• The funeral march didn't stop. It wouldn't. It couldn't. If it did, the soul of the Prince would never reach Paradise. It would wander in the mortal realms for all eternity. In this world, that was worse than any Underworld anyone could come up with. But still, Macha wished it would stop. She wished there wasn't a funeral march, that none of this had ever happened. She wished Phillip were alive. Alive, Macha savored the word. It echoed in her mind, and she felt an uncontrollable urge to make that wish true. She stilled the hand reaching for her flute. It's all because of you that he's dead, she screamed mentally. As if someone had heard her thoughts, a cry went up in the crowd. "Kill the Witch! Kill the Witch!"

    Macha beat down her panic. Must think rationally... she chided herself. "Now," she called out, "What makes you think that? How am I a Witch? I'm just a traveling healer!" She rationalized this lie by thinking, I can heal...

    "You've purple eyes! Witch's' eyes! And your hair, black as crow feathers! You're a Witch! Witch! Witch! An' you've a flute! Healers don' carry flutes! Witch!" A burly man in the crowd yelled out this tirade. He looked half-crazed.

    "Now I can explain all of that! I take after my parents in looks! I play the flute for fun! A mere hobby!" Macha didn't even attempt to rationalize those lies. She looked for a way out of the crowd, scanning the area fruitlessly, until at last, she found an open path. Macha didn't wait; she dashed through the crowd to the path, pulling out her flute as she went.

    Time stilled. A single pure note sounded. Then another. And another until an arpegggio of silvery notes captured the rapt crowd and lulled their minds to rest. One by one, they collapsed onto one another, snoring, unconsious before they hit the ground. Only one was able to resist the Sirens song of notes. He was in an upper story window, above the net of sound. He looked at the neatly cast spell with appreciation. "Until we meet," he murmured, "stay safe."

    And still the funeral march went on, carrying Prince Phillip's mortal remains to the afterlife.