Free Weatherwitch: Book Three of The Crowthistle Chronicles by Cecilia Dart-Thornton Page B

luminous against the evening shadows; in less than an hour their shimmering pallor filled basket and sled, and Asrathiel’s companions, their lanterns swinging like pendant jewels, were wending back to the mill to partake of more refreshments. They were secure in the knowledge that the mill had been well guarded from pranksters; the miller himself, and several stalwart mill-hands, had made certain of it.
    Mead and ale flowed freely, and much jollity was enjoyed. Afterwards the family’s hearth fire was extinguished with due ceremony, in the tradition of Mai Day Eve. As soon as their tankards were empty and the hearth-fire embers hissing their last gasps of steam, the Millers hitched two pairs of horses to their barouche and joined their visitors on the journey along the byways of the plateau to Greatlawn Common. On the way the two conveyances met and merged with convoys of other revelers, on foot or in carriages. The full procession, lighted by bobbing lanterns and heralded by mirthful singing, arrived on the common well after the sun had set.
    Resplendent firelight flickered through the trees. On Greatlawn Common the Mai Day Eve bonfire was beginning to burn. Almost all Asrathiel’s kindred and friends were present, the people who filled her life with unswerving love, occasional selfishness, kindness, thoughtlessness, friendship and evanescent quarrels. In a wide circle around the contorting flames the folk of High Darioneth mingled, regardless of worldly status, their cheerful faces painted with flickering red light. The weathermasters amongst them were of goodly bearing and appearance. Most were garbed in richly patterned clothing of various colours. The elder weathermasters, however, no matter were they man or woman, were invested with splendid raiment in many shades of grey; storm-cloud, ash, iron and slate. These were the mages. Their garments of voluptuous velvet and copiously embroidered satin were emblazoned with the emblems of their calling: the runes for Water, Fire and Air: ¥, Ψ and §.
    The bri, the innate ability to sense and affect the weather elements of air, fire and water, was a gift passed on through generations of weathermasters. As bri-children grew to adulthood they became prentices, learning how to master their abilities and being schooled in the ethics of weather-working. Successful prentices were permitted to become journeymen. When they had satisfactorily completed their studies—usually at the age of twenty-one—journeymen were deemed ready to pass the ultimate test and become full-fledged weathermages; only then did they receive the final secret of weather-wielding. Asrathiel was a journeyman, yet the brí was potent in her and she had sped through her lessons at an unprecedented rate. There was talk of her achieving early mage-hood.
    The schoolhouse down on the plateau, Fortune-in-the Fields, provided education for the plains-dwelling children; but Rowan Green perched on its high shelf had no schools. Personal tutors had the job of teaching all bri-children, prentices and journeymen, and at this period Asrathiel’s grandfather was her mentor. As the Mai Day Eve bonfire flared, the damsel smiled upon him; Avalloc Maelstronnar-Stormbringer, the Storm Lord, aquiline of feature and greymaned. He was surrounded by family and friend; his daughters Galiene and Lysanor with their husbands and grown-up children; his sister Astolat with her grandchildren; Lynley and Baldulf Ymberbaillé-Rainbearer with their son Bliant and his wife and youngsters; the venerable members of the Council of Ellenhall; Ettare Sibilaure, Gauvain Cilsundror and Engres Aventaur; the new carlin, Lidoine Galenrithar; and the farmers, orchardists and tradesfolk of the plateau. While Asrathiel cherished them all, it was at celebrations such as this that she mourned her parents afresh, longing for her mother’s touch, her father’s smile. Her smiles concealed a sorrow that never melted away.
    Calling on her powers of fancy and