Ironcrown Moon by Julian May Read Free Book Online Page A

door leading to the large central chamber, the combined kitchen and sitting room where her servingwoman and the boy slept.
    The hourglass on the mantelpiece indicated about three in the morning. Little Dyfrig’s nook was wide-open and he sat unclothed on the edge of his bed, watching his mother with solemn, intelligent eyes. Neither Maudrayne nor her son needed much sleep in the summertime: their Tarnian blood saw to that. But Rusgann Moorcock was a southerner, and she’d demonstrated that she could sleep through a tundra-deer stampede. Her cupboard-bed’s curtains were shut.
    “No more magic drum,” Dyfrig whispered to his mother. His hair had the same tawny golden color as that of his father, and he also possessed Conrig’s handsome features and unusual dark brown eyes. A moon earlier, the boy had celebrated his fourth birthday.
    Maudrayne put a finger to her lips and beckoned him. He slipped to the floor noiselessly and joined her at the kitchen’s single small window. Leather-hinged at the top and held open by a hook and eye fastened to the low ceiling, it was covered with a screen of black gauze to exclude biting midges. Outside, bright sun shone on the meadow and reflected from the island-strewn expanse of Useless Bay beyond the dropoff into the fjord. A distant iceberg with multiple spires, like a dazzling white castle, hovered on the horizon off Cape Wolf.
    Maudrayne pointed to the sea-hag’s holy hut at the edge of the steading and spoke softly into the boy’s ear. “Eldmama Nelu has drummed herself into an enchanted sleep again. Her body will stay in the hut for a few days now, while her spirit soars away northward to the icecap of the Barren Lands to talk to the One Denied the Sky and the other witches and wizards. Now that she’s gone, we can leave the farm without her permission and go wherever we please! Would you like to walk along the seashore today and have a treasure hunt?”
    He squealed with excitement. “Yes! Yes! Maybe we can find whale bones, or scales from a mirrorfish!”
    “Shhh. You’ll wake Rusgann—”
    Curtain-rings rattled and the maid’s homely face popped out of her enclosure. “I’m already awake, Your Grace.” A lanky body modestly clad in a homespun shift emerged. “And you know very well we’re forbidden to leave the steading circle without Dobnelu along to protect us from Page 19

    danger.”
    Ignoring the servant’s admonition, Maudrayne went to the larder, where she gathered rye bread, cheese, a small crock of goose-grease flavored with wild herbs, and some sweet cranberry cakes.
    “There’s no danger,” she insisted. “None at all, except from our own misadventure, and we’ll take great care not to lose our footing on the cliff trail or be caught by the rising tide. Now dress yourself, Dyfi.
    Visit the backhouse and wash your hands, and we’ll be on our way. We can have a picnic breakfast on the beach.”
    The boy threw his clothes on and darted outside with a joyful shout, slamming the door. The maid Rusgann lumbered over to her mistress and stood, fists on hips, scowling in disapproval.
    “Your Grace, the spells protecting us extend only to the ring of white stones around this house and the outbuildings. If we venture outside the magic circle, the Beaconfolk could do us harm.
    Or some windwatching scoundrel of the king’s might scry us!”
    “Do you know what day this is, Rusgann?” Maudrayne was serene and smiling. Her long auburn hair, freshly washed and hanging free as she stubbornly insisted upon wearing it, shone like burnished copper. “This is the Solstice Eve, a very lucky day. No wicked sorcerers or monsters—not even the Coldlight Army—can harm human beings today.”
    “Huh! I never heard of such a thing.”
    “That’s because you’re Cathran-born. We Tarnians know more about dark magic than you do.
    As for windwatchers—none of them