Free Wildwood Dancing by Juliet Marillier Page B

who he is?”
    “Night People,” Sten grunted. “Rubbish. Should go back where they came from, if you ask me. Heard nothing but bad about them.”
    “If he’s rubbish, how is it he was chosen to be my sister’s boatman?”
    “Ileana tolerates them. Our visitors. He probably went to her. About our dance—can I have that one where we toss our partners up in the air? I was a champion back home.” Sten had traveled far to settle in this forest. His home was to the northwest, in a land he had told me was even more icy than ours—though that was hard to believe. “I made a bet with Grigori.”
    “What bet?” I asked suspiciously, all the time watching as my sisters came into view, one by one.
    “Who can throw who highest. I’ll win, of course.”
    “All right.” I grinned; I never could resist a good bet. Then my grin faded. All my sisters were now arriving—all but Tati. “He’s so slow,” I murmured. “And he’s strange. He never says a word. He never even opens his mouth.”
    “Uh-huh,” the troll said. “That’d be the teeth.”
    “What?”
    “The teeth. You know, Night People teeth. He doesn’t want you to see them. In particular, he doesn’t want
her
to see them.”
    This terrified me. Surely the Night People could have only one reason for showing interest in human girls, and it was nothing to do with dancing or making polite conversation. I drew breath to call out for Tati. But at that moment, the last boat came into view. The pale young man guided it without ever taking his eyes off his passenger, who was sitting very still in her hooded cloak. They glided to shore. He stepped out andoffered her his hand. Tati disembarked with her usual grace and spoke what must have been a polite thank-you. There seemed nothing untoward about it at all. Teeth or no teeth, perhaps I was just being silly to feel such misgivings. This was Tati, after all: my big sister. At sixteen, surely she knew how to look after herself.
    “Come on, then,” I said briskly. “If we’re going to win this bet, maybe we should get in some practice.”
    It was a good night. The magic of the Other Kingdom made my weariness fall away. I was enveloped by the sound of the music, the tantalizing smells of the sweetmeats, and the glorious whirl of color under the ancient oaks. In the human world autumn was well advanced, but here in Dancing Glade we could shed our hats and cloaks, take off our boots and put on our party slippers, for the air was balmy and on the lush grass flowers bloomed.
    There was a particular tree whose inhabitants looked after items of apparel until it was time to go home. It was full of odd, small folk with snub noses and long arms, who simply reached out, donned cloak or hood or boots, and settled in the branches to wait. Some items were fought over—Iulia’s rabbit-skin hat seemed to be a favorite. I wondered how well it would survive the tug-of-war that was taking place, high off the ground, to an accompaniment of screeching and spitting.
    Sten won his wager. By the end of the dance I was dizzy and bruised but happy that his pride was undented. Being from foreign parts, he did seem to feel he must prove himself before the others. I had spared Gogu this adventure and left him in Paula’s care—while he loved to leap, he most certainly didn’tappreciate being thrown about. After that, I danced with Grigori, and Iulia with Sten. Then came a jig and my usual partner for such light-footed capering, the red-bearded Anatolie.
    “Your sister’s boatman hasn’t claimed his dance,” the dwarf said with a wink as we twirled arm in arm.
    “Really?” That was a surprise. “Perhaps he doesn’t dance. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Night People would enjoy.” I let go his arm to jig three paces right, jump, and clap.
    “The others are dancing. Look,” said Anatolie, executing his own jump with flair and clapping his hands over his head.
    So they were. A black-booted man, his features like a tragic