Music of the Distant Stars Read Free Page A

Did that imply that none of them remained with us, all those beloved, honoured ancestors?
    I swear I heard Granny sigh. Lassair, we will never leave you , she said patiently. But listen, child! What did you see in the grave with me?
    ‘Another body,’ I whispered, the horror flooding through me all over again.
    Yes, quite , Granny said testily. I thought she added, At last!
    ‘But it’s got no right to be there in your special place!’ I protested. ‘This is our island, for our people!’
    Death is death , Granny answered. This poor soul died too soon, and the corpse has been hidden here. That is not right, Lassair .
    ‘Died too soon,’ I repeated softly. ‘A corpse hidden in someone else’s grave, where but for the small mistake of leaving the stone slab slightly out of place, nobody would ever have found it . . .’
    Because, of course, if someone had slipped a body in with Granny then it was very likely that the poor dead soul hadn’t died of natural causes in his or her own bed. It was eminently likely that this was a murder victim, and that the killer had cruelly and cynically used my Granny’s grave as a convenient hiding place.
    I had found the body. It was up to me to act.
    I pushed the slab back in place, placed my flower wreath over Granny’s head and then, in some haste, I’m afraid, said my prayers and made my pleas for her soul.
    Then I packed up my satchel, fastened it and, gathering up my skirts and clutching my shawl, fled across the wooden walkway and raced back to Aelf Fen.

TWO
     
    I only saw one person on my headlong flight to the safety of home. I was about halfway back to the village. I’d just run past a clump of willows when I heard the sound of someone weeping; a man, I thought. The sounds were gruff and full of pain.
    I am a healer, or at least I am training to be one, under the tuition of my aunt Edild and a strange man called Hrype, who is a cunning man and the father of my friend Sibert. Even trainee healers know they must not ignore those who suffer. I stopped and, very cautiously, approached the willows.
    ‘Who’s there?’ I called softly.
    The weeping ceased abruptly. Nothing happened for a few moments, then two thick-leaved branches parted and someone crept out.
    It was a man, or I suppose that is what you would call him, for although he is fully grown and perhaps eighteen or twenty years old, his mind is that of a child. His body is misshapen under an over-large head, and his poor face is lopsided. I knew who he was; I had good reason to. I held out my hand, smiling, and said, ‘It’s all right, Derman. It’s me, Lassair. Come with me and I’ll take you home. Have you had breakfast?’ He risked a quick glance at me, his deep-set eyes furtive, drew the back of one hand across his nose and shook his heavy, lolling head. ‘Then you must be hungry,’ I went on briskly. ‘Come on, we’ll walk fast, then you’ll have something to eat all the sooner!’
    Talk of food distracted him, as I hoped it would. For the length of time it took to reach the village, we amused ourselves describing what we most liked to eat. Not that he contributed much to the conversation, for his stock of words is paltry and those he does know he pronounces oddly, as if his tongue were far too large for his mouth. By the time I led him up to his door, he was smiling again, and the only reminders of his tears were the streaks of dirt on his face and the snot coming out of his nose.
    Derman is a cross we are going to have to bear, for it looks as if he is going to become part of our family. My brother Haward is finally sweet on a girl, and we all have a shrewd idea that there could be a marriage before too long and a new bride in the house. It’s high time Haward was wed; he is nineteen, and although he has a kind heart, gentle ways and a handsome face, he has never sought out the pretty girls with the rest of the young men of the village because of his stammer. It wasn’t just that people made