Free The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy) by Victoria Grefer Page A

gathered at August’s feet,
Neslan still and attentive, Valkin fidgeting with the glasses that kept sliding
down his nose. They had finished eating and had stacked their dishes next to
them. The girl was reading, with great vivacity, a story about a silly knight
and a troll.
    “And
lo, the troll gave good Sir Adage a shock that night when he jumped out from
behind a boulder on the lonely road. The knight’s horse spooked, Adage fell to
the ground when the animal reared, and his armor gave a most fantastic clang as
he hit the earth. The troll said, ‘Now shall I kill thee, good sir, because
ever have I hated thy great justice.’
    “‘Ah!’
said the knight. ‘A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and thou holdest
nothing in thy hand at all! Nothing, whilst I may depend on my trusty sword,
Lankon! Lankon mayeth not be hawk or eagle, but he claimeth some small valor.’
    “‘Aye,’
said the troll, ‘thou wieldest a blade, but I have friends here,’ and as poor
Sir Adage used Lankon to prop himself up, four more trolls jumped out from
behind the boulders on the hillcrest. Adage saw them by the moonlight.
    “‘A
faithful friend is like gold,’ said the knight. ‘He who findeth one findeth a
treasure. Thou art rich indeed, I see.’ And as Adage’s brave horse had bolted,
Adage had no choice but to turn and flee from the trolls. Instead of pursuing
him, the beasts rolled on the earth with laughter when he tripped upon his own
two feet and flew sprawling to the thick green grass a second time.”
    Hune
was laughing with genuine glee, a great belly laugh that shook him and would
have shaken the crate he sat on, had August’s additional weight not held it
firm. Neslan chuckled and Valkin smiled, although he said, “Adage is always a
coward. He’s a coward when Mother reads about him too. Can we have something
else?”
    “I
know Mother reads us these stories,” said Neslan. “That’s why it’s nice to hear
them again. Hush and let August finish.”
    August
continued the tale.
    “‘What
a shame to lose such a beautiful horse as old Trite,’ thought Sir Adage,
growing angry once he placed a good distance between himself and the trolls.
‘There is nothing to be done, I suppose, except remember that beauty lyeth in
the eye of the beholder, and since not everyone will find Trite as lovely as I
did, the loss is not horribly great. Still, I hope his next owner thinketh him
a graceful thing.’
    “But
then, over a near hill, Adage spied old Trite grazing at his ease by the light
of the moon, and he cried out, ‘Scoundrel! What a scoundrel thou art, and how
glad I am to find thee! I am glad those horrid trolls did not catch thee and
eat thee up!’”
    Hune
was howling again with laughter and tumbled off the crate. His half-eaten piece
of chicken hit the floor, and his greens landed all over his shirt.
“Scoundrel!” he yelled at the makeshift stool that had held him in place no
better than Trite had held old Adage. That was too much for the others; his
brothers, August, they doubled over with shouts of mirth. Valkin let out such a
guffaw that his glasses fell off his face. Just when everyone was calming down,
Neslan started laughing again with a great snort that set them off once more.
    “That’s
enough of that story for today, I think,” said August, when things settled
down. “This is turning dangerous.”
    “Do
trolls really exist?” asked Hune, cleaning himself up.
    “Of
course they don’t,” said Valkin.
    “Maybe
in the mountains,” said Neslan. “But not near home.”
    “Good,”
said Hune. “I won’t go to the mountains then.”
    “You
don’t want to meet trolls?” said Valkin. “It would be an adventure, to meet a
troll. If there were any.”
    “What
would you do?” Neslan asked him.
    “I
would fight him, of course. I would slay him like the real knights used to do
and be a grand hero, and everyone would talk about it.”
    “You’d
run away faster than Adage,” said