Read Online Isle of Glass by Judith Tarr - Free Book Online Page A

would not have chosen to stop here; but he glanced at his
companion and grimaced. Here he was, riding with an elf-man, a proven
enchanter, and he was afraid to sleep on an old barrow.
    It did not seem to trouble Alf. He made camp quietly and ate
as much as he would ever eat, and sat afterward, silent, fixing the fire with a
blank, inward stare.
    When he spoke, Jehan started. “Alun is here.”
    The novice shuddered and closed his eyes. For a moment in
the fire he had seen a narrow hawk-face, a glint of grey eyes, staring full
into his own.
    Alf’s voice murmured in his ear. “Alun sends greetings.”
    Jehan opened his eyes. There was no face in the fire. “Is he
still...”
    “No.” Alf rose and stretched, arching his back, turning his
face to the stars. Below, in the clearing about the mound, the horses grazed
quietly.
    He laid his hand on the standing stone. It was cold, yet in
the core of it he sensed a strange warmth.
    So it was in certain parts of St. Ruan’s: cold stone, warm
heart, and power that sang in his blood. The power hummed here, faint yet
steady. It had eased the contact with Alun, brought them mind to mind almost
without their willing it.
    Yet there was something...
    Jehan; the horses; a hunting owl; a wolf.
    He called in all the threads of his power and looked into
Jehan’s wide eyes. The moon was very bright, turning toward the full; even the
novice could see almost as well as if it had been day.
    Alf cupped his hands. The cold light filled them and
overflowed. Slowly he opened his fingers and let it drain away.
    “What does it feel like?” Jehan’s voice was very low.
    He let his hands fill again and held them out to Jehan. The
other reached out a hand that tried not to tremble. “It— I can feel it!”
    Again Alf let the light go. It poured like water over
Jehan’s fingers, but he could not hold it. “I could make it solid, weave a
fabric of it. I tried that once. Moonlight and snowlight for an altar cloth. It
was beautiful. The Abbot wanted to send it to Rome. But then he realized that
it was made with sorcery.”
    “What did he do with it?”
    “Exactly what he did with me. Blessed it, consecrated it,
and put it away.” Alf lay down, propped up on his elbow. “But now I’m out. I
wonder what will happen to the cloth.”
    “Maybe,” said Jehan, “Dom Morwin should send it to Rhiyana.
The Pope wouldn’t appreciate it, but the Elvenking would.”
    Alf considered that. “Maybe he would.”
    “He’d certainly appreciate you.”
    For answer Jehan received only a swift ember-glance. They
did not speak again that night.

7
    The third day in the forest dawned bleak and cold. They ate
and broke camp in silence, shivering. Jehan’s fingers were numb, his gelding’s
trappings stiff and unmanageable; he cursed softly.
    Alf moved him gently aside and managed the recalcitrant
straps with ease. Jehan glanced at him. “You’re never cold, are you?”
    “Not often,” Alf said. The task was done; he took Jehan’s
hands in both his own. His flesh felt burning hot.
    Startled, Jehan tried to pull away. Alf held him easily.
“You don’t need to add frostbite to your ills.”
    Jehan submitted. The warmth no longer hurt; it was blissful.
“You’re a marvel, Brother Alf.”
    “Or a monster.” Alf let him go. “Come, mount up. We’ve a
long way to go.”
    o0o
    The cold did not grow less with the day’s rising. Jehan
thought the air smelled of snow.
    Alf rode warily, eyes flicking from side to side. More than
once he paused, every sense alert.
    “What is it?” Jehan asked. “Bandits?”
    The other shook his head.
    “Then why do you keep stopping?”
    “I don’t know,” Alf said. "Nothing stalks us. But the
pattern isn’t...quite...right. As if something were concealing itself.” His
eyes went strange, blind.
    Jehan looked away. When he looked back, Alf was blinking,
shaking his head. “I can’t find anything.” He shrugged as if to shake off a
burden. “We’re safe enough.