The Baron did not look at his daughter as she whispered dire portents into his ear, his eyes instead following the path of the curious newcomers as they meandered through the crowd. Their trail was easy enough to follow; the other dancers seemed to give them quite the berth. It was almost as though the dark figure was the Devil Himself! Lord De'Vance pursed his lips in thought as he watched them. Animal costumes at such affairs were often tributes to the people's shared mythology. The Swan Queen, goddess of night and beauty and song. The Great Eagle, god of law and leaders. The Devil Himself, the Cuckoo, maker of mischief and punisher of the wicked. Even the young stag that had danced with Seraphina earlier had a tale of his own. But where did the Sparrow Maiden come into play? The Baron could not recall any tale or legend featuring such a woman. He made a note to address it later with Broadmere.

"Private information," he mused out loud. He was secure in the notion that above the noise of the ball, only Seraphina would hear him. "Private information such as ancient mistakes brought to light? Private information such as records and reports, census and surveys? Something like this must have been planned well in advance, and with such craft as only those most experienced to intrigue might work. It could not have been without aid, however. Which of our enemies is lining his pockets? And to what ends?" The Lord De'Vance scowled even more fiercely. "And why give himself away with copying your designs?"

He looked up to where she stood besides his chair, his heavy hand gently laid atop hers. "Broadmere told me how he came to your balcony to serenade you. I think this man has a fancy towards you, my duckling. Go to him. Ply him with your wiles and see what you might learn if anything. Where he has been in his travels, what plans he has for the land, that sort of thing. Give nothing away. Young men, and sometimes not so young men, will often fall over themselves to show their own cleverness to a pretty face. And yours is far from being merely pretty." His dark eyes narrowed. "Should he think to take any liberties with you, come you straight away to me. I was glad enough to think we were rid of this upstart after little enough unpleasantness, only now your words ring far too true for me to allow for such hope."

The Baron was about to say something more to his daughter, but he was brought up short and startled by another commotion upon the dance floor. "What upon the Earth-"

"My Lords! My Ladies!" The man in the dark Cuckoo's mask stood upon the second to last step of the grand staircase so that he might be seen, his golden wood fiddle held high as he called out to the assemblage of peers. The whole of the attendees and the servants at their beck and call focused upon him as his voice rang out impossibly through the hall. There was something of his presentation that made it impossible to ignore his call. "Cads. Ruffians. Thieves," he continued. Even beneath the mask, there was no missing the glint in his eye. "Whores." A collective gasp went up, and the fiddler allowed them a moment for shock. But only a moment. "It is now just past the midnight hour. Cuckoo's Eve has officially started. No man nor woman may be held accountable for that which they may do until midnight the next night, the start of Lark's Day. Only Murder Most Foul, Theft of Property or Coin, and Treason Most High shall be punishable. This! This is the oldest law of our lands. As the Cuckoo... As the Devil Himself... I grant you leave to your hearts' desires. Now is the time to be... who you truly would be."

The bow was set gently to the first string of the fiddle, playing a simple, single note drawn out as though to draw out every possible vibration from the effort. As he did so, the Sparrow Maiden in her copper finery twirled and gave a single, graceful step as though readying for some country dance. The Cuckoo's song began to slowly but surely rose into a merry tune that sounded like no other the nobles would have ever heard. Some of the older servants frowned as though half remembering something, however, even as the Sparrow Maiden began to dance gently to the melody. There was a simplicity in her dance that spoke of great joy, that some burden had been lifted or forgotten. This way and that, to and fro, she stretched her legs in a fashion the courtiers might well think scandalous. Yet there was nothing sexual about it, not really. At least no more than any pretty young woman dancing might inspire. It was a dance of freedom, a dance of the here and now that spoke little of duty and all of enjoyment. Feathers and fabrics whirled and fluttered in time with the eerily quaint music as the Sparrow Maiden swirled about in an ever widening circle, surrounded by startled nobles and merchants.

It was an elderly aleman, his ancient face line deeply with life and brow heavy with years, that set his tray of drinks aside and first began to clap in time to the music. Tears were streaming down his eyes. The tune recalled something from his youth, something from before the priests and their churches were as widespread as they were now, something that his weathered soul told him was important. A few others, almost all well near the end of their days, took up the beat as well. It was hesitant at first then grew in strength and confidence. The Cuckoo grinned and worked the bow across the fiddle strings until rosin gently billowed upwards in faint clouds. It was not overly fast, but it was vigorous.

The Sparrow Maiden, for her part, began to dance right up to various young men boldly. She favored them with a smile and held out her hands to them. None accepted, instead blushing and stammering beneath their masks. The reward for their cowardice was a chiming laugh, shaming them even as she spun away towards the other side of the circle to try and entice another. It was a game to her, a light hearted jape in which she realized that these young men... these bucks and lions and wolves and mythical heroes of old... were afraid of her. Afraid of [i]her[/i]! It was astounding! Unthought of! Empowering! She had to wonder if this was how the Swan Queen felt all the time, to know that all men swooned before her while being too scared to do ought but bend their knees before her. The look upon the faces of the women only heaped wood upon that fire of spirit - they were envious! The look of it was in their masks' eyeholes, in the rigidity of the shoulders, in the firmness of the jaws as they watched the lively young woman in her freedom. They knew as well as she did that, in that moment, she could have any of the men that she wished... and did not have to choose at all if she did not want to! The Sparrow Maiden was not chattel, not a thing to be bought and sold for alliances and family duty. She was free. And that made their envy all the more green.

The Devil Himself raised his head to stare straight at the Swan Queen over the heads in the crowd. An impish smile played at the corner of his lips, but his eyes were challenging. Twinkling like steel under the moonlight, their message was clear: "Dare you dance as well?"