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While her friend went inside, Je
The children were gathered in a loose circle about the slim figure of a girl. Most of them were laughing, but the girl in the center was not. She gestured suddenly, and a boy came forward from the ring with a strip of cloth and, with a gravity that matched her own, began to bind it over her eyes. That done, he rejoined the ring. At his nod the children linked hands and began to revolve, in a silence eerie after the laughter, around the motionless figure blindfolded in the center. They moved gravely and with dignity. A few other people had stopped to watch.
Then, without warning, the blindfolded girl raised an arm and pointed it towards the moving ring. Her high clear voice rang out over the green:
When the wandering fire
Strikes the heart of stone
Will you follow?
And on the last word the circling stopped.
The girl’s finger was leveled directly at a stocky boy, who, without any hesitation, released the hands on either side of him and walked into the ring. The circle closed itself and began moving again, still in silence.
“I never tire of watching this,” a cool voice said from just behind Je
She turned quickly. To confront a pair of icy green eyes and the long red hair of the High Priestess, Jaelle. Behind the Priestess she could see a group of her grey-clad attendants, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Diarmuid’s man edging nervously closer to them.
Je
“The ta’kiena is as old as any ritual we have,” she murmured in Je
And indeed, although the faces of the children seemed almost u
When the wandering fire
Strikes the heart of stone
Will you follow?
Will you leave your home?
And again the circling stopped on the last word. This time the extended finger pointed to another of the boys, older and lankier than the first. With only a brief, almost ironic pause, he, too, released the hands he was holding and walked forward to stand by the other chosen one. A murmur rose from the watchers, but the children, seemingly oblivious, were circling again.
Unsettled, Je
Jaelle smiled thinly. “It is a dance of prophecy. Their fate lies in when they are called.”
“But what—”
“Watch!”
The blindfolded girl, standing straight and tall, was chanting again:
When the wandering fire
Strikes the heart of stone
Will you follow?
Will you leave your home?
Will you leave your life?
This time, when the voice and the dancing stopped together, a deep sound of protest ran through the watching crowd. For the one chosen now was one of the youngest girls. With a toss of her honey-colored hair and a cheerful smile, she stepped into the ring beside the two boys. The taller one placed an arm around her shoulders.
Je
Beside her the Priestess was silent. There was no gentleness in the lines of her face, nor compassion in her eyes as she watched the children begin to move again. “You ask what it means,” she said at length. “Not much in these soft times, when the ta’kiena is only another game. That last one they now say means only that she will leave the life her family has led.” Her expression was unreadable, but an irony in the tone reached Je
“What was it before?” she asked.
This time Jaelle did turn to look at her. “The dance has been done by children for longer than anyone can remember. In harsher days that call meant death, of course. Which would be a pity. She’s an attractive child, isn’t she?”
There was a malicious amusement in the voice. “Watch closely,” Jaelle continued. “This last one they truly fear, even now.” And indeed, the people around and behind them had grown suddenly quiet with strained anticipation. In the stillness Je
In the circle on the green, the blindfolded girl raised her arm and began the chant for the final time:
When the wandering fire
Strikes the heart of stone
Will you follow?
Will you leave your home?
Will you leave your life?
Will you take… the Longest Road?
The dancing stopped.
Her heart pounding inexplicably, Je
Jaelle, watching him go, wore a troubled expression for the first time. Glancing at her unguarded features, Je
Jaelle followed Je
Feeling utterly helpless, Je
Je
The Priestess, too, was a little subdued. “It is difficult,” she said, “and not a thing I understand yet, but they have done the dance twice before this summer, I am told, and both times Fi
Je
On the verge of accepting, Je
She turned. Diarmuid’s man had moved up to them, sharp concern creasing his face. “My lady,” he said, acutely embarrassed, “forgive me, but might I speak with you in private for a moment.”
“You fear me, Drance?” Jaelle’s voice was like a knife again. She laughed. “Or should I say your master does? Your absent master.”
The stocky soldier flushed, but held his ground. “I have been ordered to watch over her,” he said tersely.