The Prophecy Read Online Free

weren’t shaking. Indeed, he felt as if his whole body was frozen in place. At least his mind still worked.
    He could go to his father. The letter was proof.
    But by now the king would be too drunk to understand, much less to act. And Perryn didn’t have the letter—only his word for what he’d seen. His word against Cedric’s.
    No, he couldn’t tell his father.
    Still, he had to tell someone! A spy, a Norseman, in the king’s confidence, privy to all his plans. No wonder the war was going so badly! But who could he tell? The servants had no authority over the guardsmen, and Cedric— Cerdic? —did. Was there anyone who could help him? He’d had no friend in the castle besides the servants since old Ovis, his tutor, had died. And even if there was someone he might have appealed to, his door was bolted shut.
    An accident. It could happen tonight. Right now! Perryn sprang to his feet and then sank back. No. Probably not till everyone was asleep. He had time to think.
    He gazed out the window into the cold spring night. The clouds blew across the face of the waning moon, creating shadows that swept across the landscape. A perfect night to slip past the guards—if he dared.
    …too weak willed to do anything on his own.
    He could go south to one of the great universities. Become a scholar, as he had always wanted. He would be safe there. Unless the barbarians really could conquer the seven kingdoms, if Idris fell. With a traitor in their midst? When Idris fell.
    This I have seen in a vision come to pass, and this I prophesy.
    Perryn’s heart pounded. The wandering bard had been gone for only four or five days. He couldn’t be too hard to find, and even if he wasn’t a true bard he might know of others who were. As for the unicorn…
    Alirian the teacher once wrote that discovering facts and piecing them into truth is a scholar’s job. A true bard, a unicorn, and the Sword of Samhain. If Perryn could piece these elements together, if he could actually make the prophecy come true, his father might respect him for what he was, instead of trying to make him into something he never could be.
    Might. But if he did nothing, then nothing would change. Ever.
    …too weak willed… Curse Cedric, and all his plots and opinions!
    Perryn turned from the window and began making plans.

Prince Perryndon set forth in search of a true bard, wise and courageous. Weaker bards had fled south, to safer kingdoms, so only the greatest of bards remained in the land.
     

3
     
    PERRYN TIED THE LAST TWO STRIPS OF BLANKET together and tugged at the knot. It should hold. The thick wool was very strong. He slung his satchel over his shoulder, then he went to the window and lowered his improvised rope quietly down the wall. The soft scrape of cloth against stone sounded loud to him, but the wind made enough noise to mask it—and hopefully louder sounds as well—from the guards who patrolled the parapet above him.
    He climbed onto the windowsill and sat, looking at the ground. He wasn’t afraid of heights exactly, but it was a long way down. Perryn wrapped both hands around the blanket strip and slid off the windowsill.
    As the cloth jerked tight under his weight, the knuckles of his right hand slammed against the wall, and Perryn gritted his teeth. His shoulder swung painfully into the stone. He was heavier than he’d expected, and the satchel added even more weight. The thick blanket strip was hard to hang on to. He didn’t dare look down, and not only from fear of the height. If his glasses fell and broke, it would stop him right here. He should have thought to take them off before starting down! Some scholar he was.
    The brisk breeze turned him against the wall, making him sweat with nervousness. Perryn climbed slowly down his improvised rope. He stopped looking up to see how far he had come. He never looked down. Then his groping feet slipped off the end of the blanket, causing him to gasp, even as his hands clamped tight around the