Senu wasn't sure how he should do this, but he knew he couldn't let the bear get away with practically murdering him. More importantly, he needed that lyre. There was no way he could afford another one with the small bit of money he'd stashed away. Not if he wanted to pay rent this week, at least.

When he got back to his room, he wasted little time in digging out the old studded leather armor and the gleaming longsword. The armor wasn't a perfect fit for his tall body, but it covered the important parts of him. The sword, on the other hand, was perfect. He'd gone to five different shops to find one that was the right length and balance for his form. He'd always surprised his tutors with how gracefully he could handle such a weapon. Now, he intended to impress this thief and whoever else went with him.

Once dressed and ready, Senu wasted little time heading back out.

It wasn't difficult to retrace his steps, and when he arrived at the mouth of the alley, he was surprised to find a few smears of blood. It was only after he'd followed the trail for a few minutes that he realized he was following not the bear, but Hake's path. He sighed, then rubbed the bridge of his muzzle.

Should he just give up?

The sound of a clearing throat caught his attention. The jackal spun, and soon found himself face to face with the strange wolf noble from earlier. What had Andrus called him? Count... something.

“Um... Hello," Senu said, cautiously.

“An honorific would be appreciated," he said in a kind but reprimanding tone.

Senu looked away, sheepishly. What was the proper form of address? Nobility in Vinyot was more of a tradition. The titles had little actual meaning outside of the wealth that often came with them. “I... yes. Of course, Sir."

The count smiled. “Count is more accurate. Count Vennick Alaric. But I appreciate the effort. After a brief pause he added, “Don't worry. I won't bite."

“What do you want, Count?"

The wolf stepped closer, his gaze dropping down the jackal's body, taking in the armor, sword, and the blood on the ground. “To be honest, I wasn't much interested in you at all. Jackal you may be but... well, to be frank, you aren't very talented."

Senu bristled, but didn't respond.

“But here I find you, armored, armed, and apparently on some kind of mission."

“Someone stole my lyre. I mean to get it back."

The wolf rubbed his chin, a strange smile crossing his face. “I'd think you'd want to find one of the constables rather than taking matters into your own hands."

“What are the chances that they'd actually get my instrument back in one piece before the audition?"

“Audition?"

Senu nodded. “For the Grand Theater performance. I plan to win."

The wolf chuckled. “Well, I have to admire your confidence, at least. Even if it isn't well earned."

Senu felt the urge to defend his skills, but what was the point?

“Obviously, I can't offer you any aid for the audition, but I might be able to help you retrieve your lyre."

“How?"

“There's a man who works with most of the thieves in this part of the city. He was a scout for the brethren during the war, and now spends all his time on petty crimes that generally fall beneath the notice of the authorities. His people are rarely violent. I know where you can find him."

“Really? You'd do that for me? Why?"

The count smiled a toothy grin. “Call it... a whim."

Senu's ears flattened against his skull. This wolf gave him the creeps. “All right. Where?"

“Just head west a few blocks, towards the docks. Turn right when you hit the harbor. There's an old tavern near the water's edge. The Boathouse. He'll be there."

“Okay." Senu turned and started back down the alley.

“Senu, is it?"

The jackal paused. “Yes?"

“You should be careful. The Boathouse isn't exactly a friendly place."

“I'm starting to realize that there aren't many of those around here."

The wolf snickered. “Well, then. I suppose that means you're learning. Off you go."

“Right. Well, thanks. I think."

***

As Senu approached the location of the Boathouse, his attention was drawn to a small collection of market stalls. It was late at night, and most of the businesses in town had closed, but curiosity soon got the better of him. As he neared, he found a young ovine woman dressed in a colorful but revealing costume. Most of her white fur had been colored with bright decorative powders, and she was dancing amid a group of onlookers.

Senu wasn't entirely sure how her feet managed to move as quickly as they did, but she seemed to glide across the cobblestones. Her movements were mesmerizing, and he found himself wondering how he had never seen her before. She was a far better dancer than anyone he'd seen at the Royal Stag, himself included. He also wondered why she was here, at this time. The onlookers seemed to be mostly males of the rough cut variety. By the smell, most were sailors and dockworkers.

Despite his efforts to not call attention to himself, violet eyes fell upon him and a warm smile touched the ovine's face. She moved towards him, somehow making the motion look like part of the dance. The crowd parted for her, and suddenly Senu was standing apart. At nearly eight feet tall, he wasn't one to easily blend into crowds, but he still wasn't used to being the center of attention.

Still, he was enough of a performer to recognize an invitation to join. Despite the armor he wore and the sword at his belt, he felt a compulsion to take her lead. It took a few seconds, but the jackal soon gave in to the urge and found himself falling into step with the woman. He was nearly twice her size, but there was no doubt who was leading and who was following.

The crowd roared with laughter and encouragement as the two danced. It was a fast, energetic movement, but Senu found himself struggling to keep up. His limbs simply weren't as flexible as the lamb's, and she clearly had more experience than him. He found the rhythm and was soon matching her movements with complementary ones of his own. By the time the song was done, they were moving together as if they'd rehearsed.

Afterward, he found himself panting from the exertion, even as the crowd parted. He also noted many of them were leaving various coins for the sheep in a small collection bucket. The human man who had been playing the flute in accompaniment was watching and accepting thanks on the sheep's behalf.

“You are a wonderful dancer, sir."

Senu nodded, unable to find the breath to respond.

The sheep held out a hand. “Liora Sunsinger," she said in a pleasant tone. “Thank you for giving in to my whim. I've heard stories of the agility and grace of jackals and hoped to see for myself."

He accepted her hand and was surprised when she bowed and pressed her lips against his knuckles.

“I... um. Thank you. I'm... Senu."

“Pleased to meet you. I don't often see other performers this close to the docks."

“It isn't safe," the jackal said.

“I can see that," she said, eyeing his padded armor and the sword he still wore at his hip. “I've never had a problem, but I'm new to Shimmer Bay. I heard the inns and taverns here weren't very lucrative, so we've been trying our luck going directly to underserved patrons."

“Sailors and dockworkers?"

She nodded. “They seem to appreciate it," she said, nodding towards the collection bucket.

“I never considered that."

“Where do you perform?"

“I have an arrangement with the owner of the Royal Stag. I perform a few times a week there in exchange for a percentage of that night's profits. But it's a competitive gig. There are always four or five prospective bards and more ready to take your place if you can't cut it."

“Sounds difficult."

“Yeah..."

“Well, Senu, it was a pleasure meeting you. If you come by this way again while we're here, I'd be happy to dance with you again." The flute player approached and handed over a small collection of coins. “For your help," Liora explained.

“Oh, I... thank you."

“Of course. Have a good night."

“You too."

Liora and her companion started back towards the center of town, collecting their belongings. Senu stood watching them until another raucous cheer from nearby drew his attention. His eyes landed on a run-down, blocky building on the edge of the docks.

Senu stood across the street from the Boathouse, the stench of stale ale and something vaguely worse assaulting his nostrils. The laughter and boisterous shouts emanating from within did little to ease his apprehension. This wasn't the Royal Stag, with its polished floors and air of forced merriment. This was the underbelly of Shimmer Bay, a place where shadows seemed to writhe and secrets festered.

He took a fortifying breath, tightened his grip on the sword hilt under his worn cloak, and crossed the street. As he neared the entrance, the sounds from within grew louder – drunken brawls, raucous laughter, and a discordant melody that scraped against his ears.

Greyson wasn't hard to find. The man seemed to stand out in any crowd, though it was probably his size that made him so obvious. He was easily six feet tall, and his dark skin made the silver-gray hair at his temples and the lines at the corners of his eyes stand out. Greyson was also sitting at the bar, drinking an amber liquid out of a tankard.

Senu sat down next to him and used one of the coins Liora had given him to buy a drink. “Can I get you another?" Senu asked the human.

“Who the fuck are you?" Greyson said, his deep voice a growl.

“No one of real consequence. I was attacked tonight and had something important stolen. I was told you might be able to find it, and I thought you might appreciate me coming to you myself rather than approaching the guards."

Greyson didn't say anything for a long moment, and Senu was certain he could feel the eyes of several others in the room, though he did not look. Finally, the human spoke. “One could say that was a stupid decision on your part."

“Perhaps," Senu conceded. “I'm hoping you're wise enough to appreciate my directness."

There was a subtle movement of Greyson's hand, and the tension in the room seemed to subside. “As it turns out, I could use another drink. Put down that coin and I'll see what we can do."

Senu obliged, and a moment later, Greyson was speaking. “When my people first came to the Beast World – after the war, I mean – most of us were starving. I don't exactly relish the price we paid, but your people, the jackals, worked hard to make sure the food crisis was solved. I have friends and family who wouldn't be alive without that help, so I'm inclined to see what I can do. Tell me what you lost and who took it, and I'll see what I can do."

“I was mugged, stabbed, and left for dead a few blocks from the Royal Stag. My brother found and healed me before I bled out, fortunately. I lost some coins, but the important item was my lyre. It isn't anything special, but it means something to me. If you can help me get it back, I see no reason to involve any formal authorities."

Greyson took a pull from his mug. “This was earlier tonight?"

Senu nodded.

“Might be I know who took it. What did they look like?"

“A male Ursine with an Orian accent. Silver knife. Basic leather armor and a dark cloak."

Greyson's expression darkened. “Yeah, I know the guy. I can't make any promises, but if you leave me a way to get in touch with you, I'll do my best to get it back."

“Just like that?"

“Like I said, I have a soft spot for jackals."

“Thanks. Um... I play at the Royal Stag a few nights a week. Leave a message with the barkeep or owner, and I'll get it. But I need it soon. There's an important audition."

“All right."

Senu finished his drink and was about to say his farewells when the human spoke.

“One more thing."

“Yeah?"

“If I do get your lyre back, can you do me a favor?"

“What's that?"

“There's an old human song I haven't heard for a long time. It's called 'Hands, Hearts, and Voices.' None of the bards I've met here know it, but it was something that meant a lot to my people once. I don't want it to be forgotten. I can write down the words and sing you the tune. Promise me you'll add it to your repertoire."

“I'll... see what I can do. To be honest, I'm still learning. I might not be able to give it the treatment it deserves."

Greyson shrugged. “I'll take what I can get. That's the one thing I can't do for myself."

“Okay."

The jackal stood up and headed for the door. As he did, he heard the human's voice, loud and clear.

Greyson sang an old, mournful melody, and Senu was struck by the sound. It was powerful, and despite being unfamiliar with the language, it seemed to resonate with him. He wanted to learn the song, and not just because of the promise he'd made.

“You were there, and I was here,
The sun was bright, the moon was clear.
The world was big, our dreams were grand,
Till stars went out, and darkness spanned.

Hands and hearts and voices strong,
We cried and prayed, we sang our song.
In darkest night, we found our light,
With hearts and hands, we made it right.

They stole the sun, and hid the moon,
Tore us apart, left us to swoon.
No light, no hope, in shadows deep,
Where none could dream, and none could sleep.

Hands and hearts and voices strong,
We cried and prayed, we sang our song.
In darkest night, we found our light,
With hearts and hands, we made it right.

But no one came to save us there,
We saved ourselves from dark despair.
With voices raised and spirits high,
We touched the stars, we reached the sky.

From void and night, our voices rang,
Through shadows dark, a song we sang.
The stars returned, the sun shone bright,
Our prayers were heard, restored the light.

Hands and hearts and voices strong,
We cried and prayed, we sang our song.
In darkest night, we found our light,
With hearts and hands, we made it right.

In darkness deep, together bound,
With hands and hearts, our voices found.
We sang and prayed, we called out clear,
For futures bright, with none to fear.

Hands and hearts and voices strong,
We cried and prayed, we sang our song.
In darkest night, we found our light,
With hearts and hands, we made it right.

We were the ones, with hearts so true,
Our voices raised, our dreams anew.
With hands and hearts and voices free,
We dreamed again, our destiny."

When the song was done, the room was silent. The raucous laughter, crude jeers, clink of tankards had all gone quiet, and the jackal found the melody echoing in his mind. It was too somber for him to use at the Royal Stag - few people wanted mournful ballads while they were in their cups.

Still, he would play the song. That was, if he could get his lyre back.