'Thanks. Thanks,' said Colin.

Colin sat on a step. The lines of the world returned.

'You seem to know your way around,' said the man. 'I'll give you that.'

'Yes. Parts. But it doesn't matter. I've taken up enough of your time.'

'I'll be right,' said the man. 'So long as me brush doesn't dry. That's what they say.'

'Thank you. Thank you again.'

'Cheers.'

'I'm so sorry,' said Colin. 'I didn't introduce myself. Whisterfield. Colin Whisterfield.' He held out his hand. The man wiped his on his overalls. 'Pleased to meet you, Colin,' he said. 'Call me Bert.'

Colin rode back along the drive to the gate, opened and closed it, replaced the lock. He rode blind by Seven Sisters Lane, Lindow Moss, Row-of-Trees, Brook Lane, London Road and up the Front Hill.

At Castle Rock lay-by he left his bicycle and ran along the path to the Rock. Its smooth quarried surface drew him to the point, and the point drew him beyond. He ran across the last ledge. There was nothing but the point and air, calling him. Three strides to an end. Three strides and then no more. His head no more rampicked by the stars. No more agate with dreams. No more. But the world swung. He pitched. His face was over the brink, his arms beside. He saw the grooves carved by rain down the rock, and the fields beneath. He could not move. His body was clamped. He pulled his hands back and gripped. He pushed, keeping every part of him against the rock. His eyes lost the vast.i.tude and were seeing grains and pebbles, back and back, over the ancient river, until his feet met the ledge. But even here he could not stand. He rolled, ignoring pain, until he was further than his own length from the ledge. He turned onto his knees, facing away, and stood. To the south, on the safe land, the telescope was tilted, pointing at him. He clutched the black stone.

I have a Story.

Tell me your Story, said the other.

The world was full, and the people hunted, and the sun was young. Then two people of the Crow held each other, and the Stone Spirit wept and the sun moved its face. Then came cold, and the herds went. The Hunter and the people followed them and the world was empty; but the Bull stayed. And every night of winter he comes above the hills, watching to see that there is life; and the Stone Spirit looks to send out eagles from its head to feed the stars.

And because the Crow flesh brought the cold they stayed to dance and cut and sing in Ludcruck to make new the Bull and the beasts on the wall of the sky cave above the waters for the time when all will be again, with the Hunter striding. But if we do not dance and cut and sing and make the beasts new on the sky wall the Stone Spirit will not send eagles.

And who is it that you hold? said the other.

No one. She and the child went to the ice. No one is left to hold. No child to teach. I am alone. After me, no one will give my flesh to the sky, take my bones to the nooks of the dead. The sun will not come back. The Stone Spirit will not send eagles. The world will end.

That is a true Story, said the other.

Colin woke. 'Doctor Knickerbocker, Knickerbocker, number nine. He sure got drunk on a bottle of wine.' He could not tell between memory and dream. There was a child singing in the quarry. He squirmed out of his bunk and opened the door and listened.

'Rosy apple, lemon and a pear.

Bunch of roses she shall wear.'

He went onto the gra.s.s, but could see no one.

'Be careful!' he shouted. 'Mind you don't fall! The quarry's dangerous!'

There was laughter.

'Be careful! Where are you?'

He dressed in a hurry and went out again.

'h.e.l.lo!'

'Gold and silver by her side.

She shall be a bride.'

'Where are you?'

More laughter.

'Don't be silly! You could hurt yourself!'

He went up the path out of the quarry and walked all around the rim, checking. He called once more, but there was no answer. He went back by the main entrance.

'Careful on the rocks! You could slip and sprain your ankle!'

'I'll be careful, Col, don't you worry.'

He was between the dishes.

'You?'

'Of course. Who else?'

'Where are you?'

'Everywhere. Come and find me. Let's play hide-and-seek. You'll be "It".'

'No going out of the quarry,' said Colin.

'Mardy, mardy mustard.

Your head is made of custard.'

'And no going in the hut.'

'Ha, ha, ha, hee, hee, hee.

You can't catch me for a penny cup of tea.'

'Ready?'

'Yes. This is fun.'

'One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine ...'

'Ha, ha, ha, hee, hee, hee.

The elephant nests in a rhubarb tree.'

'... ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine. One hundred. Coming, ready or not. No barleys.'

Colin left the focus and looked around. The quarry was still. Nothing moved. He watched. He listened. Then he went to the entrance, and came back, crossing the ground to and fro. There were no prints in the mud, no moss on the rockery steps had been disturbed, no gra.s.s or reeds bent. He moved forward over unmarked dew.

'Take her by the lily-white hand.'

The sound had no direction, but was outside the dishes and his head.

'-lily-white hand.'

He moved along the floor of the quarry.

'Lead her across the water.'

The rhododendrons were the only cover. He thrashed through them. Nothing.

'Lead her across the water.'

There was the hut.

'I said no going in the hut! I said!'

Laughter.

He went clockwise around the outside. Nothing. He ran. Nothing. He ran the other way, widdershins. Nothing. He looked inside. There was nowhere else.

'Lead her across the water.'

He went back to the dishes and to the focus. 'I give up. You win. "Olly, olly all in, no back bargains."'

'Oh, Col. You big sissy. You know where I am. Try harder.'

He went through the quarry again. Nothing. He went back to the dishes. The quarry was still; only a small wind.

There was a giggle, not at the focus. It had to be at the far end. The adit. He went towards the gate, the locked iron gate into the hill.

'Give her a kiss and say goodbye.'

The sound was in the tunnel. He unfastened the gate. He stepped up. 'Relieve-o!'

'Relieve-o!' Was it an echo?

'She is the fairest daughter.' Not an echo.

He moved in as far as the goblin gold, the edge of the dark. He took the stone from his pocket and held it before him.

'Rosy apple, lemon and a pear.

Bunch of roses she shall wear.

Gold and silver by her side.

She shall be a bride.'

Triboluminescence flickered at the far end. He went on.

'Take her by the lily-white hand.

Lead her across the water.'

The small black figure appeared limned in moonlight from the pebbles. He moved slowly.

'Don't be scared,' he said.

They moved towards each other.

'Lead her across the water.'

As she came nearer, she grew.

'Lead her across the water.'

The day behind him, and the pebbles around, lit the tunnel. She was now his size, but black, without feature.

'I'm not scared, Col. Not now. Are you?'

'No.'

He did not pause. He could touch her dark, but he did not.

They were face to face, surrounded by light from the quartz.

'Give her a kiss and say goodbye.'

She reached out to him. He reached to her. They clasped. He held the stone against her spine. The stone light quenched the moon.

'She is the fairest daughter.'

'Who are you?' he said.

'You.'

I sang and danced, and cut a woman for me to fetch a child for me to teach to dance and sing and cut. But you have come, not she.

That is a true Story, said the other.

He went to the dish. 'Meg.'

'Yes, Colin.'