Читать книгу The Weirdstone of Brisingamen - Alan Garner, Alan Garner - Страница 14

Thursday at Highmost Redmanhey was always busy, for on top of the normal round of work Gowther had to make ready for the following day, when he would drive down to Alderley village to do the weekly shopping, and also to call on certain old friends and acquaintances whom he supplied with vegetables and eggs. So much of Thursday was taken up with selecting and cleaning the produce for Friday’s marketing.

When all was done, Colin and Susan rode with Gowther to the wheelwright in the nearby township of Mottram St Andrew to have a new spoke fitted to the cart. This occupied them until teatime, and afterwards Gowther asked the children if they would like to go with him down to Nether Alderley to see whether they could find their next meal in Radnor mere.

They set off across the fields, and shortly came to a wood. Here the undergrowth was denser than on most of the Edge, and contained quite a lot of bramble. High rhododendron bushes grew wild everywhere. The wood seemed full of birds. They sang in the trees, rustled in the thicket, and swam in the many quiet pools.

“I’ve just realised something,” said Colin: “I felt the Edge was unusual, and now I know why. It’s the …”

“Birds,” said Gowther. “There is none. Not worth speaking of, onyroad. Flies, yes; but birds no. It’s always been like that, to my knowledge, and I conner think why it should be. You’d think with all them trees and suchlike, you’d have as mony as you find here, but, considering the size of the place, theer’s hardly a throstle to be found from Squirrel’s Jump to Daniel Hill. Time’s been when I’ve wandered round theer half the day and seen nobbut a pair of jays, and that was in Clockhouse Wood. No, it’s very strange, when you come to weigh it up.”

Their way took them through a jungle of rhododendron. The ground was boggy and choked with dead wood, and they had to duck under low branches and climb over fallen trees: but, somehow, Gowther managed to carry his rod and line through it all without a snag, and he even seemed to know where he was going.

Susan thought how unpleasant it would be to have to move quickly through such country.

“Gowther,” she said, “are there any mines near here?”

“No, none at all, we’re almost on the plain now, and the mines are over the other side of the hill, behind us. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wondered.”

The rhododendrons came to an end at the border of a mere, about half a mile long and a quarter wide.

“This is it,” said Gowther, sitting down on a fallen trunk which stretched out over the water. “It’s a trifle marshy, but we’re not easy to reach here, as theer’s some as might term this poaching. Now if you’ll open yon basket and pass the tin with the bait in it, we can settle down and makes ourselves comfortable.”

After going out as far as he could along the tree to cast his rod, Gowther sat with his back against the roots and lit his pipe. Colin and Susan lay full length on the wrinkled bark and gazed into the mere.

Within two hours they had three perch between them, so they gathered in their tackle and headed for home, arriving well before dusk.

The following morning in Alderley village Susan went with Bess to the shops while Colin stayed to help Gowther with the vegetables. They all met again for a meal at noon, and afterwards climbed into the cart and went with Gowther on his round.

It was a hot day, and by four o’clock Colin and Susan were very thirsty, so Bess said that they ought to drop off for an ice-cream and a lemonade.

“We’ve to go down Moss Lane,” she said, “and we shanner be above half an hour; you stay and cool down a bit.”

The children were soon in the village café, with their drinks before them. Susan was toying with her bracelet, and idly trying to catch the light so that she could see the blue heart of her Tear.

“It’s always difficult to find,” she said. “I never know when it’s going to come right … ah … wait a minute … yes … got it! You know, it reminds me of the light in Fundin …”

She looked at Colin. He was staring at her, open mouthed. They both dropped their eyes to Susan’s wrist where the Tear gleamed so innocently.

“But it couldn’t be!” whispered Colin. “Could it?”

“I don’t … know. But how?”

But how?

“No, of course not!” said Colin. “The wizard would have recognised it as soon as he saw it, wouldn’t he?”

Susan flopped back in her chair, releasing her pent-up breath in a long sigh. But a second later she was bolt upright, inarticulate with excitement.

“He couldn’t have seen it! I – I was wearing my mackintosh! Oh, Colin …!!”

Though just as shaken as his sister, Colin was not content to sit and gape. Obviously they had to find out, and quickly, whether Susan was wearing Firefrost, or just a piece of crystal. If it should be Firefrost, and had been recognised by the wrong people, their brush with the svarts would at last make sense. How the stone came to be on Susan’s wrist was another matter.

“We must find Cadellin at once,” he said. “Because if this is Firefrost, the sooner he has it the better it will be for us all.”

At that moment the cart drew up outside, and Gowther called that it was time to be going home.

The children tried hard to conceal their agitation, yet the leisurely pace Prince seemed to adopt on the “front” hill, as it was called locally, had them almost bursting with impatience.

“Bess,” said Susan, “are you sure you can’t remember anything else about the Bridestone? I want to find out as much as I can about it.”

“Nay, lass, I’ve told you all as I know. My mother had it from her mother, and she always said it had been passed down like that for I dunner know how mony years. And I believe theer was some story about how it should never be shown to onybody outside the family for fear of bringing seven years’ bad luck, but my mother didner go in much for superstition and that sort of claptrap.”

“Have you always lived in Alderley?”

“Bless you, yes! I was born and bred in th’Hough” (she pronounced it “thuff”), “but my mother was a Goostrey woman, and I believe before that her family had connections Mobberley way.”

“Oh?”

Colin and Susan could hardly contain themselves.

“Gowther,” said Colin, “before we come home, Sue and I want to go to Stormy Point; which is the nearest way?”

“What! Before you’ve had your teas?” exclaimed Bess.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. You see, it’s something very important and secret, and we must go.”

“You’re not up to owt daft down the mines, are you?” said Gowther.

“Oh no,” said Colin; “but, please, we must go. We’ll be back early, and it doesn’t matter about tea.”

“Er well, it’ll be your stomachs as’ll be empty! But think on, we dunner want to come looking for you at midneet.

“Your best way’ll be to get off at the gamekeeper’s lodge, and follow the main path till it forks by the owd quarry: then take the left hond path, and it’ll bring you straight to Stormy Point.”

They reached the top of the Edge, and after about quarter of a mile Gowther halted Prince before a cottage built of red sandstone and tucked in the fringe of the wood. Along the side of the cottage, at right angles to the road, a track disappeared among the trees in what Gowther said was the direction of Stormy Point.

The children jumped from the cart, and ran off along the track, while Gowther and Bess continued on their way, dwelling sentimentally on what it was to be young.

“Don’t you think we’d better go by the path Cadellin told us to use? He said it was the only safe one, remember.”

“We haven’t time to go all that way round,” said Colin; “we must show him your Tear as soon as we can. And anyway, Gowther says this is the path to Stormy Point, and it’s broad daylight, so I don’t see that we can come to any harm.”

“Well, how are we going to find Cadellin when we’re there?”

“We’ll go straight to the iron gates and call him: being a wizard he’s bound to hear … I hope. Still, we must try!”

They pressed deeper and deeper into the wood, and came to a level stretch of ground where the bracken thinned and gave place to rich turf, dappled with sunlight. And here, in the midst of so much beauty, they learnt too late that wizards’ words are seldom idle, and traps well sprung hold hard their prey.

Out of the ground on all sides swirled tongues of thick white mist, which merged into a rolling fog about the children’s knees; it paused, gathered itself, and leapt upwards, blotting out the sun and the world of life and light.

It was too much for Susan. Her nerve failed her. All that mattered was to escape from this chill cloud and what it must contain. She ran blindly, stumbled a score of paces, then tripped, and fell full length upon the grass.

She was not hurt, but the jolt brought her to her senses; the jolt – and something else.

In falling, she had thrown her arms out to protect herself, and as her head cleared she realised that there was no earth beneath her fingers, only emptiness. She lay there, not daring to move.

“Sue, where are you?” It was Colin’s voice, calling softly. “Are you all right?”

“I’m here. Be careful. I think I’m on the edge of a cliff, but I can’t see.”

“Keep still, then; I’ll feel my way to you.”

He crawled in the direction of Susan’s voice, but even in that short distance he partly lost his bearing, and it was several minutes before he found his sister, and having done so, he wriggled cautiously alongside her.

The turf ended under his nose, and all beyond was a sea of grey. Colin felt around for a pebble and dropped it over the edge. Three seconds passed before he heard it land.

“Good job you tripped, Sue! It’s a long way down. This must be the old quarry. Now keep quiet a minute, and listen.”

They strained their ears to catch the slightest sound, but there was nothing to be heard. They might have been the only living creatures on earth.

“We must go back to the path, Sue. And we’ve got to make as little noise as possible, because whatever it is that made this fog will be listening for us. If we don’t find the path we may easily walk round in circles until nightfall, even supposing we’re left alone as long as that.

“Let’s get away from this quarry, for a start: there’s no point in asking for trouble.”

They stood up, and holding each other’s hand, walked slowly back towards the path.

As the minutes went by, Susan grew more and more uneasy.

“Colin,” she said at last, “I hadn’t run more than a dozen steps, I’m sure, when I tripped, and we’ve been walking for a good five minutes. Do you think we’re going the right way?”

“No, I don’t. And I don’t know which is the right way, so we’ll have to hope for the best. We’ll try to walk in a straight line, and perhaps we’ll leave this fog behind.”

But they did not. Either the mist had spread out over a wide area, or, as the children began to suspect, it was moving with them. They made very slow progress; every few paces they would stop and listen, but there was only the silence of the mist, and that was as unnerving as the sound of something moving would have been. Also, it was impossible to see for more than a couple of yards in any direction, and they were frightened of falling into a hidden shaft, or even the quarry, for they had lost all sense of direction by now.

The path seemed to have vanished; but, in fact, they had crossed it some minutes earlier without knowing. As they approached, the mist had gathered thickly about their feet, hiding the ground until the path was behind them.

After a quarter of an hour Colin and Susan were shivering uncontrollably as the dampness ate into their bones. Every so often the trunk of a pine tree would loom out of the mist, so that it seemed as though they were walking through a pillared hall that had no beginning, and no end.

“We must be moving in circles, Colin. Let’s change direction instead of trying to keep in a straight line.”