"That's what I like. Service with a simile." He couldn't help but notice that Acacia had moved an inch closer to him as Janet made her play. "I'll go for the bread, and I'll take the kiss on faith-" But she had served Acacia and passed on.

Desert stars shone in clusters, sharp and bright on the black dome of Gaming Area A. The night was windless. A full belly moved him even further into an intoxicatingly mellow mood.

Acacia nudged him. "You know, I can't put my finger on it, but you're both more uptight, and more relaxed than you were yester­day."

He flared at her. "Will you stop analyzing me for just a little while? You make me feel like a bug in biology class. Where's your dissecting needle?"

"I've got sharp teeth, if that would help."

The anger had flared and vanished with no trace remaining. Alex chewed the inside of his mouth and tried not to smile. "Now you, young lady, are what is properly known as a tease. Has any­one ever told you that?"

"And has anyone ever told you that you've got beautiful green

eyes? I mean, talk about character. They damn near match the green peppers on my pizza."

Stifling a guffaw, he tried to edge away from her. "Whew. Just what is into you tonight?"

She ran a finger down his arm, her face deadpan. "Do you mean right now, or what am I hoping for later... ?"

Alex fell back on the sleeping bag, laughing helplessly. "Punchy," he gasped. "Fatigue toxins. I think I like it."

The Garners ate like starved wolves. Many had already finished. Holly and Gwen were swapping lines from songs on the far side of the fire.

Without a wind to stir it up, the fire burned slowly and steadily, only an occasional pop from an exploding green branch stirring up the ashes. Alex slipped his boots off and moved his feet closer to the flame. He looked around, noting that a few people were miss­ing from the circle. Henderson, Gina, McWhirter, Eames, and Lady Janet. Ah-ha. What kind of little party was going on out there?

Holly dragged Gwen up to the fireside, and broke the air with a loud cough. "Hey, listen, people. How many of you know that we have a celebrity in our midst?" A few boozy cheers egged her on. "This young lady actually has a couple of Nashville albums, and I want to get her singing for us." Mary-em in particular led the shouting approval.

Gwen looked terrified. "Uh... I only sang backup on a few tracks. Ollie?" She swallowed hard, eyes begging him to get her out of this.

Ollie didn't notice; he waved her on. "Go on, Gwen! Hey, peo­ple, she's really good!"

There was something in Gwen's eyes that Alex didn't like at all, a touch of genuine fear that touched him deeply. Part of him wanted to tell everyone to leave her to hell alone. He restrained himself. Don't be conspicuous, 0 Griffin. Don't make waves. Wish­ing he were someone else.

Mary-em jumped up, grinning ear-to-ear. "Oh, come on, honey. Holly an' I'll help you through it. Do you know ‘The Fighter's La­ment'?" The Garners roared their approval, and Mary-em linked arms with Gwen, Holly on the other side, and began to croak out a tune, Gwen's high, sweet contralto finally wavering from an un­willing throat:

"I once had a sword, or should I say, it once had me.

I just picked it up, oh what a sword, it was plus three.

Its Ego was twelve, a fact of which I wasn't aware;

Then I tried to leave and I found that the sword didn't care; oh . .

Gwen's voice faltered, but the Garners, most of them roaring along to the tune of an obscure 20th century ballad, didn't notice at all.

"I walked through the halls, wasting my time, nothing to find.

Then I turned a corner, and then I said, ‘Oh no! Undead!'

The thirty-two Wights saw me coming and started to laugh;

And I closed my eyes as my sword started hewing a path; oh-"

Gwen abruptly tore herself away from the other women and ran from the firelit circle with her hands covering her face. Ollie gaped in astonishment. He rose and ran after her.

Holly and Mary-em were shocked, and Mary-em started to fol­low the sobbing girl, but Holly linked arms with her tightly, hold­ing her, forcing her to sing on.

"And when I awoke, I was alone, that sword had flown.

Now I use a club; isn't it good... no-ego wood."

Mary-em disengaged herself from Holly and looked up at her. At first she didn't say anything. Then, "I'm really not sure that this was a good idea, Holly."

Frost laughed. "Oh, come off it, Mary. Who could have known the little thing would be so skittish?"

"I could have. You could have. We could have listened. She said she doesn't sing in front of an audience-"

Holly stepped back and regarded her uncertainly. "Well aren't we being a little goody-good this evening? I didn't notice you defending her." The two stared at each other for a tense moment, then Holly turned on her heel and walked away.

Oddly, the other Garners had noticed little. One clump was singing. Another surrounded Owen and Margie, who were speak-

ing of older, wilder, looser Games. "-Doors that could open any­where in space and time. One afternoon we were running the Khronal Dungeon, and we opened a door and found ourselves looking out into the living room where we were playing. One of the characters shot the Game Master with a crossbow bolt, and the whole Dungeon disappeared!"

More beer was being consumed, the last of the pizza was gone. Couples were breaking away from the fireside to find privacy. But Mary-em seemed, for the first time that Griffin had seen her, to­tally unnerved.

Eames wobbled out of the woods, a beer in his hand, plastic smile stretched tight across his face. He leered at Mary-em and she folded her arms, tucking her hands in her armpits. "What are you staring at, Eames?"

He laughed. When he spoke it was in the ingratiating tones usu­ally reserved for idiots and children. "What's a matter, huh? Isn't she feeling himself tonight?"

The other voices died. Griffin felt danger tightening in the air. Are we all going crazy? He wanted to scream a warning. Then Acacia's hand was on his neck, stroking him. It felt very nice, very comfortable, and suddenly he could do nothing but watch.

Let it happen, he thought. He's an asshole anyway ... He

shook his head like a drunk going down for the third time and wondered what the hell was in that beer?

Eames said, "You know, Mary-em, I don't like you at all. You are one of the homeliest, most ridiculous little witches I have ever laid eyes on, and I wish-"

Mary-em's fist shot out like a piston, almost level, catching Eames squarely in the groin. He whoofed air and doubled over, swinging a wild reflexive haymaker. Mary-em went under it and came up, snatched two handfuls of Eames's hair. Both of her feet left the ground as she rammed her knees into his face.

Earnes shot upright and stumbled back with his face covered in blood. Back into a corner of the fire. He did a ragged hop, trying to stay clear. Then his mind gave up trying to guide his body, and he did a slow spiral to the ground, onto his knees, then fiat on his bloody face.

Mary-em looked at him, and tears began to stream down from her eyes. She wiped at the streaks with a chubby hand, then walked unsteadily to her bedroll and collapsed into a ball, sobbing. Everyone stared, then, embarrassed, turned back to their own

little groups and couplets. Griffin felt a vague urge to get up and do something, but once again Acacia's hand dissuaded him.

"Don't worry," she said, her mouth close enough to his ear for him to feel the heat in her breath. "They'll both be all right."