cloud-like, on his right wrist, where it had fluidly and unremovably coiled itself when he stripped. Occasionally it would switch to the left wrist, or even around his ear, or once it even managed to stretch itself around his neck, which made him very nervous — luckily it seemed that environment was too cold for it, and it never really strayed that way again, except when en route back up to his ear.

This was alright, and usually no one commented on the fact that he had what looked to be a soft, squishy, rose-pink bracelet or earring on him at all times. Sometimes the rami would give a strong twitch, and at these times Seph would pat it absentmindedly before continuing on with his business. Wake up. Go to work. Visit Larvae, or else visit Therethri, if it wasn't a Bazaar day; and if it was, go watch the people there, though truth be told it was only occasionally that something interesting ever happened.

Sometimes in Bazaar there would be musickers, which Seph usually appreciated from a distance; but as the days when on, the rami's twitches grew emphatic and frequent. Finally when it came to the point that the rami was convulsing at all hours of the wire, and Seph couldn't rest, he came to the habit of walking by very close to the musickers, closer than anyone could be without giving them money, which he did grudgingly as payment for his awkward nearness to their instrumentary. Being near to music seemed to calm the rami, and he experimented to see which kinds would calm it down for the longest periods afterward, and therefore allow him the greatest peace.

There were the long, twisted guitars and hand-harps, which were worn like gloves; these instruments were the most popular kind in Low, and Seph heard them played all the time; their plucking and struts and cool reverberation in alleys and empty buildings comprised a great part of Low's ambient noise, much like the proverbial rustle of wind through the trees, and Seph found that they did little to calm the little rami.

A district east catered to trade hauled dripping all the way from the Pearlusk, and he sat here too, listening to the drums and stroking the soft rami. The drums shook him to his insides, as did the flutes they played, which made no audible noise, but always left him feeling nervous and headachy afterward. Still, he bore it, watched water-spelled merhen tug lake and cavernweed from giant nettings suspended in the corridors, purchase and devour live fish drowned in warm wine with a click of unhinged jaws.

Still none of these calmed it.