As the sun bleeds through the murk

'Tis the last day we shall work

For the Veil is thin and the spirit wild

And the Crone is carrying Harvest's child!

A girl led them, with a half-mask shaped like a raven's head covering most of her face. Her black-feathered cloak flared in the darkness as she danced a twirling mea sure and beat a little drum with snake quick taps of her fingers. Saba made a sign with her forefinger and joined in the chorus:

Samhain!

Turn away

Run ye back to the light of day

Samhain!

Hope and pray

All ye meet are the gentle fae.

Then the raven-masked woman stopped in front of Ingolf, and he had to check to avoid running into her. The dancer's eyes were wide and fixed behind the slits of the mask, holding his locked for a long moment; they were alight with a combination of fear and ecstasy and forgetfulness of self that was not quite like anything he'd ever met before. It made him shiver a little and suppress an impulse to cross himself.

The rest of her group surrounded him, masked as horse and boar, dragon and wolf and elk. She sang again, swaying and beating counterpoint to the words:

Stranger, do you have a name?

Tell us all from whence you came!

You seem more like god than man Has curse or blessing come to this clan?

Ingolf wondered for a moment whether he was sup posed to answer, and then she danced away again, lead ing her band with their leaping shadows huge against a wall:

Samhain!

Turn away

Run ye back to the light of day

Samhain!

Hope and pray

All ye meet are the gentle fae.

When the band had vanished around a corner Ingolf swore quietly and shook himself. Saba smiled at him.

"Told you," she said merrily.