“I will never do so!” I cried angrily.
“The wind that is stirred by a butterfly’s wing may cause a tempest half the world away… in the Hidden Country we do not think on the passing of time, and so for us it runs slowly, or not at all. But when I look into the world of men, I can observe the results of actions that you swift-living mortals will never see. Learn from my wisdom, daughter, and stay!”
I shook my head. “I belong to Avalon!”
“Be it so,” the Faerie Queen said then. “This much comfort I will grant you: that however far you may wander, so long as you have your hounds you will find your way home… Go then, with the blessing of the Elder Folk, and perhaps, from time to time, you will remember me—”
“I will remember you…” said I, tears pricking my eyes. I set Eldri on the ground once more, and the dog, after looking back to make sure that I was following, trotted towards the door.
We passed into the leaf-filtered light of the faerie wood, and then, between one step and another, into a darkness in which the glimmering white shape of the dog ahead of me was the only thing I could see. And then I felt the cold touch of mist upon my skin and slowed, shivering, testing each step before I trusted my weight to it to be sure of keeping to the path.
I could not be certain how long I continued in this way, but gradually I became aware that the mist was brightening, and then it thinned, and I passed through the last of it and onto the grass of the Tor. The moon still rode high—as high, nearly, as it had been when I set forth. I stared at it in amazement, for surely in Faerie the feasting, and the dancing had gone on for hours. But here I was back again, and it was the same time of night as when I had gone. But was it the same night, I wondered in sudden fear? Or the same month, or year? Did Aelia wait for me still?
I started forwards, looking anxiously about me to see if anything had changed, and sighed in relief to see before me the hazel hedge, still half-pruned as I had left it. Something pale stirred in its shadow—Eldri, sitting beside a curled heap of clothing that on closer inspection proved to be the sleeping child.
I fell to my knees beside her, heart pounding in my breast. “Blessed Goddess!” I breathed, “never again will I doubt you!” And then, when my pulse had slowed nearly to its customary beat, I gathered the child into my arms.
“Dierna, wake up, little one! You are such a great girl now, I cannot carry you!”
The child stirred, burrowing sleepily against rny breast. “I can’t go back there—I’m afraid…”
“I will stay with you,” said I, “and so will Eldri.”
“But she’s so little,” Dierna giggled, reaching out to ruffle the dog’s curly hair.
“Do not underestimate her. She is a magic dog,” I answered her. In the shadow, it seemed to me that a little of the glamour of Faerie clung to that pale fur still. “Come now—” I got to my feet, and after a moment’s hesitation, Dierna followed me.
I told myself that I could sneak back to the House of Maidens before I was missed in the morning, but even if Ganeda learned how I had disobeyed, I found it hard to care. There was enough straw in the shed to make a bed, and when I had persuaded Dierna to lie down, I told the child tales of my adventures in Faerie until she slept once more.
And at that, the fatigue of my own night’s adventuring came fully upon me, and so it was that that when Suona came to release the child in the dawning, she found us curled up together, with Eldri beside us guarding the door.
* * *
CHAPTER FOUR
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AD 268-70
In the year that I turned eighteen I left the House of Maidens to dwell in a separate enclosure with Heron and Aelia and Roud, for the time of initiation was approaching, and the disciplines which prepared us to receive the Mysteries required solitude. But though we three novice priestesses were to be kept apart from the rest of the community, we could not be isolated completely from the rumours that swept the isle.