The message flashed around the craftworld at the speed of thought. All normal functions were suspended, and every Eldar on Saim-Hann came to the talaclu hall. Even the Ancestors in the Infinity Matrix watched through the craftworld's internal sensors. At least once in their lives. every Eldar should witness The Dance - the greatest of the Harlequins' works, retelling the story of the fall of the Old Race - and keep the lessons of the Fall alive in the spirits of the survivors. But The Dance is rarely performed, since the key part cannot be danced by any member of a masque. Only the mystic Solitaires - those touched by the Laughing god himself, who pass unrecognised as whim or design moves them - only these may dance the part of Slaanesh.

The nine troupers bounded into the centre of the stage. their dathedi suits projecting a weaving pattem of colours as they danced the part of the Old Race. The Shadowseers took up positions around the outside: emotions were monitored, amplified and returned by their equipment as the Eldar lived the fall of their ancestors: felt their joys. their prides, their petty rivalries and their driving passions. Three Great Harlequins danced the parts of the Fallen gods, leaping. cartwheeling and somersaulting around and among the dancers of the Old Race.

The dancers of the Old Race became wilder, their passions stronger and their joys more extreme, more menacing. They came together like a whirlpool, and broke upon something unseen - hurled back as the Solitaire leaped into view, somersaulting from his unseen entrance to the centre of the dancers.

An involuntary shock ran through the audience at the sight of the allegorical figure of the Chaos god Slaanesh His suit projected a constantly-writhing mass of figure, in attitudes of decadent pleasure.

From behind Slaanesh. seven figures appeared one by one to mingle with the Old Race. First came the foul Mime, passing their sensual and disturbing movements to the other dancers as the Daemons they represented had spread the corruption of Slaanesh. One by one the dancers of the Old Race began to project the pattern of writhing figures on their suits. Next came three dark figures: the Death Jesters suits displayed skeletons as they leaped and slew, dragging the inert forms of the Fallen gods to the feet of Slaanesh. As the last fell. a psychic scream from the Shadowseers echoed through the minds of the audience. It shifted and writhed like the patterns on the cancers' suits, gradually coalescing into a chilling gibbering laugh of madness. corruption and depravity. But in the laugh there was another voice. A clearer laugh, an ironic laugh. A laugh which laughs because it chooses not to weep. Then. at one side of the stage, the Great Harlequin entered. His suit projected the ever-shifting multicoloured lozenges of the Laughing god as he strolled casually onstage, still laughing at the cosmic folly of the Fallen. He looked at the triumphant form of Slaanesh atop the mound of writhing dancers, and he laughed. He looked at the Mime-Daemons and the Death Jesters as they bore down upon him. And he laughed.

For a moment. he could not be seen among the press of Slaanesh's minions. but with a cry he flew above their heads tumbling in flight to land facing them. As they turned he leaped again: two figures dropped as he touched them. and five more clawed the empty air as he somersaulted across the stage His laugh now was one of glee as he leaped and tumbled. evading the hunters and turning now and then to strike back. He picked up the body of a Death Jester and hurled it at the figure of Slaanesh, who reeled slightly at the impact. With a wild cry the Great Harlequin leaped forward, pulled a single dancer from the feet of Slaanesh, and withdrew. At his touch. the writhing figures on the dancer s suit dissolved into the lozenge pattern. and the dancer also began to laugh as he danced the dance of the Harlequin. The two of them put the remaining Daemons to flight. and as last fell.

Slaanesh joined the battle The confrontation between Slaanesh and the Great Harlequin seemed to go on for ever. Other dancers melted from the stage as the two figures leaped, cartwheeled and somersaulted around each other. Slowly. in the background, the Mime-Daemons and the Harlequin troupers took up the dance resecting the movements of the two principals in perfect unison. The Dance ended abruptly. with the struggle unresolved. It was indeed the Dance Without End. The hall was quiet. The dancers left the stage The audience sat stunned.