[Celuien]

Panakeia sat uncomfortably in her seat as the musicians hovered above her. For the moment, they had turned aside and were speaking among themselves. Panakeia caught only a few bits of their conversation. Phrases such as "nosy reporter" "no good snoop" and "any publicity is better than none" floated past her ears. They probably think I'm here to do a story on them, the self-absorbed egotists, she thought. Maybe I can use that to my advantage.

The man who had first addressed her again opened the conversation. "Sorry 'bout that, ma'am. We all was havin' ourselv' a little con-fer-ence. I'm Dwaine (named for Dwalin - my ma always did love tales of the Dwarf-folk but she nivver could spell worth a plug nickel) of the King's Own Trio. Him over yonder with the banjo is called Strummer (what his rightful name is, he's not sayin'). An' the feller what looks like he sat on a porcupine is called Isildil Payne." Payne glared. "Pleased t'meet you."

Panakeia replied "Likewise, I'm sure."

Dwaine beamed. "Well now. You sure put us in a mess. No one was supposed to come in here. And in you came. And what we want to know is why?"

"To be perfectly honest, I was looking for a seat. It's awfully crowded out there." Dwaine nodded in agreement. "And..." Panakeia paused, debating whether or not to play her card. "And, I was hoping to run into you. Your performance was most...inspiring, and I was hoping to write a story about you. I'm a free-lance reporter." She smiled, hoping no one noticed the writing on her sample case.

But Payne did see it. "'Panakeia's Cure-Alls?' A reporter? Come again." There was a sneer in his voice.

"It's a side-business." She frantically thought of a way to distract them. "Tell me about yourselves."

That did the trick. Dwaine went on and on about the trio in its early days, how they had been court musicians to the King himself in Minas Tirith before being banished (there followed a brief argument as to which of the three had been most careless about the use of Anakronisms), their beginnings in Mordor as a hit band, and their more recent fading from the public scene.

"Yes ma'am, those were the good ol' days. Near on 30 years ago it must be now. We was at the top, the very top. Maybe you remember?" he asked hopefully.

Panakeia stiffened. "I am but 29 years of age. Of course not."

Dwaine whistled. "You don't say?" He eyed her up and down skeptically, but didn't challenge her assertion.

He went on to explain the business of Willy and Eckaust Fûmës. "See now," he lowered his voice confidentially, "'T'aint no Mr. Eckaust Fûmës. This here is what we call a publicity stunt. Willy thought it up. He's our manager. And a right clever plan it was too. Got us some good 'tention. It's been hard, just being in the BU all these years, no big performances, lessin' it's one of them things where they pull out all the old has-beens. But now we got ourselves another chance at the bright lights. All this 'bout Willy got us out there agin with our public, and what do you think? RCA done give us a contract t'come in and make a new record!"

Payne had been sitting silently in a corner, glowering like a thunderstorm. At last he burst out, "There's just one little problem. You. You know that none of this was real. If they find out that this stunt has all been a put on, they might rescind their offer. We can't afford to take that chance. Which means that you are coming with us, at least until the session is safely underway."

Panakeia gasped. "But I can't! I have to be in Edge-Where tomorrow."

Payne smiled maliciously. "Did you not say that you are a reporter? How can we be certain that you won't release your 'scoop,' as you say, before the session ends? No, you had better come with us, unless you would prefer that I turn you in to the authorities for failing to report to your assigned Mordor duties. Strip-mining or quarrying or some such thing, wasn't it?"

Panakeia gazed uneasily at Payne. How could he have known that? She had told no one of the official summons to report to work at some strip-mining operation or other. The summons she had tossed into a heap of litter as soon as she received it. She hadn't given it a second thought since then, but somehow, she had a sinking feeling that if the proper bureaucrats were notified of her disobedience, she would have some difficult explaining to do. Panakeia realized that her only hope was to escape Mordor before the slowly turning wheels of the bureaucratic machine caught up to her. Her impatience to reach Edge-Where redoubled.

"Sir, are you blackmailing me?" Panakeia suddenly found herself falling into Payne's overly formal speaking style.

"Let's not call it blackmail. It is such an unpleasant word. Rather, let's say that we have reached a mutually agreeable solution to our common difficulties. Quid pro quo, if you like, Miss, Miss... You have the advantage of me."

"Panakeia of Harad. I still call it blackmail, but I suppose if we must go through with this, we'd best be hurrying along."

Dwaine cheered and slapped his knees, then Panakeia's back. "Now there ya go! Looks like we got us a travelin' compan-yon." He dropped his voice, sotto voce. "Don't let that Payne worry you none. He's got the disposition of an ornery hound-dog, but his bark is worse 'n his bite. Besides now," he added brightly, "You've still got to find your way through t'station at Potted Ham Court Road. An' we've been riding these here trains for years. Why, I'd say I know them like the back of my hand!"

Willy grinned. "Don't worry, our side trip won't delay you much. The Ridiculously Cacophonous Arsininity studio building isn't far from Edge-Where on the Northern Line. Just at Entish Town. We won't keep you from your appointment, whatever it may be. You only need to stay with us until it's too late for any story to stop our session. Besides, I'll bet that you've never seen a studio before." Panakeia could not say that she had. "Well then," said Willy, "It'll be interesting for you." Panakeia had her doubts about that, but said nothing.

The train screeched to a halt. "Potted Ham Court Road! Potted Ham Court Road! Everyone off this stop."

Well, here we go, thought Panakeia. What have you've gotten yourself into now? Payne grabbed her arm, and all five of them hurried out of the train to stand in the cavernous space of the station.