Strands of Starlight by Gael Baudino Read Free Book Online Page B

might come at any time for her, and she needed to be rested. When she was sure the midwife was asleep, she banked the fire, extinguished the lamps, and sat in the darkness, listening to Mika's slow, even breathing.
    ***
    Crows were flying south over the roofs of Hypprux, circling about the cathedral spines, counterpointing the bells ringing terce with their croaking descants. They flitted past the weavers' guildhall, paused above the market to eye the breads and cheeses, then passed on, wings beating heavily, making toward the faint dark line of the southern horizon that was Malvern Forest.
    For a moment, their shadows fell on Roger of Aurverelle's city house that stood near the walls of the Chateau, snuggling up against that seat of power as though it pressed an ear to the door of a council chamber. It stretched all the way from High Baron's Street to Trinity Street, white, new-painted, and ornamented with grotesques and with emblems of its owner's interest: a stag running from the hunter's arrow, a bear cornered by hounds, a falcon in flight, the arms of the city of Hypprux.
    George Darci paused before the gate. The arms of Hypprux. Why Hypprux? Roger's lands lay to the south, adjacent to the Free Towns. He had his own arms. Why did he display those of Hypprux?
    When George entered, the porter was already waiting for him. “I am sorry, Your Honor,” the man said in his French accent. “The master is not in today.”
    George pressed his lips together, fought for his temper. It was not, after all, the porter's fault. “This is the sixth time in as many weeks that your master has been unavailable,” he said finally. “Tell me, my man, is he ever available?”
    “Begging your pardon, Your Honor,” said the porter. “He took it in his head to go hunting. He set off toward his lands early this morning.”
    George contemplated his boots. He had stayed in Hypprux too long, and the odors of the city—garbage, sewage, the omnipresent stench of the retting pools—were rank in the back of his throat. He wanted to go home, back to Saint Blaise, away from all this bowing and scraping and intrigue. He wanted to crawl into bed with Anne, laugh and giggle with her as they always did during lovemaking. Roger was gone? So much more the excuse to return to the Free Towns, talk to the burghers about the threat, take Janet out to gather flowers, and maybe—if it was not asking overmuch—see Terrill again. How long had it been? A year? Well, everybody knew Elves did not like cities.
    He realized the porter was waiting for a response. “Will I be able to find your master at his estate in Aurverelle?”
    “By Notre Dame I do not know, Your Honor. Sometimes the baron goes off into the forest alone for many days.”
    “Very well. Thank you.” He started to leave, but turned again. “Why does your master display the arms of Hypprux?”
    “Ah, sir,” said the porter. “His half-sister married Enguerrand, Baron of Hypprux. Baron Roger is most anxious for good relations with his brother-in-law.”
    “Thank you,” said George. “God be with you, sir.” He went out to the street. Stag, bear, falcon, and the city arms. Hunting, hunting, hunting . . . and hunting.

Chapter Five
    It was Robert who came for Mika, the big man standing in the doorway with the cold wind tearing at his hair. Clare had, he said solemnly, gone into labor at last.
    Miriam watched as Mika took up her bundle of supplies and the pot of herbal infusion she had kept ready. “I'll be back late,” said the midwife as she went toward the door.
    The healer stood. “I'm . . .”
    Mika and Robert had paused at her tone. Outside, the wind blew fiercely. Miriam picked up the dark green cloak and wrapped it around her. It hung on her like a tent, but she fastened the clasp and tucked up the hems. “I'm going with you.”
    “Child . . . you can't. . . .” Mika shook her head vehemently. “It may be difficult.” She stole a glance at Robert. His usually impassive