The Stone of Farewell: Book Two of Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn by Tad Williams

The Stone of Farewell: Book Two of Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn by Tad Williams

Author:Tad Williams [Williams, Tad]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9781101160787
Google: amuyV4ojBqIC
Amazon: B0031AI0E4
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2005-04-04T18:00:00+00:00


* * *

Miriamele was sewing a wooden button onto her cloak when someone rapped on the door. Startled, she slid off the cot and padded to answer, her bare feet chill against the cold floor.

“Who is it?”

“Open the door, Prin ... Malachias. Please open the door.”

She drew the bolt. Cadrach stood in the poorly lit hallway, his sweaty face gleaming in the candlelight. He pushed past her into the small cell and elbowed the door shut so abruptly that Miriamele felt a breeze as it swept by her nose.

“Are you mad?” she demanded. “You cannot just push in like this!”

“Please, Princess ...”

“Get out! Now!”

“Lady ...” Astonishingly, Cadrach fell to his knees. His normally ruddy face was quite pale. “We must flee the Sancellan Aedonitis. Tonight.”

She stared down. “You have gone mad.” Her tone was imperious. “What are you talking about? Have you stolen something? I don’t know if I should protect you any longer, and I certainly will not go charging out of...”

He cut her off in mid-speech. “No. It is nothing I have done—at least, nothing I have done tonight—and the danger is not to me so much as to you. But that danger is very great. We must flee!”

For several moments Miriamele could not think of a thing to say. Cadrach indeed looked very frightened, a change from his usual veiled expression.

He broke the silence at last. “Please, my lady, I know I have been a faithless companion, but I have done some good, as well. Please trust me this once. You are in terrible danger!”

“Danger from what?”

“Pryrates is here.”

She felt a wave of relief wash over her. Cadrach’s wild words had frightened her after all. “Idiot. I know that. I spoke to the lector yesterday. I know all about Pryrates.”

The stocky monk rose to his feet. His jaw was set in a very determined way. “That is one of the most foolish things you have ever said, Princess. You know very little about him, and you should be grateful for that. Grateful!” He reached out and seized her arm.

“Stop that! How dare you!” She tried to slap at his face, but Cadrach leaned away from the blow, maintaining his grip. He was surprisingly strong.

“Saint Muirfath’s Bones!” he hissed. “Don’t be such a fool, Miriamele!” He leaned toward her, holding her gaze with his own wide eyes. There was, she fleetingly noticed, no smell of wine about him. “If I must treat you like a child, I will,” the monk growled. He pushed her backward until she toppled onto the cot, then stood over her, angry yet fearful. “The lector has declared Pryrates and your father excommunicate. Do you know what that means?”

“Yes!” she said, her voice almost a shout. “I’m glad!”

“But Pryrates is not glad, and something bad will happen. It will happen very soon. You should not be here when it does.”

“Bad? What do you mean? Pryrates is alone in the Sancellan. He came with half a dozen of my father’s guardsmen. What can he do?”

“And you claim to know all about him.



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