The 13 Circles

By D.L. Nemeril

You have heard the story of Camelot, in truth, you know of but the puppets on the stage. ‘Tis with the great thirteen Circles of the world, a parallel civilization once found the globe over, that the true story of Arthur lies.
But you ask, who was this civilization and what are the Circles? If they are so famed, where are they now? Indeed, your memories have faded but you knew, you all knew.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.L. Nemeril
• Release date: Nov 1, 2010

Book preview

Prologue

If you have heard the story of Camelot, in truth, you know of but the puppets on the stage. ‘Tis with the great thirteen Circles of the world, a parallel civilization once found the globe over, that the true story of Arthur lies.

But you ask, who was this civilization and what are the Circles? If they are so famed, where are they now, why are they not known? Indeed, your memories have faded but you knew, you all knew.

The Circles grew out of a gathering held long, long ago in the land you now call Egypt. Twelve ancient civilizations converged here from points scattered across the universe. All had watched from afar as a life form capable of creation and thought developed on this beautiful planet and all recognized the remarkable opportunity this presented.

So, after much discussion, an accord was reached. They, twelve of the most advanced civilizations residing in this galaxy and beyond, would share what they knew to help this new life form reach levels that had never been afore attained.

To this end, thirteen Grand Circles emerged across the globe… one for each of the twelve civilizations and one to unit and balance the twelve. Each Grand Circle’s purpose and focus was forged from the nature of the land it inhabited and the civilization chosen to guide it. It was a majestic experiment, without limit in its scope.

You ask me now – if the Circles were so important, there must be records. You are correct; there were records. Their wisdom was kept very carefully, but not in books, not on temple walls. It was collected in energetic vortexes, called Sources, which disseminated this knowledge to every Circle, not unlike the way you now store information and connect one to another from afar.

Each Grand Circle was formed of thirteen smaller Circles, each with a Source at its heart. The Source held the wisdom of its Circle and recorded new knowledge as it was obtained. When combined as one, the Sources contained a depth of wisdom and promise never known before or since.

Once in place, each Grand Circle, with its own purpose and focus, worked to expand the potential that existed in this reality, in every individual and the whole as one. The Circles freely offered their knowledge and guidance to any who asked, and for a long while many partook.

But, over time, another way, one not of the Circles – one that coveted wealth, sought dominance, one that feared – drew so many people into its darkness it appeared all else would be lost.

The leaders of the Grand Circles, called the council of Thirteen, gathered to find an answer to humanity’s destructive path of fear. They decided to bring Their ways out into the world and create a living example for all to see. The council of Thirteen selected the Circles of Briton (Including Avalon, whose name is spoken still.), myself and others whom you will soon meet, to carry out their plan.

So it was that we created the crystalline sword, Excalibur, honing it to hold some powers found in a Circle’s Source. Excalibur offered potential and wisdom to all, while calling on all to act for the greater good.

We then created a group of men to bring the Circles’ skills and beliefs directly into the halls of outer power. Arthur and his Round Table mirrored the Lady and her Inner Ring, the Circle’s deciding body. And so the adventure began, full of promise and hope.

But, alas, as you know, the vision of Camelot did not hold; we, too, succumbed to the twinned powers of separation and fear. After Briton fell, the other civilizations of the Circles withdrew from our world to await a new awakening.

And so it is that all you remember now are the ring of men and myself, because it is the ring of men, without the wisdom of the Circles, who have held sway until now. But I come to you now to offer some of the Circles’ wisdom, a new way to be.

Here you will hear of strange things: other realities, seeing without eyes, creating from thought and more. These things may be true, or not, but they make us dream of what we might hold within.

No… I must speak the truth.

Believe in them, for it is time. It is time for those of great heart, those who remember the dream, to come together again, for I tell you this now – it is still within each of you, whether you remember or not.

I am called a magician, but I do nothing extraordinary. For magic is not illusion. Magic is an opening between worldly reality and the unlimited realm of the soul, an acknowledgment that we exist simultaneously in both. Magic is an understanding that our reality can in an instant change, if one is of an open heart and in connection to the Oneness, the whole that we all create.

Yea, magic is love, wisdom and power in equal parts. Magic and life, they are one and the same.

Learn this and use it wisely.

Merlin

Chapter 1

Ivantia pressed her cheek against the cold stone of the gallery wall, afraid to breathe.

I have already presented this to the Lady herself. Halgabron is pleased, even impatient, to admit Ivantia into the Circle of Avalon now. Halgabron’s time guiding Avalon has been remarkable for the number of talented women who have joined us, but she considers Ivantia to be one of the most gifted.

Glenmaera’s voice floated out from the adjacent room. The priestess’s footsteps approached the door and Ivantia flattened her entire body into the rough surface of the wall. A single thought filled Ivantia’s mind … No.

No, she would not let Glenmaera, priestess of Avalon, Luna of the Inner Ring … her own High Mother, control her. No, she would not enter into Avalon’s Circle like this … No. No. No.

The icy fear growing in Ivantia urged her to flee, but she had to hear more.

Be still and know, Ivantia breathed to herself.

Such an honor to bestow upon Ivantia, Glenmaera!

Lemora’s lilting voice carried her enthusiasm out into the gallery and fueled her daughter’s ire.

To have her join the Circle of Avalon directly without serving the usual apprenticeship! I am quite overwhelmed. It is all I have hoped for.

Ivantia edged closer and dared a quick glimpse. Her mother’s gracious smile sickened Ivantia, but the priestess’s formal, calculated demeanor was even more alarming.

You have yourself to thank, Lemora, Glenmaera replied smoothly. "She is your child, after all. All the talents with which you endowed Ivantia before her birth are beginning to bear fruit. She can See through the appearances people wish to project and into the future as can a Luna priestess. She can heal, commonly the talent of a Radiant priestess. She can imbue objects with power and intention, as you do with your weaving, powers that are close to a magician’s.

"But her innate powers are coupled with an equally stubborn will and an impulsive nature. Without the Circle’s training, her skills will surely become uncontrollable. ‘Tis best that we take measures before she acts unwisely and harms herself … or someone else."

The priestess walked past the door again, avoiding the heavy, cushioned oak chairs stationed by the fire, and perched herself on an ottoman. Its rich damask, woven by Lemora to reflect the sitter’s nature, darkened.

And, as you wisely appointed me as her High Mother, Glenmaera continued, "thus making me responsible for guiding her powers to their most complete expression, I intend to supervise her personally.

I believe her gifts, like mine, are most suited to the Luna way – divination, shaping the future, ability to read thoughts, Glenmaera recounted, purposely holding Lemora’s eyes with her own, "the reflective qualities.

Perhaps I shall even house her next to my own quarters. The priestess bowed her head slightly in deference. With your permission of course.

Lemora smiled again and nodded.

"It is especially important now for women of power to gather together within the Circle and hold the way open for others. More and more, people turn away from themselves, away from knowing they are much more than just a physical form and capable of extraordinary, if not miraculous, feats.

A life, such as is still lived in Avalon and the other Circles of Briton, seems implausible to them. In time, they will surely turn from us. We need Ivantia, and others like her, who can bridge both worlds.

Wary of pushing too far, Glenmaera paused to read her listener. Lemora moved to warm herself before the open hearth, her heavy woolen skirts curling gracefully behind her as she looked into the flames.

The Luna breathed out slowly and fondled the chalice set upon the marble stele next to her. As she exhaled, Glenmaera visualized her nervous energy pouring into the cup. The silver chalice appeared to fill with steaming foam and the Luna breathed more easily. She discreetly poured the cup’s restless contents into the flames.

With a light sigh, Lemora smoothed a lock of hair that had escaped the braid wound about her head and delivered the desired reply.

Your offer is surely an answer to my thoughts, she responded slowly, for I have been searching for Ivantia’s true calling for some time now. ‘Tis true, she has astonishing powers for one so young; sometimes I even fear for her. Though she has gifts of both Luna and Radiant, her nature is not suited to the Radiants, my lineage. She is neither nurturing nor artistic. I had not thought of it in that way.

A cloud crossed Lemora’s lovely face.

But Ivantia has not yet participated in the rite of Beltane, the sacred joining of female and male together to recreate the whole. She has seen only seventeen sun cycles and has been slow to grow into her womanhood. Perhaps we are acting prematurely.

Glenmaera shifted in her seat, straightening her simple robe of claret silk in annoyance.

"‘Tis an initiation that is long overdue, as I told you last spring. The rite of Beltane is meant to mark the transition from maid to woman, the priestess said pointedly. It is not wise to indulge her, Lemora. Ivantia can be difficult, withdrawn and secretive. These traits not only interfere with her development, they are dangerous.

Misused power can turn back on itself. Do not delay too long, Lemora, only we of Avalon’s Circle can safely bring her potential to fruition. When the Source, the vessel which contains all our wisdom, reaches out to her, she will know her potential more fully and her gifts will flourish gracefully. In the end, she will be grateful to us. You do not want all of your work to come to naught, dear friend.

Avoiding the Luna’s gaze, Lemora began to rearrange a shallow bowl filled with sprigs of primrose and violet.

’Tis not so easy to persuade her. She looks young, my dear, the mother confided, "but she often behaves like a cantankerous, old woman, completely set in her ways and so serious. She utterly refuses to partake in Court life. She will not learn any craft. When I think that at sixteen I was already providing the Court with weavings!

"Why, I cannot move her to befriend any girl of her own age. Nor does she take any interest in possible suitors, even to simply enjoy herself! I decided at an early age against wedlock, immediately after my first Beltane, in fact. Coupling was far too much fun! I could not fathom being with only one consort my entire life."

Lemora threw back her head and laughed, looking far younger than her forty sun cycles. When Glenmaera remained silent, she gave a small cough.

Ivantia seems to have no interests outside her self-created little world, Lemora added. Indeed, she has scant respect for anything else, even my work and position at Court. She acts as if these are beneath her!

Glenmaera sighed at the oft-repeated complaint.

My dear Lemora, Ivantia needs to develop her own talents, not admire yours.

Turning towards the large loom that dominated the chamber, she attempted to soften her friend with a bit of flattery.

This new combination of colors you are using is interesting. The rose and violet become quite exotic when mixed this way.

Lemora smiled and picked up the weaving.

’Tis a blanket of protection for Queen Guinevere’s expected babe. I truly hope she is able to bring this one to term.

The Luna nodded to concur, and then bent Lemora’s attention back to her request.

I am sure, with our help, Ivantia will discover the best way of offering her gifts to the world, she soothed, her fingers lightly resting on Lemora’s arm.

Glenmaera inclined her head towards the window.

What is …, Lemora began.

The priestess waved a hand for silence.

Are you certain that Ivantia is not within the castle? she whispered.

She left her chamber long before you arrived, Lemora said, apprehensively, but then, you are so rarely mistaken. Perhaps she has returned.

Glenmaera glided over to the balcony window, the heavy silk of her robe billowing slightly. She swept the dense woods bordering Camelot with her intuitive Sight that saw beyond physical limits. Lemora came up behind her to peer over her shoulder.

"The hours that girl spends in the forest. She says she is gathering herbs with Norinth. You remember Norinth, do you not? She studied at the Circle of Gaul and is the most capable healer at Camelot.

Because Ivantia is being of service, I cannot forbid it but I know she uses that pretext to escape the castle. I thought it to be simply a phase, but it has become worse of late. Lemora paused to fret at a loose thread on the blanket. Perhaps you sense her because she is hurt or even lost.

Ivantia knows the woods better than any one of us, Lemora. You know that, the Luna replied thinly. And I would sense if she were in trouble.

The priestess abandoned her search and moved brusquely to the door.

I must take my leave and prepare for tonight’s fete of Ostara. Think on Halgabron’s offer. ‘Twould be best to propose it to Ivantia together.

Lemora suddenly became a whirlwind of activity.

The fete! Where is my head! All at Court have spoken of nothing but the return of the knights for weeks. They are always full of lusty merriment after the winter sojourn on their own lands. I do so love such festivities!

Passing through a gold leafed archway into her sleeping chamber, Lemora lifted the lid of a wooden chest that abutted her bed and began to gather various herbs, oils and dried flowers.

I have not even begun to attend to my preparations. I must go to the castle stores and replenish my herbs, she called out to Glenmaera. There will be many stopping here to consult with me about their love prospects and request amulets and appealing scents to win their consorts over. You must excuse me, I’ve much to do!

Lemora re-entered the salon, arranged her selections on a low table and looked around.

And I promised to help some of the new maidens at Court choose their gowns. How will I do it all?

Glenmaera took Lemora’s arm and led her out the door.

Come. Let us get on with our tasks. I will walk with you to the storerooms, she said.

One would think I was your younger sister and not ten years your elder! Lemora proclaimed loudly as she nonetheless followed Glenmaera’s lead.

***

Ivantia fled down the long, torch lit gallery. Wall hangings depicting Court life rippled out as she passed. Many of them had been woven by her mother’s hand to uplift the spirits of those who walked Camelot’s dim corridors. They had no such effect on Ivantia. Instead, they taunted her.

There is no escape. No escape. No escape, they jeered.

She covered her ears and descended one of the castle’s four corner stairways to the main courtyard. Blindly careening into people, she fought to keep her tears in check as vexed serving boys shouted expletives at her. Ivantia burst out a side door into the broad fields encircling the castle. Still keeping to a sharp pace, she cut across the still-fallow kitchen gardens and into the embrace of her woods.

I detest them both, she hissed. I’ll earn my keep at the market selling cures before I’ll allow them to force me into Avalon. To work as those within the Circle do, through the Oneness, connected to all of life and all potential, is my dream, but not with her! Cursed was the day Glenmaera was named my High Mother. Responsible for my development? Pah! How can my mother be so blind?

Deftly, Ivantia threaded her way down a narrow path flanked by old, gnarled trees. She pressed her palms to her aching sides, determined not to halt until she had reached her special place, a small, green hollow ringed with oak and birch trees.

Precisely what that my ‘esteemed’ High Mother wanted all along, Ivantia thought. To bury me in some dark corner, directly under her control. I won’t have it! She thinks not of me, only of herself. Why can’t my mother see what she is doing?

Ivantia crossed the clearing and entered a ring of translucent rose quartz boulders. She collapsed next to the pond at its center, the fight at last run out of her.

Completely like my mother, shuffling me off to Avalon to elevate her own position at Court. I can just hear her.

Ivantia mimicked the high, piping pitch her mother used at Court.

‘My daughter is at the Circle of Avalon, you know. She serves the Lady, you know. I planned it all before she was born, you know.’

She rolled over on the grass, untangling her legs from her rough skirts whilst the first tears at last began to escape.

But where am I to go? I will not reside with that woman, so to serve at Avalon is impossible. And Camelot … I do no better at Court with its gossips, dandies and flirts. Such silly, frivolous people. ‘Tis true, I cannot fit in either world. What is left? What is to become of me?

Ivantia rolled over and stared up at the sky until the peace exuded by the ring of stones drew her into a calmer state. Her eyes flew open at a gentle touch on her shoulder and Norinth lowered herself onto a low, mossy stone.

No cause for alarm, she said. ‘Tis only I. I came when I felt your distress. It is Glenmaera again, is it not?

Ivantia studied her scuffed, stitched leather shoes and nodded. Norinth’s exasperated expression betrayed her opinion.

Why do you continue to let Glenmaera prick at you? You know she plays upon people as expertly as a bard makes music upon a lute.

You don’t understand, Ivantia replied. There is something new and terrible. She wants me to join the Circle at Avalon directly, without apprenticeship, and my mother thinks it a wonderful idea! I will not go. I could not stand to obey that priestess’s every command and whim. How could my own mother think to do this to me?

It is, in truth, an offer few would consider spurning, Norinth countered, bringing her kindly face close to Ivantia’s. A plain-looking woman of fifty sun cycles, Norinth emitted a sturdy quality that inclined people to trust her.

"Where else would your Sight, your use of crystals, the ability to reach other realms, be of use? And each Circle is created by its Source, as you know. It would offer all the wisdom of the Circles to you and, yes, allow you to develop faster and farther than you would have without it. Glenmaera is right on this account.

"Lemora knows the offer is a great honor and does not want to insult her powerful friend. Glenmaera is a member of the Inner Ring of Avalon, after all. With the Lady Halgabron, she and eleven others are responsible for guiding all the work done through Avalon. As they are so close to Camelot, they work closely with the King.

All worthy reasons to join Avalon. You must know your mind and counter this well. If you refuse Glenmaera’s offer whilst in this temper, your mother will not pay you any heed.

Ivantia bit her lip and started to stroke a pink crystalline stone as if it were a cat.

I will soon be old enough to challenge her myself, Ivantia said, purposefully. One day Glenmaera of Avalon will know all too well what skills I possess!

She raised up her arms as if to summon forth an awe-inspiring power from the sky. Less than amused, Norinth drew Ivantia’s arms back to her sides.

What is the origin of this desire to confront your High Mother? There is much you need to learn before you can even begin to thwart a woman of such power, starting with tempering your fear and rage. She would effortlessly use both against you. The way of Oneness is to open and draw in, not to confront and destroy. If you, with your powers, pass down the latter road, many will suffer for it.

Ivantia pulled away, though she knew Norinth to be right. The healer pressed her point home.

"I have taught you well, my child, but you have already mastered most of what I and the other healers have to share. It is time for you to move on so you can claim your rightful place, which is not with us."

Ivantia stared at her, shocked.

You too? No. Not the Circle. Not Glenmaera!

Perhaps not the Circle, Norinth reassured her, "but you must create an alternative, as did your mother. As it is now, your isolation does not teach you how to live in the world, to deal with people or bring your gifts to their fruition.

"To claim your birthright, you must grow up and take your place, Ivantia. You must use your powers to open the way for others; this is your greater purpose. Elsewise, Glenmaera is correct, those powers will turn and your way will be very dark indeed. Did you not feel a twisting satisfaction when you thought of confronting her? A shadowy, seductive desire?"

Ivantia’s averted gaze and muteness gave Norinth her answer.

This means you have separated from your true purpose and are acting from personal will and self-aggrandizement. It is the way to many woes.

Ivantia swirled a twig in the pond, her mouth downcast.

If it is not the Circle for me, it must be the Court. But what could they want with me at Court? I am not interested in their silly world and they think me odd.

"Remember the magic that is natural to you is not so to them. In truth, it is coming to mean mere conjuring tricks, not a way of life. You could demonstrate that this to be wrong by offering living evidence to the contrary, as, dare I say it, your mother and your High mother do. Perhaps then you would find that you are not so different from the rest."

"But I am different. Just look at me, no one my mother approves of would have me."

Ivantia bent closer to the pool to glimpse her reflection. Waved, auburn hair, flecked with gold, fell around a face lit by intense, green eyes. She pulled her hair back and grimaced at her image.

You judge yourself too harshly. Many would see fresh beauty in that reflection, said Norinth. "I have caught more than one young lad at Camelot following you with his eyes.

But more important is your effect on Glenmaera, Norinth counseled. "Or rather her effect on you. She pushes you off balance in anticipation of a rash, emotional response, with which you often reward her.

This time, take an unexpected tact, draw yourself in rather than pushing back at her. Close your inner eye to thwart her ability to intuit your thoughts. Concealing your intentions gives you time to make choices, as does a cool response. Take a stone from here so you may remember to be the same: solid, cool, unchangeable.

Ivantia dutifully searched, but could not let go of her ire so easily.

"I loathe that woman. What can she want from me? Her great gifts are respected at Avalon. Why, she even serves in the highest position with the exception of the Lady Halgabron herself. I do not understand how the others, especially those at Avalon, put their trust in her. I have always felt a darkness when near her and I, for one, plan to stay as far away from her as possible."

Ivantia unearthed a small amethyst point someone had left as an offering at the pond’s edge, and slipped it into a pocket. Norinth stroked Ivantia’s bowed head.

"Not only is Glenmaera extremely talented, but she also knows well the ways of the world and can answer them in kind. Few in the Circle can do this. Most women of the Circle are not able to exist outside its environs for long; they are too sensitive.

Chapter 2

Ivantia took her leave from Norinth, retracing her steps through forest and fields. Her return was halted at Camelot’s gate by the tempest of activity in the castle’s courtyard. Servants shuttled to and fro bearing trays of ointments, jugs of hot water for bathing, assorted jewels, flowers, and gowns. Orders were shouted out to attendants and the delighted laughter of women in high spirits pealed into the gathering night.

She veered away from the gaiety and bustle and hurried down a narrow side passage that was part of the old fortress still held within the new castle’s walls. In disrepair and in imminent danger of falling down, even servants rarely used it. She followed it to a crumbling roofless turret stairway that opened directly onto a hidden entrance to the private chambers of the noblewomen. Though Ivantia slowed to a tiptoe near her chamber, Lemora’s voice rang out, weighty with irritation.

You were to have returned by midday.

Ivantia appeared in her mother’s doorway with skirts and wraps awry and ill concealed resentment.

There is something I wish to discuss with you, but I see you are in one of your moods, Lemora observed.

I am not in a mood, Mother, Ivantia snapped back. I am perfectly fine. I would arrive on time if it really mattered, but we both know you must make your grand arrival. As this requires entering the Hall well after everyone else, I promise to be ready quite in advance of that.

Her mother took a deep breath.

I’ve laid out a gown for you. And none of your tricks, Lemora said, with a final, stern gaze.

Ivantia entered her own separate chamber, situated next to her mother’s quarters, and slammed her door shut. The maiden’s gown draped over some cushions in the center of the room shone in the firelight. Colored a rich turquoise lined in saffron, its style combined both suggestion and innocence. As it had been woven by her mother, it also conveyed to its wearer lightheartedness and allure.

She put it on reluctantly and suddenly felt almost flirtatious. Ivantia went over to the mirror to have a look. It was hard not to admire the skill it took to weave energy so potent into the gown that any desire she, herself, might have, melted.

My mother is no fool when it comes to some things, Ivantia murmured begrudgingly, smoothing her skirts. Her skill as a weaver of cloth and magic is unsurpassed.

Despite her habitual lack of concern about appearance, Ivantia took the time to smooth the knots out of her hair and arrange it with two carved combs.

There, she declared after adding a simple strand of garnets and pearls about her neck. That is more than is merited.

With a beleaguered sigh, she sat down to wait for her mother to appear.

***

Merlin lit a candle against the gathering darkness and finished his notes. The light skimmed his cheek, leaving his deep-set blue eyes in darkness. The shadows, however, did not obscure the ancient knowledge they emitted that gave him an authority far beyond his five and thirty sun cycles.

He tied the parchment into a roll and placed it in an armoire that overflowed with scrolls and books, but few clothes. The magician rummaged deeper and glanced up at the fading light still visible through the top of the turret.

There is time, Merlin thought. I do not have to trade my warm woolen tunic for embroidered velvet just yet. No … there’s something else I am being called to do.

Merlin closed his eyes and, allowing his intuition to lead his actions, found himself before the hearth.

You have something to show me, friend? Merlin asked the fire.

The flames flattened out. Satisfied, he sat before the hearth to prepare his Sight. Merlin loosened all preconceptions, memories and thoughts until they lifted away like bubbles of air in water and his breath slowed into a deep and steady rhythm. Thus centered and calm, he turned his attention to the unsteady dance of the fire.

The flames collectively kept a unified, wavelike rhythm for a moment, and then parted to reveal the figure of a young woman who, from the bright, complex aura surrounding her, had great intuitive abilities.

Glenmaera, Avalon’s emissary to Camelot, followed the anonymous figure into the blaze. A reflexive aversion to the priestess pushed him back against his chair. The Luna’s cool and distant manner was not to his liking.

The two shapes swirled around each other; apparently they knew each other quite well. When the vision faded, Merlin took a few deep breaths and passed his hand over his brow.

Odd, he thought to himself, what can this girl mean to me? And what of her ties to the Luna? Are they allies? One as gifted as she should already be familiar to me if she is of the Circle.

He looked back at the fire; it was unlikely more would be shown. Experience had taught him that happenings were revealed only when they were ready to be.

***

As twilight gave way to night, massive platters of roasted boar and cured hams appeared out of the kitchens accompanied by tureens of stewed root vegetables. The prodigious array of foods and sweetmeats soon overflowed the long marble tables lining the Great Hall. Barrels of wine and mead to compliment the feast lay opened, with cups stacked next to them on the slate floor.

From the King to the chambermaid, all would partake as they pleased. Arthur was not one to mete out his stores sparingly. He believed, as the Circles taught, that abundance begot abundance, and he shared his with all those around him.

Courtiers arrived in increasing numbers, lured by the aroma of the sumptuous banquet. Newcomers stopped midway down the stairs, marveling at the overnight transformation. With woven ribbons and bright swathes of fabrics festooning all the arches and lintels, flowers clustered into every niche and hundreds of Merlin’s torches illuminating the room with a smokeless glow, the vast Hall looked as if it had been lifted from a faerie’s story.

All heads turned as a trumpeting fanfare announced the arrival of King Arthur and his Queen. Merlin waved two towering torches at the head of the double stairway ablaze, filling the hall with a golden light. The crowd rustled forward en masse for a better view of their beloved leader.

The King appeared on the balcony, resplendent in a woolen green tunic emblazoned with a ruby-encrusted dragon. He presented Guinevere to his Court. Though pale, she received their cheer with good grace and flung a handful of petals towards her guests. Arthur took up his wife’s bejeweled hand and then, with a jovial shout, tossed high thirteen gold coins, the signal for the feast to begin.

The evening was well into full festivities when Lemora arrived with Ivantia in tow. Lemora paused halfway down the stairs so her entrance might be remarked. By time she’d descended to the Hall, a host of attractive women had surrounded her, all vying for her ear.

Ivantia’s mother kept a firm grip on her daughter’s arm, but laughed and listened, adding a word here and there. None could wait to share which knight had played suitor to whom during the afternoon and ask how their chances in love might be enhanced. Such a concentration of feminine beauty soon drew interest, and after installing Ivantia next to a handsome page, Lemora let herself be swept into her first dance.

Once liberated, Ivantia abruptly left to search for a darkened corner with a seat. She walked skittishly along the edge of the Hall, thinking herself to be obscured by the urns filled with newly leafed boughs, until Glenmaera’s clear voice wrapped around her like a cold wind.

Ah my talented High Daughter. I was just speaking of you to your mother today.

Ivantia’s fingers curled around the amethyst point she had taken from the stone circle. Remembering Norinth’s counsel, she drew her energy in, relaxed her breathing, and slowly faced the priestess.

Garbed in dark sapphire robes highlighted by a heavy chain of linked gold, her High Mother provoked a direct and deliberate contrast to the ornate dresses of the Court women. Her only jewels were large rubies that hung on her ears like rich faceted drops of blood.

I am honored to have the attention of someone so revered as you, High Mother, Ivantia replied carefully.

But your mother is my dearest friend and you her only child. I would happily do anything for you as I would my own daughter.

The priestess’s lips edged into a smile.

As your High Mother, it is only natural that I take a strong interest in your progress. To that end, I invite you join us at Avalon where I would be able to see you every day. I know well your talents, High Daughter, and only we at Avalon may bring them to their fullest expression. Your gifts are wasted here at Court.

Ivantia’s dizzied heartbeat warned her not to dally.

I have yet to speak about this with my mother and I have had no training, Ivantia replied, eyes downcast.

Ah, but now is the time to begin. The Lady Halgabron was most pleased at my suggestion. Your fine lineage and your practice with the healers here at Court make much of the preliminary training unnecessary. I will arrange a meeting for you with the Lady so that she can reassure you of this personally.

Glenmaera paused, expectantly.

That would be an honor. I look forward to our next meeting then. Ivantia forced out her words and took her leave without waiting for a response.

To avoid another encounter, Ivantia withdrew completely from the Hall and mounted the long stairway to the only deserted spot in the castle, the upper ramparts of Camelot. With the dancing, music and libations going on within and little danger of attack from without, the guards were carousing in one of the watchtowers. She leaned back against the wall to look up at the stars and breathe them in, grateful for the solace they brought.

Despite her efforts, her departure had not gone unremarked. Behind her, Merlin slipped into the shadows of a recess the guards used during long winter watches.

His mind went back to his visions revealed by the fire. The girl’s resemblance to the figure he had seen was unmistakable. Who was she and what was her relationship to Avalon’s emissary to Camelot? She did not have the air of the Circle about her, yet the priestess definitely held some claim over her, given the intense energy that crackled between them during their exchange. He watched her reach out to the stars and Saw the stream of energy that answered her call.

This girl has verve and power, he thought. Could she be the one?

***

The night drew into its intimate hours and Glenmaera began her final round of the Hall. The unexpected sight of Ivantia standing behind an enormous bowl of sweetmeats, speaking to Lancelot, brought her up short. Her experienced eye soon spotted another interested observer standing only a few paces from the couple. Guinevere. The Queen was listening to one of her entourage, but her eyes were upon the Knight.

Glenmaera smiled and stepped back to watch Lancelot wend his considerable charm. He reached across Ivantia to select a sugared chestnut, lightly grazing her breast. Ivantia blushed deeply and looked askance. He then offered a sweet to her, insisting on placing it between her parted lips. When she took it from him, the tips of his fingers lingered on her mouth.

The Knight leaned close to whisper something in her ear, his cheek next to hers. Ivantia smiled in spite of herself. His arm made its way around her waist and he slowly pulled her to him. At Ivantia’s demure protest, Lancelot released her, but maintained the ground he had gained and stayed standing with his body close to hers.

Glenmaera watched as Ivantia’s nervous laughter and the Knight’s escalating advances left Guinevere with fewer and fewer conversational skills. The Queen frequently glanced at the pair, incessantly twirling a fine strand of seed pearls about one finger.

Finally, strained beyond its limit, the necklace snapped and sprayed tiny beads across the floor. As attendants hurried to gather them up, Guinevere used the distraction to intercede in Lancelot’s amorous pursuit.

Stiffly, the Queen walked over to the bowl of sweetmeats and, with her back to the Knight, selected a honeyed almond. Delicately nibbling the almond, she turned and feigned surprise at the sight of Lancelot. He turned to face the Queen with a courteous, but indifferent, air.

Guinevere lowered her head towards the Knight and said something in a voice too low for Glenmaera to hear, but it was not hard to imagine the banality of their exchange.

During a lull in their conversation, the almond was delicately nibbled. Glenmaera was disappointed to see Ivantia slip away; they would have made an interesting trio. Guinevere offered Lancelot her hand and Glenmaera caught his eyes seeking out Ivantia as he bowed over it.

Yes, the priestess thought, Beltane is long overdue.

Chapter 3

A brilliant morning sun warmed the Table when Merlin arrived the next morn. He laid a hand upon the Table’s burnished rings in remembrance of the great oak from whence it came. Then, with a measured stride, he walked the perimeter of the room, pausing in front of the thirteen tapestries that lined