Free The Giants' Dance by Robert Carter Page A

so far supposed.’
    â€˜Why did you choose to lodge it with Duke Richard?’ Will asked, unable to keep the criticism from his voice.
    â€˜You think that was a mistake. In truth, it was no choice of mine, but a course forced on me by events. There was nowhere better to lodge a battlestone at the time. Do you know that time itself has a most curious character? I have discussed it much with the loremaster who lives at the Castle of Sundials. Though he speaks of “time’s arrow”, its nature, he says, is notstraight so much as turning ever and again upon itself – wheels within wheels, like the cogs that turn within his confounded engines. As the rede of time says, “History repeateth.” Thus, if we are wise, we may learn from the past—’
    â€˜Gwydion,’ Will knew when he was being distracted, ‘what are we going to do ?’
    The wizard stirred restlessly. ‘Rather than return to Foderingham, let us find out first if it has been put back in its original resting place. That is my greatest fear. And in any case we must go by Nadderstone if we would go to Foderingham by the shortest way.’
    â€˜Who would want to re-bury the stone at Nadderstone?’
    â€˜Who do you think? If it has come to Maskull’s notice, and if he is making it his business to tamper with the lorc, then we should know about that.’
    â€˜What if we find it’s been put back?’
    â€˜Then the time will have come for me to drain it. For, whatever the other merits of your midnight visit to the Dragon Stone, you have certainly given us a great advantage by discovering its true name.’
    â€˜Oh, no, Gwydion,’ Will said, feeling dismay blow through him. ‘Please promise me you won’t try another draining.’
    â€˜I must do what I must do,’ Gwydion said, then added with a note of finality, ‘Do not worry about it yet. It may never come to that.’
    Will blew out a long breath. He watched the flames of their little camp fire and wished himself back at the Blazing, but the coils of intrigue seemed to have wound themselves more tightly about him than any serpent. He said doggedly, ‘Gwydion, before I set off anywhere else, I must get a message to Willow.’
    â€˜As a matter of fact, Willand,’ the wizard said archly, ‘I have already sent word to her explaining your absence. Good night.’
    After three days’ walk along highways and byways they came at last to the village of Eiton. There were many harvest carts about the lanes and straw was blowing everywhere along the dusty road that led to the Plough Inn. Gwydion looked for signs that the Sightless Ones were out overseeing the tithe, but he saw nothing.
    The Plough was a much-praised alehouse and inn, and one that Will knew well. It was a long, low building set to the side of the road, with a walled yard, a great spreading thatch and a big square sign swinging between two stout posts. It glowed now in the mellow golden light of an August evening. A straw cockerel stood guard on the rooftree and seemed to tell the world that all were welcome, except troublemakers.
    The inn was frequented by travellers and local folk alike. It was far bigger and busier than the Green Man, and had not changed at all since Will had come here last. A dozen churlish folk were slaking harvest thirsts in the homely, rush-scattered room.
    The man who kept house was called Dimmet. He was a big man, very busy and jolly, the sort who folk took care not to upset. When he looked up his welcome could not have been warmer. ‘Now then, if it ain’t my lucky day! Master Gwydion! How nice! How nice!’ He roared with delight as he came to greet them. ‘Duffred! Come down here and see who’s paid us the honour of yet another visit!’
    The innkeeper’s grown son poked his curly, ginger head in at the door and grinned broadly. ‘Hey-ho, Master Gwydion! How goes it with