Lavondyss (Mythago Cycle) Read Free Page B

bursting in!’
    ‘Sorry,’ he said again, his hand raised appeasingly.
    ‘These three sons were good at sport, and at hunting, and games, and at music.
And
,’ she said, ‘they loved their little sister very much. Although hers is a
different
story than this one!’ She glanced at him sharply.
    ‘But at least we know there was a sister.’
    ‘Yes!’
    ‘And her brothers loved her.’
    ‘Yes! In different ways …’
    ‘Ah hah. What different ways?’
    ‘Mr
Williams!
’
    ‘But it might be important …’
    ‘Mr Williams!
I’m
trying to tell
you
the story!’
    ‘Sorry,’ he said for the third time, in his smallest, most conciliatory voice.
    Again the girl composed her thoughts, grumbling all the while. Then she raised her hands for total silence.
    But even as she was about to speak the change went through her, the brief shuddering, the sudden whitening of her face which Mr Williams had witnessed just the day before. It was what he had been waiting for and he leaned forward, watching curiously and anxiously. The possession of the girl, for possession is what he imagined this to be, disturbed him no less now than it had before, and yet he was helpless to intervene. Tallis looked suddenly ill, rocking on her feet, looking so wan and gaunt that she might have been about to faint. But she remained standing, although her eyes became unfocused, staring straight through the man in front of her. Her hair, long and very fine, seemed to drift in an unfelt breeze. The air around her, and around Mr Williams, grew slightly chilled. Mr Williams could find no better word to describe this change than: eerie. Whatever possessed her would not harm her because it had not harmed her yesterday, but it changed her totally. Her voice was still the same girl’s voice, but she was different, now, and the language she used – usually quite sophisticated for her age – suddenly became dramatically archaic.
    He heard the slightest of movements in the underbrush behind him and twisted awkwardly where he sat to glance at the trees. He couldn’t be sure, but for an instant he imagined he could see a hooded figure standing there, its face white and expressionless. Cloud shadow altered the quality of light on the face of the wood and the image of the figure had gone.
    He turned back to Tallis, holding his breath, shaking with anticipation, aware that he was in the presence of something beyond his reason.
    Tallis began to speak the story again …
    The Valley of Dreams
    Forty years the King lived and his sons were men, now. They had fought single combat and won many honours. They had fought in battle and won distinction.
    There was a great feast in honour of the Ear of Corn. Ten stewards carried the mead to the King’s table. Twenty stewards carried the quarters of the ox. The Queen’s lady made bread that was as white as snow, and was scented with the autumn land.
    ‘Who shall have the Castle?’ asked the eldest son, emboldened by wine.
    ‘By the Fair God, none of you,’ said the King.
    ‘How so?’
    ‘Only my body and the body of the Queen shall live in the Castle,’ said the Lord.
    ‘That is a bad idea,’ said Mordred.
    ‘On my word, it shall be that way.’
    ‘The broken haft of my seventh spear says I
shall
have a Castle,’ said the son, defiantly.
    ‘You shall have a Castle, but it will not be this one.’
    There was a great argument and the three sons were made to stand on the flame side of the table and eat only with their shield hands. The King’s mind was made up. When he was dead he would be buried in the deepest room. The outer chambers and all the courtyards would be filled with earth from the field of the Battle of Bavduin, from that great time in the history of the people. The fortress would become a huge mound in honour of the King. There would be one true way to the heart of the tomb, where the heart of the King could be found. Only a Knight of five chariots, a seven-speared, coldly-slaying, fierce-voiced