Gwenhwyfar by Mercedes Lackey Page A

got into her older clothing first and went out to make sure they were fed, watered, groomed, and turned out for the day. Then she returned to the castle, changed into her good clothing, ate quickly, and went to present herself to Lord Hydd.
    She spent the rest of the day in a state between anxiety and bliss. Anxiety because she was terrified lest she do something wrong and disgrace herself, or worse, her trainers and her father. Bliss because of the company she was in and all the things she was hearing. She didn’t understand more than a quarter of it, as the talk ranged from politics to horse breeding, but she tried to consign as much of it to memory as possible.
    Again, at dinner and again at supper, Lord Hydd sent her to sup at the High Table with her family rather than waiting on him. She had assumed that tonight, the night when the women would gather to work the magic that would bless the seeds and the soil, she would be expected to serve as cup bearer. But no, once the remains of supper were cleared away, all the pages were dismissed as her father and his chief lords took themselves to the solar and closeted themselves away from any and all ears, including those of the pages.
    Full of nervous energy, for she had keyed herself up to see the night through and not get sent to her bed like a sleepy baby, she was at a loss as to what to do with herself. This not being a great festival like Midsummer or even Beltane, and not being a feast of plenty like the Autumn Equinox, there were no bards, nor even itinerant musicians, only those among her father’s men and the villagers who could play a few tunes. That was good enough for dancing, but she had no interest in dancing. Some of her own lot of young warriors were taking advantage of the absence of their elders to dip as heavily into the ale and mead as they could; that held no appeal for her either. Cataruna and Gynath were each enjoying the attentions of several boys, an activity that seemed a pointless waste of time.
    Then it occurred to her.
    She could spy on the rites.
    It wasn’t precisely forbidden; she wouldn’t have dared such a thought if there was any chance that the gods would take offense at her curiosity—so why not? In a few years she would be old enough to participate anyway, so what was the harm? Even if you weren’t one of the Wise Women, there was always a place in the Circle for you.
    It certainly wasn’t going to be difficult to find them. All rites were held at the stone circle not far from the thicket where she had seen the bear and serpent fight.
    She took a quick glance around the hall, and saw no one—no adult at any rate—who was paying much attention to what the youngsters were doing. She got up and walked out as if she had some errand she had been sent on.
    No one stopped or questioned her, and once she got out past the tents and the fires, she made a sharp turn towards the stone circle. Once away from the fires, she looked back to make sure she was not being followed, waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, then carried on. With all the people about, she was not concerned with wild beasts; all the noise had probably frightened most of them into hiding, and the rest would be very cautious.
    She saw the light of the fires within the circle reflecting up on the stones long before she caught sight of the figures within the circle or heard their voices. She knew where there would be a good vantage point, and as silently as a stalking fox, she slipped into it. Her heart raced with excitement; she had never seen any of the rites before, and she was hoping that there would be real magic.
    Somewhat to her surprise, for she had thought that only women were permitted at the rites, she saw that there were two men and a boy within the circle. One of the men was cloaked and hooded, and stood well back from the rest. The others seemed to be a bard and his apprentice. The bard was speaking as she moved into place, and she held her breath to listen