The Seventh Tide by Joan Lennon Read Free Book Online Page A

stone in one hand. The pebbles crunching under his sandals were too loud! And then he was slipping and splashing across the muddy stretch, the rock raised, ready. In his mind he’d already killed the beast, whatever it was, he was the hero of the day, there’d be another feast, and more stories, and…
    Oh no, it’s heard me! It’s moving! It’ll get away !
    He slithered to a stop. There would be no feast tonight. His prize groaned and lifted its head – it was a waterlogged boy.
    The stone dropped from Adom’s fingers and he ran forward.
    ‘Heaven save us – are you all right? I thought you were a seal – were you swept off a boat? Can you stand? Can you walk?’
    The stranger seemed to be about his age, or maybe a little younger. He was alive and his big eyes were just opening, but at first he didn’t seem to be aware of his surroundings. Then, all at once, he dragged in a sudden desperate breath and grabbed hold of Adom’s habit with both hands. A spasm shook his body.
    ‘Where is this?’ he croaked. ‘Who are you?’
    ‘Easy, easy.’ Adom gently detached himself from the stranger’s grip. ‘You must have nearly drowned.’
    The boy looked at him with his over-large blue-grey eyes.
    ‘I should have,’ he said wonderingly ‘I really should have. I guess it’s not in the Rules for me to drown inthe… what did she call it? The Traveller.’ He gave Adom a sudden blindingly cheerful grin and staggered to his feet. ‘My name’s Eo. What’s yours?’
    ‘Um, Adom,’ said Adom. ‘Here, you’ve got something tangled round your neck…’
    It looked pretty much like a hank of seaweed, but when Adom reached out a hand to unwind it, it sneezed. Adom leapt back and yelped, before realizing it was just some sort of wet weasel.
    It sneezed again, and then shook itself, splashing salt water into Adom’s face.
    ‘Hey !’ he spluttered.
    ‘Professor!’ cried the boy. ‘You’re all right!’
    The animal chittered rudely back and then tried to get inside the bag the boy had with him, until he opened it, and it flowed inside.
    ‘Sorry’ said the boy. ‘He’s, um… a bit shy.’ The bag bulged crossly. ‘Can you tell us, please, where are we?’
    Adom nodded. ‘Let’s get you off the mud first, though,’ he said.
    He helped the boy up, and they stumbled to the rocky beach and on into the trees, before sitting down on a fallen log.
    ‘Please,’ the boy asked again. ‘Where is this? When is this?’
    Adom gave him an uncertain look. ‘It’s about mid-morning,’ he said, glancing at the sun. And we’re quite near the dwelling of Devin, Bard of the Shores. I’ll take you there when you’re able – I know he’ll shelter you.’
    There was a blankness on the boy’s face that made Adom pause.
    ‘Devin the Bard – you’ll have heard of him?’
    He shook his head.
    Not from, round here, then , thought Adom to himself, handily forgetting that he hadn’t known of Devin before yesterday himself.
    ‘Are you a bard too?’ the boy asked tentatively.
    ‘Me ?! No, of course not. I’m Adom. I’m a novice – or I will be, anyway. I’m from the monastery on lona.’ He’s bound to have heard of that ! he thought. ‘I’m here with Columba.’ He sounded a bit smug, even to himself.
    The boy looked as if he were still puzzled, but before he could speak the weasel thing exploded out of the bag, shouting, ‘Columba?! Did you say Columba?! There’s a bit of good news! So, let’s see, that means we’re sometime in the sixth century, not on lona itself, no, the beach isn’t right for there – too shingly – but we can’t be far from it.’
    ‘Saints and Angels – a talking beast!’ Adom staggered back, caught his heel on a root and sprawled on to his rear end in the leaf litter. Frantically he made a sign against the evil eye, then one against demonic possession, and then a sign of the cross, just to be on the safe side.
    The animal turned his fierce little eyes on Adom and tutted.