A Minstrel’s Quest (The Trouble with Magic Book 4) by B. J. Beach Read Free Book Online

severity of the room was transformed as rich hangings appeared on the bare stone walls and torches sprang to life in decorative wrought-iron torchéres.
    With one hand under Corlin’s elbow the delighted duke steered him to a large table in the middle of the room. “Take a seat; make yourself comfortable. Now we shall eat.”
    Corlin wasn’t going to argue. As the duke struck a small gong, Corlin settled himself with his back to the roaring fire. Half expecting Grumas to wave his hands over the empty table, the young minstrel was pleasantly surprised when a side door swung open to admit a heavily built man wearing a grubby white apron and almost staggering under the burden of a large wooden tray loaded with a variety of dishes ranging from roast meats to fish and vegetables, although the few pieces of fruit looked rather tired. After the dishes had been arranged on the table and the servant had left, Grumas pulled up a chair and sat opposite Corlin.
    Duke Ergwyn gestured towards the food. “Help yourself Master Bentfoot; first we will eat and enjoy some wine, then we will discuss the reason for your presence in my castle.”
    Once again Corlin saw no reason to argue, but mindful of his upbringing, and sensing that it might give him an advantage, he offered to carve meat for the duke first. Seeming to be enjoying himself immensely, the duke graciously accepted and poured wine while Corlin carved roast beef, chose the best vegetables and filled his host’s trencher before filling his own. Grumas sat and scowled while he picked at a chicken leg. Although Jouan had told him not to let the magician get under his skin, Corlin had the distinct impression it was, more than likely, the other way round; although, having seen him in action, the minstrel decided that it might be a good idea to tread a little more lightly round the miserable mage. It also occurred to him that the man might have something to lose if the gimalin could be made to sing. Corlin found himself wondering what that could be.
    He wasn’t allowed much time to dwell on it as the old duke was an interesting and amusing conversationalist. To Corlin’s surprise, as the evening progressed even the taciturn Grumas began to thaw after a couple of goblets of wine. Both he and the duke expressed great interest in the rearing of livestock, and Corlin was happy to share the knowledge he had gained at his father’s side on the small-holding. It was when the duke stood up from the table and carried his goblet over to his chair near the fire that Corlin knew it wouldn’t be long before the interrogation concerning his quest would begin; but it was not to be yet.
    As the duke settled in his chair he glanced at Grumas then gestured to Corlin with his goblet. “Do you have your gimalin, Corlin Bentfoot?”
    His mind already back on how things stood with Grumas, Corlin was almost caught off guard by the question. “Er...yes sire. The last time I saw it, it was on the back of my saddle.”
    The duke responded with a knowing smile and a tilt of his head. “Then that is where it will still be.”
    He nodded at Grumas. The magician closed his eyes and held out his hands in front of him, palms upwards. He stood unmoving for two or three minutes, occasionally murmuring a short phrase. The air in front of him shimmered, and Corlin gasped as his cloth-wrapped gimalin materialised to hang about three feet from the floor.
    Grumas’ eyes snapped open and he glared at Corlin. “Take it. I can’t hold this much longer.”
    The minstrel darted forward and wrapped his arms round the hovering instrument. The magician’s shoulders slumped and Corlin watched as he walked with slow heavy steps across to a cushioned window seat and flopped down on it.
    Corlin grinned as he un-wrapped the gimalin. “I think Master Grumas would have felt better if I had simply gone down to the stables and fetched this.”
    Seemingly oblivious to his magician’s discomfort, the duke inclined his head.