The steamship arrived in Menefer with a grand fanfare, its mighty engines churning the Thistledown River into a frenzy of frothy waves. The port city came into view, a panoply of bustling markets, ornate bridges, and the magnificent spires of the renowned bard college. Mari stood at the railing, her shawl billowing behind her, carpetbag clutched in her grip. The air was warm and humid, even deep into autumn, with vivid pink trumpet-like flowers flowing in creeping vines up the ruddy brick walls of the buildings.

She wiped her brow with one hand. At least she wouldn't need her cloak for warmth for a while.

As the ship docked, Mari stepped onto the quay and was immediately enveloped in the vibrant atmosphere of the City of A Thousand Lutes. The air buzzed with the melodies of street musicians, their dulcet tunes mingling with the enticing aromas wafting from countless food stalls that lined the cobblestone streets.

A few discrete inquiries had revealed the desert oasis lay another week's journey by land. She could either purchase a mount and make her way alone, follow the trade route west in a series of traveling coaches, or book passage on the shiny new velocirail.

The first option sounded a little too adventurous for present circumstances, and the second one sounded boring (and uncomfortable). The last option sounded the most appealing, but was also the most expensive.

Which made it an ideal first test to see how she might fare without sorcery.

"Three days," she said to herself. "If I can't find a way to earn my passage west in three days, I'll use the cloak and go back to Riverbend."

But first, she needed a place to sleep tonight. And sooner than that, a good meal.

Menefer was known for two things: talented musicians and delectable cuisine. It was a short boat trip from the delta where the Thistledown emptied into the Azure Sea, and the marshlands nearby produced abundant rice, as well as freshwater eels and crayfish. She could smell richly seasoned meat grilling somewhere nearby. Her stomach growled in response.

But to satisfy her hunger, she first needed to find a bard. Ideally, one of at least middling skill, and possessed of a shabby hat.

Alistair flittered down to her shoulder as she slipped through the crowd departing the steamship.

"What's the plan?" he squawked, a little too close to her ear.

"I'll let you know as soon as I figure it out," she muttered back.

With Alistair perched on her shoulder, Mari weaved through the hectic press of travelers. As the crush thinned out, a faint sound caught her attention. It was the soft melody of a lute, rising above the chaotic symphony of the city.

Sitting on a dilapidated crate near the pier, a musician strummed her instrument with practiced fingers. Her voice was lyrical, but overwhelmed by the cacophony of the busy port. No one seemed to pay her much notice, most people in a rush to get to wherever they were headed. A battered cotton cap lay upside down beside her, with a single copper coin at the bottom.

Mari smiled; this was exactly the opportunity she'd been hoping to find.

"Good morning," she said brightly. "I can't help but notice it's not a profitable one, though." Mari nodded at the nearly-empty cap.

The bard's face reddened, but she continued with her song, steadfastly ignoring her.

"You're quite good, you just need an audience that's a little less... ambulatory."

At that, the girl stopped playing and gave her a pointed look. "Are you offering to render your fellow travelers lame? Because you don't exactly look like the leg-breaking type to me."

Mari blinked in surprise. "Oh! No. Nothing like that. But I can enchant your cap with a waiting ward. It will convince some people to pause and catch their breath here for a few minutes. And if they stop for a few moments..."

"Then I can win them over?" the bard said hesitantly, raising an eyebrow. "What do you want out of this? Magic's never free, even a temporary enchantment like that."

Mari nodded amiably. "Of course. I was hoping you'd consider sharing whatever extra coin the ward brings in. Above what you usually earn in a morning, that is."

The bard frowned at her cap, then looked back at her. "Well, on a good morning I make about ten copper egrets. So... if it works, I'll split anything above that with you."

Mari suspected the musician was exaggerating a bit about her typical take, but this was a busy port. Anything was possible. She nodded at the girl, the placed her hands on either side of the battered cap. She closed her eyes, and thought about how tiring visiting a new place and being surrounded by new people could be. She thought about how good it felt to sit down for a few minutes after a long walk in the sun. She thought about how her feet felt after climbing the hundred stone steps to her tower back in Riverbend. She felt the magic loop its way through the warp and weft of the cotton cap. It wouldn't last more than a day, but anyone who came within a few yards of the cap would feel the desire to rest. Exactly as she'd promised.

The morning sun was already beating down fiercely. She looked up at the girl, and noticed a billowing sheer scarf wrapped around her neck.

"I'm so sorry, could I just use the end of your scarf for a moment? I've gotten a little bit of dirt on your cap, I think."

Before the girl could respond, Mari's hand shot out and caught the thin fabric. She'd have to be fast, and she hadn't done this kind of magic in years. As she brushed the edge of the cap with the scarf, she recalled some of her proudest moments. She nudged every ounce of confidence she could into the scarf in the seconds it was in her grip.

The girl was good, but too many callous passersby had broken her spirit.

"There, that's better." She released the scarf, and the girl wobbled a bit in surprise.

"Well, alright then. You can hang around if you want, but don't interrupt me again."

The girl straightened her scarf, and lifted her lute again. But she sat up a bit straighter than she had before. When she started singing, her voice carried farther and sounded clearer.

Mari watched with satisfaction as the enchanted cap worked its magic. The frazzled travelers, their steps slowing and their eyes drawn to the cap, couldn't resist the urge to take a moment's respite. Some leaned against the levy wall, relishing in the coolness of the stone against their skin, while others settled onto the benches, sighing in relief as their tired bodies found rest.

The bard sang with renewed vigor and passion. Her fingers danced skillfully across the strings of her lute, producing melodies that echoed through the bustling port. The passersby turned their heads towards her, captivated by the enchanting music that seemed to weave its way through the air. A steady stream of coins found their way into the cap, before the travelers continued on their journeys.

As Mari observed the growing audience, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. It was as if her small act of magic had breathed life back into the bard's performance, and restored her own as well. The music rose around them, creating an ethereal atmosphere that transported them to another world. Whatever unnatural weariness Mari's enchantment had laid on the visitors, the bard's gift alleviated. No harm, no foul.

As the sun rose to midday, the girl set her lute aside, grinning happily at Mari.

"Thirty! Thirty coppers in a single morning!" She gathered up half of them, and offered them to Mari. "Here, you've more than earned your part."

"My part was ten," she said gently. "Half of what you earned above the usual ten."

Mari could tell the girl was wavering over what to do.

"Tell you what. I'll take ten, but I'd also appreciate it if you could point me in the direction of some inexpensive lodging? We can consider your guide services a trade in kind for whatever else you think you might owe."

Oh!" the girl said. "I know exactly the place. Just follow me! My name's Miranda, by the way."

Together, they navigated through the winding streets of the bustling port town. Mari couldn't help but be mesmerized by the vibrant sights and sounds that surrounded them. The aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with the breeze from the nearby river, creating a tantalizing scent that made her stomach rumble with hunger. They stopped along the way at a food stall and each bought a savory meat pie with some of the morning's earnings.

Miranda led Mari to a narrow alleyway adorned with colorful tapestries and ivy creeping up the walls. The air grew slightly cooler as they stepped into the shade, offering respite from the scorching sun overhead. A sign swung in the breeze, with the words "Mystic Moon Inn" painted in faded blue script against a gray background that had probably once been black. A yellow crescent moon curved around the end of the sign.

"This place used to be pretty disreputable," Miranda said. "Bar fights, even the occasional river pirate crew making off with the till. But the new owner is trying to clean it up."

"You're not doing an amazing job of convincing me to stay here," Mari said, dubiously. The place seemed clean enough on the outside, at least, despite the general air of shabbiness.

"Any place this cheap is going to be worse," Miranda said flatly. "But at least this innkeeper is trying. He's a friend of mine. And you're a ward crafter! If you can help him keep the riffraff out, he'll probably let you stay for free. Or at least, give you a good discount."

Mari pressed her lips together in thought. Miranda was vouching for the innkeeper, in her odd way. And it seemed like she was willing to vouch for Mari's enchanting skill.

"Very well," she said. "Let's see what your friend has to say."

Mari straightened her shawl. As she approached the tavern door, it flew open as if caught in a strong wind. A stringy man with a red bandanna around his neck came sailing through it, hitting Mari like a ninepins ball.

The last thing she heard before everything went black was Miranda, yelling "Hamish! You big nincompoop! I brought you a perfectly good witch and you've nearly killed her!"