Spells

TWENTY-TWO

THE CURTAINS OPENED TO REVEAL AN EXQUISITE forest scene with bright beams of multicolored lights shining down in soft circles. Laurel realized that there was no way to dim the light in the coliseum — and no need either. Everything on the stage seemed to glow from within — brighter, clearer, more real even than Laurel’s immediate surroundings. She was riveted; surely this was Summer magic at work.

Two faeries knelt in the middle of the stage, their arms wrapped around each other, and soft, romantic music drifted up from the orchestra. They looked pretty much like regular ballet dancers, the man with perfect, mocha-colored skin, well-defined arms, and closely cut hair, the woman with long, lean limbs, her auburn hair pulled tightly back. The couple rose and began dancing on soft, bare feet.

“No toe shoes?” Laurel whispered to Tamani.

“What are toe shoes?”

Okay, no, obviously, Laurel thought. But she could see how it was ballet nonetheless. The movements were flowing and graceful, with long stretches and lifts worthy of any human contortionist. Though for principal dancers in such an important show, they did seem a little ungraceful. Their feet plodded a bit and their movements felt very heavy. Still, they were quite good. It took a few minutes into the pas de deux before Laurel realized what seemed so out of place.

“What’s up with the beard?” she asked Tamani. The male dancer was wearing a black beard that blended in with his costume, but as Laurel watched, she realized it trailed almost down to his waist.

Tamani softly cleared his throat and for a second Laurel thought he was going to avoid her question entirely. “You have to understand,” he finally whispered. “Most of these faeries have never seen a real human. Their idea of what a human looks like is almost as distorted as what humans think of faeries. Faeries are”—he searched for the right word—“intrigued by the idea that humans grow fur on their faces. It’s very animalistic.”

Laurel suddenly realized that she had never seen a faerie with a beard. The idea simply hadn’t occurred to her. She thought about how Tamani’s face was always smooth and soft — without the gritty hint of stubble that David’s usually had. She’d never actually noticed before.

“The dancers who are playing humans also move less gracefully, to show that they are animals, not faeries,” Tamani continued.

Turning her attention back to the play, Laurel watched the dancers rise and fall with just that hint of plodding. Knowing now that it was deliberate, she appreciated the talent it must take — to gracefully portray a lack of grace. She banished to the back of her mind a handful of angry thoughts about perpetuating stereotypes. Those would have to wait.

Two more bearded dancers entered the stage, and the woman tried to hide behind her partner. “What’s happening?” Laurel asked.

Tamani pointed to the original couple. “That’s Heather and Lotus. They’re secret lovers, but Heather’s father there”—he pointed to an older faerie with a bushy brown beard shot through with gray—“orders her to marry Darnel instead. The human custom of parents arranging marriages is ridiculous, by the way.”

“Well, they don’t anymore. At least not where I come from.”

“Still.”

Laurel watched as the two men departed and Heather and Lotus came together for a mournful duet. The music was like nothing Laurel had ever heard before and she felt tears building up in her eyes for these star-crossed humans who danced so beautifully to the orchestra’s woeful refrain.

The lights illuminating the stage brightened and Lotus leaped onto a rock, casting his arms wide in an elaborate proclamation. “What’s happening now?” Laurel asked, tugging on Tamani’s shirt in her excitement.

“Lotus has decided that he will prove himself to Heather’s father by retrieving a golden apple from the Isle of Hesperides. Also known as Avalon,” he added with a smile.

The stage cleared, and the set shimmered for an instant before morphing into an enormous flower garden with blooms of every imaginable color covering the perimeter of the stage. Laurel gasped. “How did they do that?”

Tamani smiled. “Much of the set is an illusion. This is why Summer faeries are in charge of our entertainment.”

Laurel leaned forward, trying to study the new scenery, but she didn’t have much time before the faux glade was filled with dancing faeries in bright, multicolored costumes. She saw instantly just how obviously ungraceful the “human dancers” had been. The company of faeries whirled through elaborate choreography with a grace that would have put Pavlova to shame. After a few minutes of the incredible corps, a rather tall faerie in a sheer, clinging gown entered from stage right. The company of faeries dropped to their knees, allowing the female faerie to take central focus for her solo. Laurel had been to professional ballets in San Francisco, but nothing prepared her for the raw talent and grace of this principal dancer.

“Who is that?” she breathed to Tamani, her eyes riveted on the stage.

“Titania,” Tamani responded.

“The Titania?” Laurel asked breathlessly. His arm was snug around Laurel’s back as their heads pressed close so they could whisper, but Laurel hardly noticed.

“No, no. I meant she’s playing Titania.”

“Oh,” Laurel said, a little disappointed that she wasn’t going to get to see a legendary faerie perform. In the middle of Titania’s beautiful arabesque, a male faerie — with no beard this time — entered from stage left. The faerie corps twittered and dropped into low bows on the floor of the stage.

“Is that Oberon?” Laurel asked, thinking of the faerie king often paired with Titania in faerie lore.

“See, you’re catching on,” Tamani said with a grin.

The faerie playing Oberon began his own solo, his movements brash, daring, almost violent, but with the same controlled grace of the faerie playing Titania. Soon the two were dancing together, each trying to outdo the other as the music rose stronger, louder, until with a surge of brass, Titania tripped on her own feet and sprawled onto the ground. With a wave of her hand, and angry, stomping steps, she and some of the faerie corps exited the stage, chased by Oberon’s faeries.

“Why are they angry with her?” Laurel asked.

“Titania is a very unpopular figure in history,” Tamani responded. “She was a Fall faerie — and Unseelie at that — who became Queen during a time when there were no Winter Faeries. Oberon was born soon after and took over as King, when he was only twenty years old — almost a child, in terms of royalty, and still not soon enough for most people’s taste. Titania was responsible for the disastrous mess in Camelot.”

“The trolls…destroyed it, right?”

“That’s right. And the aftermath led to his death just as he was proving to be one of the greatest kings in Avalon’s history. So Titania is generally blamed for that loss.”

“That seems unfair.”

“Perhaps.”

The stage cleared again and returned to a forest scene. Lotus rushed in, pursued by Heather, who hid behind the trees every time Lotus turned around. They rushed about in confusing circles until two more figures entered the stage: Darnel, and a very pretty female faerie.

“Now I’m confused again,” Laurel said as the female faerie tried to cling to Darnel and he kept pushing her away.

“That’s Hazel. She is in love with Darnel. Darnel is chasing Heather, who is chasing Lotus, trying to stop him from the dangerous trip to the Isle of Hesperides. Hazel is trying to convince Darnel to just be happy with her.”

Something clicked in Laurel’s head as the lovely Hazel tugged forlornly on Darnel’s coat and he cast her aside. “Wait a second,” she said. “This is A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Well, it’s what would eventually become A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Like most of Shakespeare’s best plays, it started out as a faerie story.”

“No way!”

Tamani shushed her gently as a few Fall faeries glanced their way. “Honestly,” Tamani continued, his voice low and soft, “did you think he came up with Romeo and Juliet all by himself? A thousand years ago it was Rhoeo and Jasmine, but Shakespeare’s version is a passable retelling.”

Laurel’s eyes stayed locked on the four faeries dancing their dizzying chase. “How did Shakespeare come to know the faerie stories?” She glanced up at Tamani. “He was human, wasn’t he?”

“Oh, yes.” Tamani chuckled quietly. “He lived in a time when the rulers of Avalon still kept an eye on human affairs. They were impressed by his plays about the Kings — Lear and Richard, I believe. Deadly dull stories, but his writing was magnificent. So the King had him brought here to give him some fresh story lines for his beautiful words. And they hoped he would correct some of the errors in faerie mythology. A Midsummer Night’s Dream was his first play after coming to Avalon, followed soon after by The Tempest. But after a while he resented that the King would not let him come and go as he pleased. So he left and didn’t come back. And as revenge, he didn’t put any more faeries into his plays. He made them all human and claimed them as his own.”

“Is that really true?” Laurel asked in wonder.

“That’s how I learned it.”

The scene returned to the flowered clearing where Puck — a Fall faerie of remarkable skill, Tamani informed Laurel — was instructed by Oberon to create a potion that would make Titania fall in love with the first creature she saw, in payment for her mishandling of Camelot. And since he was a benevolent king, he also tried to help the humans. “After all,” Tamani explained, “he couldn’t let them actually enter Avalon and take a golden apple, but he didn’t want to send them home with nothing to show for their pains.”

Laurel nodded and turned her attention back to the ballet. The story continued in a familiar manner, now that she knew what play it was — Lotus and Darnel both chasing after Hazel, Heather being left loverless, and everyone dancing in intricate, frenzied patterns that made Laurel’s head whirl.

Then the scene changed back to the faerie bower and, after Puck placed his potion in Titania’s eyes, a huge, hulking beast came lumbering in. Laurel couldn’t tell if the beast was an illusion or an elaborate costume. “What’s that?” she asked. “Isn’t he supposed to be a man with a donkey head?”

“He’s a troll,” Tamani said. “There is no greater disgrace among the fae than to fall in love with a troll. It just doesn’t happen without serious derangement — or some kind of magical compulsion.”

“What about the part where all the men are putting on a play? That’s where the guy is supposed to come from.”

“Shakespeare put that part in by himself. There’s no weird play in the original story.”

“I always did think that was the lamest part of the story. I thought it should end when the lovers wake up and are discovered,” Laurel said.

“Well, it does,” Tamani said with a grin.

Laurel watched silently for a while as the dancers continued the story and everything began to be set right. Just before the final scene, Titania came back on and danced the most beautiful solo Laurel had ever seen to the sad strains of a soft lament. Then she spun and swooned at Oberon’s feet, offering him her crown.

“What just happened?” Laurel asked when the dance was over. She couldn’t bear to ask during the solo — it was too lovely to take her eyes off of even for a second.

“Titania begs forgiveness of Oberon for her misdeeds and concedes her crown to him. That means that she admits she was never truly the Queen.”

“Because of Camelot?”

“Because she was a Fall faerie.”

Laurel frowned as she considered this. But the scenery changed quickly to the clearing where the lovers awoke from their enchanted sleep and danced a joyful double pas de deux, and were joined by the full corps at the end. When they stepped forward for their bows, the audience on the ground floor seemed to rise as one to applaud the company. Tamani rose from his seat as well and Laurel jumped up to join him, clapping so hard her hands began to sting.

Tamani placed a firm hand on her arm and pulled her downward.

“What?” Laurel said, pulling her arm away.

Tamani’s eyes darted back and forth. “It’s not done, Laurel. You don’t stand for anyone below your station. Only your equals, or your superiors.”

Laurel glanced around. He was right. Nearly everyone in the balcony was clapping enthusiastically, faces lit with broad, beautiful smiles, but no one was standing except her and Tamani. She raised an eyebrow at Tamani, turned her face back to the stage, and remained on her feet as she continued clapping.

“Laurel!” Tamani said sternly under his breath.

“That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen and I am going to express my appreciation as I see fit,” Laurel said flatly, continuing to clap. She shot a quick look at him. “Are you going to stop me?”

Tamani sighed and shook his head, but he stopped trying to get her to sit down.

Slowly the applause faded and the dancers ran gracefully off the stage, where the scenery had melted into stark whiteness. About twenty faeries in bright green lined up at the back.

“There’s more?” Laurel asked as she and Tamani took their seats again.

“Fire dancers,” Tamani said with a broad smile. “You’ll love these.”

A deep boom from a large kettledrum sounded. At first, it was just a slow, steady beat. The green-clad faeries moved forward as one, taking slow, marching steps in time with the drums. As each line reached the front of the stage, they raised their hands, sending beams of multicolored light skyward. A second later, enormous showers of sparks exploded above the crowd — almost eye level with the balcony — beautiful, vivid colors in rainbow hues that made Laurel blink against their brilliance. It was better than any fireworks display she’d ever seen.

A second drum began to sound in a quicker and more intricate rhythm than the first, and the faeries onstage changed with it. Their dance turned acrobatic, faeries flipping and leaping to the front of the stage instead of walking. A third drum started, then a fourth, and the performers’ pace and motions grew frenetic with the beat.

Laurel watched, transfixed, as the fire dancers performed, twisted, and tumbled with remarkable skill. Each time they reached the front of the stage, they put up another light show. Rays of light fell like raindrops over the audience, and spinning balls of fire careened through the coliseum, trailing bright sparks that faded into glistening jewels before extinguishing themselves. Laurel was torn, watching first the acrobats, then the fireworks, wishing she could watch both at the same time. Then, when the beat of the drums became so fast Laurel couldn’t figure out how the faeries kept up, they all tumbled to the front of the stage, releasing the fireworks from their hands all at once, creating a curtain of sparkles that dazzled almost as brightly as the sun.

With her breath catching in her throat, Laurel rose to her feet, applauding the fire dancers with as much enthusiasm as she had the ballet dancers. Tamani rose silently beside her and didn’t say a word this time about her standing.

The fire dancers took their final bows and the applause began to die away. The Fall faeries in the balcony rose and started making their way to the exit; Laurel could see the Spring faeries below her doing the same thing.

Laurel turned to Tamani with a smile. “Oh, Tam, that was incredible! Thank you so much for making sure I got to come.” She looked back at the empty stage, concealed now behind its heavy silk curtains. “This has been the most amazing day.”

Tamani took Laurel’s hand and laid it on his arm. “The celebration has scarcely begun!”

Laurel looked up at Tamani in surprise. She dug in her small purse for a few seconds, glancing at the watch she’d brought with her. She could spare another hour or so. A smile spread across her face as she looked at the exits again, with eagerness this time. “I’m ready,” she said.