Waters Under Earth

A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic by Alan Harnum - harnums@hotmail.com

All Ranma characters are the property of Rumiko Takahashi, first
published by Shogakukan in Japan and brought over to North
America by Viz Communications.

Commentary is craved.  Send it publicly, privately, whatever.  Just
send it.  

Homepage at:  http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Bay/9758

Chapter 27 : Trials (1 of 3)

I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
-T.S. Eliot

     The water was close to boiling, deliciously hot as Akane
slipped into it with a deep sigh of pleasure.  "Heaven," she
murmured softly, already feeling the grime and dust of the long
journey begin to fall away from her, as her tense and aching
muscles instantly loosened.

     Rouge tested the heat of the water in the huge tub with a
tentative finger, and then carefully got into the water across
from Akane, dropping her washcloth on the wide stone lip of the
bath for a moment as she submerged herself almost completely.  A
thin sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as the water rolled over
her body.

     Akane looked back to where Shampoo was slipping off the last
of her clothing.  "Shampoo, this is wonderful."

     The other girl nodded silently and smiled, then joined the
other two in the tub, almost seeming to purr as she entered the
water.  "Is nice, yes?"

     "Yes," Rouge said quietly, stretching out one slender arm
and picking up a bar of soap.  "Beautiful."

     Akane closed her eyes and sank down into the water of the
crowded tub, trying not to bump legs with Shampoo or Rouge as 
she rested her head back on the edge.  Shampoo's house in the 
village had been a shock; rich and luxurious, it was at least as 
big as the Tendo home, beautifully decorated with ancient 
antiques and carefully-carved wooden furniture.  There was 
running water, and electricity.  The village of the Joketsuzoku 
was turning out, in some ways, to be very different from what she 
had expected.

     Now, with dinner resting contentedly in her stomach and the
heat of the water all around her, Akane felt as close to peace as
she had come in a long time.  On the edge of her thoughts, she
knew it would not last; as soon as they had bathed, and the men
had taken their turn in the tub, they had to go out with Shampoo 
to face the entire village and the judgement of the Council, but 
for now, there was peace.

     Rouge said something in English.  Akane caught only a few
fragments, and she opened her eyes and looked up.  "What did you
say?"

     Rouge was staring out the window in the bathroom, high up on
the wall above the tub.  "The sun's rim dips, the stars rush out,
at one strides come the dark.  I remember reading it in a poem 
once when I lived in Shanghai..."

     She trailed off, her eyes sad and shadowed, and went back to
washing herself.  Chin balanced on her palm and elbow balanced on 
the lip of the tub, Shampoo glanced over to the other two girls 
and smiled slightly.  "We go to Council soon.  Akane, if I need 
you to speak for me, you do it?"

     Akane blinked, surprised.  "Sure," she said after a moment,
absently accepting the bar of soap from Rouge and beginning to
lather her arms.  

     Shampoo nodded.  "Thank you."
     
     She looked up at the window, at the growing darkness outside
as the sun set.  "Going to be long night."

**********

     Ukyou woke to pain and darkness.  Blinking her eyes, she 
tried to sit up in the large, soft bed she was lying in, and her
body protested immensely, from the tips of her toes to the crown
of her head.  

     There was a moment of waking amnesia, and then the fight
with Hako came rushing back to her, along with several twinges
throughout her legs and arms and ribs, and a slight, throbbing
headache at the back of her skull.

     Managing finally to prop herself up on the pillows, she
found her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that she could
make out the dim details of the room, the large bed, the dressing
table in one corner, the shadowy figure sitting the chair next to
the bed.

     She started slightly, and then saw it was Konatsu, and a
feeling of sad, strange longing broke over her.  His head was
bowed, chin resting on his chest, his long ponytail hanging down
over one shoulder as he dozed.  

     "Konatsu," she whispered softly, surprised at the croaking
sound of her own voice.  She tremblingly raised a hand and 
brushed it against his cheek, ignoring the aching pain it sent up
her arm and shoulder.

     Konatsu snapped awake so suddenly it was surprising.  His
head shot up, his eyes opened wide and fearful, and his hand 
grabbed her wrist in a tight grip.  Ukyou yelped involuntarily,
and he immediately dropped her arm to let it fall upon the bed
and looked stricken.

     "Ukyou," he whispered joyfully.  "You're finally awake."
     
     He leaned over and embraced her suddenly.  Ukyou forced her
uncooperative body to put an arm around his shoulders.  "Don't
hug me too hard, okay?  I'm still sore."

     Konatsu pulled away after a few moments.  In the darkness,
she could still see the shimmering of his eyes.  "How do you
feel?"

     "Like I got the crap beaten out of me," Ukyou said sourly.
Her mouth tasted awful, and she desperately wanted a drink of
water.  "Where am I?"

     "This is my room," Konatsu answered softly.  "You've been
asleep for nearly two days."
     
     He paused for a moment, and a thin edge of anger entered
into his melodious voice.  "Hako hurt you very badly before I
made her stop."

     "Made her stop?"
     
     Konatsu's fingers traced his neck with a finger, along the
line of a thin scratch.  "I threatened to cut my throat open if 
she didn't."

     For a moment, Ukyou could not speak.  "Konatsu..."
     
     In the darkness, his eyes seemed to burn with their own 
inner fire.  "I will not let her hurt you, Ukyou.  She needs me.  
I don't know why, and I don't care why, but she needs me.  I am 
not going to let her hurt anyone I love ever again."

     Ukyou slipped her legs painfully out from under the loose
white sheets and placed her feet on the floor, then reached out
and gathered him to her in silence, realizing as she did that she
wore only a thin red nightgown, but not caring.  His head fell
against her shoulder with a soft sigh as he wrapped his arms
around her, and she stroked his back through the scarlet cloth of
his kunoichi outfit.

     "Why did you come after me?" he whispered, tears in his
voice.  "Why?"

     His body trembled against hers, and her tremble matched his.
"Because you're my friend, Konatsu.  I care what happens to you."

     And then he said nothing, and only wept, and Ukyou held him
there, in the darkness.
     
**********

     Nabiki stared at the digital clock on her dresser from where
she lay on her neatly-made bed, a textbook open before her on her
pillow that had not seen a turned page for a good half hour.

     Outside her window, night was falling, seeming to trail
through the branches of the tall willow tree that lay beyond and
touch against the glass as if it sought entrance.  

     She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling,
blinking her eyes at the glare of the lightbulb and seeing spots
of bright white upon the darkness of her vision as she did.

     Sighing with annoyance, she got up off the bed and paced the
room, the carpet scuffing under her bare feet.  Finally, shaking
her head resignedly, she grabbed a long-sleeved sweatshirt from
her drawer and pulled it on over her tank-top before heading out
into the hallway.

     She took the stairs quickly, and was in the process of
pulling on her shoes at the door when her father poked his head
around the corner.  "Nabiki, are you going out?"

     "Yup," she answered, crouching and tying up the laces of her
shoes.  "I'll be back in an hour or so."

     Her father hesitated, and then stepped around the corner.
"Where are you going?"

     She regarded him flatly.  "Out."
     
     "Oh," Soun said, downcast.  "Well... have a nice time,
okay?"

     Nabiki nodded dismissively, and stood up to leave.  Her 
father stood in the open door, watching her as she paced down the 
front walk to the street, and she had to resist the temptation to 
turn back and snap at him.

     A wind picked up as she stepped under the gate, sending a
crumpled piece of paper tumbling before her feet.  She absently
kicked it away, and it skittered off into the gutter.  She
reached up and tugged at the collar of her loose sweatshirt, as
the wind sought purchase and tried to claw its way through to the
flesh beneath.

     She walked a winding route throughout the narrow streets,
passing canal and house and store under icy glow of the 
streetlights.  Underneath the wide awning of a bookstore, she
paused and watched as a huge white moth battered itself against
the plastic covering of one the streetlights, a futile seeking of
unattainable light.  She entered the restaurant district, and
wound her way through the passers-by, laughing and walking arm in
arm, warm with the glow of companionship.  The lights of passing
cars bathed the faces of the walkers in their pale colours.

     In front of the tall windows of an expensive Italian
restaurant, she opened the door of the long black car and slid
into the back seat.

     "Good evening, Nabiki," Yoshiyuki said, glancing back at her
from the front as she settled into the seat.  "And how are you?"

     "Fine," she answered shortly.  "I've got what you want."
     
     He nodded, and his broad face split into a grin she found
distinctly unpleasant.  Nabiki leaned forward slightly and tossed
the manila envelope onto the passenger seat.  

     Yoshiyuki picked it up and opened it, paging through the
papers inside.  "This is it?"

     "There's not much I can tell you about people several
thousand miles away," Nabiki protested.  "That's all I was able
to put together before they left.  I'm hoping Akane can find a
phone and call me through, and then I can..."

     "You grow less and less useful to my organization every 
passing day," the yakuza muttered with a trace of annoyance.  But
he reached back and handed her a bulging white envelope, plain
and unlabelled.

     Nabiki clutched it tightly in her hand as she stared out the
smoked glass windows of the car at the people passing by.  None
of them could see inside, she realized.

     "Nabiki?"
     
     She raised her head from staring at the envelope.  "Yes?"
     
     "The night's still young," he said, and tried to smile
charmingly.  It came out more predatory than anything else.

     Nabiki stared back at him.  "And it's not getting any 
younger.  Goodnight."

     She reached out and pulled the door open, and stepped
quickly out of the car, nearly colliding with a well-dressed old
man as she did.  The envelope she held seemed to threaten to slip
through her sweaty fingers at any time.

     As soon as she'd closed the door behind her, the black car
rolled off smoothly into the night, merging with the traffic and
disappearing round a corner seconds later.  

     "Not my responsibility," Nabiki said softly, under her 
breath as she began to walk.  "I just sell information.  Nothing
else."

     After a few blocks, she paused near the canal that cut
through the district, leaning back against the fence and opening
up the envelope.  

     So much money, she thought vaguely as she counted.  She
could have lived contentedly on what stipend she got from selling
information, and yet when she thought of it, it truly never
seemed enough.  So she ran all the other little scams beside it,
and got even more money, and it still never seemed enough.

     Finished with her counting, she looked up, and realized how
empty the streets seemed.  Pools of light from streetlamps lay
scattered on the darkness, and the moon hung in the sky, waning
slowly after each night towards its eventual destiny as a thin
sliver of light.

     Turning, she rested her arms on the top of the chain-link
fence, staring down into the slowly-moving water of the canal.
Bits of garbage bobbed in it, carried on the flow.  The wind
gusted again, and threatened to snatch the envelope from her 
hands.  She clung tightly to it, turned away, and began to walk
through empty streets towards home.

**********

     Ranma groaned and raised his head.  He opened his eyes, and
there was no change in his vision.  The darkness was absolute, 
and he could see nothing, not even the hand in front of his face.

     He lay on something smooth and cold, stone probably.  
Rising to a sitting position, he listened to the sound of his own
quiet breathing in the darkness, shockingly loud.  After a 
moment, he heard other breathing, and realized that he was not
alone.

     He reached out, lightly brushing his hand across the stone
floor towards the source of the breathing, until his fingers
touched what felt like an arm, slender and covered by a long
sleeve.

     "Kima?" he asked softly.
     
     There was silence for a moment, and then a voice that
sounded half-asleep.  "Wiyeed."

     A hand found his and gripped it tightly in the darkness.  "I
think something went wrong," he heard the voice of Herb's sister
say, a trace of fear underlying the formal, controlled tones.

     OH YES, LITTLE ONES, the darkness said in a booming voice
like thunder, echoing from all around them.  SOMETHING WENT VERY,
VERY WRONG INDEED.

     Then there was laughter, cold and cruel and vast, and Ranma
felt a chill fear rise from the base of his spine.  Wiyeed's hand
tightened around his.  

     "Kima?" Ranma called into the dark.  "Herb?"
     
     From somewhere there came the sound of coughing, and then
Herb's voice answered weakly back from nearby.  "Ranma?"

     "Where are you, brother?" Wiyeed called.  
     
     There was a moment's silence.  "Under Lime, I think."
     
     Ranma wondered at the weariness in Herb's voice, and then
realized he himself was exhausted, not even sure if he could
manage to stand up.

     "Get off me, Lime," Herb demanded from wherever he was.

     Ranma forced his shaking legs to work, and stood up in the
darkness.  He wished Wiyeed would let go of his hand, but she was
showing no sign of releasing it any time soon, and he didn't want
to hurt her feelings by wrenching his hand away.  Besides, he
rationalized, it was important they stay in contact.

     "Did you hear that voice?" Ranma asked her quietly.
     
     Wiyeed's voice was free of any shakiness now.  "Yes."
     
     "I heard it too," Herb answered.  He grunted, and there was
the sound of something heavy falling to the floor.  "Lime's out
of it.  Where's Mint and the bird-woman?"

     Ranma frowned.  "They must be unconscious too.  We need a
light."

     He raised his free hand, and concentrated, touching back 
upon that swirling vortex of flame and ice that lay buried 
beyond the edges of his conscious.  He grabbed it, felt the 
power flow through his being, and willed it to come forth upon 
his clenched fist, burn bright like a star.

     The power, the rush of energy, came smoothly up his arm, and
produced absolutely nothing to break the absoluteness of the 
dark.  There was no light.  And again, vast laughter.  

     FOOL.
     
     "Who are you?" Ranma snapped, breaking his concentration and
letting his ki flow back into him.  The unsuccessful effort of
trying to make light had drained him further, and the only thing
that seemed to be keeping him on his feet was the tightness with
which Wiyeed gripped his hand.

     I AM A PART OF THE PART THAT AT FIRST WAS ALL the darkness
said.  I AM THE GATE I AM THE KEY I AM I AM I AM and it laughed
and laughed and laughed.  At last, the laughter died away, and
Ranma was left only with his own breathing.

     "I think we're in trouble," Wiyeed said quietly.
     
     "Dear sister, whatever gave you that idea?" Herb answered
sarcastically from within the lightless dark.     
     
**********

     The pounding of hand drums filled the warm night air.  Akane
ran a hand through her hair, still damp from the bath, and tried
to look calm and controlled.  Inside, she was very nervous.

     She sat with Shampoo, Ryoga and the others at the forefront 
of what seemed the entire population of the village, men and 
women and children who sat or sprawled or lay upon the grass of 
this large field.  Rather than the solemn air she had expected at 
the public meeting to judge Shampoo, the gathering had almost the 
air of a festival.  Underneath the continual pounding of the 
drums, there was the sound of laughter and talk.  Many families 
appeared to have brought their dinner with them, unpacking food 
from wicker baskets laid on the grass.  Lanterns hung on wooden 
frames softly lit the darkness with pale circles of light.

     Shampoo tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to where a
short, slightly plump woman in her late twenties laughed heartily 
at an apparent joke from a small girl.  "That Dai Jin.  She 
Council Mother."

     "Hmm?" Akane said.  "What's that?"
     
     "Three types of Council members," Shampoo said, ticking them
off on her fingers.  "Mother, Great Mother, Ancient.  Cologne was
Ancient; Fang Shi Ancient too."

     She sighed softly.  "Fang Shi is longest serving Council
member after Cologne.  They pick new Ancient later to serve on
Council."

     "Won't they just promote one of the Council elders?" Ryoga
asked from where he sat beside Akane.

     Shampoo looked at him as if he'd said something profoundly
stupid.  "Why they do that?  Ancient must be woman with
great-grandchildren.  Not all Great Mothers qualify."

     Far off in the darkness, a bird called.  Akane moved almost
unconsciously closer to Ryoga.  "Lang Bei?"

     Shampoo shook her head.  "No."
     
     Sitting crosslegged on the grass, Rouge finished twining a
long string of pearls through her hair and gave a quick tug on
them to tighten the hold.  "When will the meeting start?"

     Shampoo looked up at the position of the moon in the sky.
"Soon.  Five minutes, maybe."

     A half-dozen feet away, Genma and Happosai smoked long pipes 
with Shampoo's father, a small, slender man dressed in black, and
talked in quiet voices.  The murmur of their conversation filled
the momentary silence between the younger people for a quick
second, before Ryoga broke it.  "What do you think's going to
happen?"

     Shampoo said nothing for a few long seconds, and when she
did finally speak, her voice was pained.  "Not really know.  
Just wait and see.  I think Lang Bei on my side, at least.  She
and Cologne always get along fairly well.  Cologne's other
friends on Council may help too.  Fang Shi probably push for
exile; humiliation of powerful family like mine might give her
more power than she had before."

     She smiled weakly.  "Wait and see, yes?"
     
     "I guess that's all you can really do, isn't it?" Akane said
quietly.  She reached out and hesitantly touched the back of
Shampoo's hand where it lay on the grass.  "We'll all do whatever
we can to help."

     Shampoo's eyes seemed doubtful, but she allowed Akane's hand
to rest atop hers for a moment.  "Thank you."

     A half-dozen girls of about their age detached from the 
crowd behind and came to stand before them.  Akane recognized
some of them from the group that had met them when they'd
entered the village.  They began to speak rapidly to Shampoo in
Chinese, their faces smiling and friendly.  Shampoo looked up and
answered back, and the girls nodded and gestured at Akane and the
others.
     
     "These old friends from before I come to Japan," Shampoo
said, turning her head to speak to Akane and Ryoga.  "They
wishing me luck."

     One of the girls said something in a sly voice and pointed
to Ryoga, who blushed from the tone.  Laughing and waving to
Shampoo, they wandered away into the crowd again.  

     Shampoo glanced to Ryoga and grinned.  "She say you look
like strong, handsome man.  Good husband."

     Ryoga blushed even harder and stared at the ground.
     
     "Just don't accept any challenges from them," Akane 
muttered under her breath.

     Shampoo nodded.  "Good idea.  When..."
     
     She paused.  "If this work out okay, I give you temporary
adoption into family, mean that outsider laws not allowed to
apply to you while you remain in village."

     Then she went silent again, at about the same time the drums
abruptly stopped.  On the grass ahead, the Joketsuzoku Council
was mounting onto a quickly erected wooden platform.  Akane saw
Lang Bei with her staff, Fang Shi dwarfed by her great polearm,
and the short woman Shampoo had pointed out before among them.
Fang Shi appeared the oldest; the youngest was only a few years
older than Akane.

     They sat down on a long wooden bench, and Akane counted a
dozen of them.  She glanced to Shampoo.  "I thought you said
there were thirteen."

     Shampoo looked troubled for a moment.  "Yu Mao must have had
child while Shampoo gone.  New Maiden not chosen yet."

     "Maiden?" Rouge said, the firelight swimming in the gold of
her jewelry.  

     "Maiden is special position," Shampoo said.  "Only one on
Council.  She have no vote, but when ties come, Maiden chooses 
which side will win.  So in some ways, she strongest."

     Ryoga rubbed his hands together as if to warm them.  "Why
wouldn't they have chosen a new one yet?"

     Shampoo shrugged.  "Has to be special sign.  Any woman may
be put forward, but there must be sign she... special somehow.
Yu Mao chosen as Maiden when she twelve.  She fall off 
mountainside while hunting.  Hundred foot drop onto rocks.  
Friends go down to get her body, she walking around and saying 
she have headache."

     Up on the platform, Fang Shi thumped the haft of her polearm
on the boards.  The crescent blade of the weapon glittered
nastily in the light from the lamps.  She said something to the
crowd in Chinese, and a hush fell over them.  The old woman 
waited for a moment, and said something else.  There was 
scattered laughter through the gathered people.

     Akane looked to Shampoo questioningly.  "She seems a lot 
friendlier up there."

     Shampoo sneered derisively.  "Fang Shi know how to work 
crowd."
     
     Lang Bei stood up, her long grey braid hanging down across
her shoulder.  She too spoke in Chinese, and there were scattered
cheers.

     Shampoo's sneer dissolved into a slight, happy smile, an
expression nothing so much like that of a delighted child.  She
looked from Akane to Ryoga to Rouge.  

     "You all lucky," she said, all traces of her sadness gone.  
"Is very special thing you see.  Very important.  Holy."

     Up on the platform, Lang Bei reached into her grey robes and
pulled out a small wooden flute.  Sitting back down on the bench,
she balanced her staff on her lap, raised the instrument to her
lips, and began to play a simple yet lovely melody.  The drums
picked up again, from somewhere in the crowd, undertoning the
flute.

     From the crowd, a tall figure garbed in red came forth,
dancing powerfully and gracefully in low, slow movements.  There
was an undefinable sense of menace to the dance, and the dancer
wore a fancifully carved wooden mask, a snarling demon face with
bulging eyes and fangs.

     "This is story about why women need to rule men," Shampoo
whispered.  "That is first man in world.  Because he first, he
very powerful."

     The red-garbed dancer danced by himself for a few moments,
in the space of the field between the crowd and the Council.  
Somewhere along the way, the tone of Lang Bei's flute had gone
from high and sweet to low and angry, short, quick stabs of
melody that seemed almost brutal.

     Suddenly, the dancer stopped and planted his feet, and made
a beckoning gesture towards the crowd.  Another Council member
had pulled out a second flute, and was playing a light, joyful
melody that interlaced with Lang Bei's menacing tone.  

     Another dancer came from the crowd, a woman in a flowing
garment of silky green, spinning and leaping almost her own
height into the air, absolute joy in each and every movement.
The first dancer approached her, his dance almost stalking.

     "That his first wife," Shampoo explained in a whisper.  
The one in red closed with the one green, and made an abrupt
lunge at her; she leaped nimbly back from him and then danced
forward almost teasingly.  He lunged again, and again she
avoided him.  A third time, and his arms closed around her waist
and lifted her into the air.

     The melody of flutes reached the highest pitch, and stopped.
The drums continued, and on the platform, another member of the
Council plucked a short, lonely tune on a biwa, before the flutes
joined her and a third dancer came forth, a girl no older than
ten in a white blouse and pants.  She danced in the stumbling way
of a child learning to walk, seeming as if she would topple at
many moments, but always recovering herself.

     The dancer in red placed the one in green upon the ground,
and they both began to circle the third, the man hunched low, the
woman spinning and whirling.  The firelight shone on the sweaty
faces of the woman and the girl, and in the polished wood of the
demon mask the man wore.

     "They had a child together," Shampoo said softly, as the
dancers in green and white separated from the one in red and
began to dance together, daughter imitating the dance of the
mother, clumsily at first, but with increasing grace.  "But the
first man was not happy, because the child knew only peace and
love, and was not strong as he wished it to be."

     The melody of the second flute changed, became sad and
almost mournful.  Lang Bei continued to play the menacing tune
she had begun with, and the biwa player's lonely tune had changed
to one almost like that which had introduced the dancer in green.
     
     Akane took a deep breath.  She realized it was the first 
time she had done so since the dance had begun.  Shampoo was
right, she realized.  They were seeing something very special,
something wonderful and magical and deeply, deeply important.

     A fourth dancer came from the crowd, in a sweeping, sideways
dance that sent her billowing robe of golden cloth spinning 
around her.  She came to the dancer in red, slowly circled him
once, and then joined the dance of the woman in green and the
child in white.  And the child's dance as she spun between them
became a mixture of both of theirs, and the melody of flute and
biwa and the roll of drums continued.

     "The first man took second wife, to teach child strength," 
Shampoo said.  "But she not teach him his strength, but hers.
She teach child how to fight to defend self rather than for joy
of fighting, how to love, how to heal.  And first man was angry,
because child loved his wives, but not love him."

     Away from the three other dancers, the man in red danced his
own dance, even more menacing than before.  His arms reached out
towards the other dancers as if he might grasp and rend them, but
he stayed far from them.

     And the music suddenly stopped, and there was the abrupt
blowing of a horn from one of the Council members, a low, 
ponderous dirge, and a final dancer came, garbed in black and
hooded in black.  White squares of cloth hung from her arms like
wings, and she raised them and seemed almost to fly as she came
forward towards the two other women and the child.

     Akane found herself holding her breath.  The flutes and the
biwa and the drums came back, but they were a tiny sound next to
the blowing of that horn.  The woman in black swept forward, and
the dance of the other women slowed, though the child went on.
The dancer in red capered merrily.

     "He take third wife who supposed to destroy other two wives 
and child," Shampoo said in a low voice.  The third wife loomed
threateningly over the first two and the child, who cringed 
before her.  

     And suddenly, she stepped back, and the four of them began
to dance.  "But she no do it.  She love child too much."

     The man in red abruptly rushed towards the other dancers, 
somehow showing a horrible depth of hate in the way he moved.
They scattered before him, and he snatched up the child, whirled
her about him once, and then dropped her to the ground, where she
lay still.

     "So first man try to destroy child himself.  He hurt child
very badly."     

     The three wives circled him, and he turned from side to 
side, encountering one of the three with each movement.  They
closed in on him slowly, linking their hands and dancing in a
confining circle about him.  Nearby, the child still lay 
unmoving.

     The man in red slowly sank to the ground, bowing his demon
mask and kneeling.  The three women stood still around him for a
moment, and then unlinked their hands.

     Suddenly, the man sprang up and fled into the darkness, and
the sound of the music was like laughter.  The women knelt around
their child, and the sound of the music was like weeping.  They
bowed their heads, and the music slowly faded.

-Continued in section 2


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