Briseis’ step faltered. A shadow swept across her face and she stopped.

“Briseis? What is it?”

“Mother?” asked Charis.

The queen came to herself again and the moment passed. “Oh, it was just-it is nothing.” Briseis stepped close and kissed the other woman on the cheek. “Elaine, how are you? Any change?”

“Not to speak of. The baby is due any day, they say-they have been saying it for months, it seems. I have my doubts.”

“Let us walk,” offered Charis. “I want to show you the garden.”

“Yes, I desperately need some fresh air.”

Charis led them out and down the stone staircase to the garden Below. She struck off along the first path she came to and the women followed behind. For a while Charis darted back and forth, urging them to hurry. But gradually she got further and further ahead and when she looked back to see them stop to sit down on a stone bench beside the path, she despaired. “We will never get to see any of the garden this way,” she thought.

She started toward them, dragging her heels. Her mother saw her and waved her on. “You go ahead, Charis!” she called. “We will come along soon.”

Glad for the freedom, she dashed away and soon lost herself in the winding pathways of the High King’s lush and elaborate garden. She flitted along a neatly-trimmed hedge, over a quaint wooden bridge, and into a lemon grove. The trees were still in flower and the scent of the blossoms slowed her; she walked along, humming to herself, wandering in the sweet, heady fragrance.

Further into the grove she came to a shaded pool fed from a stone fountain in its center: a great green, marble fish with a gaping mouth. Sparkling water spouted from the fish’s mouth to fill the quiet pool. Charis knelt and held her hands in the flowing water and then patted her forehead and neck. The cool water felt good on her skin.

She lay back on the grassy slope and watched the clouds floating across the sky, then closed her eyes. The sound of singing drifted in her ears-a clear liquid melody, like drops of water falling in the pool. She listened for a moment; the words were strange and curiously uttered, as if the singer were speaking an unknown tongue.

Charis rose and made her way toward the sound, walking around the rim of the pool, ducking under the drooping branches of a katsura tree growing at the water’s edge. She came to a wall of cinnamon ferns, pushed her way through the pungent green fronds, and stepped cautiously into a sunlit glade.

There, on a tall three-legged stool, sat a woman with hair of flaming gold, wearing a shimmering tunic of deep emerald green. She held a silver embroidery hoop in her hand, but there was no cloth on it, and no needles or thread nearby that Charis could see. As soon as Charis stepped from the shadows, the song ended. The woman turned her head and regarded Charis openly, her lips curved in a welcoming smile.

“I wondered who was listening to me,” the woman said. “Come closer, girl.”

Charis took a slow, cautious step.

The woman laughed lightly; it was the sound of dew falling on the leaves. “I Believe you fear me.”

Charis moved more quickly and carne to stand beside the woman. “How did you know I was listening?” she asked.

“What a pretty girl you are, Charis.”

“Do you know me?”

“If I did not know you, how should I know your name?”

“Who are you?” Charis asked, and then blanched at the impertinence of the question.

“Why be afraid?” the woman asked. “I consider a forthright question a kindness. So much can be hidden behind false courtesy.”

Charis just stared. There was something very familiar about the woman, and yet…

“Oh, you do not recognize me, do you?” said the woman. “Perhaps if I were to wear my silk and circlet you would remember.”

The woman made a sweeping motion with her hands and her image shifted in the air and rippled, as if it were a reflection in the water. And Charis saw before her the figure of the High Queen, dressed in bright red silk, with a long cloak and a narrow band of gold on her brow, her braided hair bound in golden rings.

Charis bowed and raised her hands in the sun sign.

The queen laughed. “So you do recognize me after all. I am glad. How tedious it would be if we were to go on speaking and neither one of us knowing who she addressed.”

When Charis looked again the image faded and the High Queen assumed her proper appearance. Charis blinked her eyes in amazement; her jaw dropped.

“Why surprised, Charis? It is a simple enough illusion.”

“My queen,” replied Charis a little breathlessly. “I have never seen such a thing.”

“Oh, there are many such things one could do-and many greater things as well-if one knew how. But you may call me Danea, for I think we are going to be friends.” The High Queen held up the silver hoop. “Do you know what this is, Charis?”

“An embroidery hoop?”

“Very like, but no. It is an enchanter’s ring. I will hold it up so” She displayed it between her palms. “And you tell me what you see.”

The girl looked and at first saw nothing but the queen’s shoulder and the glade beyond. She opened her mouth to speak, but Danea said, “Wait! Concentrate. Look deeply.”

Charis’ brows knitted in concentration. She stared into the hoop and the objects within grew hazy. There was a swirling motion, like the circular swipe of a whirlpool. Charis felt dizzy, as if she would swoon. But she forced herself to look, and when the motion ceased she saw a palace on a hill surrounded by apple groves. “Why, it is my home!” she replied in surprise. “Our palace in Kellios.”

“What else do you see?”

Charis peered into the enchanted ring as if into a mirror and saw a slim young girl running across a wide courtyard, followed by a barking brown dog. The girl stopped and threw a stick high in the air and the dog danced on its hind legs to catch it. “That is Velpa, the master cook’s daughter.”

“And now?”

The image within the hoop swirled again and resolved itself. This time it was a picture of the garden itself. Two women walked side by side, deep in conversation.

“There is Mother and Elaine,” said Charis, and her mother glanced up. “Can they hear me?”

“No, but she sensed your presence when you spoke.” The High Queen lowered the hoop and placed it in her lap. “That was very good, Charis. Not everyone does so well; some see nothing at all. You may have a gift for enchantment.”

“Was Velpa really there?”

“You saw her as she is now, yes.”

“Does it always show what you want it to show? Or is it like the Lia Fail?”

“Do you know how to use the Lia Fail?”

Charis nodded. “Annubi is teaching me.”

“But you have used it yourself on occasion without telling anyone. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” admitted Charis reluctantly. “But I meant no harm.”

“Of course not. You are curious, and that is a wonderful attribute for someone who wishes to become an enchantress.”

“Are you an enchantress?”

The High Queen inclined her head regally. “So some would say.”

“Could you teach me? I would give anything to leam.”

Danea smiled and leaned forward. “Would you? It is far more difficult than you imagine; it would take many years to learn what I know, and that is just a beginning. You would have to leave your home and family and work very hard. Such learning comes at a very high price and there are not many willing to pay it.”

Charis fell silent.

“Do not despair, child. Your love for your family is commendable. There are other things besides enchantment,” Da-nea consoled, and Charis realized that the High Queen seemed to read her thoughts almost before they appeared in her mind. “But life is never as certain as it appears, Charis. One does not require enchantment to see that impossible things happen all the time.”

From the far side of the pool came a call: “Charis, where are you? Charis…”