Druids Sword by Sara Douglass Read Free Book Online Page B

caused the fire, or what purpose the destruction had served.
    The owners had retired to London and had never rebuilt, although they had talked about it off and on for years. There was a small staff still living in the undamaged wing of the hall who managed the vegetable gardens, sending the food down to the owners’ London townhouse. Jack doubted he would ever come across them. He had the Faerie lease, not the mortal lease, and would be using this home within its Faerie aspect, not its mortal.
    A step away from the front door the barren stone arch shimmered, and Jack’s feet scrunched in the gravel as he halted. The stonework shimmered again, and now Jack found himself before a whole and complete entrance, the massive wooden barred door in place, a soft light glowing from a lamp to one side of the entry overhang.
    The door opened—something Jack had definitely not been expecting—to reveal a man standing inside.
    He was tall and well built, with greying brown hair slicked back from his brow. His face was peculiarly mild, as if he practised exhibiting no emotion save blandness. Although he was dressed in a smart jacket and trousers, and with a beautifully knotted tie over his shirt, the man nonetheless projected an aura of servility.
    Dear gods, thought Jack, don’t tell me the lease comes with a butler.
    “Good evening, sir,” said the man. “I presume you are Major Skelton?”
    Jack gave a nod.
    “And you have the lease with you?”
    Jack drew forth the lease from the pocket of his greatcoat. He made to hand it to the man, but as soon as he sighted the rolled indenture tied with the pink light the man waved his hand in satisfaction, and Jack pocketed the lease again.
    The man now drew the door wide open and stepped back in a gesture of invitation. “My name’s Malcolm, sir. I watch over Copt Hall and welcome friends as they visit.” There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “And I do indeed come with the lease.” He paused. “You might say that I come with the land.”
    At that he smiled, and Jack saw that his teeth were stained very slightly with blue.
    Jack relaxed. Malcolm was a Sidlesaghe, one of the most ancient creatures of the land. Normally they existed as the standing stones of the various circles, or Dances, scattered about Britain, but over the past thousand years the Sidlesaghes had increasingly taken living form as they aided efforts to repel the Troy Game.
    “I also valet, sir. Whatever you desire in this house, then ask.”
    “Thank you, Malcolm. I appreciate the welcome and the offer.” Jack stepped through the entrance, and Malcolm both closed the door and took Jack’s holdall in one smooth move.
    “It is late, sir. Perhaps if I took you direct to your bedchamber?”
    “Thank you, Malcolm.”
    They stepped through into what had once been the main part of the house. There was little left but stark, soot-stained walls open to the night air.
    Then Malcolm moved a hand and the empty space shimmered. Jack found himself looking at acomfortable drawing room, a fire crackling cheerily in the hearth, with sofas and wing-backed chairs drawn close in.
    A decanter and glasses were set out on a lamp table close to the fire.
    Malcolm saw Jack looking at the chair and fire. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a nightcap before retiring, sir?”
    Jack shook his head. “Another night, Malcolm. Bed for now, I think.”
    Malcolm led him on towards the ruins of a oncefine staircase that, again at a movement from Malcolm’s hand, shimmered back into their original glory.
    At the top of the stairs he guided Jack to an elegant bedroom. A full tester bed, curtained with thick red drapes (now drawn back and tied against the bedposts), stood to one side of a blazing fire, while a fat armchair sat on the other side of the hearth.
    A dressing table, replete with silver-backed brushes and combs and a jug and basin, rested against another wall with a doorway leading into a dressing room and bathroom.
    Malcolm