“How could I forget?” Caillean said ruefully. “I was terrified!” For a few moments she was silent. “That was not you, I know it, but a face of the Goddess I hope never to see again. Is it that way always?”
Eilan shrugged. “Sometimes She comes, sometimes not, and I must use my own judgment. But every time I sit in the high seat I make the offering, and each time I wait like this I wonder if this will be the time She will strike me down!”
“I see,” said Caillean carefully. “Forgive me if I misunderstood you when you said you would compel Ardanos to send me south. But what will you do about me?”
“This is the testing—” Eilan leaned forward. “For both of us. If all we have built here is not to be a lie I must now risk both myself and you. Tonight I shall make up the potion according to the old recipe. When the Goddess takes me, you must ask about your dream. Everyone will hear the answer, and we all—you, Ardanos, and I—will be bound by it, whatever it may be.”
The quality of the light had altered considerably towards sunset when the outer door opened and one of Ardanos’s apprentices came in; he was so young that he had as yet only the thinnest straggle of beard.
The young Druid said deferentially, “We are ready for you, my lady.” Eilan, who was already beginning to slip into the detached meditative state that preceded trance, rose from her chair. Eilidh and Senara lowered the heavy ritual cloak over her shoulders and fastened it at her throat with a massive gold chain.
The night was cool despite the season, and even in her thick cloak, Eilan shivered as she got into her litter. From out of the darkness came two white-robed priests, pale figures moving with measured step at her side. She knew that they were there to guard her against even accidental injury or pressure from the crowds, but somehow she had never been able to dismiss the thought that they were her guards.
The thought flashed across her mind like a rabbit scuttling into the bushes: Every priestess is a prisoner of her gods…
She was vaguely aware of passing through the long avenue of trees that led to the hill. Before the mound a great fire was burning, one of many fires on this night. Its red gleam played on the leaves of the ancient oak that grew next to the mound. A sound of anticipation went through the crowd like a soft sigh. She could not help remembering the first time she had heard it greet Lhiannon. Now she stood in Lhiannon’s place, and the people who watched had as little understanding of what was really happening here as she had had then.
Two small boys about eight or nine years old, white-robed novices of the bards chosen for their innocence and beauty, brought forward the great golden bowl. They had golden torques about their throats, and belts embroidered with gold cinctured their white robes. As a ray of moonlight lanced through the leaves of the oak tree, a twiglet of mistletoe—cut by a priest hidden in the branches—fluttered downwards. Eilan caught it and dropped it into the bowl.
She murmured the words of blessing, and bracing herself against the bitterness, drank the liquid down. The voices of the Druids rose in invocation; the pressure of expectation from the people beat against her awareness. The liquid burned in her belly; she wondered if she had got the dosage wrong, then remembered that she had felt this way before. It came to her then that each time poisoned her a little, and that she would die as Lhiannon had died, though perhaps not as soon.
But the world was already dimming around her; she was scarcely aware of falling backward into the seeress’s chair, or the jolting as they carried it to the top of the mound.
Caillean eyed the figure slumped in the high seat above her with more than usual concern. As always, the intensity of the chanting was pushing her towards trance as well. But there was a tension in the pulsing energies around her that she did not understand. She turned and saw Eilan’s father among the white-robed Druids in the circle. Ardanos had said nothing. Had he even known that Bendeigid was going to be there?
Eilan twitched in the high seat and Caillean reached for the back to steady it. It was forbidden to touch the High Priestess when she was entranced, but they must be prepared to catch her if she fell.