The alarm clock out in the hall clicked and then began to ring, strident high-speed brass-on-brass that always made Tessa wince, but she had to admit that it was effective.

“Got it!” Dain called, and heartbeats later, it shut off. Immediately after, she head Dain’s feet on the stairs down.

Annoying as the sound was, it was useful. Currently, it was a reminder that they were out of time for getting ready and Wulf would be out front in a matter of minutes to take them and their gear to the Gauntlet for tonight’s gig.

Tessa left her room and checked herself over quickly, head to toe, in the full-length mirror in the hall linking their two bedrooms, the bathroom, and, oddly, the kitchen. There was a reason for that: they rented the two upper floors of a townhouse, and to avoid disturbing their landlady downstairs, they kept music and the general noise of daily living on the upper floor, using the lower one for sleeping.

Well, usually sleeping. Tessa’s room was not directly over their landlady’s, though she had hinted that she had a bit of an active history in her youth and wasn’t bothered by that at all.

Etria’s booming glass industry made astonishingly-clear glass mirrors, even startlingly large ones that could show her whole reflection at once, inexpensive and available to a degree that would have stunned most of the rest of the world.

Keri strode through her field of view behind her, on her way to the stairs down to join Dain.

Medium-dark henna-enhanced hair. She’d tied it back with a ribbon while they’d been hauling all their gear down to the hallway by the door, and it would be easier to wait until they’d finished that process and everything was set up on the stage before she removed it, but that would be easy and her hair, much thicker since she’d started Etria’s amazing feminization formula, wouldn’t show it. Makeup was perfect, her eyes lined and shadowed dark, her lips enhanced with deep reddish-brown that looked better with her skin than brighter reds. A mixture of bright earrings lined the curve of her ears, four on each side, and one of her black cotton-velvet chokers, this one with a pewter pendant of a guitar, circled her throat.

Since it was a warm day, she’d decided on a dress instead of the leather trousers she often wore, but this one was made of sturdy cotton and had boning built in so she’d been able to lace it snugly up the back, the short ruffly sleeves and the full loose skirt helping to enhance further the curves she adored now she finally had them. The neck was low enough for more than a hint of cleavage, and the skirt, which fell nearly to her ankles, had two slits up the front to show off her legs in her heeled low black boots. She’d bought it recently, a bit of an extravagance after an unexpected gig that had paid well, but she adored it, the fabric a striking design of intersecting broad and narrow stripes of black, green, and a startlingly bright orange-pink salmon.

She snatched up her black bag, slung it across her body, and headed for the stairs. One floor down, she locked the door to their half of the house. Their landlady’s door was to one side, and standing open; from within, Saima called, “Good luck tonight, darlings!”

“Thanks, Saima!” Tessa called back. “Make your friends behave at cards! No cheating!” She heard Saima laugh.

Dain and Keri were already busy hauling cases down the final half-flight of stairs and out to the sidewalk; Tessa joined them. They still hadn’t finished when the large enclosed carriage they expected, drawn by a pair of dark bay horses with white stockings over the black ones and white faces drew to a halt at the edge of the street. The driver swung down and opened the door at the side, accepting the cases they brought to him and packing them neatly at the back of the interior.

“Looking gorgeous tonight,” he observed to Tessa.

She smiled, and passed him two guitar cases, one at a time. “Thanks. It’s new, and a bit different, but anything that catches eyes...”

“And you will. That’s it? Let’s get this tied down and we can get you to the Gauntlet.”

Years of experience hauling cargo had made Wulf so efficient at this that they didn’t interfere, just waited and checked that all three had their respective bags—very small ones, for Dain and Keri, just large enough to hold the universal essentials, and versatile enough to fit onto a belt when they didn’t want the bother of a longer strap.

They were both in their usual denim trousers, Tessa observed, ignoring the heat but that wasn’t a surprise. Dain’s were a dark red, and the shirt he’d chosen was partly a solid wheat-gold and partly black mesh; Keri’s were deep indigo blue, and she had an open-fronted grey vest over an orchid-purple halter, leaving the spot tattoos on her arms clearly visible. Neither tended to bother with makeup, but Dain had gold rings in his ears, three on one side and two on the other, and Keri was wearing a belt of bright brassy plaques, a circle in the centre of each enamelled with one or another vivid colour.

All in all, they were ready to put on a show.

“All set,” Wulf declared, stepping back and gesturing an invitatation.

As he often did, Dain climbed up to sit next to Wulf on the top; Tessa couldn’t make out the words, as she and Keri took the rear-facing bench across the front of the carriage’s interior, but she heard Wulf chuckle. He wasn’t a fan of enclosed spaces, though he could tolerate them, and while the bench could hold three, they had best be friendly and accustomed to close contact.

There wasn’t really much to say on the way, but Tessa started doing warm-up vocal exercises. Her voice was her livelihood; she needed to do everything she could to look after it.

The carriage stopped, and this time, it wasn’t just for an intersection or an obstacle: a glance outside told Tessa they’d arrived. As if that weren’t enough, their driver was there to open the door and offer Tessa a hand extricating herself.

“We keep telling you,” Dain told Wulf, following him to the ground, “we’ve got this. We’re used to it. You don’t need to carry things.”

The iron-haired man, who had probably never been big but had that kind of hard whipcord build that changed little with age, just laughed. “I’ll compromise on not helping you haul it inside, but that’s as far as I’ll bend.”

“Thanks, Wulf,” Tessa said, stepping out and turning back to accept the first guitar case Keri handed her. “You make all this a lot easier than it was before we had you around to depend on.”

Two nights a week at the Vixen, back to back, and the day after for rehearsal, meant they could leave the bulk of their gear there for that long. But if they wanted their guitars or drums for writing or practicing, they had to bring them home after rehearsal. Every second week they had this gig at the Gauntlet and needed everything conveyed both directions in the same night. And when they got lucky, they picked up another gig somewhere else.

Taxis came in a wide range of sizes and corresponding prices, licensed by the city, from the new ones that were powered by bicycle and held only two passengers, up through one-horse and two-horse versions. Typically, they weren’t designed for carrying a lot of cargo.

Tessa was grateful that Wulf had added them to his list of customers. He preferred to have trips scheduled in advance, but he was absolutely punctual, and if they ran a bit late escaping after a show, he understood.

Besides, she rather liked that the money they spent on transportation was going to the maintenance of Wulf’s gentle pair of mature geldings, who had spent years hauling goods between the great horse-drawn river barges that plied the Nara and the settlements that lacked river or canal connections. All three were now semi-retired, doing enough light local work to pay for their own care because Wulf was unwilling to slaughter them or abandon them to the League’s rescue farm.

Three guitar cases, Tessa’s tambourine, and a collection of drum cases made a substantial heap. Though they were at the back door, not the front, Wulf still lingered to fuss over his ‘boys’ and keep an eye on their gear while Keri rang the bell for someone to let them in and then the trio began to haul it all out to the stage. The Gauntlet didn’t have a kitchen, which simplified the staff area compared to the Vixen, but it didn’t have the Vixen’s strong double door that could only be opened from the inside and led directly to the space immediately behind the stage, which meant having to go along a hallway and around.

Tessa came back outside, Dain lingering to hold the door for her, to give each of Wulf’s enormous ‘boys’ an affectionate pat and an apple. They made a drooly mess, of course, crunching them around the bits, but she always made sure she had an extra handkerchief in her bag for that, and she could wash up once she went inside. They weren’t quite as large as the streetcar horses, but Etria’s equine population were possibly the largest animals she’d ever seen in person: she could look over the backs of the ‘boys’ even without heels, but their heads were still above hers.

It was hard to be afraid of anything so placid and friendly, though she was certain she didn’t want to deal with one that was frightened or angry.

“See you later tonight, boys,” she told them. “You be good for Wulf.”

“They’re never anything else,” Wulf said affectionately. “Well, not that we’ll ever admit, eh? Go show off your new song and win more of a following.” He climbed back to his own seat and, as Tessa stepped out of the way, clucked to the geldings, who obediently started walking.

Tessa retreated to the door and Dain. “Sorry. I always make you wait.”

He just laughed. “I’ll never complain about you wanting to do something nice for a horse. Whup, hold on.” He raised his voice. “Cutting it close, you almost had to go around to the front! And we haven’t had a chance yet to tell them to let you in free!”

Nikki raised a hand in a wave, and covered the rest of the alley at a run instead of her previous relaxed walk, unhampered by the heels on her low white boots. “Sorry. Bloody road construction messing up the streetcar schedules. But I made it!”

She was all in blue and white tonight, a favourite colour combination Tessa thought suited her even when it wasn’t a deliberate contrast with Corvan in black and red: loose trousers tie-dyed in shades of blue, a white mesh overshirt with wing-like sleeves over a padded blue halter, a semi-circular white scarf bright with blue and gold-toned beads and sequins and dangly little discs tied around her hips. The front of her bright blonde hair was pinned back, but it was otherwise loose, and as usual, she’d darkened lips and eyes. With the sun low, she hadn’t bothered with any kind of protection.

It wasn’t impossible she’d end up on the stage with them at some point, even though she was there to enjoy the music and dance just for fun. If she was attracting attention on the dancefloor, which wasn’t an unusual event, it was easier just to haul her up with them.

“And we’re glad you did,” Dain said.

Nikki laughed. “You just like it when I get other people dancing on those nights when no one wants to be first.” She stepped past him and into the hallway, Tessa followed, and Dain let the door close behind them.

“That too,” Dain chuckled. “Why else would we get you in for free?”

Well, there was the fact that Nikki, without hesitation, helped them sort out and unpack the gear they’d brought, familiar with the process and much stronger than she looked.

Or the fact that watching Nikki dance was always an aesthetically pleasant sight, no matter how often they’d seen it—and that included seeing her sweating, out of breath, and exhausted from working on something that she’d make look effortless and natural in front of an audience.

Or just that she was a friend whose company they all enjoyed.

The Gauntlet, like virtually any other venue hiring musicians, had an upright piano they kept in tune, since those were complicated to transport but commonly used. The half a dozen components of the drum combination Keri and Dain had, between them, put together as ideal were bulky; so were three guitars in hardened cases.

They’d experimented with several styles, trying to find what worked for them without formal training on the part of any of them, only passion and practice. When they’d come across a trend coming from the west, they’d immediately settled on that, giving it their own spin. There were people in Etria who derided it as noise and complained that it was the death of real music, but Tessa and Keri and Dain, like many others, heard in it the rebirth of music instead, free to be explored by anyone who wanted to teach themself how to play, how to sing, how to write. Instead of traditional forms and structures of this culture or that one, it could all mingle in a wildly creative fusion, borrowing instruments and musical keys and lyrical subjects and all the rest from everywhere and nowhere.

Rather like Nikki’s self-taught and highly-eclectic dancing, for that matter, another sort of modern trend.

That didn’t mean that just anyone was going to become immediately popular, or be able to make a living at music or, for that matter, dancing, but so far, they’d been part of the fortunate minority who could.

For a group to give themselves a single collective name was older than that particular style; the trio had pondered for some time, looking at what had been chosen by others and contemplating what mattered to them and what they wanted to imply to audiences, and they had chosen ‘Insomnia.’ For them, it worked. Sleep could happen later. Right now, there was music to play.

Guitars weren’t necessary but they worked well for the music they were playing and were more portable than some. All three could play those; Tessa left the drums and piano to Keri and Dain, who could swap between both just as well. Her own responsibility was to sing.

So, while they set everything up, she sang warmup exercises, ignoring the presence of the Gauntlet’s patrons who were already in for a drink or two. More physical stretches were a good idea, as well, before an extended period of playing—even if part of Tessa’s playing would be keeping time with her tambourine. At moments she thought it would be easier if there were more than three of them, or some way to save some parts of their music like on a phonograph and play it at shows as backup, but no technology would allow for that and adding anyone else would be, well, complicated. They could work with what they had.

Nikki did a few stretches, but most of her warmup tonight would just be dancing and starting slow. She wouldn’t risk an injury, Tessa knew.

They still had time for a drink, one without alcohol in it, before they needed to start; the bartender handed over three glasses of lemon-spiked orange juice, each with a floating mint leaf, without asking them to pay, and in fact added a fourth unasked, for which Tessa thanked him with a smile before he had to serve someone else.

“It looks like you’re going to get a good crowd tonight,” Nikki observed. “Modern music might be undermining society but people are certainly enthusiastic about its collapse.”

“The people with the most invested in the current system are always the ones who scream that any change is destructive,” Dain said. “No one is outlawing conservatory-trained musicians and the traditional music they play. I guarantee that the vast majority of the people in this room would not be going to those shows.”

“Oh no,” Keri said sardonically. “People are enjoying music about things they can relate to, hopes and fears and desires and mixed feelings and grief and lust and whatever, instead of vapid maidens gathering flowers and dramatic posturing in pointless battles and the tragic consequences of teenagers mistaking hormones for true love.”

“And that anyone can dance to without lessons,” Nikki said. “Traditional dances shouldn’t be the only kind for people outside the conservatories, although they can be fun. I joined a group that was encouraging people to learn some of those from different cultures, circle dances and progression dances and called dances and things like that. I actually really enjoyed it.”

“It doesn’t sound like the past tense is because you got bored,” Tessa said.

Nikki shook her head and sighed. “The founders got upset when they found out that I make my living as a modern dancer. I debase the ancient traditions of dance, or something. I got the feeling they would have been fine with it if I was a professional conservatory-trained dancer, though. Oh well. I could probably find another group like it if I tried, but who has time these days? The Pearl means more hours actually on-site and onstage, but the Vixen is a lot more demanding overall.” She laughed. “Not that I’d trade it for anything.”

“Absolutely,” Dain said, raising his glass in a kind of toast. “If any of us wanted jobs that would just mean a regular schedule and then a life outside that, without having to make sacrifices for it, we should not be doing anything creative. Learn a sensible trade instead. Fortunately for the people who did learn a sensible trade, some of us just can’t bear to be anything but what we are.”

That was something they could all drink to.

Before long, the Gauntlet’s owner, Olav, dropped by their table to ask whether they were ready; they followed him to the stage and gathered up their instruments while he introduced them. Nikki, already in the front row, cheered right along with a gratifying number of others.

Later, Wulf would be at the back door to take them home.

Later, they could fall over in bed and let exhaustion claim its inescapable due.

Much later, tomorrow afternoon, Tessa would have to get ready for a shift waiting tables at the Vixen.

Right now, there was only music and the unity between the three of them and an audience hungry to feel.