The Lives of Christopher Chant (UK) by Diana Wynne Jones

Author:Diana Wynne Jones [Jones, Diana Wynne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061756818
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-05-15T04:00:00+00:00

14

AGAIN there was nothing wrong with Christopher when he woke up. He listened to Flavian that morning with a polite, vague look on his face while he marveled about that dragon. His marveling kept being interrupted by gusts of misery—he would never see Tacroy again!—and he had to work quite hard to keep thinking of the dragon instead. It was awesome. It was almost worth losing a life to have seen a sight like that. He wondered how long it would be before someone in the Castle noticed he had lost another life. And a small anxious part of him kept saying, But have I lost it—yet?

“I’ve ordered us a packed lunch,” Flavian said cheerfully, “and the housekeeper’s dug out an oilskin that should fit you. We’ll be off on our hike just as soon as you’ve finished that French.”

It was raining quite heavily. Christopher took his time over the French, hoping that Flavian would decide that it was too wet for walking. But when Christopher could not think of any further ways to spin out the history of the pen of his aunt, Flavian said, “A little soaking never did anyone any harm,” and they set out into a strong drizzle a little after midday.

Flavian was very cheerful. Tramping in the wet, with thick socks and a knapsack, was obviously his idea of heaven. Christopher licked up the water that kept running off his nose from his hair and thought that at least he was out of the Castle. But if he had to be out in wind and wet, he would have preferred to be in The Place Between. That brought him back to Tacroy, and he had to struggle with gusts of misery again. He tried to think of the dragon, but it was too wet. While they tramped across several miles of heath, all Christopher could think of was how much he was going to miss Tacroy, and how the soaking gorse bushes looked just as desolate as he felt. He hoped they would stop for lunch soon so that he could think about something else.

They came to the edge of the heath. Flavian pointed in a breezy, open-air way to a hill that was gray with distance. “That’s where we’ll stop for lunch. In those woods on that hill there.”

“It’s miles away!” Christopher said, appalled.

“Only about five miles. We’ll just drop down into the valley between and then climb up again,” Flavian said, striding cheerfully down the hill.

Long before they reached that hill, Christopher had stopped thinking of Tacroy and could only think how cold and wet and tired and hungry he was. It seemed to him to be nearer teatime than lunchtime when he finally struggled after Flavian into a clearing in that far-distant wood.

“Now,” said Flavian, tossing off the knapsack and rubbing his hands together. “We’ll have some really practical magic. You’re going to collect sticks and make a good pile of them. Then you can try your hand at conjuring fire. When you’ve got a good fire going, we can fry sausages on sticks and have lunch.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.