Read Online The Islands of the Blessed by Nancy Farmer - Free Book Online Page B

coasted the breeze, its eyes scanning for mice. And lower still—
    Jack heard a thin, peeping call, and his attention wavered enough to see the Bard blowing on the flute.
    Eee eee eee,
it went. A simple call and yet not simple. It had layers and layers of meaning, the same way a leaf-stained pond reveals first the surface and then more depths as one continues to gaze.
Eee eee eee
went the air from a hundred different places.
    And suddenly the sky was full of bats swirling and dipping around the old man. The Bard played his flute, and the bats answered. Jack could detect variations of pitch and intensity in the cries, but he had no idea what they meant.
    The Bard put down the flute. With a dry rustle the bats dispersed, and in an instant they had disappeared. “They’ve gone in search of Thorgil,” the old man explained. “I’ll leave the door ajar in case one of them comes back.”
    â€œIs that what the flute is for? To call bats?” whispered Jack. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering.
    â€œYou can call many things with it, some of which you would not care to meet. On the way to Bebba’s Town I’ll show you some of its uses.” The old man said nothing more, but Jack was elated. He was going to learn new magic. He’d already learned a few words in Bird and how to cast a sleep-spell. Things were looking up.
    He shifted his bed to the other end of the house. He didn’t care to spend the night next to an open door with bats coming and going and a monster wandering in the hazel wood. He kept his knife ready and had his eye on a hefty branch smoldering in the fire in case of an emergency.
    But the Bard slept peacefully all night and woke refreshed, just as Jack finally managed to close his eyes.

Chapter Seven

THE MERMAID
    It was Brother Aiden who roused Jack some time later. The little monk banged the door open with his foot because his hands were holding the bell. “There
is
a monster,” he said, panting as he placed the bell on the floor. “Something killed John the Fletcher’s fighting cock and all the hens. The chief found a dead lamb outside his door.”
    â€œSit down and catch your breath,” the Bard ordered. “Jack, fetch our guest some cider.”
    The boy sat up and brushed bits of straw from his hair. He quickly found a bag and filled a cup.
    The monk downed the cider and held out his cup for more. “I could take a bath in this, I’m that lathered. Jack wasright about a creature attracted to Fair Lamenting. It was all over the village hunting for it.”
    â€œOr the attack was a coincidence. The damage could have been done by a bear,” suggested the Bard.
    â€œA bear kills to eat. This thing tore animals to shreds and scattered the remains. Thank God it didn’t find a child.” Brother Aiden put the cup down. “The chief has ordered women and children to stay indoors, and John the Fletcher is organizing a hunt party.”
    â€œThey won’t find anything,” the Bard said quietly. A significant look passed between him and the monk.
    â€œThorgil!” cried Jack. “She was out all night!”
    â€œShe’s fine,” the old man assured him. “A crow spied her early this morning, sitting on a beach.”
    â€œI’ll look for her.”
    â€œShe’ll come when she’s ready,” the Bard said firmly. “Now, Aiden, let’s discuss this monster of yours.”
    Jack was torn. He wanted to know about the monster, but he was worried about Thorgil. She had to be very cold and hungry. She couldn’t even start a fire with that paralyzed hand of hers.
    â€œStop fidgeting, lad. She’s guarded by the rune of protection,” the old man said. “Now, to begin—”
    The rune only helps you endure pain. It doesn’t save you from it,
Jack thought bitterly, remembering the blows he’d received from Olaf One-Brow.
    â€œâ€”something was