Welcome to Bordertown by Ellen Kushner, Holly Black (editors)

says she is, and her backup singers, too, but I couldn’t tell you—I don’t hear a single note. I’m as restless as a tomcat.
    Spider puts an ice-cold peri into my hands. “Relax, my friend. It’s going to be a good night.”
    He’s not nervous at all. He’s enjoying himself, enjoying the scene, enjoying the anticipation of making music. It’s all good to Spider, who must be the single happiest person I’ve ever met. Whoever said you have to suffer to make art clearly doesn’t know squat.
    “Thanks for this,” I say, and take a steadying gulp of my favorite elfin brew.
    He grins. “It’s not from me, dear boy. It’s from that green-haired nymph behind the bar. Like I said, it’s going to be a good night. Now pick your jaw up off the floor and pay attention to those nice ladies on the stage.”
    *   *   *
     
    The red disk was a magic token that let her sweep through the door of the club like a princess. The club was hushed; three women were onstage, singing so beautifully, their voices entwined, that Trish felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. She stood by the door, unable to move, as though the singing were a spell they held her in.
    There was a long hush when they finished. And then the room broke into wild applause. There were encores, and flowers flung through the shifting club light, flying through the air like strange birds. At last the singers left the stage, and the crowd headedtoward the bar. She wondered if the disk would get her a free drink, too, or if she’d have to use her tip money to pay for one. The place was so crowded there was barely room to stand. Trish couldn’t see Seal or Cam, or anyone else she knew.
    Then, behind her, she heard someone cry, “
Eeeew
—monster!”
    In the doorway stood the elfin lady, Anush’s girlfriend, magnificently dressed in a silver gown. But it wasn’t Anush beside her; it was Gurgi, shrinking from the staring eyes of those close enough to see.
    The bouncer said, “You can’t bring that thing in here.”
    “Oh, please,” said the elf, proud as Lucifer. “He’s with me.” As though that were enough.
    The bouncer shrugged. “Can you keep him under control?”
    The elf woman smiled a smile Trish did not like one bit. “Can I not? Come, my pet.”
    Gurgi flinched but came in with her.
    And then Trish knew.
    She’d gotten the story all wrong.
    *   *   *
     
    It is finally time for the Widdershins set. As the band prepares to go on, I whistle for Rosco and head for the wings, double-checking the spell amp cables as I go. The house lights dim and the crowd begins to quiet, and I’m so excited that I’m almost feeling sick.
    Spider now stalks to the center of the stage, a long-legged crane in a flapping velvet coat, with his
krel
(as I’ve learned the instrument is called) and his long bow in his hands. He starts, as always, in the traditional elfin manner: with a single long, low note that rises slowly, filling the room like mist rising. And indeed, there
is
mist rising; that’s one of our cool new special effects. It rises through the forest that now appears, with birds (improved) flittingoverhead and animals (new) rustling in the undergrowth … and it’s all so real you can feel and smell and taste the magic in the air. This time I’m ready for the waves of emotion that the music of the
krel
stirs up in me: that rising, rising, the agonizing rising, bringing everyone’s emotions to a fever pitch … and then the break of the wave … and the joyous relief … and that sparkling feeling of lightness after. Now the drums, the fiddle, the other acoustic instruments, each weaving into and adding to the sound, forming a rich, dense tapestry of music, emotion, and illusion. And now this music, too, is rising, rising.… It will build up to another wave, sounding stranger and stranger, louder and faster, until the guitars come crashing in—but wait! Not yet! The wave will reach its crest, and then comes the effect that I