“Is that how you plan to be rid of me?”

The Belrene rose and came to her. “Charis…”He said her name gently. “I have watched you since you came to the temple. Your dance is a rare gift, one that will be treasured forever. But you are no longer that wide-eyed girl, you are a woman now. Certainly you must have other dreams, other desires.”

“Back home, you said. I have no home, Belrene.”

“No home? Your father, as we all know, is King Avallach of Sarras. He must be proud of you, proud of your skill.”

“My father the king has never seen me dance.”

The Belrene nodded silently, then said, “The war, no doubt, prevents him from”

“His stupid war! All anyone talks about is that ridiculous war.” She turned abruptly away. “It is not the war.”

“You are famous throughout the Nine Kingdoms. You would be welcome anywhere-you could choose your home.”

“I already have, Belrene,” she said, smiling sadly. “The temple is my home. The ring is my home.”

“It will be your tomb as well.”

“Is that so bad? I pledged my life to the god many years ago.”

“Your life, yes. Not your death.”

“Life? Death? What does it matter? I am a sacrifice either way.”

The Belrene sighed and turned away. “That is all, Charis. You may go.”

She turned and moved to the door, pulled it open, hesitated, and then turned back. “Thank you, Belrene… I am sorry”

He held up his hands. “You owe me no apologies. Only promise me you will think about what I said.”

Charis ducked her head and hurried from the room, closing the door quickly behind her. Then she started down the corridor, slowly at first but with increasing speed until she was running, careening into a group of startled Mages who clutched at her to slow her as she passed. She fought free of them and rushed on blindly.

Charis came to herself in familiar surroundings: the mirror-clean pool with its lazy fountain. Cool afternoon shadows stretched across the smooth-shaven lawn; the honeyed light hung heavy in the air, and Charis remembered the first time she had come to this garden and had seen it just like this.

She walked slowly along, remembering that distant day when she had come to the garden with her mother. Gradually she became aware of another presence in the garden with her, turned, and saw the High Queen watching her. Oddly Charis did not register shock or surprise, for some part of her had expected this meeting to take place. She approached where the queen sat on her tall, three-legged stool, gazing silently at her, an unhappy expression on her face.

“Well, Charis, it has been a long time,” said Queen Da-nea, her lips curving into a bitter smile. “I knew we would meet again, but I thought it might be sooner.”

“Did you bring me here?” wondered Charis, for it occurred to her that perhaps she had not wandered as idly as she had at first thought.

“Your own steps brought you.” The queen raised her eyes to the clean, sun-blushed sky. “This is my favorite time of day – false twilight.”

“What do you want with me?” Charis asked bluntly.

“Why so suspicious, daughter?” The queen’s eyes flicked back to her. “Is that what you have learned in the ring?”

“So it would seem.”

“Then we must enlarge your education.” The High Queen regarded the sky once more. “I remember…” she said at length, “remember a girl with such curiosity, such intensity of life that it burned in her like a flame. I did not think anything could extinguish it.” The queen raised an eyebrow and glanced at Charis once again. “Was that you?”

Charis was moved by these words. Her hands rose to her throat. “I may have been… once,” she replied, finding it difficult to speak.

“Yes… once.” The queen was silent for a long moment. The sound of the fountain spilling itself into the pool filled the garden. Somewhere a bird poured out a song to the closing day. “I came to find a friend,” she said finally. “I find none here.”

Charis only nodded, hands at her sides.

“Leave it, Charis,” the queen told her.

“I am afraid. It has been so long… and so much has happened. Maybe too much.”

The queen stepped from her stool and gestured toward the path. “Walk with me a little.”

They strolled along the shadowed path and Charis felt the tight knot of her thoughts and emotions slacken as she wished, as she had never wished before, that someone would tell her what to do. “I am so confused,” she sighed.

“You are bound to a past you never wanted and a future that cannot be. Therein lies your confusion.”

“Do you know what I have done?”

“I know you have tried your best to destroy yourself, daughter. You chose the bull pit-you chose death. But the spirit within you would not allow it. Instead you have become the greatest dancer in the history of our race. That should tell you something.”

“I cannot leave them,” Charis said. “They are all I have. I am their leader, their life. If I go, they will all be killed.”

The queen stopped and turned toward Charis. “Set them free, Charis. Free yourself.”

“What will I do?”

“Why, daughter, you will do what you were born to do.” The High Queen smiled, and it suddenly seemed to Charis as if the past had never happened: she was still that young girl, burning to know the secrets of the ages.

“Come to me when you are ready,” the queen said. She turned abruptly and moved off. “It is time you made a decision, Charis…”

The queen disappeared among the deepening shadows and was gone. Charis stood for a while looking after her before realizing she was staring at nothing. An evening breeze sighed through the garden and Charis shivered with the chill. She turned and hurried away.

Taliesin stood in the center of the bower, hand clasped tightly behind his back, eyes closed, intoning his lesson with a scholar’s practiced gravity while a brown wood wren chittered on a branch above him. Hafgan sat on a stump, a rowan staff across his lap listening absently to his pupil’s recital as he scanned the blue patch of sky visible through the trees overhead.

“… of the fishes with shells,” said Taliesin, “there are three kinds: those with feet and legs to move, and those with neither feet nor legs that do not move but lie passive in the sand, and those that affix themselves to rocks and… and” His eyes peeped open. “And I forget what comes next.”

Hafgan drew his eyes from the sky and spared a stern scowl for the boy. “You forget what comes next because your mind is not on your recitation. You are somewhere else entirely, Taliesin, and not with the fish in the sea.”

Taliesin looked solemn for a moment but no longer. The joy of the day had welled up within him so that he could contain it no longer, and he burst into a grin. “Oh, Hafgan,” he said, running to the druid, “my father is coming home today! He has been away all summer. I cannot think about stupid fish.”

“I would give my serpent’s egg for an ovate but half as smart as any stupid fish.”

“You know what I mean.”

“How do I know if you do not say it, lad?” Hafgan reached out and tousled the boy’s golden hair. “But the opportune moment is passed; we prattle here to no purpose. Let us go back and you can wait for your father with the other boys.”

Taliesin clapped his hands. “But,” Hafgan cautioned, “on the way back you shall tell me about the uses of saxifrage root.”

“Saxifrage? Never heard of it.”

“Just for that you can tell me in rhyme,” replied Hafgan.

“Catch me first!” Taliesin called over his shoulder as he raced away.

“You think me too slow?” Hafgan leaped after the boy, caught him up, and lifted him high.

“Stop!” cried Taliesin, squirming helplessly. “I yield! I yield!”

But even before the words were out of his mouth, Hafgan had dropped him back onto his feet. “Shh!”