The festival continued around them like nothing had changed. Because for everyone else, seemingly nothing had.

  ?That juggler,? Randulph said quietly, watching the man who'd been dropping balls yesterday. ?Saw him yesterday. His right arm is bandaged now. And he's juggling... are those cats??

  They were. Three increasingly unhappy cats being tossed in slow, unsteady arcs. One hissed mid-flight. Another had gone completely limp with the particular resignation of a creature that had given up on dignity. The third was plotting murder, judging by its expression.

  ?He's worse than yesterday,? Reyn observed.

  ?You remember yesterday. Good. I was starting to worry I'd dreamed the whole thing.? Randulph winced as a cat yowled. ?Though I'd prefer to be dreaming this. At least we know that yesterday happened.?

  ?Why wouldn’t it??

  Randulph blinked at her then gestured toward the man. ?He’s hurt from yesterday.?

  ?He is a bad juggler, who juggled axes. Of course he got hurt yesterday.? Reyn raised an eyebrow and took a closer look at Randulph. ?Did you hit your head??

  ?I mean… he… we…? Randulph sighed and waved his hand. ?Never mind.?

  The same woman from the day before, in the couldn't-decide-on-colors dress approached, except today the colors were different but equally indecisive. ?Visitors! Welcome! You're just in time for the dancing!?

  ?We were here yesterday,? Reyn said.

  ?Don't be silly! The festival just started!? She grabbed for Reyn's hand the same way she'd grabbed Venn's, with the certainty of someone following a script they didn't know they were reading.

  Reyn stepped back. ?I'm looking for my friend. A healer. Big eyes. Dark hair, about this tall—?

  ?We have no healers visiting! But we have wonderful wine that’ll heal many a sore travelling spirit!?

  The music kept playing. The same songs in the different order from the day before, and the musicians wore blue today instead of green. The sellswords and the merchant family were all gone, replaced by a couple of confused travellers.

  Reyn moved through the crowd with increasing frustration.

  ?Have you seen a healer? Dark hair, carried a staff??

  ?No healers here!? said the baker, flour dusting his beard in a slightly different pattern than yesterday.

  ?I'm looking for my friend. She was dancing here yesterday.?

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  ?Yesterday? The festival just started!? said the butcher, his apron clean where yesterday it had been bloody.

  ?A young woman, she was learning your local dances—?

  ?Everyone learns our dances!? said the ponytailed woman. ?You should try them!?

  The priest was blessing the wine again, but wearing brown robes instead of grey. Another young couple only had eyes for each other, though they stood on opposite sides of the square from yesterday. Everything the same but different, like someone had rearranged the furniture in a familiar room.

  The music shifted to the courting dance. A man materialized at Reyn's elbow. Different face from yesterday, same insistent smile, same reaching hand.

  ?You must dance! Everyone dances at the Falun Festival!?

  ?I'm looking for someone.?

  ?Someone found you!? He grabbed her hand and pulled. This time, she knew what was coming.

  Reyn let him pull her exactly far enough to get momentum, then pivoted on her heel, grabbed his wrist, and used a move from Bormecian combat training thah Elder Torval liked to call "Introducing Your Enemy to the Ground." He went down in a controlled arc that would have ended with a knee to his throat if she'd completed it.

  Instead, she stopped just short, leaving him on his back, blinking at the sky like a turtle contemplating how it had gotten flipped.

  The crowd erupted in applause.

  ?Magnificent!? someone shouted.

  ?Haven't seen a move like that in years!?

  ?She's a professional!?

  The man on the ground raised a thumb. ?Again!?

  These people are mad, she thought.

  Reyn helped him up and fled before anyone could request an encore. She found Randulph by the wine stall, observing new arrivals. A peddler with a cart full of trinkets that rattled with the sound of broken promises. A bard tuning a lute that had seen better decades.

  ?Excuse me,? Reyn said to the bard. ?When did you arrive??

  ?Just this morning! Perfect timing for the festival, it seems.? He strummed a chord that suggested his lute disagreed. ?I’ll have them talk about the Falun Festival again after they’ve heard me.?

  Reyn didn’t listen. ?Have you seen a healer? Young woman, dark hair??

  ?Can’t say that I have. I’m surprised to even see other travellers here. It’s been a while since the Falun Festival was on everyone’s tongue.?

  Randulph and Reyn exchanged glances.

  ?It used to be all the talk among the young ones,? Randulph muttered. ?It sure does look like it’s still going. Why aren’t people talking about it anymore?.?

  Reyn tried the food vendors. ?I'm looking for my friend. She was here yesterday—?

  ?Festival just started today, miss!?

  She tried the town guards. ?A healer went missing last night—?

  ?Nothing goes missing during the festival! Except inhibitions!?

  She even tried the children. ?Have you seen a lady with a staff??

  ?We've seen YOU! You're really tall! Is that a rabbit? Can we pet it??

  Turnip showed its teeth, and Reyn shook her head to their dismay.

  The music pulsed around them, insistent as a heartbeat. Reyn's patience, usually among her stronger qualities, snapped like old rope. She grabbed the nearest local, a man carrying bread the length of a longsword, and lifted him off his feet. He weighed about as much as her sword.

  ?Where. Is. My. Friend?? Reyn could feel the Rage bubbling underneath.

  The entire square stopped. The music cut off mid-note. Every face turned toward them. The only sound was the man's bread hitting the ground and Turnip chittering nervously.

  ?I... I don't... please...? The man's feet kicked uselessly in the air.

  ?Reyn…? Randulph said, eyeing the stares they were receiving.

  ?The Mage-to-Be. Dark hair. She was here yesterday. Danced to8 much. Where did she go??

  ?Yesterday?? His voice squeaked. ?The festival just started today!?

  The silence stretched. Then, like someone had flipped a switch, the music resumed. Everyone went back to dancing. The man in Reyn's grip looked confused about how he'd gotten there.

  She set him down. He picked up his bread and wandered off, already forgetting.

  ?We should go,? Randulph said quietly. ?Now.?

  They headed back toward the inn, the festival sounds following them like a persistent relative.

  ?It's Suggestion magic,? Randulph said once they were away from the crowd. ?Has to be. But the scale... this would take enormous power. And skill. Mass Suggestion on an entire town like this...? He shook his head. ?Patch couldn't do this. Never. This is the work of someone with actual talent wasting it on... whatever this is.?

  ?Then who—?

  ?Psst!?

  They turned. A boy, maybe fourteen, stood in an alley. Skinny, nervous, with the kind of furtive look that suggested he knew things he shouldn't.

  ?You're looking for the girl? The healer??

  Reyn stepped forward. ?You know where she is??

  ?Maybe. Check the fields north of town. By the old mill.? He glanced around nervously. ?After dark.?

  ?Wait—? Reyn started, but the boy was already gone, vanished into the shadows between buildings like he'd never existed.

  ?That wasn't suspicious at all,? Randulph said dryly.

  ?It's a lead.?

  ?It's probably a trap.?

  ?Still a lead.?

  The music swelled behind them, cheerful and relentless. Turnip chittered agreement and began cleaning blood from its fur. Whose blood was unclear, but with Turnip, it was best not knowing.

  Reyn took a deep breath and calmed the Rage. ?Let’s go.?

  ?Now?? Randulph said. ?We should lay a plan, find out more…?

  ?You do that,? Reyn said and started walking north. ?Plan and figure things out. I’m going to find Venn.?