The Dark Mirror by Juliet Marillier Read Free Book Online Page B

confusion, then wandered off as if nothing untoward had happened.
    The snowmade its presence felt first in isolated flakes, descending in a slow, graceful dance. As men, boy, and dogs headed downhill to the house, the flakes became soft flurries and swirling eddies, settling patchily on the frost-hardened mud of the track. Over the lake, the tree-clad hillside was disappearing behind a blanket of low cloud. The wind stirred, and the pines moaned in response. By the timeBridei and his companions reached the house, the dogs bore a wintry coating on their shaggy gray hair and the wind was howling in earnest. Looking back up the hill, Bridei could not see the field where they had been working, nor the sheep, nor the guards pacing beyond. There was only the white.
    “Settling in for a good blow,” Fidich commented. “I’ll not stay; need to get home while I can stillfind the way. Hard night for the lads up on watch.”
    “Aye,” said another man. “Be a foolish fellow would try to get in here in such a blizzard; he’d be wandering in circles, lying down for a rest and never getting up again, I reckon. Sure you won’t stop in for a bite to eat?”
    “Ah, no, I’ve my own fire to get lit and my own porridge oats,” Fidich said, as he always did.
    It was cold even in thehall before the fire. Bridei was in no rush to go off to bed, for he knew how icy his little chamber would be on such a night. Everyone was quiet. Mara was mending by lamplight; Ferat sat on a bench staring morosely into his ale cup. Most of the men had already gone off to their quarters. Donal was at the table working on some arrows. A variety of small knives and other implements, feathers andtwines and lengths of wood, was set out before him. He was whistling under his breath. Bridei sat beside him, too tired tonight to do more than watch.
    The kitchen door crashed open, making them all start. A chill draft swirled through into the hall, setting the fire sparking. Donal grabbed his biggest knife and sprang to his feet, and the other men at arms leaped to block the doorway betweenkitchen and hall. Mara stationed her ample form in front of Bridei, effectively stopping him from seeing a thing.
    “What the—?” was all Ferat had time to say before the door was heard slamming shut again, and the men at arms stepped back to let two figures through, one supporting the other. One was Cinioch, who had been on guard up in the snow by the dike, and the other, ashen-faced, blue-lipped,and covered with the scratches and bruises of a headlong flight across country in the dark, was Uven, one of the men at arms who had traveled with Broichan to the king’s council.
    There was work to do for Bridei then. He fetched one of the cloaks from the pegs by the kitchen hearth, brought a cup of ale, put it into Uven’s trembling hands. Mara kicked the tangle of dogs away from the hall fire.Donal set the bench closer while the other men helped the half-frozen traveler to seat himself there. Uven was unable to speak for a while; spasms of shivering ran through his body and the cup shook so violently in his hands that the ale spilled down his tunic. Eventually he managed to drink, and a little later to start on the porridge Ferat had produced, piping hot and generously ladled.
    “Good,”Uven muttered, his blanched features assuming a healthier look. He looked up at Donal. “Message,” he said. “Urgent. Private.”
    “Bridei,” said Donal, “time for bed now; good lad, off you go.”
    “What’s happened?” Bridei could hear how small his own voice sounded,high and uneven. A good child did not disobey an order, and he was always good. But he had to know the truth. “Is it Broichan?”
    Theyall looked at him in silence, and then Uven muttered, “Time’s short, Donal.”
    “Bridei,” Donal said, squatting down and looking Bridei straight in the eye, “this is men’s business, and you are not yet a man, although you’ll make a fine one some day. You can help