The Prophecy Read Online Free Page A

rope.
    The ground was farther than he’d hoped. He tried to slide his hands down, but without the bracing grip of his feet, he could barely hold on. He pushed himself away from the wall and let go.
    The drop was even farther than it looked—the earth slammed into his feet, then his knees, with bruising force. Perryn sat up and rubbed his elbow. Then he rose to his knees and pushed his spectacles back into place. The palms of his hands smarted and stung. His knuckles were bruised and his arms ached. But he was down!
    A grin spread across his face, then he remembered—the mirror! He snatched up his satchel and scrambled to the base of the wall, fumbling the buckle open, groping hastily through the folds of his warmest cloak. His fingertips found the silver curve, then skimmed over the cool glass—not broken. Not even cracked. Perryn barely stifled his exclamation of relief in time.
    He’d almost chosen to leave the heavy mirror behind, but it had served the kings of Idris faithfully for centuries and it had certainly proved useful tonight. With luck it might show Perryn documents from his library when he needed them, or allow him to watch his father and Cedric. If he could see what measures they took to find him, he could avoid them, and if he could avoid them long enough…. His father might worry now, but that couldn’t be helped. He would have to earn his father’s belief, his trust, before he accused Cedric. And if the king worried, if he feared for Perryn’s safety, it might remind him that he had once loved his son, as well as the wife he had lost.
    Yes, this was the right thing to do.
    He repacked the satchel, which also contained the bread and cheese he’d been offered for dinner and the handful of coppers he was given each week to reward the servants. With careful management, it should be enough.
    His father called the library a worthless waste of paper, brushing aside Perryn’s muttered arguments, but Perryn needed more information about the habits of unicorns and the location of the king’s tomb. Still, even if the mirror couldn’t help him, a true bard should know both those things.
    Perryn waited for a cloud to hide the moon so he could run for the nearest clump of bushes, though he wasn’t really worried about the guards. Idris Castle was far from the Norse border. The guards looked at the sky, not down into the bushes, and in the darkness they listened for the sound of dragon wings.
    Clouds covered the moon, and Perryn darted off. In a few minutes he would reach the trees. He thought of his mare, now dozing in her stall, but there was no way he could get a horse out of the stables without being caught. He would walk. Peasants walked from place to place all the time—surely a prince could do the same. There was a shortcut through the forest to the nearby village of Bramlin. If the bard had passed through there, someone might know where he went next.
    Perryn was on his way.
     
     
    “ EXCUSE ME ?”
    The tavern maid bustled past without even a glance at the dusty stable lad. The tavern in Williten was full of customers, all demanding service, but still…Prince Perryndon would have commanded instant attention at any inn. But he wasn’t Prince Perryndon now, Perryn reminded himself, and that was a good thing.
    “Excuse me, but I’d…” She was gone. Perryn sighed and slumped back against the wall, remembering the long day behind him.
    The bard had gone through Bramlin, a sleepy stable boy had remembered for free and been persuaded for a copper to swap clothing and forget that he had ever seen his prince. Once he assumed his disguise, Perryn felt safer asking other people about the bard, but no one in Bramlin seemed to know where he had gone next. The two nearest towns were Durnst and Fair Meadows. With no idea what the bard’s intentions were, Perryn had guessed Durnst. It took him several hours to walk there, only to find that the bard hadn’t gone to Durnst after all. Then it took several