"Goodness, why can't he just wait," Suzé said, 'floating' down the path as Jo turned back and saw the beginning of the alternative route near a lamppost. Then looked at his shoes and angled knees descending a surface a ball would have trouble stopping on once it was underway.

Everything else seemed to be veiled by a delicate mist, including the lights on what had to be the far side of the glistening lake. Although he couldn't remember there being that many lights in the actual water. More like half a dozen snail-procession constellations...

"Careful," Suzé's voice erupted, complete with a hand that pulled him back. Back from the mist - no - edge of the lake; water, lights and all.

"When... did I get here?" he began, staring at the water.

"Not...sure..." Suzé replied. "Can't - remember - leaving the path..."

"The singing's much closer now," he said. "And Jay looks like he's stopped."

Or he hadn't gone any further round the curve than his present position on the lakeside. The mist was starting to recede. But the lights were stronger, and not all coming from a lamppost. Some were from gentle lanterns nestled on head-height pillars; at intervals that formed a grand ring. Within which came the heart-plucking voices.

Three groups of three. Formed in a semi-circle; facing a figure on the edge of a wide platform. On the further side, another trio gently plucked or adjusted twinkling instruments. On the side nearest Jay, but with the backs to him, another trio was at work. But not in the creation of music. Rather, two were carrying one of the nets from along the shore. A net filled with at least half a dozen star-speckled trout; that was tipped onto a wide table where a figure with blades got to work.

"Not what I was expecting..." said Suzé.

"I don't understand," said Jo as the blade-wielder separated what was needed from what could be discarded. "Why can't I smell the fish?"

"Because there's more citrine in the air than a cartload of oranges and lemons," said Suzé. "Their moving and cutting to the music."

"It's beautiful," Jay moaned.

"Not for the fish it isn't," said Jo, as more leapt into the nets whilst the trios continued to sing.

"Sirens."

"Eh?"

"Hypnotic songs. Heart-plucking voice. Everything else fades except the desire to find the owner with the ascendant voice."

"I still don't get it," said Jay, walking over.

"Voices like honey; songs that banish all sense and memory," said Suzé, not taking her eyes from the scene. "Luring listeners to their doom."

A complete contrast from the nine singers in shirts, trousers and jackets, Even the conductor with a bandana like one of Jay's.

"Oh, come on, Mitts, you can't do that," a voice from one of the trout-catchers erupted.

"Processors' Privileges," the woman with the blades said with a half-full mouth. "Can't do this and not be able to sample the goods."

"You know it doesn't agree with you," a second figure said between gathering a fish that had cleared the net and landed on the path. "Especially with the mint."

"A bit late for that," the Processor chuckled.

"Oh no, you didn't, Mitts," the first figure moaned, dropping the contents of the net. "You won't be in a fit state to drive home."

"I think you volunteered yesterday, Jenn," the second figure said.

"What are you talking about," said Mitts, getting taller in the lamplight. "It makes my purr-swing better," as one of her 'blades' descended upon whatever was flapping on the table with an extended purr.

"We need to go," said Jo, an icicle trickling down his neck.

"On the same wavelength," said Suzé, shaking her head.

"But the music," said Jay, "the singing. It's beautiful."

"Not if you're a trout it isn't," said Jo.

"There are three boxes of lake life who thought that choir was the best thing they've heard since the last coot orchestra," Suzé said, standing in front of Jay. "Snap out of it."

"Snap out of what chaps?"

Icicle became a transfixing frost as Jo looked past Suzé and Jay to the dozen or so faces that were looking at him. Looking, and without song or music.

"Our apologies," Suzé began as she turned to face them. "We were drawn by the beautiful signing."

"See," whispered Jay, "you said it too."

"Rather, it should be us," a second voice replied, belonging to the catcher who wasn't Jenn or processor privileges Mitts, "For not taking note of a lady amongst the audience."

"Pass me a bag, Jenn," said Mitts, putting a hand to her mouth, "Deuce's charms are too much."

"A bit late for an evening walk," the Choir Master said; the same voice that had said chaps.

"No telling who you might meet when the sun goes down," one of the deeper trio in the suits added; with a smile that caught the lamplight even at that distance.

"Wouldn't have met them at all if the advice was heeded," a chimed-voiced woman from the trio closest to Jay and Suzé replied. "I told you it wasn't a good idea to come here the same night as the Palm Party, Kitts."

"Oh, don't start that again, Tilde," a lower, but richer-voiced woman from the middle trio, - could have been an alto - sighed. "It's a once-in-a-season haul this."

"I'm with Lianestra on this one," a second member of the deepest trio, with a metallic T on the blazer pocket, said. "I'm sick of sardines in olives and lemons."

"Hear, hear," a second chime-voiced lady with a musical 'S' on her jacket added. "Lake Carp paws down."

"They're trout, Mells," whispered the third member of the S trio.

"What have we walked into..." Jo moaned as he joined Suzé and Jay.

"Something you need to walk out of," said Kitt, now on the edge of the platform, a musical M.C. across his blazer breast. "Palm party's that way."

"Thank you, Mr... Kitt..." Suzé bowed as Jo could only stare. "On that queue, we'll–"

Laughter erupted from the choir and catchers, making Jo almost shie into the twinkling lake. 

"That's a cracker," one of the T's said.

"Haven't heard that in a while," one of the A's said.

"Mr Ki-" Deuce giggled until he saw who was standing next to him; then was flying away for only an instant before he was enveloped in splash and water.

"What did you do that for Kitt," the other 'A' said as Jenn and one of the T's plunged into the lake after the ripple wave centre of Deuce. "Our haul's swimming away."

"Like they weren't already, Helenica," Kitt replied, retracting his front kick as Jo put a hand to his mouth. "Besides, I believe our trespassers are going to reimburse our losses. Aren't you?"

. . .

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