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fire, but from the way her shoulders shook, I knew she was crying.
    No man in the world likes to ask a tearful woman, “What’s wrong?” You tell yourself, “She hasn’t seen me yet; I can get away before she notices.” But a true man, a gentleman , shows compassion no matter how hard it is to pretend you care. Taking a deep breath to nerve myself, I stood and said, “Hi Leeta, how’s it going?”
    She screamed. Not much, just a little shriek, and she cut it off so quickly I couldn’t have startled her badly. Still, she made a big show of it, putting her hand to her heart and sagging as if she were going to faint. “It’s only me,” I said, not hiding my annoyance at her histrionics.
    “Fullin,” she groaned. “You scared me half to death.”
    “You’re fine,” I said. To calm her down, I added, “That’s a nice dress.”
    She looked like she was going to snap at me; but then she put on a dithery smile and said, “It’s my solstice robe. Do you like it?”
    “The milkweed is a good touch,” I told her. “Very earthy.” I nodded sagely, trying to think of something else to say. There was no way I’d ask why she was crying; I didn’t have the patience to listen to some tale of woe. “Nice night, isn’t it?” I said. “Not as crushing hot as last week.”
    “There’s a chance it could get hotter,” Leeta said.
    “You think so?”
    “This is the solstice,” she said, falling into the tone of voice she always used for storytelling. “The height of summer, when Master Day is at his strongest and Mistress Night is languishing. Do you know what that means?”
    “Mistress Night has time to catch up on her lapidary?” (During the day, Mistress Night searches the earth for precious stones, which she then polishes and puts on display as stars.)
    “It’s time to enact the solstice ceremony,” Leeta said. “To dance the dance that tips the balance back in Mistress Night’s favor. Otherwise, the days will keep growing longer and hotter until there comes a time when the sun doesn’t set and the earth catches fire.”
    “That would be bad,” I nodded. Cappie’s father had taught me about planetary rotations, revolutions, axial tilts and all, but now was not the time to discuss celestial mechanics, especially since Leeta had stopped crying. Now was the time to pat her on the shoulder and leave, before she remembered whatever brought on the tears in the first place. Duly, I patted. “Enjoy the ceremony. I’ll get out of your way.”
    “Wait, Fullin,” she said. “I need a man.”
    I looked at her in surprise.
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” she grimaced, giving my arm a mock-slap. “The solstice dance has to be performed by a woman and a man. The sacred duality—I taught you that, I know I did.”
    If she taught me that, she must have done it when I was female. There were a lot of things about my female years I couldn’t remember when I was male…or rather, there were a lot of things I couldn’t be bothered to remember. In the years I was female, my male soul slept soundly in Birds Home; trying to fish up my female self’s memories could be like trying to pin down a dream. Nevertheless, I had to humor Leeta. “Oh yes, the sacred duality,” I said. “Man and woman.”
    “And I need you to be the man.” She put her hand on my arm and said, “Please.”
    Our Mocking Priestess was a short woman with misty green eyes, and she had been wheedling her way around men for forty years before I was born. I don’t consider myself weak for giving in to her. Besides, I could tell the Council of Elders that I tried to rush home with news of the strangers but had to stop to help the priestess with a life-and-death ceremony.
    And Leeta looked like she might start crying again if I said no. “What do I do?” I sighed.
    “You dance,” she said. “It’s easy. Find some leaves and put them in your hair.”
    I looked at the ground, then up at the spruces and pines surrounding us. “Will needles