Free The Dark Mirror by Juliet Marillier Page B

Poor little thing, she won’t be much of a princess if she stays here with us. Princess of the pigsties, is about all.”
    “It’s a pretty name,” Brenna whispered.
    “Aye,” put in Uven. “It suits her. Leaveoff, Mara. You know you’re as besotted with the mite as the rest of us.”
    So the foundling got her name, and Broichan’s household expanded its number by two, and Bridei, reminded that his foster father had been near death, applied himself in earnest to his studies once again in an effort to ensure Broichan would not be disappointed in his progress, even if he was displeased with the new arrivals.It was hard to practice combat skills without Donal; instead, he helped Fidich around the farm. In the afternoons he perfected his storytelling. This was a time when the infant tended to be awake, and Brenna, who still tired easily after her recent confinement and the death of her own babe, was generally content to leave Tuala with Bridei while she retreated to her tiny chamber for a rest.
    Heknew quite a lot of tales already, for tales are the foundation of a druid’s wisdom, containing as they do layer upon layer of understanding, symbol within symbol, code within code. Every time he told one it seemed to mean something different. For Tuala, Bridei did not choose tales full of battles and gore, nor tales of monsters and wraiths, losses and ancient griefs. He told her funny tales, sillytales, leavened with stories of heroic deeds and dreams come true. When he could remember no more, he made them up as he went along. Tuala was an excellent listener. She grew better and better at keeping quiet and watching with rapt attention as he spoke. Her bright eyes followed the movement of his hands as he illustrated a dramatic event; her small voice contributed here a gurgle, there a squeak.True, there were some tales that sent her to sleep. When that happened, Bridei simply turned his story into a song, which he sang quietly as he rocked the cradle. He was notsure where the song came from, only that it was not a thing Broichan had taught him.
    Hee-o, wee-o
Spinner come and spinner go
Weave a cobweb fine and thin
Fit to wrap my princess in
    Hee-o, wee-o
Feather from the blackestcrow
Plume of swan all snowy white
Fit to clothe my baby bright
    Hee-o, wee-o
Frond of elder, birch and yew
Garland woven fresh and fair
Fit to crown my lassie’s hair
.
    And as she slept, she seemed to smile.

    THEY BROUGHT THE druid home on a day when the air was clear and a cold wind whipped down the Glen from the northeast,harrying birds before it. It was at the travelers’ backs as they came along the path that skirted the dark lake and wound up through the deceptive pattern of the oaks to Broichan’s house. Bridei’s stomach was churning with nervousness. He had longed for this day; had, indeed, counted each night with a mark scratched into the stone of his chamber wall, until Broichan and Donal should at last comehome. But his anticipation was mixed with fear now. What if his foster father took one look at the baby and decreed she had to go? Nobody in the household ever disobeyed Broichan. They were not afraid, exactly. It was just that the druid was powerful and wise. It was just that he was always right.
    Broichan was not looking so powerful today. He was leaning heavily on his staff as he made his wayup the track with Donal on one side and a fellow called Enfret on the other. The druid seemed to have shrunk in on himself;he looked neither so tall nor so broad as Bridei had remembered him. And he was pale, almost as pale as Tuala, whose skin carried the gleam of moonbeams. One thing had not changed: Broichan’s dark eyes still blazed with ferocious intelligence.
    “Welcome home, my lord,” Marasaid as the travelers came up to the open door. She was smiling, a rare occurrence.
    “Welcome, my lord,” echoed Ferat, behind her. “It’s good to see you on your feet. Donal, Enfret.” He nodded at the two of them. Down the track, the other