Page 63 of The Hopeless Romantic’s Guide to Enchantment

“I was wondering,” Gavril says, then falls silent.

“So was I. About whether to break rules or ask for permission. The folk here seem to trust you.”

He sips his coffee, looking out over the forest, not at me. “Ask for special privileges? Or just assume breaking rules won’t have consequences? Only you can answer that, Sophie.”

I make myself breathe before answering. “To do what I need to do, I’ll have to break a rule. I’d be stupid to think there’d be no consequences. Besides…”

Now he’s smiling. It’s the sweet, warm smile that makes my insides melt. “Besides, you’re breaking the rule because you want consequences?”

“Not the consequence of me being booted off the residency and sent home in disgrace. Something different. Oh!”

There’s one gargoyle on our tower, just above the balcony, a thing that looks like a winged pug. And it just moved. I only caught the briefest glimpse, heard the tiniest of grinding sounds, but it now has its eyes firmly on me. There’s a metallic clink…

Gavril looks at me. I look at him. I put my coffee down on the little table and approach the spot.

“There,” says Gavril, pointing.

A key. On the balcony floor, just below the gargoyle in question. I crouch down. Reach out. Then pull my hand back, not touching.

“Probably some words,” Gavril murmurs.

This feels deeply weird. A privilege. A dangerous privilege. Something odd happened in this place, generations ago. A story that never seems to be fully told. Something mysterious and magical. With dancing in it. Ah!

I motion to Gavril to put his coffee on the table. I get to my feet and take his hand. With heads held high and eyes on the gargoyle, we do the basic right foot tap, left foot tap, and one, two, three. He whistles a little tune that fits the rhythm perfectly. We repeat the steps a few times. Not much of a dance. But it’s a symbol of trust, of good intent. “We thank you,” I say, and bend to pick up the key, which feels curiously warm in my hand. “We will use this wisely, and when our business is done, we will return it to you, its guardian. All honour and respect to you.”

“All honour and respect to you,” echoes Gavril.

No response from the stone pug. But as we turn to go back indoors, there’s a glint of light out in the forest. Not yet the moon; but some thing has touched the waters of the lake to brightness.

* * *

The next day, I’m heading for the library when I hear Belle screaming at someone, a rant about how ridiculous it is that she can’t go into the forest, how is she expected to do her research if she can’t observe the fungi, take photos, make notes…? Which sounds fair enough to me, but I’m pretty sure yelling won’t help her. Then comes the measured voice of Marina, saying there must be areas nearer the village where those fungi grow, perhaps on the very edge of the forest, or beside tracks used by farmers. Or maybe if a staff member was available to escort her, she might go a little further in… But Belle isn’t listening. She’s totally lost it. There’s a crash as something gets thrown or toppled over, and then her voice fades. She’s still cursing as she stamps away.

I look up some references in the library, then head back to the tower. At the entry to the study area, I stop dead. Gavril is sitting at my desk, headphones on. He’s looking at my special document, which I never, ever leave out where people can see it. But I must have left it out this time, because there it is. Words burst from me before I can stop them. “What do you think you’re doing? That’s private! It’s secret!” I don’t say, this is a betrayal. But that’s probably in my voice.

Gavril doesn’t get up, though he must have heard me, headphones or not. He doesn’t apologise. He’s holding a pen, making notes on a pad. “Sorry,” he says, but his eyes are still on the cryptic writing and his tone is distant. Clearly his mind is on something else. Like solving a puzzle. “This is… remarkable,” he adds, slipping the headphones off. “Where did it come from?”

“Did I ask for your help?” I hear my own voice, harsh as a slap, and I hate it, but I can’t stop myself. “Did I ask you to meddle with my stuff?”

Now he looks at me and rises to his feet. A long moment passes. I make myself breathe slowly.

“It might have been wiser to leave this at home,” Gavril says. He sounds perfectly composed, which makes me even angrier. “If this is the original, I hope you’ve made a digital copy.”

“I’m not stupid, whatever you may think. Yes, I have it in digital form, both here and at home. And most of the time the original is kept in a hard folder, protected by acid-free paper. But… I do wonder if the power, the magic, is in the physical document. I can’t read it. I haven’t found any clues about what script it is.”

“Sophie. Sit down for a bit. I’m sorry I upset you. Now listen. This document is an amazing discovery. The language is called Lumina. It’s so rarely found that few scholars even know it exists. I can translate, I think, but I don’t know what these dots and lines mean. The versions I’ve seen before don’t have those.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re the moves of a dance.” Good, I’m managing to sound like a normal person, not some snarly bitch. “The choreography. Perhaps the text is the story behind the dance. Can you really translate it?”

“I may need to study it for a while,” he says. “But yes, I believe it relates to dancing. Something about the full moon, and crossing a body of water, and… moving onto a different path.” A curious look appears on his face as he watches me. “I can’t tell if that’s good or bad, Sophie.”

I feel tears brimming. Tears of vindication. Tears of delight. “It’s good,” I say. “Provided we’re planning to break the rules. Where did you learn this Lumina?”

“From an old scholar in Braşov. He was generally regarded as too eccentric to be taken seriously. But even at eighty-two he was sharp as a tack. He took me under his wing, and we became good friends.”

“Is he gone now, then?”

“Oh, he’ll be somewhere out there among the ghosts of the forest, watching over us with great interest. Do you want to put this away safely now? Maybe time for a fresh pot of coffee and a plan?”