Thousand: Seven Hundred Three

shadowed hall, the girl gives the rest of the line a half-smile and a shrug, then follows. “Dum de dum, dum de dum, dummity dummity, dummity dummity, dum de dum, dum de dum,” the girl chants. She hangs back to let the guardian lead, tempted though she is to sweep right on past and see for herself what the big deal is. At the end of the hall a blue-tiled fountain drops water from a bowl mounted on the wall into a larger bowl below. The pittering, plunking, plashing begins to sound like voices, the closer they get to it.