From a High Tower by Mercedes Lackey Page A

when in fact they themselves might have done
nothing
to earn their prosperity, and had merely inherited it. Her sylphs were only too happy to flit about her, whispering tales of village life like the little gossips they were—and oh how chagrined those proud creatures would have been if they had known that the huntress riding through their town knew some of their embarrassing secrets!
    This was altogether a new development, at least as far as Giselle was concerned. Then again, the nearest village to the abbey was miles away, and probably the sylphs that hung about the abbey had little to no interest in its inhabitants. The sylphs that were turning up on her journey were all local, and sylphs went where the air went. They saw and heard everything.
    They probably would have told her a lot more, if she encouraged them. As it was, it was like reading a gossipy book every time she passed through a town or village.
    Today, she was about to pass through her first
large
town, or rather, city, and she was definitely looking forward to it. There were things in a large town that she had never seen, only read about. Theaters, coffeehouses, street players . . . ladies in the sort of fashions she only saw in magazines . . .
    Sadly, of course, things like theaters and coffeehouses cost money she was loath to spend. But street players were free, and so was watching fashionable ladies. And there were other things, like great cathedrals, and perhaps museums. . . .
    Also, in a big town, she would no longer be an object of scorn or curiosity with her split skirt and riding astride. People saw much more scandalous things every day in a large enough town, and took them for granted.
    It was easy enough to see her goal, the town of Schopfheim, as she rounded a curve in the road and a valley stretched out before her. Too many red-roofed houses to count, and she took a swift intake of breath at the mere thought of all those people. But it was exciting rather than daunting.
    Lebkuchen’s ears pricked up, as if she had sensed Giselle’s excitement. Then again, she had come through big towns with Mother, and perhaps she was anticipating a nice inn, comfortable stable, and perhaps, apples.
    Not this time, I’m afraid,
she thought a little ruefully, as Lebkuchen picked up her feet and moved into a faster pace.
It’s going to be another hayfield for us, I fear.

4

    W HAT Giselle had
not
expected was that just outside of town, there would be a great deal of commotion, with tents and some sort of display going on. Not the Maifest she had expected, but something else entirely.
    Just on the outskirts of most towns and cities, and even some villages, there was a generally a sort of common field which had any number of uses, but which was always used to hold the Maifests and Oktoberfests. As it happened, her approach to Schopfheim brought her by this field. This was no collection of little beer tents and vendors, there were no games going on, and no Maypole. Whatever this was, it was completely enclosed in a wall of canvas. The wall was painted with huge banner-like scrolls with something written inside and equally huge pictures. Since the road was fairly clear, she urged Lebkuchen into a trot to get her there faster. She was nearly on fire with curiosity when she was able to get close enough to read one of the banners.
    And then . . . then she was nearly on fire with pure desire. For the banner read,
Captain Cody’s Wild West Show.
    A Wild West Show! Her heart raced as she craned her neck hoping for a glimpse of . . . something, anything! Alas, it was all hidden behind those canvas curtains that fenced off the area. There was not so much as a feather or a spur to be seen, nothing but the painted banners displaying the wonders to be seen within. Indian attacks! Bandits! The stampede! Captain Cody, the famous sharpshooter! Texas Tom, the trick-roper! Buffalo! All things she had read about in Karl