But I was now the tallest girl in the House of Maidens, and if my breasts had not begun to grow, I would have wondered if I ought to have been living with the boys the Druids were training on the other side of the hill instead of with the priestesses. Even Aelia, who was very like me in build, had begun her courses a year ago.
I understood what must be done—Heron and the others had been only too eager to explain. I knew that I was blushing, but I managed to keep my voice matter-of-fact when I went to ask old Ciela for the absorbent moss and the lengths of linen that had been washed to downy softness that I would need to wrap it in.
I bore the congratulations of the other women as well as I could, wondering all the while how long Ganeda would make me wait for my ritual. The body’s maturing was only an outwards marker. The inner transformation from child to maiden would be confirmed by my rite of passage.
They came for me at the still hour just past midnight, when only those who kept vigil for the Goddess should have been waking. I had been dreaming of running water. As the hood came down over my head it became a nightmare of drowning. For a few panicked moments I struggled against the hand that had clamped over my mouth, then returning awareness identified the scent of the lavender that the priestesses stored with their robes, and I understood what was happening.
Last year, it had been Aelia who had been missing from her bed when the horn call awakened us to salute the rising sun, and then, Heron. They had been returned, pale with fatigue and smug with secrets, for the celebration that evening, and neither by threats nor by urging could they be compelled to tell the uninitiated girls what had occurred.
But beyond reinforcing a sense of superiority that had seemed to me to be excessive already, whatever had happened to them seemed to have done them no harm. I forced my limbs to relax. I sensed the beginning of a growl from Eldri, who always slept in the curve of my arm, and pressed the little dog back into the bedclothes, stroking the silky fur until the tension left her small frame.
I wish you could go with me too, I thought, but I must do this alone… Then I sat up and allowed my invisible abductors to help me out of the bed, wrap a warm cloak around me, and lead me away.
Gravel crunched beneath my feet, and I knew they were taking the path beside the Lake. I smelled the dank scent of marsh and heard the wind whisper in the reedbeds, and wondered, for a moment, whether they meant to take me across the water to one of the other isles.
Several times my escort reversed direction, spinning me about until my head whirled and only a firm grip on my elbow kept me from falling. Instinctively I lifted a hand to the hood, and someone else prevented me from lifting it.
“Do not attempt to see,” came a harsh whisper in my ear. “You have set your feet upon the path to a future you cannot know. You must walk this way without looking back to your childhood, trusting the wisdom of those who have gone before to show you the way. Do you understand?”
I nodded, accepting the ritual necessity, but I had always had an excellent sense of direction, and as my dizziness passed I could feel the power of the Tor to my right, like a pillar of fire.
Then we were climbing, and my skin pebbled as it was touched by chill, moist air. I heard the musical gurgling of water, and the little procession came to a halt as someone opened a gate. I was hearing the stream that overflowed from the Blood Spring at the foot of the Tor, I thought then. To know where I was made me feel a little less vulnerable. I tried to convince myself that I was trembling because of the cold.