"I have never seen one of your kind, except in dreams," the manlike creature said to him at last. "You are neither so fearsome nor so strange as I would have expected."

"Thank you, I suppose. I would say the same for you, except I'm not sure I've ever seen your kind even in dreams."

Harsar gave him a squinting look. "Do you joke? Never seen the Stone Circle People? Your people used to dance with ours by moonlight! We took you down into our towns beneath the hills and showed you wonderful things!"

"Doubtless," Barrick said, wiping honey off his chin. The excellent meal was improving his mood by the instant. "But I'm young, you must remember. Still, I'm sure my grandfather danced the Torvionos with your grandfather at every festival!"

The squint deepened until Harsar's eyes had disappeared. "You are jesting. Foolery."

Barrick laughed. It felt strange-he could not remember the last time he had done it. "You are right, sir. You have caught me."

Harsar shook his head disapprovingly. "Just like…" He stopped himself with an obvious effort. "To jest is to mock the seriousness of things."

"No." Barrick found himself needing to explain. "Jesting is the only way to make sense of some things. Perhaps because your people don't die…"

"We die," said Harsar. "Mostly at the hands of men."

For a moment Barrick faltered. "Perhaps it's because my people are mortal that we must jest. Sometimes it is the only way to live with things that cannot be lived with."

"Not simply because you are mortal." A sort of frown stretched the fairy-factor's face; when he spoke again, it was almost as if to himself. "There are those among the People-yes, even the highest-who do this, who jest and speak meaningless words when they should be acting…"