Read Online The Drowned Tomb (The Changeling Series Book 2) by James Fahy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Fahy
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beside his mana stone, a small test-tube vial on a string clinked occasionally.
Karya, who had been up all night brewing the concoction, and extra grumpy at the breakfast table because of it, had instructed him to leave it as long as possible before drinking the potion. She hadn’t been sure how potent it would be, with the kraken being so small. It would be prudent, she’d advised, to wait until the start of the lesson, in case the effects didn’t take. Robin hadn’t argued. The liquid in the tube was black and gloopy. He didn’t relish the idea of drinking it at all and was glad to put it off.
As he finally emerged from the dappled, hazy shadows of the trees, blinded by the morning sunlight glittering off the surface of the lake, he saw his new tutor waiting for him. The nymph Calypso was seated in a white deckchair by the water’s edge, a pale, wide-brimmed hat shading her face. A small table by her side contained a teapot and she held in her lap a teacup and saucer.
“Good morning, Robin Fellows, Scion of the Arcania,” she said to him with the tiniest of hazy smiles. She was wearing huge dark sunglasses. Robin wondered where on earth she had procured them.
“I trust you slept well,” she said. “Although by the look of you, I suspect this not to be the case. Your face looks a size too large for your skull. Usually an indication of an ill-rested soul.”
Robin mumbled a guilty good morning in return. “Just Robin is fine,” he muttered, as she took off her sunglasses, standing so that the long gown she wore rippled in the soft breeze.
“What is that?” she asked off-hand, nodding to the bundle under his arm. Robin glanced down.
“Umm, swim shorts, you know, for swimming. And a towel.”
The Panthea woman regarded the towel with a kind of dreamy fascination. “A towel.” She rolled the unfamiliar word around her mouth. “And what is its purpose?”
“For, well, for getting dry afterwards.”
She blinked at him slowly. “Why on earth would you want to be dry?” she asked.
“Well … people do,” he faltered. “Generally, I mean.”
Madame Calypso sniffed and considered this. “How odd you people are,” she said. “I have always found that most people are decidedly dehydrated. And the shorts?”
Robin’s face flushed. “To wear!” he said. “I’ve got to wear something to swim in, haven’t I?”
She nodded a little after a moment. “Yes, of course. I understand. It would be far too hilarious otherwise. Come along.” She turned away before Robin could reply, or burst into mortified flames, and she led him down to the water’s edge.
“Your strange human companion seems to have the correct idea at least when it comes to water,” she observed. Robin followed her gaze, realising why he hadn’t seen Henry at breakfast earlier. He’d assumed the boy was still asleep, but as it happened, he was wrong. Robin could just make out the boy’s figure, out on the mossy island, in trunks, goggles, and what Robin feared was an actual swimming cap, bright canary yellow. Henry was clambering a low tumbled wall of the old folly like a spider-monkey. As they watched, he leapt gracelessly, a flailing mass of gangly limbs, and cannonballed into the water with an almighty splash.
“He’s been doing that all morning.” Madame Calypso said, her head tilted to one side. Her voice was filled with confused wonder. “He has all the skill and grace of a dropped potato, but I have to say, his love for the water is admirable.”
Robin sighed. “Yes, as you can see from that perfect swan dive there, he’s training for the Olympics.”
“Gird yourself appropriately, Robin Fellows, Scion of the Arcania,” his tutor said softly. “And then we shall begin your instruction out on the island.”
Leaving the towel on the beach by the deckchair, Robin scampered off to the privacy of the wooded edge to change into his shorts, taking the opportunity, while hidden by the foliage, to take Karya’s
Karya, who had been up all night brewing the concoction, and extra grumpy at the breakfast table because of it, had instructed him to leave it as long as possible before drinking the potion. She hadn’t been sure how potent it would be, with the kraken being so small. It would be prudent, she’d advised, to wait until the start of the lesson, in case the effects didn’t take. Robin hadn’t argued. The liquid in the tube was black and gloopy. He didn’t relish the idea of drinking it at all and was glad to put it off.
As he finally emerged from the dappled, hazy shadows of the trees, blinded by the morning sunlight glittering off the surface of the lake, he saw his new tutor waiting for him. The nymph Calypso was seated in a white deckchair by the water’s edge, a pale, wide-brimmed hat shading her face. A small table by her side contained a teapot and she held in her lap a teacup and saucer.
“Good morning, Robin Fellows, Scion of the Arcania,” she said to him with the tiniest of hazy smiles. She was wearing huge dark sunglasses. Robin wondered where on earth she had procured them.
“I trust you slept well,” she said. “Although by the look of you, I suspect this not to be the case. Your face looks a size too large for your skull. Usually an indication of an ill-rested soul.”
Robin mumbled a guilty good morning in return. “Just Robin is fine,” he muttered, as she took off her sunglasses, standing so that the long gown she wore rippled in the soft breeze.
“What is that?” she asked off-hand, nodding to the bundle under his arm. Robin glanced down.
“Umm, swim shorts, you know, for swimming. And a towel.”
The Panthea woman regarded the towel with a kind of dreamy fascination. “A towel.” She rolled the unfamiliar word around her mouth. “And what is its purpose?”
“For, well, for getting dry afterwards.”
She blinked at him slowly. “Why on earth would you want to be dry?” she asked.
“Well … people do,” he faltered. “Generally, I mean.”
Madame Calypso sniffed and considered this. “How odd you people are,” she said. “I have always found that most people are decidedly dehydrated. And the shorts?”
Robin’s face flushed. “To wear!” he said. “I’ve got to wear something to swim in, haven’t I?”
She nodded a little after a moment. “Yes, of course. I understand. It would be far too hilarious otherwise. Come along.” She turned away before Robin could reply, or burst into mortified flames, and she led him down to the water’s edge.
“Your strange human companion seems to have the correct idea at least when it comes to water,” she observed. Robin followed her gaze, realising why he hadn’t seen Henry at breakfast earlier. He’d assumed the boy was still asleep, but as it happened, he was wrong. Robin could just make out the boy’s figure, out on the mossy island, in trunks, goggles, and what Robin feared was an actual swimming cap, bright canary yellow. Henry was clambering a low tumbled wall of the old folly like a spider-monkey. As they watched, he leapt gracelessly, a flailing mass of gangly limbs, and cannonballed into the water with an almighty splash.
“He’s been doing that all morning.” Madame Calypso said, her head tilted to one side. Her voice was filled with confused wonder. “He has all the skill and grace of a dropped potato, but I have to say, his love for the water is admirable.”
Robin sighed. “Yes, as you can see from that perfect swan dive there, he’s training for the Olympics.”
“Gird yourself appropriately, Robin Fellows, Scion of the Arcania,” his tutor said softly. “And then we shall begin your instruction out on the island.”
Leaving the towel on the beach by the deckchair, Robin scampered off to the privacy of the wooded edge to change into his shorts, taking the opportunity, while hidden by the foliage, to take Karya’s
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