and she and Diverus were their captives. Soter would say it was all her fault for not returning while daylight remained—that is, if he ever saw her again, he would. She wanted to speak to the kitsune, but he had drawn ahead to lead the parade. Two more lights on poles bobbed beside him.
Something cold brushed her shoulder, and instinctively she pressed against Diverus, away from the source, as a towering ghost drifted past. His mismatched eyes regarded her with surprise, as though he recognized her. He wore odd clothing—a black jacket over a white shirt with another strip of material hanging from his throat. She wasn’t sure what manner of pants he wore because his legs faded below the knee into an ill-defined grayness. He floated past and toward the front.
Then all at once the parade came to a stop. Beside Diverus the creatures stepped away, and there stood the fox. He grinned. “Well,” he said, “we’ve arrived.”
Behind him lay the steps up to Eat This and Have a Cup of Tea. The fox waved them out of the parade. Holding hands, they moved toward the steps.
“I couldn’t persuade you to come with us the rest of the way, could I?” the fox asked.
“Rest of the way?”
“To the end. The parade goes on to the very end.”
“Of the span?”
“Of time,” he said, as though surprised that she didn’t comprehend this already.
“So, we…couldn’t come back.”
“Quite impossible. But we should love your company. You know so many stories.”
Diverus was edging to the steps and tugging her after him. He said, “She can’t. She has a performance tonight.”
“Really?” the fox said.
“Yes, it’s true,” she replied.
“Oh, well.” He sounded sincerely regretful. “You’d best go on, then. But come again to the park and we’ll tell you another story. And you can share one of yours.”
“That would be…I would like that.”
“Good night, then, Leodora.” He made shooing gestures at them both, then turned and took his place at the front again. The parade moved off behind him. Some of the creatures watched her and Diverus as they passed. Others stared straight ahead as if this world did not exist; those in the very back somehow did both at once.
“He said your name,” Diverus noted.
“I’m sure I never told it to him.”
“You wouldn’t really go to the park again, would you?”
She made no answer. Gesturing toward the steps, she said instead, “We’re probably late.”
They climbed up and, after removing their shoes, entered the building. The moment the door thudded closed behind them, the noise and bustle of the front room died. All those within—every single person—turned from their meals, drinks, overtures, and conversations to stare at the new, and unlikely, arrivals.
Diverus and Leodora walked barefoot across the polished wood floor. With wide eyes upon her from every side, she felt as if she were still in the grotesque parade. The eyes tracked her closely as if expecting at any moment that she might transform. One man close by made signs in the air and threw some kind of dust at them that glittered as it sprinkled down, causing Diverus to sneeze violently, which in turn caused the man to dive for safety beneath his table. Leodora paused to brush the dust from her sleeve. When nothing happened, the man poked out his head, tittered nervously, and sat up facing his food, refusing to look at them. Diverus rubbed his nose. The crowd lost interest.
The proprietor entered then. He carried a woven tray full of covered dishes. “Ah-ha,” he said, “there you two are. That Soter has taken to drink because he couldn’t find you. He was sure you were gobbled up by goblins.”
Diverus glanced askance at Leodora, who asked, “Are we late?”
“Not for my needs, no. You can see—they are all still eating. However, I am not of a nervous disposition.”
“I understand. When is it we begin, then?”
“Oh, anytime you like, although if you would wait perhaps until those who ordered this food have had their fill, you’ll be less likely to play to an empty garden.”
“Of course.”
“Grand.” He hurried off to serve the food, leaving behind lovely smells.
The central courtyard was nearly deserted. Cut off from the street and the front room, the handful of patrons there did not react when the newcomers entered, apparently connecting them neither to the parade nor directly with the anticipated performance of puppetry.
At a small table beside the booth Soter sat alone, his head on his arms. Candlelight floated in a bowl by his head, illuminating his slack