The Story wanted to follow Sarah out of the World, and it nearly did too, sucking after her like thick pudding after a spoon, like a hand withdrawing from something sticky. The silence of her absence was a living thing, made of crystal and as tight as a sphere. Toby blinked, breaking his gaze away from the place where she had been. He looked at the Goblin King, who was looking at the same spot, blue-eye-brown-eye drawn after her like the story itself.

"There's just one thing I want from you," he said, "a boon."

Blue-eye-brown-eye snap in his direction like glass cracking and fang teeth appeared in the gap where his lip jerked up.

"And what is that, little Prince?" He sounded so attentive that Toby knew he didn't give a damn what he wanted, really. He felt himself getting angry and bit down on it, hard. It wouldn't serve him now.

Later, perhaps, Whispered something in his head, and he tucked that away with the anger.

"I want my band," he said, "they'd love it here. I want to bring them too... or at least, you know... offer." Jareth's white eyebrows played an a-scale riff on his brow, but Toby stared stubbornly. He may not have had an exact idea of what it was he was asking, but he had a better idea than the Goblin King thought. Blue-eye-brown-eye smiled, and so did the rest of his face, sun-on-the-tombstones.

"Very well then, Jareth," He threw his night-cloak over his shoulders and drew from it crystals, one-two-three. "Very very well. You are certainly full of surprises. I will grant you this boon, in exchange for a gift."

A gift for a boon didn't seem like much of a gift, but he didn't care what Jareth chose to call it.

"What's your wish?" He asked with a smirk, and the Goblin King laughed like stars falling.

"Not a wish, just a wondering. A song, if you will. Give me a song, and I'll grant you your SongMakers." And he sat back down in a chair like a throne, and the room was a throne room filled with balconies of Goblins, giggling and poking each other and staring at him, on a dias before their King and Master. Unholy pale light from an unknown source picked out his features and flooded his eyes, and as they adjusted he saw King Jareth, draped across the chair with a leg hooked over one of the iron arms and the starry night spilling over the velvet cushions and pooling around the steps to the throne. The white owl was seated on his shoulder like a ghost, and so two pairs of blue-eyes-brown-eyes stared laconically at Toby, and the three crystals glowing slowly and rotating about them like a three-pointed carousel.

"Well," said the goblin King, tone dripping with something unfathomable, "Are you going to sing for us or no?" All of the goblins giggled and sniggered at this, till the King silenced them with a Look.

"Well?" He asked softly, not unkindly. Toby swallowed.

"Yes."

The Goblins hissed and gibbered their pleasure, and the King cried, "Silence! Silence, all of you. Your prince is going to sing you a story." He turned fang-teeth on Toby, "Well, Jareth, get on with it."

So he did, And the lights grew all soft and music from somewhere met him as he sang, not so good as the Prince's music, but it did what it needed and swelled where it should, so that was all right. And the song went like this, from the heart of the singers hopes:

Item the first to the Castle,
Lady white-wishing, come unto me,
taut strings of hoping that tremble with beauty,
Here is the gift that I bear unto thee:
An Emerald for Jade, an Ivory.

He spun out the chorus and the first crystal gleamed, filled with a gem-breen light and burst brightly, like a star through the arched amber windows of the throne room, streaming off dripping sparks and arcs of the music tied to it, as Toby came to the chorus,

Princes of the Night, come forth,
Gather your stardust and all of your dreams,
Come hand in hand, come slowly,
Come bringing nothing, come if you dare.

And as the first stanza of the chorus faded out a new voice faded in, high aching soprano and a sweet violin, Jade with her long fingers on the neck and the bow behind him, and she smiled as their eyes met before closing them and playing on, both of their voices continuing the chorus,

Princes of the Night, come one and all,
Come against light, against daylight and screams,
Come single-file, come running,
staggered like lightning, come if you dare.

Item the Next to the Castle as well,
Lady of Lordship, wake unto me,
Slow hands of sleeping pluck dreams sweet and burning,
Take hands this gift, I have brought for thee:
A star in a locket, a satin key.

The second crystal spun faster than and followed the first, streaking gold light and humming with a music not dissonant but all of it's own,

Princes of the Night, Think fast,
Bring me your wanting; I'll give you my hand,
Come in a row, come ready,
Come bearing all, but come if you dare.

Low, gutteral bass replaced the synthetic goblin rhythm, the copper-peach hands of Michigan stroking the music out of its strings. Sweat dripped from her face as she bore down on her axe, and she didn't need to acknowledge them nor they her, because it was all there in the tone of her playing and god was it good. But three voices ripped into the next line and verse, stronger than before,

Princes of the Night, come black and white,
Come against evening, like you understand,
Come in a pack, come walking sedately,
Painted like gypsies, come if you dare.

Item the third, once more to the Castle,
Lord of the Morning, burn unto me,
Voices of ancestors, like hearts hard and beating,
Take, mouth, this gift; it is for thee:
The heart of the Heavens, the soul of the Sea.

The last crystal hung heavy with the deepest blue glowing before it went the way of its sisters, and the sparks scattered all over the clusters of goblins gathered in the stands, and they oohed and screamed and went wilder than before,

Princes of the Night, come One-Two-Three,
Come with your aching, your heart on your lips,
Come like you mean it, come empty,
Glowing like lost gods, come if you dare.

Rat-a-tat and there like a wave crashes, the Last Prince tore up the low light of the stage soloing sweet and hard on his kit, kicking up the heat with each hit of his sticks, grinning his love on his mates playing before him. He winked especially at Toby as he tossed a drumstick in the air and caught it, and Toby grinned back, high on glory and having a ball as they rocked it to the grand finale, four voices and no waiting,

And Then Came the Princes, like the Four Fatal Horsemen,
Wrecking the Silence like the reef will wreck ships,
Come they like thunder, like hearts that want wanting,
Dance you their Magic, Dance if you Dare!

They repeated the chorus once more, one-two-three-four, and the final chord faded amid the screaming of demons, losing their minds for the love of the Princes and their passionate play.

"Very nice." said Jareth, almost voiceless in the din as he eyed the four children, standing before him. The owl on his shoulder shifted and said, "Hoo," seemingly in agreement. He clapped his hands slowly, steady clap after steady clap, a slow ironic applause that was nonetheless meant.

And the Princes bowed and looked around at each other like the way lucky people disbelieve in their own luck, dubious and grinning. They would talk about it later, what it was and what it meant, but for the moment they had just played their first piece of their first concert, and really there was nothing for it but to move on to the next piece, work out the set, and so that was what they did, knocking Jareth back in his throne with surprise as they slipped into the next song, and the next and the next. King-eyes met Prince-eyes, brown-eye-blue striking blue-eye-brown like flint over the microphone, saying that the songs were for him after all, a really, truly gift, a whole strumming set of gifts wrapped up in rhyme and tied with rare melody, Thanks for all you've done for me, ooh-wah, ooh-wah.

The Goblin King had nothing to say to that, so he said nothing at all, impassive.

"Hoo." said the Owl to him, and there might have been an odd sort of smug in it's tone, a little.

"Oh shut up," hissed Jareth, and the band played on.