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Marianna found herself outside, staring at a fabulous landscape. The Piper had paused. They were standing on a steep track that clung to the side of a hill.
    Marianna gazed at the extraordinary world that lay before her. A majestic moon hung low in the sky, illuminating a lush, fertile land completely enclosed by mountains. Much of it was wooded, but there were settlements here and there, with lights shining like stars. It looked homey and peaceful. Nothing was stirring except for owls, which flew over the treetops on ghostly wings, hunting for prey.
    â€œWhere are we?”
    Marianna felt a warm hand sliding into her own. It was Greta again. “Are we on the other side of Hamelin Hill?”
    â€œYes,” said Marianna, “I believe we are. But I don’t think this is our world.”
    â€œNo,” said Greta. “This is Paradise.”
    Marianna smiled, then glanced at the Piper. He was staring at the full moon. And she couldn’t be sure, but there seemed to be a new expression on his face. One she hadn’t seen before. He looked anxious.
    â€œCome,” said the Piper, and Marianna heard a strange new urgency in his voice. “Come!”
    He started down the path, not bothering to play his pipe, trusting that the children would follow. Wherever he was going, he was in a hurry. There was no time for dancing now.
    He led the children down the steep path, faster and faster, not pausing for breath. When they reached the bottom, they followed a goat track until it joined a lane. Here the Piper stepped up the pace until they were storming along. Then he suddenly veered left, onto a path that cut across the fields, and Marianna saw what he was heading for.
    There was a standing stone, set high on a mound of earth beside a rushing river. The stone was shining in the moonlight and, as they drew closer, Marianna could see it was carved with peculiar symbols. The Piper began to climb the mound, but it was steeper than it looked. He started to struggle.
    Marianna was behind him. She saw him seize his leg about the thigh, as if it were troubling him. Then he cursed and turned, and she saw his face was a mask of pain. But he battled on and eventually reached the top.
    Marianna followed and found the Piper more agitated than ever. He was pacing up and down. Glancing at the moon. Urging the children to be quicker. And all the while his dark eyes shimmered like fish scales.
    Then there was a flash of fire-gold feathers, and a hawk cut through the shadows and landed on the Piper’s shoulder. Did it whisper something in his ear? Marianna couldn’t be sure, and it seemed such a silly notion. But she definitely heard the Piper speak.
    â€œAlmost there,” he muttered. The hawk seemed to nod.
    Finally the last child was up. There was a chorus of coughing and gasping as they tried to catch their breath. The Piper raised his hand for silence, then his musical voice rang out through the night.
    â€œChildren of Hamelin,” he said. “This is a very special moment. Everything is special. The time . . . the place . . . the stone.” He elegantly waved his arm; its shadow passed across the stone like a snake. “But the most special thing here is not hard and cold like this stone.” He slapped his hand against the rock. “The most special thing here is a living, breathing creature. At the moment, it doesn’t know how special it is. But I do. And it is very, very special, believe me.”
    The Piper smiled knowingly and went on. “Did you ever wonder why the rats came to your town? I can tell you why. It had nothing to do with the weather or the size of the harvest or plain bad luck. No! Their coming was a sign. They came because they had to. They came because somebody in the town is special . Somebody has the most extraordinary magic power—but they don’t know it. The power within them has been hidden, unbidden, waiting in the dark like a sleeping dragon. But now it