She was humming to herself, working through a tune and taking down the notes. They had finished their trek for the day, the camp was set, a fire war burning and she was nominally keeping an eye on a stew as the Landian had gone out to collect more wood. The sword Cheriss rested nearby propped against a tree’s stump.  Keto looked at the pot, judged the steam coming off of it to be acceptable and returned to her quill and paper.

“Sheets of rain, winds rage across the plain, lightning arced the sky…”

She’d toyed with this line throughout the day, or at least whenever getting words out of Quartes had proven too stubborn. It wasn’t the most important part of the song but it was the flash, a break that would hit them with wonder but also give the audience a moment to recover. It would further bring them into the tale.

Keto hummed her way through the line again, debating swapping out “rage” with “howl”.

“Are you doing that?” Keto looked up at the Landian’s voice. He was on the other side of he campsite, arms full of branches. Keto blinked, opened her mouth to figure out what he was talking about when she noticed the blue orbs hanging over the fire, cerulean lines arc between two of them. The startle from the sight brought Keto to her feet, papers and inkwell falling, song forgotten as she stared at the orbs.

The orbs themselves faded, leaving nothing but the smoke and occasional spark from the fire in their place. Keto watched for a moment before looking down and seeing her spilled ink.

“Scales,” she cursed, righting the inkwell and pulling away the papers before the spreading ink could stain too many of them. She looked up for her pack but Quartes was already holding out a cloth.

“Anything ruined?”

Keto flipped through the pages, blotting up the ink as best she could. “No, it was just on a couple of blank pages, I’ll just have to write around them.” She looked back to the smoke rising above the fire. “What were those, some kind of Fey?”

Quartes’ pale eyes shifted to the fire. She watched his brow knit but then relax as he shook his head. “Not sure, maybe something of the sort.” He stepped over to the fire, looking down into the pot, a hint of envy in his voice. “Distracted enough to not notice glowing orbs and yet dinner is not burnt.”

Keto gave him a smile before the Landian once more shook his head and moved to properly stack their firewood for the night. Keto finished cleaning off the sheets of paper, and then wiped up the spilled ink from the bark of the log she had been sitting on. “I lost most of the vial,” she announced, frustrated.

“We’ll make some more tonight,” Quartes answered as he continued stacking the firewood. Keto moved to stir the stew and smiled when the Landian sat down on the log besides her. Keto was mulling over what questions she wanted to ask him when he continued. “That was quite the crowd two nights ago.”

“Seemed like the whole village might’ve turned out, these northern towns don’t get minstrels all that often.”

“Koric doesn’t have the same adventuring culture as the other three. Still, you’ve been drawing bigger crowds,” the Landian’s eyes narrowed in remembrance. “Seemed to off put some of your peers when we were in Verken.”

“Jealousy maybe, the adventuring bands they’ve travelled with don’t quite match up to the Last Landian.” Quartes shrugged but Keto was looking at him now. “This is a strange point for you, or strange to bring something up.” Quartes inclined his head to her point.

“I saw something when you performed two night’s ago,” he answered cryptically, his pale eyes a stoic mask.  “Humor me, play one of the songs from that night.”

Keto looked at the Landian for a bit before turning to carefully set aside her paper, placing a stone on them as the remaining ink dried, and reaching for her pack.  Soon she had her lyre out.  “That was a long night, any song in particular?”

“Your choice.”

Keto thought for a moment, plucked a few notes and then settled in.  Her fingers danced across the strings as she started.

“Fire, fire Dragon’s fire…”

It was the on the second chorus when they returned.  The orbs were crimson vice blue, but a trio of them bobbed above the flames of their campfire.  The edges of the spheres danced as if they were made of flames themselves.  Keto stopped and as the notes of her song faded so too did the orbs grow still and then fade away.  “Now that is strange,” she whispered, looking to the Landian for an explanation.  “Fey here maybe that are drawn to…song, rhythm?”

Quartes was still gazing where the orbs had been.  “Not to here, but rather to you.”

Keto’s skepticism showed, “I’d think I’d know if I was trying to make little floating lights.”

“Enough people  have seen you,” Quartes continued, his pupil-less gaze dropping and turning towards her.  “Enough have been inspired, have felt like your songs and tales have taken them elsewhere,” he tilted his head at his own thought, “a fortuitous shift in the light of the fireplace or clouds moving before the sun and it seemed like you had control over the light itself.”  He smiled, “People believe you’re magick.”

Keto’s skepticism redoubled and after a moment she scoffed, “Borrowing off your legend maybe but it’s a moot point.  I don’t do magick.”

“People seem to believe you do.”

Keto’s mouth opened to retort but she looked back above the fire, to where the orbs had been.  “Is that how it works?”

“I’ve seen a few ways but you have the ability to do something incredible, why not seem magickal?”

Keto lifted her lyre once more and began to play.  Soon the orbs returned, their hue and nature shifting with each song, the dancing of their changes matching that of Keto’s thoughts as she wondered at what she might be able to do.