She and Rosie picked up their things and followed, moving with the rest. On the outskirts of the crowd, vendors were selling hot dogs, ice cream, soda, and white plastic hoops that glowed in the dark. Rosie disappeared for a moment and came back with a hoop, which he fitted over her head like a necklace.
'There,' he said, 'it's your halo.'
Around them now the crowd was splitting up, half streaming toward the paths to the east, half to the west. Carol began following the second group, but Rosie stopped her.
'Let them go,' he said. 'I have a better idea.' He took her hand and they began walking north, away from the crowds.
'Wait,' she said, suddenly afraid. 'Where are we going?'
He turned to her and smiled. His grip tightened on her hand. 'Don't worry, it's a special place I know. You'll love it.'
They went on, cutting across paths and down a slope toward a low wooded area. Soon they had left the crowd far behind them.
'But isn't this dangerous?' said Carol, in a near whisper. The trees were so thick now that she could no longer see the lights of the buildings that bordered the park.
'You're safe with me,' he said. 'Honest. Trust me.'
She still felt nervous; she had heard so many frightening things about this park that she'd even been uneasy walking in it earlier with him. She remembered Sarr Poroth's story about wandering through the park that winter day. He had come out safely enough, but he hadn't been here at night and he wasn't old and frail like Rosie. Though Rosie's grip on her hand was anything but frail.
They were walking blind now; she had lost all sense of direction and was relying completely on him.
'I don't know,' she said, trying to control her nervousness with a joke, 'I sure hope you know karate.'
She heard him chuckle as he pulled her along. 'I don't need karate. I've got God on my side.'
A few steps farther on, at the entrance to a foul-smelling little tunnel that ran beneath a footbridge, he stopped.
'Look, remember that little rhyme I taught you? In the Old Language?'
'You mean the one we sang together on the roller coaster?'
'That's right. It made you feel braver then, and it'll do the same now.'
'But I've forgotten all the words.'
'I haven't. Come on, I'll teach it to you again.'
As they started through the darkness of the tunnel, their footsteps loud against the cobblestones, he whispered the words, and she repeated them, and the echoes in the tunnel repeated them again. And he was right: it was happening just as before, the fear was leaving her like a dream, a dream that on waking she would never be able to remember.
They emerged from the tunnel and left the path, moving through a densely wooded thicket where the ground was rocky and she nearly stumbled. Ahead of them loomed an archway of branches… and suddenly she found herself in a grassy clearing, a nearly perfect circle surrounded on all sides by trees so close their branches seemed almost intertwined. She knew she had never been here before, or even near it, but the place seemed somehow familiar – like a fairy ring, she thought – and she knew that here, at least, she was safe.
He had let go of her hand and was searching in the basket. 'Ah, here we are. I knew I'd brought this old thing along.'
It was a stubby white flageolet of polished wood.
'Oh,' she said, 'I didn't know you played the flute!'
He beamed at her. 'Let's just say I've taught myself to play one or two songs.'
He brought it to his mouth, but paused.
'Wait a second,' he said, 'before I go gumming it up, why don't you have a try?' He extended it toward her. 'Don't worry, it's clean.'
'But I don't know how to-'
'That's okay,' he said, holding it out, 'just give it a try.'
She stepped back – he was practically shoving the thing into her face – but she didn't want to hurt his feelings and he seemed so eager that at last she took it and put the end in her mouth. Touching her fingers to the holes, she played a few notes. The sound was jarring, strident, but the fact that she had tried it seemed to please him.
'Good,' he said, taking the instrument from her. 'I can see you've got real talent!' He laughed.
'Very funny,' she said, oddly humiliated. 'Now it's your turn.'
'I'd be delighted,' he said, with a courtly bow. 'But only on one condition – that you dance for me.'
'Here?' She searched his face in the darkness, trying to see if he was joking. 'What kind of a dance?'
He cocked his head. 'The one we've been practicing, of course!'
'I'm still a little stiff from a class I took last night,' she said. 'And I'm not so sure I'd feel right doing it here… '
'Come on now, Carol,' he said, smiling, 'this is absolutely the perfect place. You've always wanted to be a dancer. Now's your chance!'
Maybe it would be best to humor him. Besides, it was so dark no one would be able to see her.
'Oh, all right, why not? I'll pretend I'm a – what did you call it?-a dryad.'
She stepped forward into the circle and waited silently, trying to recall the steps from last night. There were just nine of them, she knew, repeated over and over in a complicated sequence: a step here, a back-step, a spin…
He was already raising the flute to his lips, and now he began to play – a slow, measured series of low notes, not exactly a melody, but the notes seemed to belong together, flowing into one another like the music a snake charmer played. Concentrating on the rhythm, she began to dance, slowly at first, in time with the music, but then faster as the music picked up speed. She had started out feeling somewhat self-conscious, even after her practice it was hard to think of where to put her feet, but gradually, as she let the music take her, she began not to think about the steps, they began to be second nature, maybe it was the wine; she simply let her feet and hands and head move the way they wanted to and felt wonderfully free and not afraid at all.
The song ended. She found herself standing in the center of the circle, thoroughly winded but, like last night, eager for more. She took a few deep breaths; her head was spinning.
'That was wonderful!' said Rosie. He walked out toward her. 'It was like watching the music come alive.'
'Oh, really, I was awful.' She shook her head but was pleased. 'It's a wonder you could even see me. There's practically no light here.'
He smiled. 'I could see that necklace of yours whirling in the dark.'
'You mean my little plastic halo!' She could feel it encircling her sweaty throat. Her hand went to it. 'I'll have to remember to dance with it again some time.'
He checked his watch. 'As a matter of fact, we have more time right now. Ic isn't very late, and there's something I'd rather like to try. Something special.'
'A different dance?'
'No, just a different song.'
She shrugged. 'All right. Sure. It might be fun to try out a new song.'
'Actually,' he said, 'it isn't new at all. In fact, it's very very old. But I think you might enjoy dancing to it.' He didn't give her time to reply. Laying out the blanket, he sat down and crossed his legs. 'Ready?'
'No, wait.' She ran a hand through her hair and loosed the top button of her dress. 'Ready.'
The new song was even more beautiful than the first – more exotic, yet she almost felt she'd heard parts of it before, and wondered where. No matter, she was busy now, concentrating on the steps: The backstep, the spin, the lift of the arm, the faster spin…
The rhythm was different this time, it took her a while to get accustomed to it, but then she saw that, in fact, it was far more suited to the dance than the first song had been.
The lift of the arm, the faster spin, the special signs the hands made with the next spin… And then the step, the spin, the spin. ..