“Dallen likes what we did better nor what we’re doin’ now, before midnight,” he explained. Dallen nodded vigorously, and Mags regarded the young woman for a moment. She looked awkward and uncomfortable and she was too short to really see anything, which was hardly fair. But it also didn’t seem fair for her to spend the rest of the vigil back inside, where no one else was. “Ye know what, there’s no reason why ye have t’stand there.”

:Oh, good thought, Mags,: Dallen agreed, picking up what Mags was considering. :Go ahead.:

“I don’t know what you—eep!” Amily squeaked, as Mags put both hands around her waist and hoisted her up onto Dallen’s back.

“There. Now ye kin see, an’ yer safe as houses,” Mags said with satisfaction. Amily stared down at him with round eyes.

“I’ve never ridden bareback—” she said faintly.

“Then shame on yer Pa’s Companion fer not teachin’ ye,” Mags retorted, handing a toasted sausage on a stick to her, and holding out a roasted apple on another for Dallen to nibble. “ ’Sides, ’tis a Companion. Ye know ye won’t fall. He won’t let ye, an’ that’s a fact.” He found a wooden bucket and overturned it to stand on.

From their vantage point, they could see everything. The musicians, who looked and sounded professional, struck up a very fast and lively dancing tune. Some folk began a ring dance around the fire, which then broke and turned into a spiral dance with people being added to the end of it when the rearmost reached out and grabbed them. They watched Lydia and Marc get added to it, and laughed to see them romping like children. The dance kept snaking out longer and longer as more people were added to the end. Finally, it reached the point where those at the end couldn’t keep up, but rather than falling apart, it broke into two with Lydia at the front of one. It looked like fun, but Mags was not going to desert Amily and Dallen. The dancers wound around and around the fire, as sparks flew all about them, with the two chains snaking in and out and around those who weren’t dancing. At last, the musicians themselves ran out of breath and brought it to a halt by the simple expedient of stopping the tune.

That was when someone—Mags didn’t recognize who—spotted Amily sitting regally atop Dallen, and set up a cry.

“The Midwinter Queen! The Midwinter Queen! She looks like a Queen on her throne! Make Amily the Queen!”