Kiri popped another strawberry in her mouth. A mountain of the bright red berries sat piled high in a crystal bowl on the table among a bountifully crowded array of treats. Kiri could eat as many as she wished and never dent that mountain. Crispy heart-shaped buns on a nearby plate looked temptingly delicious. But those might fill her up, and then she would have to stop eating. Kiri’s theory was that as long as she was eating she would look busy, and not like a pitiable girl with whom no one wanted to dance. She had not come to the masquerade for the food, but it helped fend off her disappointment that the strawberries were perfect. Sweet with just a hint of tanginess, firm and juicy. They were almost as good as the buns were likely to be.

On the other side of the courtyard Kiri’s best friend Mala twirled on nimble feet. The light of encircling torches glinted off her intricate golden mask and her equally golden hair, thrown in a thousand directions. The effect was sparkling and distinctive. Mala always was. Mala’s partner--her fourth in as many dances--clapped and laughed while she spun in front of him. The tapered end of his long beaked mask bobbed with the music. They looked like they were having fun.

Mala’s brother Garon stood leaning against the table beside Kiri, not having fun. Garon, like Kiri, had not had a dancing partner, even though he was in less severe straits than Kiri since it was socially acceptable for him to just ask someone. Kiri would not be stuck here at the desert table if she weren’t subject to the tyranny of waiting for someone to deign to ask her to dance. Garon was eating strawberries too, and much less casually than Kiri. Anyone could see that he was nervous and unhappy. Kiri’s plan of looking like she was perfectly content to be standing here eating was falling under a dark shadow of his anxious plucking and popping and chomping. It might help to calm him down with some friendly conversation, but nothing came to mind. Garon was Mala’s twin. They had all grown up together, but Mala was always around, filling the space and the conversation. What could be interesting to talk about with just Garon?

Garon’s hand paused in the back-and-forth from bowl to mouth and, for the umpteenth time that evening, he untied and re-tied his mask. Mala must have made the mask for him. It was beautiful and fascinating with no eye to comfort, which was Mala’s trademark style. The mask was crafted from tree bark and leaves and tied with a vine that, while strong and flexible, looked somewhat sticky. Garon had little scratches around his eyes from the rough edges, but they only showed for a few moments while the mask was away from his face. Mala would not have been concerned about scratches that didn’t mar the look. After he tied the vines he cleaned the stickiness off his fingers with the corner of his shirt and reached for another strawberry.

“These are good,” he commented to Kiri. She was staring at his fingers and shirt and trying to decide if there had been a better way he could have cleaned them.

“Oh. They’re strawberries.” Kiri shook off the distraction but wished she had thought before she spoke. He’d finally tried to start a conversation and she’d shot him down. There had to be something nicer she could say. “Everything is good here. I’ve never been to the manor before.”

“You still haven’t,” Garon glanced around. “This is just the courtyard.”

No wonder they were having so much trouble talking. He was as awkward as she was with small talk. “Still. It’s lovely.” Kiri wasn’t saying it just to make conversation. It really was impressive.Tables encircled the courtyard, each covered in white linen and laid with silver, crystal, and endless food. Bright torches stood in a ring just outside the tables, lighting the night enough to dim the sparkle of the stars in the clear, moonless sky. In the orchard beyond the cobbled courtyard fruit trees rustled in the night breezes, the light and shadow of the torches playing in their blossom-laden branches. In the center of the courtyard masked couples danced, a kaleidoscope of colorful masks and gowns and cloaks circling and weaving around and through each other.

The music stopped, and the dancers descended on the food tables. Garon and Kiri shuffled aside to make room. Kiri had to look behind her to make sure she wasn’t about to back into the flowerbeds or set her hair on fire with a torch. One man, dressed garishly in bright blue with massive peacock feathers sticking up along the top of his mask, came up to Kiri and looked down at her. Peacock feathers included, he must have been seven feet tall.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, scooting back until her heels sunk into the mulch at the edge of the border beds. “Am I in your way?”

“Not at all, my lady.” He smiled at her, and Kiri smiled back. It was fun being called ‘my lady’--even if it was only because it was traditional at a masquerade to address everyone as if they were royalty. “Actually, I was wondering if I might have the honor of the next dance.”

Kiri had no idea who this man was. She was fairly certain she wouldn’t have known him even without the mask, since his voice didn’t seem at all familiar, which meant he must be from Westbridge or Westfall Manor and not Westfall Village. There wasn’t a soul in the village she didn’t know, many better than she’d like. She was acquainted with most people in Westbridge, too, since it was so close. Chances were he was one of the manor folk, who didn’t associate much with the villagers. That was an exciting idea. He might even be a real member of the nobility.

Kiri threw a sheepish grin over her shoulder at Garon, who blankly stared back. When she turned back to the peacock man he was smiling expectantly. “Of course, my lord,” Kiri said, ducking her head a little because she wasn’t sure if perhaps she should bow. “It would be my pleasure.” He held out his arm and, laying her hand on his elbow, she let him lead her out onto the dance floor.

The song was a slow one, and the dance involved a lot more staring into each other’s faces than Kiri really wanted to do with someone she didn’t know. When it reached the part where they walked a slow circle with their palms pressed together she felt like she really ought to make conversation but couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Have you heard about the monastery of Graytower?” he asked abruptly.

“What?” Kiri asked, puzzled. Was this the start of a joke?

“Graytower,” he said. “It’s an old Eldan monument in the desert.”

“Oh,” Kiri said. “I think I’ve heard of it.”

“There is a small monastery there,” he said. “The site serves as a reminder of the impermanence of our works, since the Eldan who built it are long gone. For that reason, there are no permanent residents, each group of monks only stay a few months and then are replaced by others. The last time a group went to the tower they arrived to find their predecessors murdered and their rooms emptied of all their possessions.”

Lucky she hadn't asked if it was a joke. “So bandits attacked them?”

He bowed as the song ended, then shrugged. “The tower is very isolated. It is hard to imagine bandits going so far out of their way for the simple possessions of monks. But what else could it be?”

To Kiri’s surprise before her partner had led her off the dance floor they were met by another man who asked her to dance. It wasn’t until three songs later that she went back to the tables to find Garon still there. He didn’t look any more at ease than he had when she left. Mala, for once not on the floor with a partner, was fiddling with his mask. She was giggling, but Garon was flushed and frowning, his arms crossed over his chest.

“If the mask bothers you that much, we can go home early,” Kiri suggested.

“No we won’t,” Mala said. “We can find someone else to escort us back to the village. I am not leaving this party early. Besides, it isn’t the mask that’s bothering him.”

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“Oh,” Kiri said. “What’s the problem, then?”

“He asked Lady Westfall to dance,” Mala explained. “She refused, of course. Everyone knows she only dances with her husband.”

“You told me I should ask someone.” Garon grunted.

“Not Lady Westfall!”

“If I had known who she was I wouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have listened to you.” Garon craned around to glare at his sister, still perched behind him poking at the ties on his mask. “How am I supposed to tell who anybody is at a masquerade!”

“She’s right over there, by the punch,” Kiri couldn’t resist saying. “Dressed in silver with a star mask.”

Garon shook off Mala’s hands abruptly and straightened away from the table. “Yes, find a different escort. I’m going home.”

“Pardon me,” a young man dressed in canary yellow from his mask to his boots stepped close to Kiri with another man, even more garishly dressed in purples and silvers, standing at his shoulder. “The next dance is about to begin, and my friend and I were wondering if we might have a turn about the dance floor with the two loveliest ladies at the party.”

Mala stopped scowling at Garon instantly and turned a brilliant smile to the young man. “We’d love to,” she gushed. “Come on, milady. Good night, Garon.”

~

Garon stared after them, watching as the absurd canary man placed a hand on Kiri’s lower back to guide her to a place on the floor. That was what was really rude, interrupting their conversation like that, much more rude than asking Lady Westfall to dance. He’d only thought asking a woman who he hadn’t noticed dancing would be his best chance to avoid being rejected and made to look like a fool. That worked perfectly.

The music started up again, and Garon ground his teeth together. After Mala’s dismissal, he no longer wanted to go home. He always had an irrational urge to do the opposite of whatever she wanted him to do. Maybe it wasn’t so irrational, considering the fact that asking Lady Westfall to dance at Mala’s urging was a good example of how following her advice usually went. But he was tired of standing around watching everyone else dance. So he grabbed a handful of strawberries--and another for his pocket--and set off for home.

~

“I am not going to a masquerade again,” Garon announced, folding his lanky form onto the grass beside Mala. “I looked like an idiot.”

Mala stayed where she was, stretched out on the grass, staring up at the clouds. The village square was beautiful this time of year, the soft fragrant grass littered with tiny white and yellow flowers like stars in a green sky. Mala was not the kind of person to let her grumpy brother ruin the first perfect day of spring. Even if indeed he had looked like an idiot at the masquerade last night.

A voice came from behind them. “The food was good, though.”

Garon jumped. And yelped. There, sure enough, was Kiri, perched in the dangerously slim branches near the top of the big oak tree that dominated the village square. Since they were kids, it had always been easy for her to surprise Garon like that. She was like a cat, noticed only when she wanted to be.

Kiri looked right in his as slipped easily down the tree. Her own eyes twinkled as she went for his weak spot. “Especially the strawberries.”

Garon decided not to take the bait. She was being immature, after all, trying to make him feel bad about spending the whole ball eating. “I took some home with me. Did you meet anyone interesting?”

“Many anyones,” Mala said. “Though perhaps I already knew them. Isn’t that the fun of a masque?”

“Fun, yeah,” Garon said. “What about you, Kiri?”

Kiri sat down on the grass beside Mala and picked one of the tiny white flowers and sniffed it. “I don’t know about interesting people. But I heard interesting news.”

“Ooo, interesting news!” Mala sat up. Her long mane of golden hair fell just so back into place down her back. Garon had no idea how she could lay on the ground and never pick up so much as a stray leaf. Mala was like that, from the clothes that accented her figure without looking immodest, to the laughing smiles with which she turned away suitors, she had an air of effortlesss perfection. Her brother didn't have any of that gift. In fact he was becoming increasingly aware that his trousers had found a damp spot.

“I didn’t think we had interesting news in Westfall Valley.” Garon shifted, hoping his trousers were not wet enough Kiri might notice.

Kiri suddenly seeming worried about her own hair, checked for stray locks around her ears. It was frizzy and untamable, or at least it had been until she had taken to wearing it in a tight knot. Garon missed it, and liked the loose curls that Kiri was even now flattening down. He had called it rich chestnut in the private pages of his journal, but Kiri did not know that.

Mala, growing impatient for Kiri’s answer, arched one eyebrow until it nearly buried itself in her hairline and said, "Hmmm?" Garon had forgotten Kiri was supposed to be telling them something.

“Well, it’s not Westfall Valley news,” Kiri said. “It’s desert news.” She related how the monks on Graytower had been attacked.

“Bandits,” Garon said matter-of-factly, glad he had already taken an interest in the subject. Kiri didn't seem to know much about the area, and now he could tell her. “The desert is the Thief Lord’s stronghold.”

“The whole desert?” Mala rolled her eyes, nearly as expertly as she raised an eyebrow. “It’s an Eldan place, Graytower,” she said, then, dropping her voice into a thick whisper, added. “It’s magic.”

Garon snorted at his sister. “Who told you about this, anyway, Kiri?”

“Just one of the men I danced with,” Kiri said. “I didn’t recognize him. And he didn’t say anything about magic.”

“I noticed you had plenty of dancing partners,” Mala said. “I told you that you needn’t worry about it.”

“They know I’m your friend. They were hoping I would recommend them.”

Garon wasn't so sure Kiri was right about that. Sneaking looks at the lithe girl beside him, he could see plenty to recommend her.

“Nonsense,” Mala said. “How would they know who you were? You could’ve been Lady Westfall, after all. You attracted them on your own merits. You are a lovely dancer. Lovely all the time. The mask merely freed you to be what you are, not worried about being recognized and worried about what people might think of you. In fact, I am inspired to extend the experience.” Grinning, she got to her feet and pulled a white mask from the folds of her apron and tied it on. Neither Garon nor Kiri pointed out that her face was not her sole recognizable feature.

“I’d better get home,” Kiri said. “Mother and I are going for a walk before I go to The Leaning Pillar.”

“You mean you’re still doing that?” Garon asked.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Kiri asked. “You know Mathilda and Barden want me out.”

“They won’t throw you out,” Garon said. “It’s better than working in an inn. No decent girl-”

“Is a barmaid?” Kiri interrupted him. “Well I will be, and I am decent enough, thank you. I won’t be a burden for Barden to sigh over anymore. I know there is no need for me in the shop and I’m tired of feeling underfoot when I try to help. I can earn my keep at the inn, and Halden has promised me a room.”

“A room,” Garon said. After a pause he added, “Your own room?”

Mala stepped on his foot. She always thought she could control him.

“A room with Karey,” Kiri said, referring to the other barmaid at the Pillar, who wasn’t much of a girl at all, being closer to the end of her life than the beginning. “I spoke to her, and I think we’ll get along. The Leaning Pillar is a respectable inn.”

Garon opened his mouth to say more, but Mala cut him off. “Let it go,” she said. “Nobody’s changing her mind. Not me or you or anyone else.”

Kiri bit her lip, and Garon wished he had the guts to defy Mala. Kiri didn’t seem to be as confident in her decision as Mala believed her to be. But before he had a chance to come up with a new approach to gauge her resolve, Mala turned and walked away, and it didn’t seem like the right moment. Maybe it didn’t matter anyway, and nobody was going to change her mind

As expected, despite the mask nearly everyone they passed as they made their way to the shop Kiri’s family lived above greeted Mala by name. No one in the village looked quite like Mala--and it wasn't all about her face. She smiled back at them, but a tightening around her mouth gave away her disappointment.

Mala so overshadowed her two companions that only a few people greeted either one of them. Garon could see some sense in Kiri leaving Mala’s orbit, whatever the situation with her family. Especially after one of the shopkeepers called her Kelly.