The Stainless Steell Rat Sings the Blues

"A song that you will all know, and hopefully love, something that we can all feel, share, enjoy together, laugh together and cry together. I bring you our own and original version of that classic of modern musicality — 'The Itchy Foot Itch'!"

There were shouts of joy, screams of pain, wild enthusiasm. As we launched into this overamplified and very catchy-if not itchy-number.

I get up at dawn and look at the river

The mist rising there it gives me a shiver.

Leaves on the trees they're wet with dew

Looking at them I think of you

Far far away from me today

I don't like it-but all I can say

Is the galaxy's wide and I like to stray

To the stars and beyond 'cause that's my way

I got the

Itchy foot, itchy foot, itchy foot itch!

Gotta keep going, never get rich!

Itchy foot, itchy foot, itchy foot itch!

Keeping me going, ain't that a bitch!

Itchy foot, itchy foot, itchy foot itch!

Keeping me going from place to place

Gotta keep going, what can I do?

Keep going forever-and I'll never see you.

Keep on going round the galaxy-no place is home

For the likes of mee-ee-e-e!

There was a vast amount of itchy foot stomping, let me tell you. And plenty of cheers and cries of joy when we had finished. Buoyed up by enthusiasm we played two more numbers before I called a break.

"Thanks folks, thanks much-you're a great audience. Now if you will give us a few minutes we'll be right back…"

"Very well done, well done indeed," Svinjar said, waddling over and plucking the microphone from my lapel. "I know that we all have heard these musicians before-on the box-so their delightful entertainment comes as no surprise to us all. Yet still, there is something fine about having them here in person. I am grateful-I know that everyone out there is grateful." He turned and smiled broadly at me. A smile that, I could see quite clearly, held no warmth or humor at all. He turned back and spread his arms wide.

"I am so grateful that I have prepared a little surprise for all of you out there-do you want to know what it is?"

Absolute silence now — and a sideways shuffling by the audience. They apparently did not like any of Svinjar's little surprises.

They were right.

"Go!" he shouted into the microphone, so loudly that his amplified voice rolled and echoed like thunder. "Go-go-GO!"

I staggered and almost fell as the platform shook and vibrated. There was a roar of masculine voices as out from under our feet, brushing aside the disguising leafy boughs, burst a mass of armed men. More and more appeared, waving cudgels, howling as they ran, bearing down on the fleeing audience.

We looked on dumbfounded as men and women were clubbed to the ground, chained, tied. The attack was brief and vicious and quickly over with. The fields were empty, the last visitor gone. Those that remained were bound and silent, or groaning with pain. Over their moans of agony Svinjar's laughter sounded clearly. He was rocking in his chair, possessed by sadistic humor, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"But where — " Madonette said. "Where did they all come from? There was no one under here when we started the concert."

I jumped to the ground, kicked some branches aside, saw the gaping mouth of the tunnel. The opening had been concealed by a dirt — covered lid, now thrown aside. There was a heavy thud and Svinjar landed beside me.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" He gestured at the opening. "I have had my men digging that thing for months now. Stamping the removed dirt into the mud whenever it rains. I had planned a meeting here, some gifts, all very vague. Until you showed up! If I were capable of gratitude I would be grateful. I am not. The blind workings of chance. And victory to those — meaning me — who have the intelligence to seize the opportunity. Now a small celebration. We will have food and drink and you will play for me."

He turned and issued instructions, kicked one of his new slaves when she stumbled close.

"It would be nice to kill him," Madonette said. Speaking for all of us, if the nodding heads meant anything.

"Caution," I cautioned. "He has all the cards and the thugs right now. Let's play the concert and figure out how we can get out of here after that."

It wasn't going to be easy. Svinjar's oversized log cabin was filled with his men. Drinking but not drunk, boasting of their feats, drinking even more. We played a number but no one was listening.

Yes; Svinjar was. Listening and looking. Waddling towards us, silencing the music with a swipe of his hand. Dropping into his chair and fingering the hilt of his large sword embedded in the stone close by his hand. Smiling that humorless smile at me again.

"Life is a bit different here, isn't it Jim?"

"You might say that."

If he was looking for trouble I wasn't going to supply it. I didn't like the odds at all.