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and friends now you know what to do.”
    “But,” Myrina said, “will I be able to do such a thing myself, without you to guide me?”
    Atisha laughed. “You did well, Snaky Girl; some find it much more difficult than that. The more you practice, the stronger your magic will grow.”
    “I didn’t see Tomi,” she realized.
    “You will see whomever you want to see,” Atisha told her. “There will be plenty of time for keeping an eye on your sweetheart.”
    Myrina jumped. The Old Woman seemed to know everything about her.
    “Don’t look so fearful.” Atisha cackled crudely. “I didn’t need my magic mirror to tell me that; the boy couldn’t take his great calf eyes from you while you danced.”
    Myrina was pleased to hear that. “But what of Cassandra?” she asked. “Can she make this magic without being taught?”
    Atisha turned solemn. “That ancient mirror of hers has strong mystical powers. In Troy, they would say she was chosen by the god Apollo, but I think there’s a touch of Earth Mother, Maa, in the gift and maybe Dancing Myrina was her messenger.”
    This was deep magic that they talked of now, ancient magic that carried a great responsibility with it. Myrina could not help but feel a little resentful that the shade of the famous old warrior woman should visit Cassandra and not her who was her namesake.
    Atisha nodded. “I am coming to understand that we are honored to have Cassandra here with us, and yet . . .” The Old Woman stopped, her lined face full of pain.
    “Something troubles you about her?” Myrina whispered, hoping that she wasn’t being disrespectful.
    But Atisha smiled and patted her shoulder approvingly. “You are much like your grandmother,” she said. “Yes, something does trouble me. Cassandra’s gift will bring her sorrow. She doesn’t just see, as I do, as you did—she feels. She feels the emotions of those she sees. That can be too much for one person to bear, far too much. What that one needs is a true friend.”
    Myrina frowned. She could see that such a gift could bring suffering, but she couldn’t help but feel annoyed by the respect, almost reverence, that Atisha had so quickly given to Cassandra.
    “What that one needs is a loyal and stalwart companion,” Atisha repeated.
    Myrina shuffled uncomfortably. She felt sure that the Old Woman was suggesting that she be this stalwart one. Didn’t she have enough to do just keeping up with the other Moon Riders? Chryseis had seemed to be such a loyal companion but Cassandra had ruthlessly left her behind in Troy.
    She was relieved when Atisha got up briskly and said, “Well, well . . . we shall see. We must return to the others. We’ll cook and eat the fish that we’ve been given, then tomorrow we hunt. Are you good with the bow and arrow?”
    “Yes,” Myrina answered with confidence. “I can shoot from horseback in all directions, twisting north, south, east, and west, as Hati taught me.”
    “You are a born Moon Rider.” Atisha smiled.
    As the days lengthened and the bitter winter winds softened, the Moon Riders traveled on through Thrace. Everywhere they went they were welcomed and honored; their presence brought feasts and dancing.
    Myrina had little time to mirror-gaze, or even think about her family. Every day brought a new journey, new people, a babble of strange languages, and unfamiliar food that must be received with courtesy. Cassandra struggled through it all with grim determination.
    Atisha picked a steady mare called Arian for the Trojan princess, but even so, the first few weeks of riding alone brought her bruised thighs and an aching back. Myrina couldn’t help but notice the persistence with which Cassandra clambered onto Arian’s back each morning, gritting her teeth silently against the aches and pains. She readily joined the dancing each night, studiously copying Myrina’s every twist and turn, willingly raising her fine voice in song whenever it was requested, even though she might be