Dema and Cern walked with Begay and Juan as they left the casino. They passed all the noise and excitement of the usual slot machines and gaming rooms. Cern mentioned his interest in learning about the casino's operation as background for his legal firm's review of the Kenosha Wisconsin casino proposal.

Begay said, "I'm sure if you ask at the desk in the hotel lobby the clerk can find someone from the administrative offices to help you. But for tonight, you might enjoy the floor show. I see that one of our local bands is playing." 

He indicated a poster that showed a four man group that went by the name "No Limit." Cern and Dema stopped to look at the poster. Begay said, "Just follow the music," and waved a hand in the general direction it was coming from, then he and Juan headed out through the entrance.

The music at the moment sounded like Salsa, but as they found the room and a table it shifted to rock, and then to something else a little different that Cern thought had a bit of tribal influence.

The room was not exactly packed, and when the band took a break the lead singer headed straight for their table.

"Hi, I'm Rick. Nice to see some new faces here. Hope you like what you hear."

Dema said, "Oh, yes, we do!" and Cern nodded.

Rick looked at Dema and said, "If you don't mind my asking, what tribe are you?"

She said, "Snake," without batting an eye.

"Shoshone?"

"No, Culver. East European branch."

Rick looked puzzled and dropped it as the rest of the band members joined them and introduced themselves. The lead guitar was Joe, the drummer Carlos, the bass player Mike. It looked like Mike was the sound man, too, as he was the one who turned down the amps before he left the little stage.

The four boys gathered around the table were polite to Cern, but their focus was on Dema. 

 "Did I hear you say you are Shoshone?" asked Mike.

"No, she said she is Culver."

"Don't know that one."

"It's an eastern tribe."

"Oh."

"Are you boys all Navajo?"

"No, Joe is Apache." 

"Carlos claims he is part Navajo, but we think he is mostly Mex."

"That last piece you played, I never heard it before. Different sound."

"Rick wrote it. Parts of it are Navajo traditional."

"Really? Nice. I liked some of those riffs."

"Do you play?"

"No, but Cern does."

Eyes shifted to him, and he said, "Just a bit, mostly acoustic."

"Want to show us what you've got?" Joe jumped up and got a guitar from the stage. It was acoustic, but wired. He handed it to Cern, who set it on his knee and plucked the strings a few times to check the sound. Then he looked at Rick, and strummed off the unusual riffs that Dema had admired, complete with the same flourishes.

Rick was flabbergasted. "Wow! It took me days to get that right! How'd you do it?"

"He's a quick study," said Dema as Cern picked up a rhythm that sounded like the traditional Navajo beat that had been part of the piece. But he broke it off abruptly and handed the guitar back to Joe.

"I'd have to work on that for a while," he said.

"No way! Man, you're good. What tribe did you say you are from?"

"One of those eastern ones, like Dema, I think."

Break was over and the band went back to the stage and started picking up their instruments. Before Rick went he said to Cern, "Want to join us for a few licks?" 

Cern looked at Dema and said, "Thanks, really, but maybe another time? It's been a long day for us."

Rick said, "Great!" and trotted back to his microphone.

Cern and Dema stayed for a few more songs, then headed off to their room. When they reached one of the quiet hotel corridors Dema asked, "So how did you manage to pick up their music so quickly?"

"You know. I used the same trick we did with the European languages. Just got inside his head a little. Or more like, inside his hands."

"Oh, of course. But you are getting exceptionally good at that."

"I think, like you, I'm just doing what I always did. But now I know when I'm doing it, so I have more control."