Everyone agreed, and we scattered, Jim's grousing following me as I headed off to the deepest part of the park. There were a couple of trails that wound through the acreage of the park, taking the visitor through a number of environments, the surroundings changing from deciduous trees to marshland to alpine forest. It was gorgeous, and I only wished I had more time to appreciate the flora and abundant fauna. As it was, I was about to head back to the entrance when I spied a little glimmer of water through the dense oak trees. I left the trail and carefully picked my way through the undergrowth to a little pond.

A small long-necked, white-spotted deer about Jim's height lifted its head from the pond, gazing at me with big, liquid eyes that showed no fear. I've always liked deer, but this one was so elegant, so beautiful in its purity, it took my breath away.

"Oh," I said softly, freezing so as not to startle the deer. It blinked impossibly long eyelashes while it considered me for a moment or two, then turned and slowly made its way around the perimeter of the pond.

A man's voice spoke Hungarian behind me as soon as the deer disappeared into the growth. I spun around, a strangled little scream emerging from my throat. "Lord above, you scared me!"

The man was clad in what I thought of as ranger clothing—khaki pants and shirt, a kerchief knotted around his neck—and his hands rested easily on his hips. Surprise lit his dark eyes for a moment, then changed to amusement as he grinned. "You are American? You are tourist?"

"Yes to both," I said, looking back toward where the deer had disappeared. "Did you see that little deer?"

"Ddmborju."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It is a ddmborju. A female. Her name is Draga."

"Dragon?" I asked, for one moment wondering if the dragon population in Budapest was unusually high. But a closer look at this man's eyes ruled out that idea—his pupils were normal circles, not the elongated ovals that marked dragons' eyes.

"Draga. It means"—his hands swept out wide while he searched for the word—"darling."

"Very appropriate," I said, glancing around the pond. There wasn't much else to be seen but shrubs, trees, and a couple of yellow ducklings floating with their mother at the far end of the pond. "I hate to sound nosy, but do you come here often? To this park, that is, not just this pond?"

He nodded. "Very often."

"Oh, good. You just might be able to help me, if you don't mind. I'm looking for a man who might hang out a lot around the park, and I wonder if you've seen him."

"Hang out?" The man half turned, gesturing for me to go before him, back toward the hiking path.

"Camp, maybe. Or live in an abandoned ranger's hut or something. His name is Gyorgy Berto, and he's probably pretty shy around people, so I wouldn't be surprised if he stays away from contact with the public—"

The man started laughing even before I finished the sentence. I pushed past a laurel bush and glanced back at him. He smiled. "I am Gyorgy."

I stopped. "You are? You're a hermit?" He didn't look like a hermit. His hair was short, he didn't have a long, scraggly beard or dirty, unkempt fingernails, and his clothing, while unexceptional, was reasonably clean considering he lived in a wildlife park. Not only that, he hadn't shied away when he came upon me.

"Hermit—that is an interesting name. I prefer erdolako, a woodlander."

"Woodsman?" I asked, relieved. Given Gy Orgy's paranoia regarding mail, I had assumed he was one of those people who had retreated entirely from society, a modem-day Howard Hughes, but without the money. Gyorgy looked perfectly normal. He was obviously just a man who favored spending time in the peace of the woods. "Well, I'm very happy to have found you. I've been looking for a couple of days, and the people who hold your mail had no idea when you would be coming by to pick it up."

He brushed that away with a flick of his hands, the sunlight filtering through the trees and dappling his chest and arms. "The summer, it is so crowded in the city, you know? Tourists everywhere with their constant talking, constant moving around. They do not sit and appreciate the beauty of their surroundings. It is too noisy, too busy there now. I will go into the city when the leaves start to change to red and gold. Not before."

"I know what you mean about noisy and busy, but I've always felt thai to be part of the charm of a big city, although I admit I really like staying on Margaret Island. It's so peaceful, a wonderful oasis of beauty smack-dab in the middle of the city." I pulled the chain bearing the hermit's amulet from beneath my blouse, happiness filling me at the thought of being rid of the annoying thing. "I'm from Damian Carson Antiquities. I have the amulet you bought. I'm sorry I've been wearing it, but people kept trying to steal—"

"Aisling? AISLING? Ais—oh, there you. You must come quickly. Your demon, it is having a fit of the most large sort!" Tiffany ran toward me, her lovely face shadowed with concern. She paused to give Gyorgy a smile (shy) and bat her eyelashes (not so shy) before turning back to me. "You must hurry! The demon, it is on the ground, writhing about, with much froth coming from its mouth. I think maybe it is dying."

"Oh, god," I swore, taking off at a run. I glanced back, yelling over my shoulder to Gyorgy, "I'll be back as soon as I can. Sorry about this!"

I don't know if he heard me. He was too busy staring at Tiffany, a stunned expression on his face, his hands hanging limp at his sides as he looked at her, just looked at her without saying a word, without even noticing that I had run off. Tiffany, for her part, gave him an extremely coy glance before turning to race lightly after me.

That he noticed.

"Where is Jim?" I asked Tiffany as she caught up to me. We reached a spot in the path where it split, one direction leading to the other side of the park, the other beading toward the main entrance.

"By the feeding area. I searched the beech forest and was returning to find you, when I heard much barking of a large dog. It is beautiful here, is it not? There are many wildflowers. They make me smile. I was wishing more people would come to share the smiles and the wildflowers when X heard the barking. Although I would have preferred to continue thinking about the flowers, I thought perhaps it was Jim who was making the noise, and that he might have found the hermit. But it was not the hermit he found."