Charwin Swillden, recently released on parole from the Isthimus Memorial Prison in Windpeak, moved slowly through the streets out of habit. Even if Lord Blackriver had witnessed him swear never to lie or cheat another man of his money, the men he'd cheated definitely hadn't witnessed it. He was far from the high plains where he had once worked, but a con man could never be too careful.

A shroud of darkness covered the town of Valley Vale, only broken by the glowing window of one tavern where yellow lantern glow spilled out into the gravel street. Charwin had always loved the night, but then, he was used to larger towns that stayed up until the dawn. This darkness felt much more oppressive, and too quiet. He quickly murmured the words to a simple songspell, creating a mote of purple light on the tip of his finger. As the words escaped his mouth, his shoulder itched and prickled where Lord Blackriver had put his rust-red hound mark. So, he thought. Perhaps that mark isn't just a simple criminal's brand. And perhaps that oath wasn't just a simple promise. He should have known. Words in the Land of a Million Songs always had power.

He extinguished the light and made his way to the tavern. The sign above the door said Coinflip Inn with the image of a silver dollar spinning in the air. How ironic. Sleight of hand had always been Charwin's specialty. He chuckled and headed inside. Although he had no money to pay for a room, he could pretend. He was good enough at that.

The late-night crowd here consisted mostly of older folks near passed out from their drinks, chatting and laughing and grumbling about the weather. A few younger lads took turns performing famous songspells to the sound of a player piano. Charwin pushed between a few of the patrons to get to the bar. "Hello?" he called.

The girl at the bar turned around to look at him curiously. She was around his age, maybe a bit older, and had a pretty face with red hair and strangely pale skin. Back in his old life, he might have taken her to a gambling house for luck.

"I'd like a room for the night," he said, "and a mug of your cheapest ale." No whiskey to be found here. He missed whiskey.

She continued to stare at him, pointing over her shoulder to the list of prices carved into a slate on the wall. Odd girl. Too quiet.

"All right if I pay later?" he asked. As he said it, Lord Blackriver's mark burned painfully in his shoulder, and he flinched. Even a lie by omission was too much for the oath, it seemed.

The girl shook her head and looked at him expectantly. That was when he noticed her eyes were shot with red as though from crying.

"Are you okay?" asked Charwin. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

Her eyes brightened--perhaps she didn't get asked that question enough. She pointed to her throat, then shook her head. Then she opened her mouth and only a high, windy whine came out. Now Charwin understood. She couldn't speak at all. A person without a voice couldn't cast songspells to call on their innate magic. Any child born without a voice would be seen by their family as a curse, a shameful thing to be kept hidden away. No wonder she was pale.

"Oh," he said, because he wasn't sure what else to say. "Sorry about that. I'm Charwin Swillden. And you are?"

She motioned for him to hold out his hand. With her finger, she traced letters on his palm: Jolie.

"Nice to meet you, Jolie." Charwin's shoulder tingled with a warm expectance--it hadn't forgotten about the little fact he'd conveniently misplaced. "I'm so sorry for bothering you. See," he admitted, "I don't actually have any money at the moment. So I'll see myself out, and you have a good night."

Right before he turned to leave, she tapped on the bar to get his attention. She gestured to the price slate, then shook her head. Her eyes were full of pity.

"Sorry," said Charwin again. "I'm not in the business of taking charity." A little voice inside him wondered where that had come from. Conning isn't the same as charity, he thought. Every silver dollar I ever stole was earned, unfair and square. I didn't luck into anything.

Jolie shook her head again. She pointed at him, then at the bar. Slowly, it dawned on him what she meant.

"Me," he said incredulously. "Work here? For room and board?"

She nodded excitedly. For the first time since long before he entered Isthimus Prison, Charwin began to see a path ahead of him that didn't involve lying, stealing, conning, or cheating. The beginning of a smile crossed his face--just small for now, but hopefully it would grow later.

"Where can I start?"