Shelagh, who had been listening from her corner at the hearth, approached, and Elphin stood and handed her the sleeping Taliesin; he bent and kissed the golden head. “Sleep well, my son.”

Rhonwyn slipped her arm around Elphin’s waist. “Come, husband,” she whispered, “let us to bed as well.”

The dawn held all the promise of the day’s heat although the sun had not yet risen. The wind was out of the north, dry, bearing the woody smell of arid land. Charis awoke and knew at once what kind of day it would be. By the time the stadium doors opened and the throngs began pushing their way to their seats the sun would be a hot, white flame in an eggshell sky. The sand of the ring would burn underfoot; the bulls would be edgy and unpredictable, the crowd ill-tempered, hard to please.

It was a day that welcomed disaster.

Therefore, Charis would make certain the Gulls were ready. They would breakfast well on figs and honey, flatbread and smoked fish, sliced meat, milk, nuts, dates, porridge, and tea, and no one would be allowed to leave the table until all had eaten heartily and well. They would don practice clothes and troop into the empty stadium to stretch their muscles and rehearse.

When all were limber, Charis would call them together and they would begin planning the day’s dance. She already had them paired in her mind: Joet and Galai would take the first bull; their solid performance would settle the younger dancers. Kalili, Junoi, and Peronn would dance next-Junoi would benefit from her partners’ experience and would be less at risk. Belissa and Marophon could be depended upon to turn in a spirited performance under any circumstance, but she would choose a bull for them that would not give them trouble, a steady grandsire of the ring-Yellowhorn perhaps, or Broadhump.

For herself? Galai would join her, and then Belissa. The three of them would perform the routine they had prepared for the Temple Festival last season-an inspired dance that had not been performed since. It drove the crowd mad with delight.

And then?

Charis would take the last bull alone. The routine? There would be none set. Today she would dance for the god, for Bel alone. The movements would come to her as she danced, she would follow her instincts, she would dance her heart and soul. She would dance her last. They all would.

The others would not know this, could not know until it was over. Then she would tell them. Not before. They would not understand and the news would unsettle them; their rhythm would suffer and maybe so would they. Life in the ring hung by the slenderest of threads. The blink of an eye, a misplaced hand, a fleeting lapse of concentration and the thread was severed. These thoughts filled her mind as she rose and pulled on a light shift, washed, and went to the dancer’s lodgings.

Morning was but a rumor in the east as Charis walked across the square of green that separated her lodgings from those of the others. Her dancers were still asleep. Charis went to the pump that stood beside the path. The pump was shaped like a dolphin; she took the creature’s tail in hand and worked it up and down until water came sloshing up sweet and cold to pour into the brass basin which stood on a tripod beneath its snout.

That done, she turned to the first door, knocked gently, and pushed the door open. “Galai,” she whispered, shaking the young woman gently by the shoulder, “wake up.”

“Mmm,” the dancer moaned.

“Come, get up; breakfast will be set and I want to talk to you.”

Galai rolled into a ball. “It cannot be time yet,” she corn-plained.

“Today is a special day,” said Charis, walking out. “Dress yourself and come along.”

One by one she woke them. The first stumbled out of their rooms and moved dreamily toward the brass basin, splashing their faces and arms with cold water. “Ohhh,” groaned Peronn as he took his turn, “you are a cruel captain.”

“Cruel, yes, and heartless. I live to make your life a misery, lazy Peronn.” Charis wagged the dolphin’s tail and gave him another cold dowsing.

“And you succeed too well!”

“Where is Marophon?”

“Still abed,” replied Belissa. “He is the lazy one. Do you want me to rouse him?”

“Go to the table,” Charis told them. “I will wake him.”

The Gulls trooped off, chattering noisily as Charis entered Marophon’s room at the eed of the dancer’s lodgings. “Mar” she began and stopped. Two bodies lay entwined in the narrow bed.

Marophon woke suddenly and saw her. He jerked upright, shoving the girl next to him aside. “Charis! Please! Wait, I”

Charis stepped to the foot of the bed. “Dress yourself at once.”

“I can explain. Please”

“I do not want to hear it! Get her out of here.”

The girl, awake now and terror-stricken, stared at Charis, clutching the bedclothes to her chest. “Wait until the others have gone and then get rid of your whore. Let no one see her. Understand?” Marophon’s head worked up and down. With that, Charis spun on her heel and left.

All of the bull dancers took their meals together in the lower temple courtyard near the bull pit. The Gulls, however, had their own table in a partially enclosed section of the courtyard and their own specially prepared food which Charis purchased in the market herself.

This had always caused a certain amount of jealousy among the other teams of dancers, who accused the Gulls of elitism even as they envied team. But Charis knew it was important for her dancers to feel superior, set apart by virtue of their unrivaled skill. While in the beginning this might not have been strictly true, Believing it over time had made it so. They were the Gulls and they were better than the rest.

The others were busily eating when Marophon joined them. He became the butt of some gentle teasing, although no one noticed his glance of stark guilt as he slipped into his place at the table.

They ate, and when they had nearly finished Charis rose and said, “You noisy Gulls, quiet now and listen. Today is a special day.”

“The queen has but one natal day,” remarked Joet.

“Shhh! Listen,” said Belissa.

“Some of you,” continued Charis, “may know that I spoke with the Belrene yesterday. It has come to mis” She paused.

They stopped eating and sat up. “Well, must we stand on our heads?” asked Peronn.

“He has agreed to give us half of the gold sacrifice from now on”

“Half!” cried Joet, leaping to his feet. The bull dancers looked at one another in disBelief. Joet swept Charis into a clumsy embrace and kissed her cheek. “Half, by the god’s golden gonads! Did you hear? Praise for our beautiful headstrong leader!”

“Sit down, Joet,” shouted the others. “Let her finish.”

“The Belrene has also agreed to allow me to choose the bulls. Yes, and he has seen the error of trying to force his ridiculous rules on us.”

“We are free!” cried Peronn and Galai together.

“And rich!” added Joet.

“What is the matter, Maro?” teased Beiissa. She nudged him in the ribs. “Did you leave your head under the covers this morning?”

Marophon smiled weakly. “No, I heard. I am glad…”

Other teams of dancers had begun filing into the courtyard. “Now then,” said Charis, “I want you to begin your exercise at once. We must be finished before the sun gets too hot. Do not rush. Begin slowly. It will be an oven out there today; we will be wise to nurse our stamina.” She clapped her hands. “Get along with you now. I will join you very soon.”

The dancers shoved back their chairs and started across the courtyard. “Maro,” Charis called. “A word please.”

The dancer returned, shamefaced. He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it and stood gazing down at his feet instead.

“I will not remind you of your sacred vow of abstinence,” Charis began. Although she spoke softly, there was a wilting anger behind her tongue just waiting to be unleashed. “We are all virgins-or were-sacred to the god alone as long as we dance. Tell me, why have you seen fit to break this holy vow? And how long have you been sleeping with this whore?”