And nothing at all unusual happened, somewhat to his disappointment. Until he remembered that trick with the strap under his chin. It clicked into place just as before, and instantly a strange, measured, quiet voice was reciting something in one ear, repeating and yet not, with subtle differences each time. The sounds meant nothing, but he guessed they were counting something. He listened to that a while, then felt of the strap, touching the curious knobs. To another click the "counting" sound stopped, replaced by an eerie ululating bleat, not very pleasant. Learning rapidly he tried another knob, and froze in utter astonishment at what came. From time to time he had heard strolling players, and there were those in the village who could encourage a jig with reed-pipes and a thumping drum. And he had heard the thready treble of choirboys in Castle Dudley once or twice. But put them all together ten times over they could make not a patch of the music that flooded his ears now. Jasar could deny with all his breath, but this now really was magic!
