?I do not know.?

  The music insisted itself into their bones like an unwelcome relative. Someone complimented Reyn's braids, commenting the tooth from Greenlake, the rabbit fur, and there, woven in without her remembering when, a strand of dark hair that wasn't hers. Venn had insisted on it, claiming that Reyn had helped her woth her first trial.

  The festival had begun again.

  And somewhere in Falun, Venn was gone.

  Reyn took a deep breath to control the Rage that surged within her. ?We will find her.?

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