Tamas fell to the ground from the strength of the blow.

  “Get away from him!” Lala said as she rushed over and pushed the man who whooped Tamas. The man confronted both the women that were there. They confronted him right back. The secrets now out in the open, things got rowdy and the mistress pushed the man in red so hard he bumped into another man. This caused a chain reaction and the entire bar used it as an opportunity to air their grievances, starting a bar brawl.

  Lala went to Tamas.

  “Tamas!” Lala exclaimed, “Are you okay?!”

  Tamas gripped his neck, his big belly resting on top of him. He looked up as Lala’s red hair draped over him. He rubbed his neck and said, “Better now.”

  Tamas pointed to his lute, now flung across the bar, “Grab my lute! I’ll play a tune.”

  Lala rushed over but two men brawling got in the way. Their fists exchanged blows back and forth as Lala tried to rush around them. She awkwardly stood there saying, “Uhm.. excuse me… sorry, if I could just… Uh, excuse me…”

  The changeling could not bring herself to be heard by the two men, opting for meekly going around. Unfortunately, the two women squabbled on the ground. Lala transformed into the burly man in red and told the women, “I love you both. Maybe we can work something out?”

  That precise combination of words caused them both to focus their anger on him. Lala realized she’d made a mistake and attempted to escape from both of them.

  Tamas turned onto his belly and crawled toward the lute. A thick black boot got in his way. Tamas looked up. The burly guy from before looked at him with fury as he said, “You ruined me.”

  Tamas shook his head and said, “That’s not fair man, if you get two girls, shouldn’t they both be allowed two guys?”

  The burly man picked up Tamas by his toga and pulled him until he was on his feet, and then the man kept pulling, until Tamas was off the ground and his little hooved feet dangled in the air.

  “I’m a lover not a fighter.” Tamas said, “But I make love quite violently.”

  Tamas grabbed the ends of the burly man’s throat and proceeded to choke him out.

  Davilo clenched his fists, “I shall raze this place to the ground and the next one until I get my dear boy back. Understand me, pig?”

  Stormbristle could not hear the particulars. In the hullabaloo, Storm’s tiny size made for the perfect volleyball. He was being punted around the crowd. He could only call out, “Stealth, dear lord! Stealth!”

  Davilo clenched his fists, sparks flew from the friction in his hands but he calmed himself and said, “Fine. Stealth.”

  “Get the satyr’s lute, my lord!” Stormbristle asked.

  Davilo walked through the bar fight. He avoided the chaos that unfolded, expertly evading a punch thrown and when two fought near him he gently nudged them elsewhere. He went down to pick up the lute but noticed… his hands glimmered with flames. He was still running hot, and before he could touch the instrument, he would need water.

  The burly man punched Tamas right in the nose again, “Oh, man. What’s the safe word? I'm not having fun no more.”

  Another knock to the nose. The man reeled back again but was tackled by the two women he was in a relationship with. Tamas got up again, cradling his now crooked nose.

  Lala called out to Tamas, “Tamas!” Tamas turned to look. Lala was back in her favorite form. A woman with flowy red hair, two diamond blue eyes. She held the lute in the air. Tamas lifted his hand waiting for Lala to throw it at him. Lala was never a big thrower. She cranked her arm backward and chucked it, releasing the lute way too late. It sailed over Tamas’ head. Tamas sighed and turned around. The lute sailed past Stormbristle, as he floated between rowdy patron to rowdy patron.

  “Missed it!” Stormbristle cried.

  The brawl continued as the lute landed with a discordant thud on a table. An old man with calloused hands picked it up, examining the craftsmanship. Tamas stepped over and ran up to him. He grabbed it out of his hands.

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  “Sorry, not for you.”

  “Impressive craftsmanship. Wouldn’t happen to be-”

  “No time!” Tamas said as he turned around. He twirled the lute in his hand, donned the strap and started playing a serene tune, adjusting the pegs along the way.

  “I cast a spell you’ll hear no peep

  The dreamy silence means you’ll be put to sleep.”

  And he cast Bedtime Melody. The notes spilled out of the strings as he plucked them. Every note became a real physical manifestation and all of them had tiny night caps on. They swirled throughout the bar and slowly crept into the bar flies’ ears. One by one, starting with the smallest bodies they went down. Some softly, as it hit them but they resisted. Others flopped to the ground. Only one person stood a chance of resisting it. The burly man with two partners. His head pivoted and flopped around on his neck and he lost focus. It was as if there was a wall coming to push him off some ledge into unconsciousness, but he held with the strength to withstand the wall.

  Stormbristle was finally freed and to regain his size, he drifted over to an unguarded beer on the bar. He licked from the top of the glass. He slowly puffed back up as he drank two, and then three more beers. His cloudy body taking on a slight amber color.

  Tamas kept playing and Lala shifted back to the burly man. She went to punch him, hoping that would help knock him out, but he remained standing. He grabbed his cheek and placed the other hand on the table, refusing to go down. Lala shook her hand, the pain from that one punch costing her dearly. “My lord, may you try? Surely with your strength…”

  Davilo took his two fists out of the beer he was soaking them in, “My dear, I worry my smallest punch would turn this man into a pile of ash. Surely Tamas can…”

  “Still playing over here.” Tamas kept strumming the notes, sustaining the chords for as long as he could.

  “I’m… not going down..” The burly man said as he raised himself up.

  “I’m about to lose the magic,” Tamas said, “He must have resisted. If he holds off, then he’ll be awake again and angry that I cast that spell on him.”

  “I’m… almost through,” The man said. Then he stood up, and with his eyes closed, slowly opened them.

  Then got… a small shock and fell to his knees, then down to the ground. A small sinewy bolt of lightning had come from the bar. Lala, Tamas, and Davilo all turned to look at Stormbristle, who stood there cross-eyed.

  “N-now that that’s settled,” Stormbristle said between hiccups, “Why don’t we all follow s-suit and take a nap.”

  And Stormbristle closed his eyes, and he too went to sleep, for he was but a little boar and had drunk a lot of beer in a short amount of time.

  Davilo, Tamas, and Lala all looked at each other as she became her normal gray form.

  “What do we do now?” Tamas asked.

  “We have to question someone,” Lala asked, “Right, lord?”

  “Yes. Maybe we wake one of these droogs up and question them. But first, we can wake up the bartender and threaten to burn his bar down if he doesn’t answer us.”

  “Let’s establish what we know before we burn any bar down. We’ve already put everyone to sleep.”

  “What did you learn before the brawl?” Davilo asked.

  “We talked to the butcher, he said that the price for Sal was too high,” Tamas said. Then… There were no more butchers left so we wanted to get drunk.”

  “Tamas wanted to get drunk,” Lala said.

  “I wanted us both to get drunk,” Tamas continued, “And we felt the bar was the best option. So we went to the nearest one. I met a load of people and learned their stories. Some people dug my vibe. Some people didn't. Then the brawl happened.”

  “It wast true,” Lala said, Tamas got a lot of people talking and dancing. Before the brawl.”

  “Anything we could use?” Davilo asked, “Think about it”

  “We should not be here when they all wake up,” Tamas said, “The old man figured I was fey by my lute. He couldn’t stop asking about it and asked questions I didn’t know the answer to, like what fey century it was made, or what wood it was made of.”

  “It was the Milkteenth century. And it’s clearly made of a Luce Spruce. A kind of wood only native to the feywild.” Davilo said, “Why would he want to know any of that stuff?”

  “It was one of the things we talked about,” Lala said, “He was an appraiser. There’s apparently a kind of sale that goes on. Should we wake him up? I wouldn’t want to bother him… he’s sleeping so serenely.”

  “A sale…” Davilo said, “An auction?”

  “Yes!” Tamas and Lala both said.

  “The Auction. The option. The auction.. That’s where they’re going to be!”

  Lala exclaimed, “Tamas, check the old man’s pockets!”

  Tamas walked up to the old man and skimmed through his pockets. Inside was the admission to the auction happening at the central hall.

  “Wait!” Lala said, “Drat.”

  “What?” Davilo asked.

  “He’s not going as a normal auction buyer. This is a seller’s ticket. We have to be able to produce something worth selling. Besides, there’s only two.”

  “I see,” Davilo said, “He seemed interested in your lute, Tamas.”

  “Right,” Tamas said, “But did you see how useless I was without it? Besides, you know I've got a punchable face.”

  “You’re right. It wouldn’t work. Besides, with only two tickets, we might need you to sneak in some other way.”

  Lala thought about it for a second and snapped her finger, “I’ve… got an idea. A unique magical creature that isn’t much seen around these parts. Only problem is he’s drunk.”

  Davilo, Tamas, and Lala all turned to Stormbristle, who snored offensively.

  “Wake up, pig,” Said Davilo.

  Stormbristle opened his eyes and groggily looked up at all three of them.

  “Wazzit?” He scrambled to say, “What was… who said what?”

  “Hey, buddy,” Tamas said, “We have a plan for finding Sal.”

  “Amazing.” Stormbristle said, “Wake me when you do”

  “Pig,” Davilo said, “How do you feel about being locked in a cage?”

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