Weatherwitch: Book Three of The Crowthistle Chronicles by Dart-Thornton Cecilia

Author:Dart-Thornton, Cecilia [Dart-Thornton, Cecilia]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780765312075
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2010-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

The weathermaster coterie that had accompanied Asrthiel on her journey to King’s Winterbourne sojourned for a few days at the castle, enjoying King Warwick’s hospitality. The following Moon’s Day, with its low pressure trough, proved clear and bright, although the breezes were brittle with the chill of the northern latitudes. Enjoying this respite before she had to return to The Laurels to begin her duties, Asrthiel found a sunny nook in the castle gardens, where she seated herself on an elegantly carved wooden bench, arranged the draperies of her gown of dark blue linen-velvet, and resumed reading a book she had brought with her from High Darioneth.

In front of her, crescent-shaped beds were formally laid out around a circular central display of roses. Low, neatly clipped hedges bordered each plot. Here and there, bell-shaped topiaries stood up, like quaint toys scattered by the children of giants. Walkways led through arches covered with greenery, or curved past latticed trellises entwined with creepers. Late in this northern Summer, the gardens were brushed with the vertical amethyst of lavender, the blush of floating poppies, the gold of daisies. Two gardeners were pruning shrubs, working with long shears. Boys followed after them, gathering up the cut twigs and piling them into wheelbarrows to be taken away.

Beyond the formal garden green lawns swept smoothly away to the right, towards the park with its bowery trees. To the left, the lawns led to the massive stone walls of some of the outbuildings that nestled amongst foliage, traced with ivy. In another direction the glazed roofs of the glass-houses glimmered like great cut-crystals, transparent white against a backdrop of dark green conifers. On the far side of the garden walls rose the gentle shoulders of tree-clad slopes, giving way to the sudden spectacle—always breathtaking, even when familiar—of the Northern Ramparts; colder, sharper, clearer, higher, more imposing than even the storths of High Darioneth. And above the mountains, only the vivid indigo sky, dramatic, swirling with feverish cloudscapes whose shadows fled across the world below.

Asrthiel was engrossed in the perusal of her book when William came by. “I have been seeking you,” he said, seating himself beside her. “There is news from Slievmordhu.”

“Oh, news,” the damsel said with a sigh. “I had hoped to shut out the world for a while and lose myself between these pages.”

“Is it so interesting, your book?” The prince tilted his head in an effort to see the title. Strands of his hair fell across his face, and he swept them back with both hands. Asrthiel closed the book and showed it to him. “’The Other Inhabitants,’” William read out loud, “ ‘Our Neighbors That Dwell in Wood and Hill.’ ‘Tis all about eldritch wights, I suppose.”

“It’s not about wights. It is fiction with nonhumans as the protagonists.

“Nonhumans?”

“What you would call animals. In this narrative the animals are acting as they would truly act, not as human beings would behave.”

“I do not know how you can bring yourself to read such tedious stuff!” William scoffed gently.

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