The Throme of the Erril of Sherill by Patricia A McKillip

Author:Patricia A McKillip
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-11-29T16:00:00+00:00

“I have heard,” said Gringold, “of the King’s Damsen. All she does is weep.”

“Some ladies,” said the jingler, “have a heart to weep from.”

“A true love,” said Gringold, “would not send a Cnite on such an impossible quest from which he will never return. Perhaps, fair Cnite, she does not want you to return.”

“Some women,” said the jingler, “know what it is to be faithful.”

“She will have to wait a very long time. Perhaps even now the image of her moon-haired Cnite is fading, and there is some brown-haired, berry-eyed Cnite who caught her fading fancy as he passed beneath her window.” The sweet voice of the Lady Gringold purred like the wind among the tiny flowers. “Perhaps she is no longer weeping. Perhaps she already has learned to laugh from a Cnite who is there beside her, not riding down a road with no end, searching for a Throme that is an old man’s dream, a wicked King’s wanting…”

Caerles drew a sigh from the wind’s breath. He whispered, “There is a place in my heart you have hurt…”

“Some women,” said the jingler, “can touch a thing without hurting it.”

“All jinglers,” said the Lady Gringold, “are tearless and faithless and cruel.” She took her eyes suddenly away from Caerles’ face and the world came back to him, golden and drowsing in the afternoon sun. The jingler’s smiling had gone from his eyes and his voice.

“I made a song of you, more beautiful than any song, and you laughed at it,” he said. “I loved you and you mocked me, under your norange tree. And now you are holding this Cnite’s hands, and talking to him in a voice sweeter than norange-juice.” He turned away abruptly and folded his arms and stared across at the World’s End.

“I waited for you,” said Gringold, “one afternoon beneath this tree, and you did not come. And I like this Cnite and I will help him if I choose.”

“I would not trust you,” the jingler said to the sky, “if I were that Cnite. I did come, that afternoon, and you were not there.”

“I was there!”

“You were not!”

The Lady Gringold folded her lips tightly. The jingler leaned back against the tree and began to pick at his harp, and watch the wind go by.

Fair lady

False lady

There is no other kind

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