Night Birds' Reign(76)
“You look beautiful,” Gwydion said. Oh, they changed so quickly when they were young. Since she was sent away to Y Ty Dewin at the age of seven he had only been able to see her briefly when she returned to Caer Dathyl for a few months during the end of each school year.
“You look tired,” she said critically. “Are you getting your rest?”
“Some, thank you,” he replied, amused at her concern.
“You really need someone to look after you. You know that?”
“You remind me of your mother when you talk like that.”
“Ouch,” Cariadas winced, for she knew how Gwydion had felt about Isalyn.
“It’s all right,” Gwydion said gently. “I was only teasing.”
“No you weren’t,” Cariadas replied. “But never mind. I’ve been put in my place, as I deserved. At least, that’s what Elstar always says!” She grinned at him and Gwydion laughed and hugged her again.
As they settled down on the edge of the narrow bed for a long talk Gwydion asked, “How are things at Y Ty Dewin?”
“Good. I love it there. Cynan is very kind to me—but he’s kind to everyone. Elstar is a little stricter. She’s worried I’ll think too much of myself.”
“Hard to believe,” Gwydion said.
She lightly swatted his arm, “How can you say that when you know that I am full of humility?”
“Full of something, anyway,” he murmured. “How are the lessons?”
“Oh, they’re fun. I’m very good at Wind-Riding and I’m getting the hang of Life-Reading. I really am.”
“Cariadas, I must tell you something in the strictest confidence.”
“Da, everything you do is in the strictest confidence,” she said, laughing.
“This is important, daughter.”
Cariadas stopped smiling and turned to him, her little face serious. “Tell me.”
“I will be doing a great deal of traveling this year. I’m not sure when I can be back to see you.”
“Where you are going?” she asked anxiously.
“I cannot be specific.”
“But Da, why can’t you tell me where you are going?”
“Cariadas, if I could tell you more I would.”
“You act like you don’t trust me,” she accused.
“I do trust you. But what you don’t know no one can make you tell.”
“Oh, Da,” she sighed, giving in, “you make me so mad, sometimes.”
“I have that effect on a lot of people,” Gwydion replied dryly.
She smiled. “But I love you anyway.”
“That’s an effect I don’t usually have.”
“Well you could,” she said, “if you took the trouble to be nice to people.”
“Thank you,” he said gravely. “I’ll try to remember your advice. So, do you want me to escort you to the festival tonight?”
“Oh, yes. That will keep that nasty Llywelyn out of my face.”
“Oh, ho. Already you begin to break hearts.”
“He doesn’t have one to break. Why, he’s only four years older than I am and he’s always criticizing me: ‘Wash your face’; ‘Your dress is torn’; ‘Climbing trees at your age, how juvenile’; and on and on.”
Gwydion said, highly amused, “Perhaps I should give Llywelyn some advice on how to handle women.”
“No one needs advice from you on that subject,” she laughed. Before Gwydion could ask her what she meant, she jumped up. “I promised Elstar I’d let her get me ready for the festival. She says that a future Dreamer must look her dignified best on important occasions.” She made a face, swiftly kissed him, and was gone.
THE WAXING MOON had risen by the time the inhabitants of Neuadd Gorsedd had gathered in the sacred grove. The silver light of the moon glowed off the white trunks of the birch trees.
The clearing in the middle of the grove was filled with over a hundred Bards, journeymen and apprentices, all carrying birch branches and waiting for Anieron to arrive and begin the celebration. A huge bonfire made with birch wood was burning in the middle of the clearing. A stone altar stood at the western end. A golden bowl full of seeds and a silver goblet of wine were laid on top of the stone. Eight unlit torches had been placed around the altar.
Gwydion stood with Cariadas near the altar proper. Gwydion was dressed in a formal red robe with black velvet trim. He wore the Dreamer’s Torque of opals and gold around his neck and his shoulder length black hair was bound back with a black ribbon. Cariadas wore a gown of red and the underskirt, showing just below the hem, was black. Her hair had been elaborately braided and tied off with red and black ribbons.