The Snow Qween

mind really control what happens here? It twists me in its own directions — but can it reach beyond my hand, can it really move anything that it doesn't hold on strings?

'... Who suckles us upon Her breast
And makes Herself our grave?'

'The Lady gives us all we need.
We give her all we can.'

Moon watched Fate begin to drift out in a counter circle bearing the mask, her expression intent but formless. She won't recognize me.

'Who fills our nets and pools and bellies,
Who fills our hearts with grief?'

'The Lady gives us all we need,
And asks for all we have.'

Moon bit her lip against panic, against more words, the urge to cry out, Here, here I am! Wanting to believe that it was predestination, but no longer certain that anything was predestined. She couldn't leave it to chance — not after she had come this far, and seen so much. She has to choose me. But how — ?

'Whose blessings cause the sky to weep,
Whose curse melds sea with air?'
'The Lady gives us all we need,
And makes us what we are.'

Moon's memory leaped forward to the next verse, and the two levels of her consciousness fused: 'Input!'

'Who knows the one that She will call,
Or what their fate will be?'

The refrain faded as she fell into Transfer, came back with a sudden intensity that deafened her. She felt herself lurch with the shock, tried to open her eyes. But her eyes were open, and still the world she saw was barely brighter than moonlight, its edges blurred and indistinct. Her other senses fed her perception all out of proportion because she was blind! In another second she had passed through terror to the understanding that she was — Fate Ravenglass. And that somewhere in that dimly seen line of figures circling past her immobile body was one that must be caught at the other pole of this Transfer...

She watched the dim figures pass, and pass, wondering what she would find, if she would even be able to tell what was taking shape. And then she made out the one figure that stumbled in line, supported, half-carried, on the arms of the indistinguishable women at either side: herself — she was seeing herself. And Fate Ravenglass looked back with her eyes; each of them seeing her own face and knowing they did... Abruptly Moon felt her borrowed body unlock and move forward freely toward her real one, the mask held out before her in her hands. As she closed with herself she could see at last that the face was really her own. It stared at the mask, back at her, with wonder and wordless fascination. She lifted the mask with Fate's trembling hands, moved again by its beauty as she set it firmly on her own shoulders.

As the mask settled in place she felt herself wrenched back across the Transfer gap, into her rightful mind, and heard her cry as she ended the trance. Looking out now through the eye holes of the mask, she saw Fate standing dazed before her, felt her own arms still supported by the women beside her, heard the roar of the crowd's jubilation. But all that she remembered of the moment was Fate touching the face that was her own again: 'My face — I saw my face. And the mask of the Summer Queen ...'

The crowd began to close in around them, smashing the fragile circle of hands, sweeping away the also- rans. Moon's support broke away as she regained her equilibrium; she reached out and grasped Fate's hands, holding her steady, face to face. 'Fate — it's happened! I did it! I am the Summer Queen!'

'Yes. Yes, I know.' Fate shook her head, tears putting light in her darkened eyes. 'It was meant to be. It was. It must be the first time two sibyls ever looked out of each other's eyes, and saw themselves—' She