Read Online Soulvine 03 A Bright and Terrible Sword by Anna Kendall - Free Book Online
Authors: Anna Kendall
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sucking our fingers while the dog crunched rabbit bones, I began.
‘You said you circled back through that village and so knew what was happening there.’
‘Yes.’ He unwrapped his lute.
‘No music, Leo. I want to talk.’
He ignored me, strumming softly. ‘You can ask, Roger, but I told you: I know very little.’
‘Not as little as you profess, I think.’
‘You’re wrong. I know exactly that little.’ He began a lilting air I had heard at court. Queen Caroline and her ladies had danced to it.
‘You know at least what you heard in the village. What happened there?’
‘The same thing as in Stonegreen. You were there, Roger. Babies vanished from their cradles and were found at dawn, as tranquil and mindless as the Dead.’
‘Where were they found? What exact spot?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe somewhere near the stream you waded along.’
‘Listen to me, Leo. When I crossed back over from the Country of the Dead, I found myself inside the village mill, beside that same stream. On this side was the circle of tranced babies, on the other side I saw a circle of the Dead. And those Dead just vanished. They were sucked into a sort of spinning grey vortex. Do you—’
‘They were what?’ Leo looked up, startled and then afraid. ‘The Dead were sucked into something? That’s impossible!’
‘No. I saw it.’ More than once.
‘I don’t believe it. The Dead never go anywhere! They’re dead!’
I believed him. His whole body had gone rigid with shock and fear. Leo hated to cross over; probably he had never seen the vortex, or even the fog that formed it. He knew nothing. And in talking to him, I knew no more than before.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Let us forget that I ever spoke of it.’
‘Gladly. I think you must have dreamed all that, Roger. You were dreaming today, just before you woke. You called out a girl’s name.’
Alarm shot through me. ‘What name?’
‘Maggie. Who is she?’
I managed to grimace and shrug. ‘A girl I once bedded. The only girl, in fact. She was a kitchen maid.’
He nodded, not very interested. ‘I have never had a girl.’
‘Oh.’ I didn’t know what to say. This was the reverse of Tom Jenkins, who had boasted to me of his many conquests.
‘What girl would have me?’ Leo said bitterly. ‘Look at me. Puny and weak and scarred. Even my Lady Judith was only kind to me from pity.’ He struck a harsh chord on his lute and reached for its wrappings.
‘Leo—’
‘Shut your mouth, Roger. I’m going to sleep now. You clean up.’ He rolled in his cloak beside the fire, face turned away from me.
In the gathering darkness I buried what was left of the rabbit – not much, after the dog was finished with it – to keep predators from camp. Under the oaks I gathered more deadwood for the fire. Water was harder; I could find neither spring nor stream, which was probably why Leo had not filled the waterbag here. And he had not filled it as we walked earlier because water was heavy to carry. ‘Puny and weak’ he had described himself – he’d left out ‘lazy’. Which made it all the more puzzling that he was here, sticking to me like pine tar.
But no longer. What had failed last night, I would try again tonight. I was leaving Leo Tollers and the dog that was not Hunter, as soon as the animal was asleep and so could not bark and wake Leo.
At the moment, however, the dog sat wide awake, gazing at me with its green eyes as I sat by the fire. Occasionally it licked my hand. The stars emerged in a deep blue sky but tonight their beauty captured me less than did my own troubled mind.
What had the stolen, tranced infants to do with the circles of the Dead? What was the connection? And why hadn’t the sucking of the Dead into vortexes disturbed the Country of the Dead? Three years ago I had begun to disturb that calm landscape. I had carried back first a half-wit sailor, then Lady Cecilia, and then over a hundred soldiers. My meddling had caused storms,
‘You said you circled back through that village and so knew what was happening there.’
‘Yes.’ He unwrapped his lute.
‘No music, Leo. I want to talk.’
He ignored me, strumming softly. ‘You can ask, Roger, but I told you: I know very little.’
‘Not as little as you profess, I think.’
‘You’re wrong. I know exactly that little.’ He began a lilting air I had heard at court. Queen Caroline and her ladies had danced to it.
‘You know at least what you heard in the village. What happened there?’
‘The same thing as in Stonegreen. You were there, Roger. Babies vanished from their cradles and were found at dawn, as tranquil and mindless as the Dead.’
‘Where were they found? What exact spot?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe somewhere near the stream you waded along.’
‘Listen to me, Leo. When I crossed back over from the Country of the Dead, I found myself inside the village mill, beside that same stream. On this side was the circle of tranced babies, on the other side I saw a circle of the Dead. And those Dead just vanished. They were sucked into a sort of spinning grey vortex. Do you—’
‘They were what?’ Leo looked up, startled and then afraid. ‘The Dead were sucked into something? That’s impossible!’
‘No. I saw it.’ More than once.
‘I don’t believe it. The Dead never go anywhere! They’re dead!’
I believed him. His whole body had gone rigid with shock and fear. Leo hated to cross over; probably he had never seen the vortex, or even the fog that formed it. He knew nothing. And in talking to him, I knew no more than before.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Let us forget that I ever spoke of it.’
‘Gladly. I think you must have dreamed all that, Roger. You were dreaming today, just before you woke. You called out a girl’s name.’
Alarm shot through me. ‘What name?’
‘Maggie. Who is she?’
I managed to grimace and shrug. ‘A girl I once bedded. The only girl, in fact. She was a kitchen maid.’
He nodded, not very interested. ‘I have never had a girl.’
‘Oh.’ I didn’t know what to say. This was the reverse of Tom Jenkins, who had boasted to me of his many conquests.
‘What girl would have me?’ Leo said bitterly. ‘Look at me. Puny and weak and scarred. Even my Lady Judith was only kind to me from pity.’ He struck a harsh chord on his lute and reached for its wrappings.
‘Leo—’
‘Shut your mouth, Roger. I’m going to sleep now. You clean up.’ He rolled in his cloak beside the fire, face turned away from me.
In the gathering darkness I buried what was left of the rabbit – not much, after the dog was finished with it – to keep predators from camp. Under the oaks I gathered more deadwood for the fire. Water was harder; I could find neither spring nor stream, which was probably why Leo had not filled the waterbag here. And he had not filled it as we walked earlier because water was heavy to carry. ‘Puny and weak’ he had described himself – he’d left out ‘lazy’. Which made it all the more puzzling that he was here, sticking to me like pine tar.
But no longer. What had failed last night, I would try again tonight. I was leaving Leo Tollers and the dog that was not Hunter, as soon as the animal was asleep and so could not bark and wake Leo.
At the moment, however, the dog sat wide awake, gazing at me with its green eyes as I sat by the fire. Occasionally it licked my hand. The stars emerged in a deep blue sky but tonight their beauty captured me less than did my own troubled mind.
What had the stolen, tranced infants to do with the circles of the Dead? What was the connection? And why hadn’t the sucking of the Dead into vortexes disturbed the Country of the Dead? Three years ago I had begun to disturb that calm landscape. I had carried back first a half-wit sailor, then Lady Cecilia, and then over a hundred soldiers. My meddling had caused storms,
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