Spells

central focus for her solo. Laurel had been to professional ballets in San Francisco, but nothing prepared her for the raw talent and grace of this principal dancer.

“Who is that?” she breathed to Tamani, her eyes riveted on the stage.

“Titania,” Tamani responded.

“The Titania?” Laurel asked breathlessly. His arm was snug around Laurel’s back as their heads pressed close so they could whisper, but Laurel hardly noticed.

“No, no. I meant she’s playing Titania.”

“Oh,” Laurel said, a little disappointed that she wasn’t going to get to see a legendary faerie perform. In the middle of Titania’s beautiful arabesque, a male faerie — with no beard this time — entered from stage left. The faerie corps twittered and dropped into low bows on the floor of the stage.

“Is that Oberon?” Laurel asked, thinking of the faerie king often paired with Titania in faerie lore.

“See, you’re catching on,” Tamani said with a grin.

The faerie playing Oberon began his own solo, his movements brash, daring, almost violent, but with the same controlled grace of the faerie playing Titania. Soon the two were dancing together, each trying to outdo the other as the music rose stronger, louder, until with a surge of brass, Titania tripped on her own feet and sprawled onto the ground. With a wave of her hand, and angry, stomping steps, she and some of the faerie corps exited the stage, chased by Oberon’s faeries.

“Why are they angry with her?” Laurel asked.

“Titania is a very unpopular figure in history,” Tamani responded. “She was a Fall faerie — and Unseelie at that — who became Queen during a time when there were no Winter Faeries. Oberon was born soon after and took over as King, when he was only twenty years old — almost a child, in terms of royalty, and still not soon enough for most people’s taste. Titania was responsible for the disastrous mess in Camelot.”

“The trolls…destroyed it, right?”

“That’s right. And the aftermath led to his death just as he was proving to be one of the greatest kings in Avalon’s history. So Titania is generally blamed for that loss.”

“That seems unfair.”

“Perhaps.”

The stage cleared again and returned to a forest scene. Lotus rushed in, pursued by Heather, who hid behind the trees every time Lotus turned around. They rushed about in confusing circles until two more figures entered the stage: Darnel, and a very pretty female faerie.

“Now I’m confused again,” Laurel said as the female faerie tried to cling to Darnel and he kept pushing her away.

“That’s Hazel. She is in love with Darnel. Darnel is chasing Heather, who is chasing Lotus, trying to stop him from the dangerous trip to the Isle of Hesperides. Hazel is trying to convince Darnel to just be happy with her.”

Something clicked in Laurel’s head as the lovely Hazel tugged forlornly on Darnel’s coat and he cast her aside. “Wait a second,” she said. “This is A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Well, it’s what would eventually become A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Like most of Shakespeare’s best plays, it started out as a faerie story.”

“No way!”

Tamani shushed her gently as a few Fall faeries glanced their way. “Honestly,” Tamani continued, his voice low and soft, “did you think he came up with Romeo and Juliet all by himself? A thousand years ago it was Rhoeo and Jasmine, but Shakespeare’s version is a passable retelling.”

Laurel’s eyes stayed locked on the four faeries dancing their dizzying chase. “How did Shakespeare come to know the faerie stories?” She glanced up at Tamani. “He was human, wasn’t he?”

“Oh, yes.” Tamani chuckled quietly. “He lived in a time when the rulers of Avalon still kept an eye on human affairs. They were impressed by his plays about the Kings — Lear and Richard, I believe. Deadly dull stories, but his writing was magnificent. So the King had him brought here to give him some fresh story lines for his beautiful words. And they hoped he would correct some of the errors in faerie mythology. A Midsummer Night’s Dream was his first play after coming to Avalon, followed soon after by The Tempest. But after a while he resented that the King would not let him come and go as he pleased. So he left and didn’t come back. And as revenge, he didn’t put any more faeries into his plays. He made them all human and claimed them as his own.”

“Is that really true?” Laurel asked in wonder.

“That’s how I learned it.”

The scene returned to the flowered clearing where Puck — a Fall faerie of remarkable skill, Tamani informed Laurel — was instructed by Oberon to create a potion that would make Titania fall in love with the first creature she saw, in payment for her mishandling of Camelot. And since he was a benevolent king, he also tried to help the humans. “After all,” Tamani explained, “he couldn’t let them actually enter Avalon and take a golden apple, but he didn’t want to send them home with nothing to show for their pains.”

Laurel nodded and turned her attention back to the ballet. The story continued in a familiar manner, now that she knew what play it was — Lotus and Darnel both chasing after Hazel, Heather being left loverless, and everyone dancing in intricate, frenzied patterns that made Laurel’s head whirl.

Then the scene changed back to the faerie bower and, after Puck placed his potion in Titania’s eyes, a huge, hulking beast came lumbering in. Laurel couldn’t tell if the beast was an illusion or an elaborate costume. “What’s that?” she asked. “Isn’t he supposed to be a man with a donkey head?”

“He’s a troll,” Tamani said. “There is no greater disgrace among the fae than to fall in love with a troll. It just doesn’t happen without serious derangement — or some kind of magical compulsion.”

“What about the part where all the men are putting on a play? That’s where the guy is supposed to come from.”

“Shakespeare put that part in by himself. There’s no weird play in the original story.”

“I always did think that was the lamest part of the story. I thought it should end when the lovers wake up and are discovered,” Laurel said.

“Well, it does,” Tamani said with a grin.

Laurel watched silently for a while as the dancers continued the story and everything began to be set right. Just before the final scene, Titania came back on and danced the most beautiful solo Laurel had ever seen to the sad strains of a soft lament. Then she spun and swooned at Oberon’s feet, offering him her crown.

“What just happened?” Laurel asked when the dance was over. She couldn’t bear to ask during the solo — it was too lovely to take her eyes off of even for a second.

“Titania begs forgiveness of Oberon for her misdeeds and concedes her crown to him. That means that she admits she was never truly the Queen.”

“Because of Camelot?”

“Because she was a Fall faerie.”

Laurel frowned as she considered this. But the scenery changed quickly to the clearing where the lovers awoke from their enchanted sleep and danced a joyful double pas de deux, and were joined by the full corps at the end. When they stepped forward for their bows, the audience on the ground floor seemed to rise as one to applaud the company. Tamani rose from his seat as well and Laurel jumped up to join him, clapping so hard her hands began to sting.

Tamani placed a firm hand on her arm and pulled her downward.

“What?” Laurel said, pulling her arm away.

Tamani’s eyes darted back and forth. “It’s not done, Laurel. You don’t stand for anyone below your station. Only your equals, or your superiors.”

Laurel glanced around. He was right. Nearly everyone in the balcony was clapping enthusiastically, faces lit with broad, beautiful smiles, but no one was standing except her and Tamani. She raised an eyebrow at Tamani, turned her face back to the stage, and remained on her feet as she continued clapping.

“Laurel!” Tamani said sternly under his breath.

“That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen and I am going to express my appreciation as I see fit,” Laurel said flatly, continuing to clap. She shot a quick look at him. “Are you going to stop me?”