Chains of Gold Read Online Free Page A

Lonn did not speak much, but I think he understood how precious this time was; he sat and did not hurry the preparation of our midnight cups. The poker still lay heating in the embers when, soundlessly, a white shadow stirred and one of the Gwyneda came into the kitchen.
    Both Arlen and Lonn startled violently and blanched in terror. Then both slumped where they sat in relief. As for the white-robe, she stopped, then walked over to speak with us, her tread soft, as if she herself were afraid of being heard.
    â€œAll powers be thanked that it is only you, Erta,” Arlen told her.
    She answered him with a glance half amused, half rueful. Hers was a plain, comfortable face, square, pale of brows, with the freckles and blotches of age; there was no trace of the pinched and peevish expression I had seen on the other Gwyneda I had met.
    â€œIt is a harsh life for the white-robes,” Arlen said to me. “They are never allowed enough to eat, they sleep on stone, they rise early to tend to the dawn observances of the goddess—” He stopped, seeming to remember that within a day I would be a white-robe myself. “They bear it differently,” he went on more softly after a moment. “Some keep to their chambers as much as they can, others work like demons in the gardens, others do stitchery, or divert themselves with friends and enemies, or tend the children, or torment them. Most of them are bitter in one way or another, and happy to cause pain.”
    â€œAnd Erta is one of the few who are not,” Lonn said.
    â€œShe is our mother,” Arlen added, and both he and Lonn laughed so that I saw it was a jest. Erta did not laugh, but she smiled a little. Her eyes did not smile. She looked worried.
    â€œGive the little one my greeting,” she said to Arlen, “for I cannot speak to her.”
    She meant me, I understood. “There is a rule of silence with seculars,” Arlen explained to me.
    Still in awe of his beauty, I only gazed back at him. He must have taken my glance as query.
    â€œThey are not allowed to speak to anyone not of the Sacred Isle, not even their relations who come to the ceremonials,” he told me. “Nor am I, for that matter,” he added with a sort of wonder, and he laughed. “But there is nothing they will be able to do to me after the morrow.”
    â€œThere are some who are very angry with you, Lonn,” Erta said to him.
    For speaking to me in my chamber, I understood. Lonn got up, and poured a fourth tumbler of perry for Erta, spiced it, and fetched the poker to heat it and the others, all without speaking. He gave us our drinks, and we accepted them as silently as he offered them. I felt quite warm by then, and almost contented.
    â€œIt does not matter,” Lonn said finally, and though he tried to keep despair out of his voice it rang through hollowly.
    â€œI would like for you to stay whole a few months yet,” Erta told him mildly.
    He shrugged and would not or could not speak.
    â€œYou have strong magic,” she said. “Let it help you in some way.”
    â€œWhat are you doing here at this time of night, Erta?” Arlen asked her. It was a foolish question, intended only as a diversion for Lonn’s sake, and she knew it. She made a small noise that might have been a cough or stifled laughter, as if she were about to ask him the same. But she did not.
    â€œI could not sleep,” she said, and I never suspected the story that lay behind those words.
    â€œWe ought to see Lady Cerilla back to her room,” said Lonn rather harshly.
    Erta went with us, walking ahead of us, our defense and scout, but we met no one. It was a small hold, as I had thought, and we found my chamber quickly. Arlen and I looked at each other, but there was nothing to say, not in front of the others, and with a glance and a small smile we parted. I closed my door, flung my blanket on my bed, and crawled under it. Sleep did not come