It wasn’t long before James’ preoccupied mind was halted by the sounds of music and laughter drifting through the trees. The sound was at the same time miraculous and wonderful, suffused with such joy and delight that he suddenly felt unsteady on his feet. After the sorrows and horrors of the past weeks, that such sounds could exist in this world was almost too much to bear. With tentative, almost frightened movements, he followed his friend from out of the trees.

The last golden rays of sunlight gilt the tops of the distant Citadel walls, throwing the interior into deepening shadows. But within the endless gardens and meadows spread beneath the walls, thousands of colourful lanterns were ablaze like constellations of dancing stars. Here and there, bonfires shone, illuminating islands of green where people laughed and danced.

For the first time, James was amazed to see children running and laughing together, some brandishing sticks as swords, others huddled together in mischievous council. Like the adults, their hair was long and as black as ebony; the boys’ flowing freely behind them as they tumbled and ran; the girls’ wearing simple braids in imitation of the more complex patterns adorning their mothers.

Elsewhere, men and women filled the evening air with the sounds of laughter and song, and for once, nowhere was there sign of a weapon. The men wore simple tunics and leggings of modest greens and browns, but the women were incandescent with colour; their skirts and flowing dresses somehow woven from leaves that mirrored the autumnal colours all around them.

Close by, small fires with cachoon and other strange root vegetables roasted upon slender sticks. There were tables laden with curious foods and great barrels of wine and ale piled up beside them. The air was thick with the sweet smells of cooking and the aromatic smoke of the fires, a heady fragrance which swirled amidst the music and laughter like a magic spell.

James turned to Tavin and saw his joy reflected in the other man’s laughter.

‘Tavin…’ James said, his voice catching in his throat, ‘it’s beautiful.’

‘It is what you sorely needed my friend,’ Tavin replied, patting his shoulder. ‘Here you will find yourself once more. Here you will rediscover the happiness you have lost.’

As they walked together into the milling crowd, James pointed to a solitary tree standing proud in the middle of the meadow. The tree was oddly shaped; a cross between a palm tree and a pine. Its trunk was tall and denuded of branches but for its top, where hundreds of slender branches curled down like a great umbrella. But, more curious still, were the dozens of colourful ribbons that trailed from the top of the trunk to a group of dancers, who twirled and skipped around the tree as though it were a pagan maypole.

‘That, my friend, is the Choosing Tree,’ Tavin replied with a knowing grin. ‘The Carousel is a dance that culminates in the choosing of a mate. In due course, the ribbons wind around the tree until the dancers are pulled to its trunk. It is said that the person you become entangled with has been chosen for you by the tree!’

Tavin laughed, as the dancers drew ever closer together.

‘But of course, it does not always get it right!’

As they watched, the dancers swirled faster and faster, until they were abruptly drawn together in a tangle of colourful ribbons. Despite what Tavin had said, James was unprepared for the consequences of the dance’s completion. Whilst some tentatively embraced and yet others awkwardly disentangled from unwanted partners, many more were passionately confirming their choosing, writhing within the tangled colours of their pairing.

James felt an elbow in his side and turned to his friend, wincing from the pain.

‘What the hell did you do that for?’

Tavin grinned, and motioned towards two young women who were walking towards them. The first grinned as she placed a string of white flowers around Tavin’s neck before kissing him lightly upon the forehead. The other girl faltered when she discovered James standing behind him but still she approached, smiling shyly, the dark almond eyes at the same time curious and warm with affection. Taking a ring of white flowers, she draped them upon his brow, circling the top of his head like a crown. The young woman seemed to hesitate, but then her delicate hand reached forward and gently stroked his beard. He felt her tremble at the touch, but with a bewildered smile she leaned closer and kissed him on each of his eyelids. Giggling, she clasped hands with her friend and together they scampered off into the crowd.

‘What did I tell you, Jame!’ Tavin laughed, elbowing him again in the side. ‘We must cut a dashing pair the two of us! The fun we shall have this night!’

James smiled dumbly at his friend, unable to believe what had just happened. What he had said of his inability with women was something of an understatement. His ex-girlfriend had been something of an aberration; a beautiful young woman who had, for reasons beyond his comprehension, fallen in love with him. Yet it was his usual experience of women that they seldom even looked at him, let alone spoke to him. His skin flushed from the touch of the girl’s lips, the pungence of her obscure fragrance still lingering on his skin.

‘But… I’m ugly,’ James muttered to himself.

Tavin’s grin widened, his expression one of bewildered incomprehension.

‘Jame, the only ugliness I see within you is that which you impart upon yourself. Although, for the life of me, I cannot determine why you would torment yourself thus!’

‘Things are different where I come from,’ was all James could manage by way of a reply.

‘You paint a bleak picture of your land Jame. But no matter, you are with us now.’

Tavin smiled and carefully lifted the necklace of flowers from his chest into his hands.

‘Now tell me, what do you think of the flowers? They smell interesting, do they not?’

The flowers were indeed lovely and smelled faintly of vanilla. The potent scent descended from his brow and seemed to bring with it a sense of deep calm, softening the vestiges of his lingering worries.

‘They are celebration garlands,’ Tavin said, lifting the flowers to his nose and inhaling deeply. ‘They are given to those of age during such celebrations and possess attributes akin to partaking of metheglin.’

Taking James’ arm, Tavin walked him into the milling crowd of celebrants.

‘And speaking of metheglin, I think it is high time we partook of a flask or two!’

Soon, the two men stood side by side with slender wooden vessels of wine clasped in their hands. The wine was delicious and pungent with the sweetness of honey and soon the potent liquor softened what remained of James’ doubt.

Tavin performed the role of guide with enthusiasm, revelling in each new wonder James was introduced to. They ate foods more delicious than anything he had yet encountered, and many more that almost defied description. Perhaps the strangest was a large purple mushroom that once bitten, released thousands of tiny spores that could be inhaled like smoke from a pipe, causing a pleasant numbness to travel down the throat and into the lungs. There were brittle sticks, like charred, y-shaped twigs, which melted in the mouth like salted caramel. And, with the greatest pleasure of all, Tavin introduced a cooked cachoon, complete with a sprig of Lemspur; a type of grass, woven into a lattice around the baked tuber. With a guilty grin, James had to concede that it was indeed far better than the raw vegetable he had so angrily consumed during their flight from Galendar.

James was just coughing on his second mushroom spore, when a group of curious children suddenly scampered over and surrounded them. He smiled at their innocent scrutiny, gladdened at last to have eyes turned upon him that were not afraid or filled with contempt.

‘His hair grows upon his face!’ A young boy laughed.

‘Look at his eyes!’ a girl remarked with wonder. ‘They are the colour of the sky!’

‘My father told me that he came from a falling star!’ Another intoned sagely.

‘Now children, give the man his peace.’

The children were suddenly parted by a tall woman in plain robes of white, her greying hair woven into a silver tapestry of braids that trailed across both shoulders.

‘The curiosity of children,’ the woman said, her gaze following them as they fled, laughing and screaming back into the crowd, ‘a blessing and a curse!’

James recognised the woman from his trial, one of the few Lords who had abstained from passing judgement upon him. He saw Tavin bow beside him and awkwardly imitated the gesture.

‘Jame, this is Lord Kemira of the Tower of Remembering, cousin to the late Lord Galen,’ Tavin said, somewhat nervously supplying her introduction.

‘You are welcome here Tavin of Galendar,’ Lord Kemira smiled, nodding gracefully. ‘My condolences for the loss of your brother. We celebrate his passing this night, as do we celebrate all of those who have passed from your house.’

Tavin bowed once more, his face solemn, yet grateful for her words.

The woman turned and regarded James fully, her eyes sparkling in the light of a nearby fire.

‘You also are welcome here, Jame of…’

‘Jame of Galendar,’ Tavin interjected proudly. ‘He is of our House now.’

James flinched, and looked askance at his friend as Tavin’s grin broadened.

‘Is that so?’ The Lord smiled, her elegant face belying a strength that was both imposing and reassuring. ‘A fine House to be fostered within,’ she said, eyeing the dark green robes with appreciation. ‘Never before has such a privilege been bestowed upon a man of the plains. There is indeed more to you than first meets the eye, Jame of Galendar.’

Unlike the other Gelders he had met so far, the woman’s eyes were pale, like the white-grey of burnt embers. Behind their calculating stare, he sensed an unnerving intelligence that completely dwarfed his own. When those same eyes narrowed, he felt himself stiffen in apprehension.

‘But tell me, from which of the barbarian kingdoms do you hail?’

James’ grip tightened upon his flask, feeling as though another interrogation were about to ensue.

‘I’m not from any kingdom you will have ever heard of,’ James replied awkwardly. ‘It has a name, but it would be meaningless to tell you.’

The woman nodded her head as though in understanding, but her pale eyes remained fixed upon him.

‘Were it possible that our two races could be on better terms, I believe there would be much to benefit us both.’

The woman glanced to one side, peering into the milling crowd of celebrants.

‘You have the council confused beyond measure, Jame, and I for one am very greatly pleased that that is so. Lord Balen is a great warrior and leader, and the approaching war fits his attributes like a glove,’ the woman’s formidable glare swept back to him, ‘but he lacks the sensitivity and foresight that was so generously bestowed upon his brother. We risk much by lowering ourselves to the brutalities of our enemy, and it is better that he be reminded of that fact.’

The intensity of her stare slipped from her eyes and she smiled, addressing them together.

‘But this is talk for another time. For now, I wish only to extend the warmest of welcomes to you both. Others of your house attend the festivities this night. I hope that you will all find our hospitality of a standard more deserving of your past treatment. We will meet again, soon, I hope.’

James nodded mutely as the elegant woman swept on, her slender form carried by the now familiar poise and elegance of her people.

‘Jame, I believe that you have made another friend,’ Tavin said, as they watched her disappear into the crowd.

‘What did she mean by, “fostered”?’ James asked, oblivious to what Tavin had just said.

Tavin smiled and placed his hand upon his shoulder.

‘The Northern prefectures of the Gelding are comprised of seventeen Great Houses. It is to your House that you strive to serve and do honour for. Whilst you dwell within the lands of the Gelding, it would be fitting that you affiliate yourself with a House. Fen and I proposed that you be of Galendar, and Leander accepted.’

‘Leander accepted me into her house?’ James said, spluttering on a mouthful of wine.

Tavin’s smile lessened.

‘Unless, of course, you wish to petition for another?’

James merely shook his head and sighed into his wine flask, his mind trying to make sense of yet another peculiarity of these strange people.

‘You do us honour!’ Tavin exclaimed, clapping James on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

Taking another hurried draught from his flask, James turned to watch the ongoing festivities around him. His former gaiety had quickly subsided following the conversation with Lord Kemira. It wasn’t anything specifically she had said, but what she had implied; that she, like Lord Galen and the enigmatic old man still pacing the lofty perch of the Clyst, believed he was important to them in some unfathomable way. With joyless realisation, James conceded that he shared at least one thing in common with Lord Balen; neither of them believed he was of any use to anybody.

James’ attention was pulled from these dark thoughts by the sight of a woman pacing beyond the great umbrella of the Choosing Tree. His eye had been drawn by her beauty, but it was a curious familiarity that held his gaze. She wore a shimmering dress woven from red-golden leaves, her arm delicately concealed within a sling held across her chest. Realisation dawned and he shook his head in disbelief… it was Fen! Extricated from the concealment of her armour, her true beauty shone forth like a butterfly emerging from the crudity of its shell. Despite the distance between them, he felt himself blush in acknowledgement of her splendour.

But, it wasn’t until he saw her companion that his breath caught in his throat. The woman walking beside Fen had foregone the colourful garments worn by the other women, dressed instead in simple tunic and leggings. Even so, her understated beauty overshadowed any of those around her. He hadn’t seen Leander in over a week, but seeing her now was like seeing her anew. The subtle change in her bearing was demonstrated by the lack of weapons that usually adorned her body. Gone was the sword at her hip, the slender daggers at her waist, the bow that had been permanently attached to her hand. Without her weapons, she appeared strangely vulnerable, her hands restless at her sides as though uncertain how to be at ease. With a twinge of guilt, James was reminded of the time he had inadvertently spied upon her bathing, for her awkwardness was something akin to nakedness; her absent weapons exposing a fragility that had been hiding beneath her tough exterior all along.

James grinned as he took another sip of his wine. For once, he was relieved not to be the one on the receiving end of Leander’s anger, for whatever conversation they had been sharing had since descended into argument. But as disgruntled as Leander was, her companion’s smile remained intact; her finger raised to her companion as though in admonishment. James half expected the young woman to storm away in childish affront, but instead she did something that defied belief. With her shoulders sagging in defeat, she grudgingly raised her arms, allowing Fen to fasten a golden ribbon around her waist.

‘Tavin!’ James exclaimed excitedly. ‘I don’t believe it! Leander’s going to dance!’

‘So it would seem!’ Tavin grinned, following his gaze to the two women. ‘It has been a long time in coming, but I am grateful to Fen for finally persuading her. She, like you my friend, finds it difficult to let certain things remain in her past.’

Frowning at Tavin’s cryptic words, he turned back to watch the men and women await the dance. A number of musicians had come forward, taking up positions around the edge of the milling dancers. In their hands they carried what appeared to be a diverse collection of flutes and reed pipes melded from willowing. At an unseen signal, the various players took up their instruments and brought them to their lips. There was an expectant pause from the assembled dancers, and then the music began to play.

At first, the melody that drifted into the evening air was contemplative, almost melancholy, but the dancers responded by slowly walking around the tree, trailing their many-coloured ribbons in the air above them. Men and women exchanged smiling glances as they passed and soon their laughter and excited conversation mingled with the play of music. As though feeding upon the growing excitement, the music changed, building in pace and form. An excited cheer was raised from the crowd and suddenly the dancers sprang into movement. Forming two concentric circles, they swirled in and out of one another as the ribbons above them rippled like colourful threads on a loom. Here and there, latecomers to the dance were frantically waiting for their friends to tie their ribbons, before springing into the melee.

The melody the players wove between them was both complex and primitive, a seductive rhythm that played upon the air like the scatterings of moths dancing between the lanterns above. In imitation of those around him, James gladly clapped along to the music as he watched Leander awkwardly weave between the other dancers. Again, he felt guilty at the pleasure he took from her discomfort, but as the young woman’s smile grew upon her face, he gawped at the transformation imparted to her lithe figure.

James felt a curious tightening and looked down to discover a bright blue ribbon being tied around his waist. Glancing quickly past Tavin’s mischievous eyes, he noticed the same ribbon trailing above his head and up into the heights of the Choosing Tree.

‘It appears that you are about to dance also my friend!’ Tavin laughed, clapping along to the music.

‘Tavin, untie me at once!’ James shouted, fumbling at the ribbon.

‘Nonsense, the Carousel awaits!’ Tavin replied, taking the flask of wine from his hand and bringing it to his own lips.

‘I can’t bloody dance! You’re trying to make a fool of me!’

‘I would never do such a thing. Besides, anyone can dance. It is in the blood and soul of every man and woman alive!’

Tavin pushed him gently towards the tree as a young woman playfully pulled him into the midst of the dance.

‘The ladies of Kellandria will not see you wrong-footed!’ Tavin shouted, raising his flask in salute.

Before he could protest any further, James was swept into the colourful dance. His movements were hesitant and uncertain as he blundered between the other dancers, but unseen hands guided his passage, pulling his body into swirls and spirals as he was swept around the tree. Soon, James’ grimace had transformed into a shy smile, and then to open laughter as he greeted the smiles of men and women skipping past. The pace of the music increased and breathlessly he passed around and around the tree, swept upon a tide of shifting colour. The music and laughter seemed to swirl and eddy around him, carrying his clumsy feet as though buoyed upon a fast-flowing river. Glancing above, he noticed the beautiful tapestry being woven above their heads; amidst the reds, golds and greens, his ribbon was like a spiral of blue flame.

Just as the pace of the dance was becoming too fast to keep up, the tangle of ribbons drew the dancers together, tangling them up like so many flies caught in a multicoloured web. James felt other bodies press against his own and turned to his side, giddy and chuckling. Beside him, a young couple had already embraced, their smiles joined together in a passionate kiss. Blushing, he turned away as another pair of dark eyes settled upon him. But the smile upon the woman’s scarred face died as quickly as his own.

Leander stared back at him, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. The intricate tangle of braids framed her flushed face and the sudden intensity of her large dark eyes. In that instant, something tenuous and fragile seemed to pass between them, and before it fled, as quickly and surely as had her smile, James read the obscure longing that had so briefly consumed her.

Perhaps it was the effects of the wine he had drunk with Tavin, or perhaps the celebration garland that still traced his brow like a flowery crown, but on impulse he did the one thing he never dreamed he would do…

Leaning forward, he kissed her.

The contact sent a wave of heat coursing through his limbs. He felt her body tense, felt the delicate ridge of the scar trailing across her lips. Though the kiss lasted only a moment, its fire seemed to blaze through him, finding and filling the many empty voids residing within.

A stinging pain blazed across his face, jerking his head back against the trunk of the tree. Opening his eyes in shock, he found Leander glaring back at him, her teeth bared in a feral grimace. Frantically, she began to struggle against the golden ribbon that still bound her, but in her haste her fingers fumbled clumsily upon the knot Fen had so recently tied. In desperation, her hand flew to her head and from the woven braids of hair she drew out a slender wooden knife which she savagely swept through the ribbon. Springing to her feet, she stormed away from the tangle of dancers and fled into the crowd.

Still reeling from the violence of their parting, James saw Fen fleeing in pursuit of her friend. Dismayed at the outcome of his impetuous act, he pulled against his own ribbon as the music around him became wistful. The knot was unfamiliar and he clumsily squirmed out of its embrace, desperate to be away from those who had watched the altercation. All of the joy and exhilaration that had been gifted to him by the dance now lay in tatters around him. With the side of his face still burning, he got unsteadily to his feet and weaved an uncertain path through the crowd, searching for Tavin.

How wrong Tavin had been! Leander obviously despised him as much as ever. What a fool he had been to believe anything different!

Without his friend by his side he felt the eyes of the crowd rake across him. He wanted to scream at them, wanted to disappear from their endless scrutiny. A table laden with food and drink barred his way, and roughly he grabbed a flask of wine, ignoring the smile of the young man who had offered it. Pulling the cork out with his teeth, he upended the bottle and drank deeply, spluttering as the potent liquor burned its way down his throat.

With a ruthless sneer, he acknowledged the perversity of his situation. When a glimmer of happiness had threatened to intrude upon his delusion, that damaged part of his mind had remorselessly swept in to end it. Suddenly the colour and laughter that surrounded him was too painful to his senses, and on his unsteady feet he pushed himself back through the crowd.

At that moment, a hand roughly grasped his shoulder, and he turned to find a tall, dark figure standing before him. In the scant light of a nearby fire, he thought that it was his friend, Tavin, and was about to admonish him for his absence when he was savagely shoved to the ground.

The man’s face was ruddy, his teeth bared in a snarl. He held a large flagon of ale in one hand, the other bunched into a fist.

‘Stay away from her!’ Kirrin growled above him.

For the first time, the older brother’s hatred was fully exposed upon his face, distorting his proud countenance into something obscene and frightening. He took a step forward, his knuckles white upon the wooden flagon as though it were the handle of a weapon. From out of the crowd, Fen suddenly reappeared, her flowing red dress like a gust of windblown leaves between them. Her arm pushed against the towering man’s chest, her eyes wide with fear and incomprehension.

‘Kirrin, what has become of you?’ she demanded.

James crawled backwards across the grass, a pocket of silence surrounding him as people gathered to watch. Emboldened by Fen’s defence, James flamed with sudden anger. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he faced the towering man barely held in check by Fen’s barrier of red-golden leaves.

‘You can bloody well have her!’ James yelled, his fingers tightening upon the wooden flask still held in his hand. ‘You’ve got nothing to fear. She hates me as much as you do!’

And with that, James pushed his way through the circle of onlookers, and out across the dark meadow beyond. He didn’t care where his feet took him, as long as it was away from them. Following a sweeping bank of grass made silver by the moonlight, he halted before the edge of a dark wood.

Upon the threshold of the waiting trees, he turned to the distant play of lights and shouted with all his might.

‘Just leave me the hell alone!’