The dancing was in full swing, little lights flickered everywhere, and big torches were placed strategically around the grounds, giving everything a warm, golden glow. The music was great, the musicians really know what they were doing, pouring their hearts out through their instruments, alternately whipping up the crowds before them into a frenzied rush and calming them down to barely perceptible crawl. Sinbad stood off to the side, quietly sipping his drink and taking it all in. He could see Maeve being expertly led by Rongar, though the moor had had only a day to learn this dance that sounded to foreign to Sinbad's ear.

"If those two have a child it will become a king of Egypt," an old woman appeared next to him and followed his line of sight. "But they will not have a child, so Egypt has nothing to worry about."

"How do you know?" Sinbad asked, intrigued by this brazen lady.

"I am old but I have the use of my eyes and my ears and my wits. I hear and I see and what I hear and what I see I puzzle all together until the picture becomes clear. And then I add a spicy detail or two to make life more interesting." Her eyes twinkled with mischief and Sinbad found himself liking the old lady. "Come, you are a handsome young man, you should dance."

"I would love to dance, but I don't know the steps to this one," Sinbad answered honestly.

"That is because it is not from around here. That is what happens on an isle like this; people come from far and wide to drink our waters and then they want to dance to celebrate their love. So they teach us the dances from where they come from and we help them celebrate. This is a mazurka, it is simple, come I will show you," she held out her hands palms down so he took them into his own but she shook him off.

"No, no, look at my hands, look at the pattern. It goes ma-zur-ka, ma-zur-ka, see?" she moved her hands in patterns of three.

"Like this?" Sinbad asked, repeating the pattern back to her.

"Yes, like that. Now, dance form. You put one hand on my back, right in the middle, a little below my shoulder blades. Feel how I lean into it a little? That's so I can feel where you want me to go. My hand goes on your shoulder and the others we clasp together. Always start in the direction of our clasped hands. Now go boy, dance," the lady told him.

Sinbad listened to the music and at what he deemed the appropriate time he started moving. His teacher moved with him and for about three beats it went very well. Then he stumbled into another dancing pair.

"You lead, so you look out," his teacher ordered him. "If I see something to bump in to behind you I will tap your shoulder."

Sinbad was light on his feet and had a good sense of rhythm so this slow dance he soon had the hang of. He beamed proudly at his teacher who grinned back at him. "Listen to the music boy, you're going out of step."

The next dance was a circle dance. His kind teacher quickly explained the repeating pattern of steps to him and told him he could learn as he danced. He hesitantly led the old woman through the steps and when the pattern was about to repeat he found another woman on his right hand and led her through the steps. Soon he relaxed and started to enjoy seeing a different face every other minute. He smiled as he saw Maeve take hold of his right hand while the circle moved inwards and back out twice and clapped appreciatively while the women let go of their partners and danced into the centre of the circle and back again, then it was the men's turn to move to the centre of the circle, letting a whoop of joy when they reached it and then turning back to face their partners. Sinbad and Maeve clasped each other's right shoulder with their right hand and clasped their left hands between their bodies and together twirled around in quick circles for twice eight seconds and then Sinbad smoothly moved them into parade formation so they could walk another eight seconds. But he wanted to impress her with his recently attained dancing skills so Sinbad twirled Maeve two times while they were walking, just because he could and then they were back into the circle, with Maeve on his left hand this time and a new stranger on his right. He already missed her, so resolved to have Maeve teach him the next dance- she'd probably get a kick out of it too.

The next dance was a scottish (one and two, one and two, one, two, three four,) but Maeve was already engaged so Sinbad found another to teach him this dance. A little jealously he watched experienced dancers put all kinds of variations into their moves while he could barely keep the basics straight.

Another dance was starting so he rushed to Maeve to try and get a dance in with her only to find out the next dance was a hanterdro, which was danced in a long line, so still no chance to hold her in his arms and dance the night away with her. He could still hold her hand though, her elbow folded under his, just as his own left arm was folded under the next person's. He learnt the steps just by watching what the others were doing and soon was having a great time seeing what the leader was doing with the line- namely putting it into all kinds of impossible to get out of spots and then finding a way to get out of it anyway, even if it crammed everyone far too close together.

He held onto Maeve's hand so no one could steal her away for the next dance. The musicians announced a bourrée and quickly partners stood opposite each other in two long lines. Maeve quickly explained the steps but Sinbad didn't really get it. He was chagrined to find that there was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, and even more twirling around but no physical contact at all. His disappointment did not make him a better dancer at all; he missed half the steps and missed-timed the other half. Maeve was so not happy with him. At the end of the bourrée she happily accepted Firouz's hand for the next and Sinbad wanted to slap himself when another mazourka started up.

Sinbad learned half a dozen other dances that night but never managed to catch Maeve for more than another circle dance or line dance. Still, he tried hard to learn as best he could, not knowing what the last was going to be, he wanted to be his best for her… this time at least.

It was full-mooned night, the stars were blotted out by the light of the moon and Sinbad felt like he could dance forever- just as soon as his feet stopped aching. The Andro they'd been dancing ended and the musicians announced their last dance. It was the same as Sinbad's first: a mazourka. A slow, beautiful dance. Just perfect to end the night with.

Without even asking Maeve insinuated herself into his arms. Now confident in his skills as a dancer he led her into the dance.

"What do you think Bryn and Doubar are up to right now?" Maeve asked, a soft smile on her lips and in her eyes as she tried to distract herself from how incredibly in love she was with the man she was dancing so intimately with.

"They're probably enjoying their night as much as we are enjoying ours," Sinbad said. "Did you have a good night?" He asked, just to make sure.

Maeve nodded. "But I like this part the most."

Sinbad rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, trusting the other couples not to dance into their little slice of stillness. Their movements were slow and small until they were barely moving at all, but still, somehow dancing. They failed to notice the music changing, the musicians now playing a dreamlike line-dance by way of encore. They didn't even see the line circling around them in tighter and tighter concentric circles. They just danced in their own little bubble. Sinbad had placed their clasped hands over his heart, in a wordless message of what he could not say- not yet, but could feel and felt in ways he had never felt before.