around
tables standing in a grassy field. Oliver had been there before. The
ocean was just out of sight through trees and down a steep bank. Paths
wound along a narrow wooded peninsula with views of islands, tiny
coves, wetlands, and pine groves. Picnic tables and grills waited in
small clearings. It was a popular place in winter for cross-country
skiing.

The second bus arrived. People milled about reading each other's name
tags. Oliver helped carry folding chairs from the back of the bus. A
van drove up. Its horn tooted twice, and a short round man popped out.
He was holding a stick adorned with feathers and bells. He stamped it
on the ground and shook it. When he had everyone's attention, he said,
"Bogdolf's the name; merriment's the game!"

"Good grief," Oliver said.

"Shhh, he's the Lore Keeper," Jennifer explained. She stepped closer
and whispered, "He's expensive, but he brings in extra contributions;
he's worth it."

"Good morning, fair folks," Bogdolf said, twinkling. "Good morning,
Jennifer. Have we time for a story?"

"Yes," Jennifer said. "Raul will be here at eleven for the drumming.
For those of you who don't know," she raised her voice and addressed
the group, "this is Bogdolf, Lore Keeper. I've asked him to speak to us
this morning." She sat in one of the chairs. Oliver sat next to her.
The others made themselves comfortable, and Bogdolf took a position in
front of them.

"Drumming For Gaia," Bogdolf said. "Fine. Very fine. I don't often have
an orchestra. Oh, we're going to have fun this morning. Ba, ba, boom!"
He made a pirouette and stamped his stick playfully. His eye fell on
Oliver, and he pointed at him with the stick. "Let me hear it, son." He
made striking motions with his stick. "Ba, ba _boom!_ Ba, ba, _boom! _
Let me hear it now." He had twirled his way directly in front of
Oliver. His eyes were sharp and blue beneath shaggy gray eyebrows. He
smiled happily, letting the group feel his joy. Oliver felt Jennifer's
foot on his; he stopped staring and struck his drum three times.

"Yes," Bogdolf said, spreading his arms approvingly. "The power!" He
looked upward and staggered back several steps. He looked again at
Oliver and made a commanding motion with the stick. Oliver struck the
drum three times. "_Gaia, _" Bogdolf said. Oliver felt a pat on his arm.

"A long time ago," Bogdolf began, "in the time of the Water People . .
." He paced back and forth as he told the story. His voice rose