Wanderlust by Mary Kirchoff & Steve Winter

Author:Mary Kirchoff & Steve Winter [Kirchoff, Mary & Winter, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-08-22T03:32:06+00:00

The thing that annoyed Delbridge most about the tiny cell he was in was the

damp, putrid smell of rot that even fresh straw could not overcome. He tried inhaling in

small gulps through his mouth for a while, which helped, but also gave him a sore

throat.

He hated the boredom, too. The cell was dark, as there was no window, not even a

crack around the door, so he had long since lost track of time. For a while he kept busy

counting the stone blocks on the floor by feeling them with his fingers, but he also

encountered other things—things that disgusted him by the very touch—so he stopped

and lost count at thirty-three. He listened to the sound of water dripping in the distance

and counted drips, too, but he gave up at nine-hundred-seventy-two when it began to

rain and the drips turned into an indistinguishable torrent.

Eventually someone opened the huge wooden door, but Delbridge's eyes were so

unused to light that he could make out no more than a vague, man-shaped outline in the

glaring doorway. He tried questioning the person, to crawl after him, but whoever it

was only growled and flung something on the floor and slammed the door in

Delbridge's face. On the cold stone blocks he found a piece of stale, fuzzy bread and a

water skin whose contents smelled like the inside of the animal the container was made

from. Even the corpulent Delbridge was not hungry enough for that.

Just keeping his mind on the petty things that annoyed him became his chief

occupation, because the alternative was thinking about the really big things, like his

predicament. His sheer helplessness left him panicky. He had never before been caught

in a situation out of which he could not lie, cheat, steal, or wheedle; he simply did not

know how to respond to a crisis where he had no apparent options.

When would someone come so he could explain away this terrible mistake? The

day before, he had appeared before Lord Curston and seen a vision of disaster befalling

the knight's only son. This imprisonment had to be related to that, because he had done

nothing else since coming to Tantallon.

Why was he being punished? If Delbridge's vision had been averted, everyone

should be happy; they should be showering him with rewards. And if nothing had

happened to threaten Lord Curston's son, they should be even happier. Surely he was

not being treated this way because they thought him a charlatan?

Suddenly it hit him that there was another possibility. What if something

unspeakable had happened to Squire Rostrevor? Delbridge gulped. The possibility had

seemed so remote yesterday. Surely, between the knight's guards and the wizard

Balcombe's spells, the boy was safe from whatever threatened him.

But what if he wasn't? Something had certainly gotten him in the vision. Perhaps

the vision had come true, and now Delbridge was in prison.

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