On the way to the Hub of Speech, the small houses became packed more densely together, sharing yards with trees overshadowing them, then stacked upon themselves as she came closer to the centre of town. Such as it was. Tinctora was no thriving metropolis, and Orfeus liked it that way. She’d visited busier places on tour, and it was good to have someplace to come home to that was quiet enough to feel spacious yet populous enough to have a trading square, so she could eat more than just the vegetables she grew at home and freeze-dried nutrient packs. Orfeus munched on her apple and let her light cloak flutter in the wind as she strode.

The Hub gleamed with communication dishes, as well as solar panelling on the roof and swooping out from the sides and top of the building like a marine creature’s fins. It was one of the few places in town aside from some of the more complicated dyeing workshops that needed that much power.

Not every person needed to be in contact with the shimmering lines of information that connected the world, but everyone needed to be able to tug at the strings sometimes, to talk to loved ones or faraway folk with different expertise, or to know whether there was a shaking in the strings that would forebode disaster.

Threadgall Weaver was another person who had chosen their own name, and they nodded at Orfeus cheerfully as she entered. Threadgall kept odd hours, in from the crack of dawn and out by lunchtime, though there were others who could work the machines in the Hub if someone really needed it.

“Orfeus!” Threadgall said, brushing pastry crumbs off their shirt and shifting to stand behind the counter as though they’d been ready for work and not breakfasting by the window. They were young for the post, a year or two younger than she was with curling black hair and a smile that faded into focus when they worked their machines. “Getting ready for another tour already?”

If only. For that she would need more songs, which took time even if she cheated and built on old rediscovered melodies. “Nothing so professional, I’m afraid,” Orfeus said. “I need to make inquiries of the library at Eldergrove.”

Threadgall said, “I’m sure they woulda told you if they’d uncovered any more melodies.” They grinned unrepentantly. Threadgall and Orfeus both knew the Elders would do no such thing.