Lizette stepped into the shadows, then returned with a small bundle. She unveiled its contents slowly: a drum with a livid hide, a pair of slender white sticks, and a string of tiny silver bells. She passed the instrument to the man seated beside the fiddler, then tied the bells around her ankle. When she had finished, she stepped into the circle of dancers.
The women began to move slowly with the music, hips swaying, arms writhing like charmed white serpents to the fiddler's dark tune and the drummer's sensual beat. Their black skirts swirled in the shadows, layer upon layer of silk and gauze fluttering about them like crows'wings.
Lizette left the group and approached Marielle. "Come and dance with us," she said, extending her pale hand. Her eyes were lowered seductively, and a faint smile played on her lips. "Come and dance with me."
Marielle hesitated. Damius's arm slipped from her shoulder, and he leaned in close. "Yes, join her," he urged softly.
The fiddler picked up the pace. The women opened their circle, and Marielle stepped to the center. A tempest of arms and silks whirled around her. Each body entangled her for a moment, then set her free as another took its place. Lizette joined her in the vortex and grasped her hands. They began to spin as one, turning round and round until Marielle grew dizzy and her legs felt weak. The music reached a crescendo, then stopped abruptly. Marielle and Lizette collapsed to the ground, exhausted. The dance was done. The five women nodded at Marielle and disappeared into the shadows, leaving only Lizette and Damius beside her.
Damius stood. "I must see whether the storm has lifted," he said. "I will return shortly. "He bent and kissed Marielle on the cheek. "I enjoyed the dance," he whispered. "I hope it pleased you as well."
Marielle started to rise and follow, but dizziness overcame her.
"Stay with Lizette," said Damius. "And keep her company. "When Marielle turned her head, he was gone.
"Yes, stay with me," said Lizette, lying at Marielle's side. She leaned over and kissed Marielle on the knee. "Damius has kept much about you hidden. Tell me about your tribe."
"There is little to tell," Marielle replied, withdrawing her leg. "I'm sure it would bore you."
"Not at all," said Lizette. "We meet so few others when we travel."
"My tribe also keeps to itself."
"Are there many of you?" asked Lizette casually.
"Twenty-seven," Marielle answered. "Twenty-eight with the new baby."
Lizette paused. "The baby. . "she said softly. "Such a gift. If it is healthy. ."
"It's quite so," Marielle replied.
"And so it should be," said Lizette. "Tell me, how old is this child? "
"Not yet a month."
"So sweet," murmured Lizette. "Is the mother young? "
"Just seventeen. But already she has three children."
"That must be very nice for her," Lizette said evenly. "And is the father handsome, like Damius? "
"Handsome," Marielle replied. "But not like Damius."
"No, of course," added Lizette. "Not like Damius. Are there no other babies but this one? "
"No. Only one child was born to us this year. Why does this subject interest you so? "
"Surely you must have noticed that we have no children ourselves," Lizette replied.
"I thought perhaps they were simply sleeping."
"No, not sleeping," said Lizette softly. "Gone from our midst. Ours is not a fortunate tribe, Marielle. We have been cursed with barrenness. But perhaps, you yourself might change that, should you decide to remain with Damius."
"He has yet to ask," Marielle replied.
"But he will," said Lizette, rising to her feet. "And you will say yes, won't you?"
Marielle did not answer.
"Of course you will," said Lizette. "It was meant to be." Damius returned and announced that the storm had ended. Lizette said good-bye to them both, disappearing in the shadows.
Damius took Marielle by the hand and drew her to her feet. Then he led her into the passage from which he had come. As their path rose, so too did the mists, until Marielle could see nothing around her. Damius gripped her hand tightly and bade her not to let go. They walked for what seemed an eternity. Marielle heard a strange sighing all around her. Then the fog grew less heavy. Trees took shape. They were in the forest, at the clearing in which they had met the night before.
Damius drew her close and kissed her fiercely on the mouth. Desire flared within her as if she were nothing but dry tinder and he the spark. She slid her hand beneath his tunic.
"Tomorrow," he whispered. She felt him press an object into her hand: the ebony ring.
"I must ask something of you, Marielle," he said. "And your answer will seal our fate. "He took the ring and placed it on her finger. At once, the silver band contracted, fitting her snugly. For the first time, she noticed the small white stones encircling the ebony gem. No longer beautiful, the ring appeared to be a mouth. Damius stroked the side of the gem three times. A tiny barb rose from the center, forming a sharp and eager tongue.
Marielle gasped.
"Lizette told you of our plight, did she not?" Damius said. "We are childless. It is a curse that you alone can lift. Draw a drop of blood from the baby in your tribe tonight, and bring it to me here. No one must see you draw the blood, else your efforts will be spoiled. It is a small thing we ask. Yet it means everything to my tribe, and to us both."
Marielle began to protest, but he raised a finger to her lips. Then he pulled her tight against his chest and whispered into her ear. "Do this for me, Marielle, and I will come to you tomorrow night and always. Fail, and I can never return. "Before she could answer, he stepped away and disappeared into the mists.
Marielle stood in the clearing, dazed and alone. She stared at the strange ring upon her hand. The barb had withdrawn. The white stones had vanished. Damius's words echoed through her mind: Fail, and I can never return.
She tugged at the ring. To her relief, it slipped off with ease. For a moment, she thought of throwing it into the brush. Then, tears welling, she tucked it into a small pocket within her skirt and began the walk back to camp. Morning broke, turning the woods from black to dull gray. By the time the familiar vardos came into view, the sun had begun to burn away the mist. The women in the camp were stirring, building a fire and preparing the kettles.
Marielle walked toward her wagon. Annelise intervened, a phantom from nowhere. Marielle brushed past her, but the phantom followed behind.
"You look dreadful," chattered Annelise. "What happened to you?"
Marielle cringed at the sound. She did not want this attention, nor could she bear this concern.
"I took shelter in a cave during the storm," she replied. It was, after all, the truth.
"I warned you not to leave when the sky was so threatening," chided Annelise.
"So you did," replied Marielle. "But I am all right, as you can see."
"Even Sergio was wondering where you were. If you had not come back soon, we might have begun a search."
"Sergio has not bothered himself with my whereabouts before," said Marielle wearily.
"That's not true, Marielle. But in any case, we are leaving soon. Sergio has decided to break camp tomorrow. I thought you'd like to know."
Marielle did not answer. Annelise clucked her tongue and walked away.
The hours of the day passed slowly, as if in a dream. Marielle completed her chores by reflex. All the while, she watched Annelise and the baby, and thought of the task Damius had set before her.
Sweet, unsuspecting Annelise. Marielle could simply ask to hold the baby, she knew, and Annelise would comply. Then the deed would be easy. Still, Marielle hesitated. It was only a drop of blood, a tiny prick, she told herself. But she sensed it meant more. How could she do this thing that Damius asked? Yet how could she not?
The afternoon faded. Marielle thought of Damius, and an unbearable longing took shape within her. It fed on her strength like a parasite, pressed hard against her chest, twisted around her heart.