The Book Of Three by Lloyd Alexander Read Free Book Online Page B

looked upward. From the grating, a pair of intensely blue eyes looked back at him.
    “Please,” said a girl's voice, light and musical, “my name is Eilonwy and if you don't mind, would you throw my bauble to me? I don't want you to think I'm a baby, playing with a silly bauble, because I'm not; but sometimes there's absolutely nothing else to do around here and it slipped out of my hands when I was tossing it...”
    “Little girl,” Taran interrupted, “I don't...”
    “But I am not a little girl,” Eilonwy protested. “Haven't I just been and finished telling you? Are you slow-witted? I'm so sorry for you. It's terrible to be dull and stupid. What's your name?” she went on. “It makes me feel funny not knowing someone's name. Wrong-footed, you know, or as if I had three thumbs on one hand, if you see what I mean. It's clumsy...”
    “I am Taran of Caer Dallben,” Taran said, then wished he had not. This, he realized, could be another trap.
    “That's lovely,” Eilonwy said gaily. “I'm very glad to meet you. I suppose you're a lord, or a warrior, or a war leader, or a bard, or a monster. Though we haven't had any monsters for a long time.”
    “I am none of those,” said Taran, feeling quite flattered that Eilonwy should have taken him for any one of them.
    “What else is there?”
    “I am an Assistant Pig-Keeper,” Taran said. He bit his lip as soon as the words were out; then, to excuse his loose tongue, told himself it could do no harm for the girl to know that much.
    “How fascinating,” Eilonwy said. “You're the first we've ever had--- unless that poor fellow in the other dungeon is one, too.”
    “Tell me of him,” Taran said quickly. “Is he alive?”
    “I don't know,” said Eilonwy. “I peeked through the grating, but I couldn't tell. He doesn't move at all, but I should imagine he is alive; otherwise, Achren would have fed him to the ravens. Now, please, if you don't mind, it's right at your feet.”
    “I can't pick up your bauble,” Taran said, “because my hands are tied.”
    The blue eyes looked surprised. “Oh? Well, that would account for it. Then I suppose I shall have to come in and get it.”
    “You can't come in and get it,” said Taran wearily. “Don't you see I'm locked up here?”
    “Of course I do,” said Eilonwy. “What would be the point of having someone in a dungeon if they weren't locked up? Really, Taran of Caer Dallben, you surprise me with some of your remarks. I don't mean to hurt your feelings by asking, but is Assistant Pig-Keeper the kind of work that calls for a great deal of intelligence?”
    Something beyond the grating and out of Taran's vision swooped down and the blue eyes disappeared suddenly. Taran heard what he took to be a scuffle, then a high-pitched little shriek, followed by a larger shriek and a moment or two of loud smacking.
    The blue eyes did not reappear. Taran flung himself back on the straw. After a time, in the dreadful silence and loneliness of the tiny cell, he began suddenly to wish Eilonwy would come back. She was the most confusing person he had ever met, and surely as wicked as everyone else in the castle--- although he could not quite bring himself to believe it completely. Nevertheless, he longed for the sound of another voice, even Eilonwy's prattling.
    The grating above his head darkened. Night poured into the cell in a black, chilly wave. The slot in the heavy portal rattled open. Taran heard something being slid into the cell and crawled toward it. It was a shallow bowl. He sniffed carefully and finally ventured to touch his tongue to it, fearing all the while that it might be poisoned food. It was not food at all, but only a little water, warm and musty. His throat was so parched that Taran disregarded the taste, thrust his face into the bowl, and drank it dry.
    He curled up and tried to sleep away his pain; the tight thongs pinched, but his swollen hands were mercifully numb. Sleep brought only nightmares and he