Unmaking Percy

Part III - III (The Dizzy Tent)

They followed Tombert out of the room, plunging into crowded, fabric-smothered hallways. A trail of excited cries and murmurs rose as they passed. From the corner of his eyes, Percy noticed the slithering silhouette of the clerk Bradley, pointing at Evans and speaking to others around him.

Tombert's hand reached for Percy and gently pulled him towards them. They threw an arm around his shoulder and paraded along with him at their side.

"I'm really not the one who should be in front here" Percy muttered, throwing a look back at Evans, who walked with an easy gait and an easier smile, unburdened by screaming, cheering crowds.

"You know, love, I never did hear anyone quite so obviously fishing for compliments" Tombert grinned. "You're just saying that because you want to hear me say, nonsense, of course you're special. And I do believe you are, in your own way. But why don't you do us all a favour and believe it yourself, without anyone else saying so? Cut out the middle man."

"You say that like it's easy" Percy mumbled.

"No, I say it like it's possible. I did get the impression your friend here" Tombert glanced behind at Evans, "walks around with a grand purpose about him. He looks like he's used to it. Whereas you look like you know all about it, but don't have it. I know which story interests me the most."

Percy stared at Tombert, mouth gaping.

"How do you..."

"I'm a bard. I write ballads for a living. I know how to sniff out these things."

As they turned a corner, a trio of Tombert's admirers ripped open their linen blouses to bare their chests. Percy burned crimson and averted his gaze so abruptly that he nearly collided with a man selling tunics with Tombert's face embroidered on them.

They reached the end of the labyrinthine hallway, and Tombert raised a flap that led outside, letting the daylight pour into the shaded interior. They stood right at the edge of the lake, on a wooden walkway lined with candles. It led to the wide deck area and its raised stage, woven through with garlands of wisteria and lantern lights. The deck was already crowded with festival-goers drinking and playing cards. Onstage were four musicians playing odd-looking instruments that Percy had never seen before. They had rickety music stands that trembled with stage-fright every time a gust of wind swept across the lake, and a page-turner who busied himself between the four players. Most importantly, they had a look of practiced discontent about them that granted them more prestige than any music stands and page-turners ever could.

"Don't tell me you're a fan of them" droned a voice to Percy's left.

He turned to see Leo standing beside him, with thick black eyeliner on his grey eyes. His long blond hair was nearly tangled with the strings of the lute flung on his back.

"Who are they?" Percy asked.

"The Skelted Skamelans" Leo spat the words out with distaste.

"I've never even heard of them."

"They'll be glad to hear you say that. They're the most pedantic bunch in here. They want to remain as niche and underground as possible, but they also want to hear as many people as possible say they're niche and underground, so they come here to make sure they keep being popularly unpopular. I mean, really, they even have this page-turner who's on duty for the festival. How pompous is that?"

"Nothing wrong with a page-turner" Tombert slid seamlessly into the conversation with a well-oiled smile. "Sometimes you just need to read your music. I've worked with him myself for some of my more art pieces."