Read Online The Pool of Two Moons by Kate Forsyth - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Forsyth
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Fantasy fiction, Fiction - Fantasy, Fantasy, Contemporary, Juvenile Fiction, Magic, Witches, Epic, Fantasy - Epic, Fantasy - Series, Occult, Paperback Collection, australian
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his grandmother delighted everyone by dancing a high-spirited jig, bony knees flashing under a flurry of skirts.
Only Dide's grandmother did not join in, crouching in her customary spot by the fire, beads of amber glinting in the firelight. Later she sang, and her voice was so strange and sweet, shivers ran over Lilanthe's body and a knot formed in her throat. She was not surprised to see tears shining on the cheeks of the old woman, for the song had quavered with the intensity of feeling behind it.
After Enit Silverthroat's song, the merry group quietened, the children falling asleep in piles by the fire. The adults stayed up, drinking deeply from the barrel of whiskey and singing ballads. At midnight they began to dance again, but this time their movements were slow and stately and had a ritualistic air to them. Wriggling closer, Lilanthe could hear them chanting softly, and the chorus struck a chord.
". . . open your secrets to our sight, find in us the depths and height, find in us surrender and fight, find in us jet black, snow white, darksome light and shining night," Lilanthe murmured, and found herself thinking of her childhood, in the years before the Faery Decree. Tears stung her eyes, and slowly she turned and slithered backwards into the darkness.
The next morning she was drawn back to the camp by the bustle of packing. Silently she slithered up a tree so she could watch the final farewells of the jongleurs and the last entreaties for the fire-eater's caravan to stay with the others.
"Ye ken the songs just do no' sound right unless ye and Dide and Enit join in," one of the women said, resting on the steps of her cart, a guitar cradled in her arms. "And the acrobatic troupe will sadly miss your wee Nina."
Dide's father shrugged. "Och, well, I've a fancy on me to see the auld ways. Ye ken I be nervous about traveling in Blessem since that trouble in Dim Eidean."
"That'll teach ye to cheat at dice!" the woman said, strumming a few notes. The jongleur gave a sharp crack of laughter. "Obh obh, Eileen! Ye ken I dinna cheat—the dice just seemed to fall my way!" He was tall and very dark, his crimson shirt the same color as his lips, his leather waistcoat grown a little tight across his stomach.
"Och, for sure, Morrell, loaded dice certainly help Lady Luck along! It's up to ye, o' course, but wha'
shall ye do in the depths o' the wilds? Eat fire for the amusement o' the birds?"
"I might have a holiday," Morrell answered. "Ea knows I've been working the roads long enough. Besides, I picked Blessem clean on my last way through, I doubt ye'll find much left to fill your bellies." She gave a snort of derision. "No," he continued, "I've a mind to find some fresh pastures. There mun be some woodcutters and charcoal-burners left somewhere in these forests, and if there's no7, well, I still have half a barrel o' whiskey and a side o' salted pork, what more do I need?"
"Wha' makes me think ye've some devilry in mind?" one of the other men said, leaning against the side of his caravan. "Still, your loss, our gain. I will no' have to be sharing the takings wi' ye when ye're so drunk ye canna even light your torches."
"And wha' will your show be without my fire-eating and Dide's guitar?"
"A lot more reliable!" Eileen chortled at her own quick wit, then jumped to her feet before Morrell the Fire-Eater could think of a retort. "No, no, Morrell, leave me wi' the last word for once! It seems like a guid way for us to be parting. Happen we'll see your cart at Dim Gorm for the summer festivals?"
"Perhaps, perhaps no'. We'll see how well the woodcutters pay up and how long my barrel o' whiskey lasts!"
He waved the other caravans farewell as they trundled off down the wider, smoother road, then called to his son and daughter to pack up camp. "We've finally got rid o' them! The road's our own, let's be on our way!"
With one scarred leather boot he kicked dirt over the coals and stamped them into the ground. Nina came running
Only Dide's grandmother did not join in, crouching in her customary spot by the fire, beads of amber glinting in the firelight. Later she sang, and her voice was so strange and sweet, shivers ran over Lilanthe's body and a knot formed in her throat. She was not surprised to see tears shining on the cheeks of the old woman, for the song had quavered with the intensity of feeling behind it.
After Enit Silverthroat's song, the merry group quietened, the children falling asleep in piles by the fire. The adults stayed up, drinking deeply from the barrel of whiskey and singing ballads. At midnight they began to dance again, but this time their movements were slow and stately and had a ritualistic air to them. Wriggling closer, Lilanthe could hear them chanting softly, and the chorus struck a chord.
". . . open your secrets to our sight, find in us the depths and height, find in us surrender and fight, find in us jet black, snow white, darksome light and shining night," Lilanthe murmured, and found herself thinking of her childhood, in the years before the Faery Decree. Tears stung her eyes, and slowly she turned and slithered backwards into the darkness.
The next morning she was drawn back to the camp by the bustle of packing. Silently she slithered up a tree so she could watch the final farewells of the jongleurs and the last entreaties for the fire-eater's caravan to stay with the others.
"Ye ken the songs just do no' sound right unless ye and Dide and Enit join in," one of the women said, resting on the steps of her cart, a guitar cradled in her arms. "And the acrobatic troupe will sadly miss your wee Nina."
Dide's father shrugged. "Och, well, I've a fancy on me to see the auld ways. Ye ken I be nervous about traveling in Blessem since that trouble in Dim Eidean."
"That'll teach ye to cheat at dice!" the woman said, strumming a few notes. The jongleur gave a sharp crack of laughter. "Obh obh, Eileen! Ye ken I dinna cheat—the dice just seemed to fall my way!" He was tall and very dark, his crimson shirt the same color as his lips, his leather waistcoat grown a little tight across his stomach.
"Och, for sure, Morrell, loaded dice certainly help Lady Luck along! It's up to ye, o' course, but wha'
shall ye do in the depths o' the wilds? Eat fire for the amusement o' the birds?"
"I might have a holiday," Morrell answered. "Ea knows I've been working the roads long enough. Besides, I picked Blessem clean on my last way through, I doubt ye'll find much left to fill your bellies." She gave a snort of derision. "No," he continued, "I've a mind to find some fresh pastures. There mun be some woodcutters and charcoal-burners left somewhere in these forests, and if there's no7, well, I still have half a barrel o' whiskey and a side o' salted pork, what more do I need?"
"Wha' makes me think ye've some devilry in mind?" one of the other men said, leaning against the side of his caravan. "Still, your loss, our gain. I will no' have to be sharing the takings wi' ye when ye're so drunk ye canna even light your torches."
"And wha' will your show be without my fire-eating and Dide's guitar?"
"A lot more reliable!" Eileen chortled at her own quick wit, then jumped to her feet before Morrell the Fire-Eater could think of a retort. "No, no, Morrell, leave me wi' the last word for once! It seems like a guid way for us to be parting. Happen we'll see your cart at Dim Gorm for the summer festivals?"
"Perhaps, perhaps no'. We'll see how well the woodcutters pay up and how long my barrel o' whiskey lasts!"
He waved the other caravans farewell as they trundled off down the wider, smoother road, then called to his son and daughter to pack up camp. "We've finally got rid o' them! The road's our own, let's be on our way!"
With one scarred leather boot he kicked dirt over the coals and stamped them into the ground. Nina came running
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