Free ICO: Castle in the Mist by Miyuki Miyabe, Alexander O. Smith Page B

reverberating tones.
    Still on her knees, Oneh leaned forward and gave Ico a hug. “We will be waiting for you,” she said through her tears. “We will be waiting for you to come home. Never forget that.”
    A shiver ran through Ico’s frame. He was no longer cold or frightened—it was something else, vibrating within him, filling him with courage.
    “It was Toto who found the prayers woven into the Mark you wear.”
    Ico’s eyes opened wide. He grabbed the elder’s long sleeve. “Is Toto all right? He went into the mountains, didn’t he?”
    The elder’s smile faded, and his face took on a grave look. “Yes. Toto went to the same mountains as we did and saw the same sight.” That horrible city.
    “And this prayer—did it come from the city?”
    The elder nodded.
    Ico’s memory of the walled city of stone rose again in his mind. He wondered where Toto had gone in those ashen streets. Where had he walked, and how had he found the prayer?
    “I am sorry to have doubted your intentions,” the elder said, his voice hoarse.
    Ico shook his head. He didn’t care about that anymore. “Is Toto all right?”
    “He’s fine.” The elder’s quick reply brooked no further questioning.
    Ico looked him in the eyes. “When I return from the Castle in the Mist, I’ll be able to see him again, won’t I?”
    “Of course.”
    Ico bit his lip. I’m not afraid.
    Oneh stood, wiping her tear-streaked face with a sleeve. Seeing the look of determination in Ico’s face put her at ease. She smiled. “Now, Ico,” she said, “you must return your Mark to me.”
    She said his name just as she had when he lived in their house. Ico, you’re covered in mud again. Change your clothes this instant. Dinner will be ready soon.
    “I can’t wear it?”
    A conspiratorial look came into the elder’s eyes and he smiled at the boy. “Actually,” he said, “it is the priest’s duty to place the Mark upon the Sacrifice at your departure ceremony. We only brought it here to you because we wanted to see with our own eyes that the Mark was truly yours, that you were the chosen one, and that you were fit to wear it.”
    “That’s why,” Oneh continued, “when you speak with the priest, you must not mention that we met here this morning, and you must on no account tell him that your Mark is special, that it’s not like the others.”
    Ico nodded, but a thought occurred to him. “Elder. Wouldn’t the priest from the capital be pleased to know that my Mark is special, just as you and Mother are? Why do I have to hide it?”
    “You are clever,” the elder replied, dodging the question. “Your cleverness is knowledge. It falls to you to find the courage that long ago was kin to this knowledge and to give us the light once more.”
    [8]
    THE THREE BLACK horses walked in a single line, treading the dry grass beneath their hooves.
    The priest had arrived in Toksa Village, flanked by two temple guards. The fields sparkled beneath the bright sunshine, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees.
    Silence hung over the village. People had dressed carefully for the ceremony and swept out their doorways, where they knelt to greet the entourage. Everyone was exhausted—the children from having danced and sung until Oneh finished weaving the Mark, the adults from standing watch day and night. More than one child slept soundly on their mother’s back.
    For so long they had been patient, and now the end was near. Once the priest had come and gone, village life would return to normal.
    It was strictly forbidden to speak aloud, let alone address anyone in the entourage. Nor was it permitted to look directly at them or their horses.
    After the entourage had offered greetings to the elder and his wife before the elder’s house, they began preparing for the departure ceremony. From this point onward, only the elder, his wife, and three specially chosen hunters would be allowed to take part in the proceedings. The rest of the villagers