In Stone's Clasp Read Free

was more important than that. It had a task—to bring blessings everywhere across Lamal. It was never made to be crumpled into a boy’s pouch like a skipping stone.
    Jareth made his decision. He shifted his grip slightly for better purchase. When a breeze stirred his long blond hair, Jareth threw the piece of cloth as far up as he could. The zephyr gladly took it, and Jareth could have sworn he heard the cloth…singing. He watched as it danced away and vanished from sight.
    “I’m coming down,” he called to his friend, not answering the question. Jareth was not looking forward to the inevitable confrontation but was secure in the knowledge that he had made the right decision. The thought of that beautiful blessing cloth crumpled and dirty made him feel slightly sick.
    He had made it to the last branch and was about to jump down to the ground when he heard a loud crack. The limb broke beneath him and Jareth landed hard.
    Larr helped him to his feet, laughing as Jareth gasped for air like a fish out of water. “You’ll be all right,” Larr chuckled, slapping his friend on the back. “But so much for all your bragging about climbing trees. So, where is it?”
    Jareth got to his feet, wincing a little. “I let it go.”
    “What?”
    “That’s what you’re supposed to do,” Jareth said firmly.
    “You didn’t even show it to me?”
    Jareth hesitated, then said, “You said you wanted to keep it. I took you at your word. And it…Larr, it just wasn’t meant for keeping. I can’t explain it any better than that. I had to let it go.”
    While Larr fumed silently, Jareth turned to look at the betraying limb. It was a bit taller than he, slightly thinner than his arm. A thought occurred to him as he picked it up.
    “I could make a staff out of this,” he told Larr.
    Larr frowned. “I want a staff too,” he said. Jareth looked at him searchingly. Larr had already begun to forget about the blessing cloth and all that it meant. Now he wanted a staff. Jareth smiled.
    “Then let’s go find you one,” he said.
     
     
     
    When Jareth finally returned home, the shadows were lengthening. He winced as he remembered all the chores he was supposed to do. Opening the door of his parents’ small house, he stepped inside. His father, recovering from the second illness he’d had this winter, lay on a pallet beside the fire. Jareth knelt beside him.
    “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching to hold his father’s hand. “I was playing with Larr, and the day ran away from us. I’ll work twice as hard tomorrow, I promise.”
    His father looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and squeezed Jareth’s hand. “It’s all right, son,” he said, and then began to cough. Jareth cast a worried glance at the smoky fire. He couldn’t help but think the smoke was aggravating his father’s condition, but there was nothing anyone could do. Fire was life here in the winter, and the smoke would have to find its way out as best it could.
    His mother called. He hurried to where she was preparing the evening meal of fish and root vegetables.
    “With your father so ill, we rely on you more than ever, Jareth,” she said quietly.
    “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
    She turned from cutting the vegetables to regard him with pale blue eyes. He noticed for the first time that her once-golden hair was now almost silver.
    “Winter is hard,” she said. “We can’t have you running off when there’s so much to be done. You were supposed to bring more wood. Now we barely have enough to get through the night, and your father needs the warmth.”
    “I’ll do it right now.” He turned, determined to do something, anything, to remove the disappointed look on his mother’s face.
    “Jareth, is something the matter?”
    He froze. Had he—
    “No. Nothing’s wrong. Light’s fading, I’d best get out there.” He almost ran out of the house before his mother could ask any more questions.
    Jareth brought piles of