Free The Witch of Glenaster by Jonathan Mills Page B

return to your own lands.”
    “I am not returning to my own
lands…”
    “Give it a month or so, and the
Great Road may be passable once more. I can take you home through East Cross,
and down through Fellen …”
    “I am not returning to my own
lands. I…”
    He turned and looked at me, his
face a mixture of weariness and contempt.
    “I… what?”
    I paused, swallowed. I could
not tell him the truth.
    “I have to get to the emperor…”
    Thomas stood up, pacing
angrily.
    “Oh, for goodness’ sake! The
emperor doesn’t just see people…! Last I heard, he was barely in his
right mind. You don’t just make an appointment and… wander in . Do you
know how many people petition the emperor every week? They’re lucky if one in a
thousand of them gets to shake his hand…”
    Cornelius came in, his hands in
his pockets, looking older than he had earlier. He leaned against the doorpost.
    “How is the boy?” he asked.
    “Fast asleep, upstairs,” Thomas
replied. “I’ll go and look in on him presently.”
    “I imagine he’s worn out, the
poor little chap…” said Cornelius.
    And he cast what looked like an
accusing glance in my direction, before sitting at the other end of the
window-seat, drumming his fat fingers against his legs for a couple of minutes.
Then he said:
    “It’s beginning to get dark.
You will have to stay with me another night now. It won’t be safe for you to
travel until the festivities are over. We’ll be all right, as long as we remain
in the house until the morning.”
    Thomas hardly seemed to register
this at first, but then looked up dimly. He nodded.
    “You know what’s best. We’ll do
as you say.”
    Cornelius looked relieved at
this, and announced he was going to make some supper. He disappeared to the
kitchen, and Thomas and I were alone once more. Silence settled for so long
that I found myself nodding to sleep once or twice, but forced myself to keep
my eyes open. I looked across at the swordsman, thinking him asleep, but saw
that he was only very still, for his eyes, though almost shut, were still blinking
from time to time. Eventually the curtain of night fell, and it became dark in
the room.
    And then the howling began.

Chapter
Eighteen
     
    The first time it sounded, I
saw Thomas move, almost imperceptibly, as if startled. And I heard a clatter from
the kitchen, as if Cornelius had dropped something. I recall starting to get up
from my chair, and saying something about lighting a candle, but Thomas told me
not to, that it was better if we sat in darkness. “They will be attracted to
the light,” he said, and I wondered what he meant. After that, the howling
noise sounded with increasing frequency - sometimes nearer, sometimes further
away - but at no point could I make out exactly where it was coming from: or
from what. Its echo, sounding off the mountains, and the strange atmosphere,
sitting there in that unfamiliar house, in the dark, made me afraid, and I did
not like it.
    “What is it?” I asked, in a
whisper.
    “I do not know,” replied
Thomas, who was standing facing the window. I stood up, and crept over to his
side. There, far below, and snaking slowly along the valley floor, was a long,
torch-lit procession, winding away into the distance; and, though far off, we
could hear the steady chanting of its participants, as they moved ever closer,
along the road that would take them past Cornelius’s house.
    Magnus padded downstairs,
rubbing his cheek, his blue eyes wide and fearful. He had heard the noise from
outside, and when he saw the looks on our faces he started to cry, for he could
see we were just as afraid as he. I ran to him then, and picked him up, as his
head sank into my shoulder; and I was glad to have him near, and to be
forgiven, if only for a short while.
    After half an hour or so the
howling stopped, but the chanting continued, growing steadily louder as the
awful procession passed by; and I tucked Magnus in a blanket in the corner of