The Fellowship of the Talisman by Clifford D. Simak Read Free Book Online Page A

lit it at the fire, and placed it on a table. The candle, flaring up, showed the thick carpet of rushes on the floor, the crude table with benches that could be pulled up to it, a badly constructed chair, bins against the earthen walls, the pallet in one corner. A cabinet in another corner held a few parchment rolls.
    Noting Duncan looking at them, the hermit said, “Yes, I can read, but barely. In idle moments I sit here by candlelight, spelling out the words and striving at the meanings of the ancient Fathers of the Church. I doubt that I arrive at meaning, for I am a simple soul and at times a stupid one to boot. And those ancient Fathers, it seems to me, ofttimes were much more involved in words than they were in meaning. As I told you, I’m not really a good hermit, but I keep on trying, although at times I find myself a-wonder at the true profession of a hermit. I have thought off and on that a hermit must be the silliest and most useless member of society.”
    â€œIt is, however,” said Duncan, “a calling that is thought of very highly.”
    â€œIt has occurred to me, when I’ve thought deeply on it,” said the hermit, “that men may be hermits for no other reason than to escape the labors of another kind of life. Surely hermiting is easier on the back and muscles than grubbing in the soil or performing other menial tasks by which one may win his bread. I have asked myself if I am this kind of hermit and, truthfully, I must answer that I do not know.”
    â€œYou say you hid here when the Harriers came and that they did not find you. That seems not exactly right. In all our journey we have seen no one who survived. Except one group of ruffians and bandits who had taken over a manor house and had been skillful enough or lucky enough to have been able to defend it.”
    â€œYou speak of Harold, the Reaver?”
    â€œYes. How come you know of him?”
    â€œWord travels throughout the Desolated Land. There are carriers of tales.”
    â€œI do not understand.”
    â€œThe little folk. The elves, the trolls, the gnomes, the fairies and the Brownies …”
    â€œBut they …”
    â€œThey are local folk. They’ve lived here since time unknown. They may be pestiferous at times and unpleasant neighbors and, certainly, individuals in whom you can place no trust. Mischievous they may be, but very seldom vicious. They did not align themselves with the Harriers, but themselves hid from them. And they warned many others.”
    â€œThey warned you so you could hide away?”
    â€œA gnome came to warn me. I had not thought him a friend, for through the years cruel tricks he had played upon me. But, to my surprise, I found that he was an unsuspected friend. His warning gave me time to put out my fire so the smoke would not betray me, although I doubt the little smoke of my poor fire would have betrayed anyone at all. It would have gone unnoticed in the general burning that came about when the Harriers arrived. The huts went up in flames, the haystacks and the straw stacks, the granaries and the privies. They even burned the privies. Can you imagine that?”
    â€œNo, I can’t,” said Duncan.
    Conrad came clumping into the cave, dumping the saddle and the packs to one side of the door.
    â€œI heard you say a ghost,” he rumbled. “There isn’t any ghost.”
    â€œGhost is a timid one,” said Andrew. “He hides from visitors. He thinks no one wants to see him. He has a dislike for scaring people, although there’s really nothing about him that should scare anyone. As I told you, he is a decent and considerate ghost.”
    He raised his voice. “Ghost, come out of there. Come out and show yourself. We have guests.”
    A tendril of white vaporous substance streamed reluctantly from behind the cabinet holding the parchment rolls.
    â€œCome on, come on,” the hermit said impatiently. “You can show