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Show 65 kindled the heavens. The flames cast high black shadows which danced wildly on the beamed wattle-and-daub fronts of the houses facing Market Square and on the thick stone walls of Market Church. Gast moved close to me. "You are tired?" he asked. I nodded. My knees were beginning to weaken from holding me upright in once place for so long. He took my hand and pressed into it something that felt like crushed, powdery leaves. "Hold this in your mouth for a while, then swallow it. It will make you feel much livelier." I sniffed my hand. Whatever he had given me smelled musty and pungent. When I tipped back my head and dropped it on my tongue, my mouth began to sting. "What is it supposed to do?" I asked him. •Wait a moment. You'll soon tell." The inside of my mouth felt odd, so I went to the wine vat, filled a cup and drank it down. Gast had begun to play again and the crowd grew noisier than ever. I don't know how much time passed, but I remember that I stood for a long while staring at the dancing flames of the bonfire. From time to time someone would throw on it a tree trunk with the branches still attached, and then golden sparks leaped high above the square, higher than the roofs of the houses. As I watched, the flames slowly began to take on strange shapes, sometimes licking up like thin, rapid snake tongues, the next moment becoming fat and cumbersome like flabby yellow arms waving in the air. When I turned to tell Gast how peculiarly the flames were behaving, my breath caught with pleasure. The orange light of the bonfire reflected |