“But I saw the caverns and the water and the carving of wind and water.
I saw the gleaming snow, like jeweled cloth.
I saw the branches waving, the water talking,
The ice answering, the snow laughing.
I saw The animals of water and earth and they were talking, too.
They were kind to me and answered all my questions
But I do not know what questions I asked.
I do not know what answers I heard.
I know the cavern, the branches, the talking water,
The speaking ice and the laughing snow. I know
That you know it, too. So hear my song
And believe me. For I have seen what you have seen.
And I am changed. Hear my song. Believe me.”
He threw his head back as his last passionate note died away, and threw out his arms, entreating their response.
It began as a very low murmur of approval, growing as more folk entered the answering chorus, as more people began to drum their feet on the floor, as a crescendo of sound beat on Yana’s ears until she almost put her hands over them. But if she had, she would not have heard the answer.
“We believe! We believe! We believe!”
She had jumped up and was shouting along with everyone else. Because she could not doubt the boy. Everyone, at the same instant, swarmed across the floor toward him. Bunny was on the platform, hugging him, and suddenly he was crying, with the same sense of relief that Yana knew she had just felt.
Singing the Inuit way had much to recommend it.
Yana was still caught up in the emotion surrounding Diego’s song when a voice spoke in her ear. “Now that was very moving.”
The voice belonged to Torkel Fiske, who prevented her from turning with a light touch on her shoulders. Sean was no longer beside her. “Very touching. I’m so glad I convinced Giancarlo to let the boy come here today. Obviously he needed to vent his emotions and I do find it curious that when he insists here, in his poetic mode, that the nonsense his father has been babbling was real, the villagers agree with him.”
“Maybe,” Yana replied in a sardonic tone, “that’s because the villagers are more observant than the company.”
“Oh, but the villagers are the company, too. Perhaps a branch that’s had insufficient attention in the past.”
“Ooh, that sounds ominous,” she said as lightly as she could.
“Maybe a little prophetic,” he admitted, breathing into her hair. “I hope nobody will mind that I came. I just had to see for myself about this party you and Diego were so excited about. Could I talk you into a dance, or are you able?”
“I seem to be managing,” she said, looking around for Sean. “And there’s no dance music playing,” she pointed out, feeling ridiculous, standing there in her homemade blouse, uniform pants and stocking feet like something out of a gothic novel. “Look, Torkel,” she said, shaking off his hands to turn in his arms. “You’ve been a godsend and I’m very glad to see you, and I’m flattered by your interest. Under ordinary circumstances I’d be very tempted, but, well …”
“Oho!” he said, his eyes smiling down at her while his mouth twisted with mock disappointment. “I’m not the only one to appreciate you, huh? I was hoping the locals would be too backward to notice. My estimation of this place increases by the minute.”
Thank God his ego was strong enough that she didn’t have to worry about losing his friendship-and his assistance-by declining to play. She kissed his cheek. “Asshole.”
He prolonged the contact with a hug that ended with sagged shoulders. “Oh well, so much for the reasons I was looking forward to coming.”
About that time Aisling approached them and held out her arms for a hug, too, giving Yana a graceful way to extricate herself from Torkel. “Yana, I just had to tell you how beautiful your song was, how much it meant to me and everybody else.”
“Thanks, Aisling. And thanks again for making this gorgeous blouse.”
Aisling flushed with pleasure. “That’s okay. It looks beautiful.” She glanced at Torkel inquisitively and with just a tad of something Yana took to be-well, not hostility, but suspicion.