The Dragonbone Chair by Tad Williams Read Free Book Online

later as she slumped red-faced and sweaty on the stool, that the boy was lazy and difficult. She had done her best over the years to thump the contrariness out of him; he was certainly a better person for it, she knew. No, by the Good Mother of God, what was worse was that no one else seemed to care! Simon was man-tall, and at an age when he should be doing nearly a man’s work—but no! He hid and slid and mooned about. The kitchen workers laughed at him. The chambermaids coddled him, and snuck dinner to him when she, Rachel, had banished him from table. And Morgenes! Merciful Elysia, the man actually encouraged him!
    And now he had asked Rachel if the boy could come and work for him every day, sweeping up, helping to keep things clean—hah!—and assisting the old man with some of his work. As if she didn’t know better. The two of them would sit about, the old souse guzzling ale and telling the boy Heaven knew what kind of devil’s stories.
    Still, she couldn’t help considering his offer. It was the first time anyone had asked for the boy, or wanted him at all—he was so underfoot all the time! And Morgenes had really seemed to think he could do the boy some good....
    The doctor often irritated Rachel with his fancy talk and his flowery speeches—which the Mistress of Chambermaids felt sure were disguised mockery—but he did seem to care about the boy. He had always kept an eye out for what was best for Simon ... a suggestion here, an idea there, a quiet intercession once when the Master of Scullions had thrashed him and banished him from the kitchens. Morgenes had always kept a watch on the boy.
    Rachel looked up at the broad beams of the ceiling, her gaze traveling off into the shadows. She blew a strand of damp hair off of her face.
    Starting back on that rainy night, she thought—what was it, almost fifteen years ago? She felt so old, thinking back this way ... it seemed only a moment....

    The rain had been sheeting down all day and night. As Rachel went gingerly across the muddy courtyard, holding her cloak over her head with one hand, the lantern in the other, she stepped in a wide wagon rut and felt the water splash her calves. Her foot came free with a sucking sound, but without a shoe. She cursed bitterly and hurried forward. She would catch her death running around on such a night with one foot bare, but there was no time to go digging about in puddles.
    A light was burning in Morgenes’ study, but it seemed to take forever for the footsteps to come. When he opened the door she saw that he had been abed: he wore a long nightshirt in need of mending, and rubbed his eyes groggily in the lantern-glare. The tangled blankets of his bed, surrounded by a leaning palisade of books in the room’s far corner, made Rachel think of some foul animal’s nest.
    “Doctor, come quick!” she said. “You must come quick, now!”
    Morgenes stared, then stepped back. “Come in, Rachel. I have no idea what nocturnal palpitations have brought you, but since you are here ...”
    “No, no, you foolish man, it’s Susanna! Her time is here, but she is very weak. I’m afraid for her.”
    “Who? What? Never mind, then. Just a moment, let me get my things. What a dreadful night! Go on, I shall catch up to you.”
    “But, Doctor Morgenes, I brought the lantern for you.”
    Too late. The door was closed, and she was alone on the step with rain dribbling off her long nose. Cursing, she splashed back to the servant’s quarters.
    It was not long before Morgenes was stamping up the stairs shaking the water from his cloak. At the doorway he absorbed the scene in a single glance: a woman on the bed with her face turned away, big with child and groaning. Dark hair lay across her face, and she squeezed in a sweaty fist the hand of another young woman who kneeled beside her. At the foot of the bed Rachel stood with an older woman.
    The old one stepped toward Morgenes while he shed his bulky outer clothing.
    “Hello, Elispeth,”