Curnen had been at the inn for nearly six weeks, and in that time she'd had her good days and her bad. Most of the time she remembered to walk upright and speak clearly, and on the best days she remembered songs. Not many, and often with a line or two she had to fudge, and she still couldn't play worth a damn, but she was slowly remembering words to standards she'd known for longer than most of the people around her had been alive.

It was time to try again.

In the lobby and the bar she knew that for the fifteenth the welcoming committee was getting into place to set any newcomers straight on the workings of the Madonna Inn. She too was getting into place, but for a very different reason.

Perched on the roof, Curnen lifted her head to the sky and began to sing.

I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
A-traveling through this world of woe
But there's no sickness, toil or danger
In that bright land to which I go

This time she felt the magic take hold as the song lifted up and floated out on the wind, calling out to Rob. She knew that at least some people here would sense what she was doing, would know what she was, but she didn't care. Not enough. While she still had not told anyone about her true nature, she was sure at least a couple had guessed. And there was so much less incentive here to do so. She was surrounded by wizards and beings who like herself were not human at all.

So she sang, her voice bright and clear like a bell. A beacon.