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

somewhere on the clock, but I can’t recall what it says. That may be the key to its power.” His shoulders sagged and he slumped on the seat like a half empty grain sack. “My lord duke has drifted off again. Perhaps now you would play something for him? You will rest here tonight, and tomorrow I will bring out the old gimalin and see what you make of it.”
    With his own gimalin settled against his body, Corlin closed his eyes and began to finger an old melody his father had taught him. He needed to think and this was his favourite method of doing just that.
     

9 - Duke Ergwyn’s Gimalin
    It was raining. Cold torrential rain that drummed on the mullioned window and obscured any view Corlin might have had. The room he had been given was small, plain and rather chilly, but to his surprise he slept well. It was the rain that had woken him. He availed himself of the chamber-pot, dressed and pulled on his boots then poked his head round the door to see if anyone was about. Sounds of hooves and voices drifted up the narrow spiral staircase, and he decided to go down and try to locate some breakfast and check on Megan. He doubted whether she would have been given any feed since their arrival. He had just closed the door behind him when he saw Jouan coming towards him along the corridor.
    The soldier nodded a greeting. “Good morning master Corlin. My lord duke has asked me to take you through to breakfast.”
    Corlin grinned. “Just what I need. Lead on, Jouan.”
    As they clattered along the corridor and down winding flights of narrow stone stairs, a thought occurred to the minstrel.
    He called ahead to the hurrying soldier. “Did you happen to leave a note for me when I was at ‘The Red Dog’?”
    Jouan’s steps never faltered. “No, not me. When we left you we went straight through town and rode on until we got here. What was in the note?”
    Corlin decided to economise with the truth, as he knew Jouan had done “Nothing of importance. I was just curious.”
    Deep puddles lay on the cracked and tilted flagstones of the wide keep, and Corlin’s feet were soaked by the time he and Jouan reached the door to the staircase leading to the duke’s rooms. He could feel the leather tightening round his left ankle and he knew he’d have to remove the boot and readjust it before the leather dried.
    Jouan pushed the door open and gave Corlin’s shoulder a friendly pat as the minstrel sidled past him. “We’ve heard what you’re going to do. Good luck.”
    Before Corlin could reply, the soldier had pulled the door to and left him to make his own way up the dimly lit staircase. It gave him a minute or two to reflect on who might have sent the note with the unmentionable name. By the time he reached the duke’s door a dozen more questions had pushed themselves into his brain and he still had no answer to the mystery. He knocked, and waited for the door to be opened, not really surprised when Grumas beckoned him in. The old magician appeared to have had a bad night but said nothing as he led Corlin to the table then exited the room, leaving him alone with the duke. Hands clasped behind his back, Corlin waited, not wanting to disturb the old man who seemed to be unaware of his presence and stood gazing at the carved wooden panelling which covered the wall at the far end of the room. Eventually Corlin gave a discreet little cough. The duke turned and gave the minstrel a wistful smile. “I trust that you slept well, master Bentfoot?
    Corlin nodded. “Yes, thank you sire.”
    Ergwyn gestured to the simple fare set out on the table. “Then join me in breaking our fast, and afterwards we shall see what you make of my gimalin.” He sat down and tore a chunk off a newly baked loaf, as Corlin seated himself opposite. “Did I hear Grumas telling you the full story last night?”
    The minstrel paused in his slicing of baked ham. “Yes. It took me a while to make sense of it, but I think that by the time he’d done, I’d