Beneath the Tor Read Online Free PDF

this.”
    Freaky raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been in Glastonbury since 1969. I don’t recall seeing you around.”
    â€œI’m in digs. Magdalene Street? Taking a good shifty. I fancied having a cauldron and I paid hard cash. Nothing wrong with that.”
    â€œMy number one recommendation: if you wanna be a shaman my friend, you’ll have to do better than look to replica cauldrons for help.”
    â€œI’m already a shaman. I’ve done several courses.”
    â€œOkay. Recommendation number two: shamanism is not something you can pick up on a weekend course. It is years of dedication. A lifetime commitment. A calling. Not playing with cutesy High Street tat. Ours is a better street—into the awakened self. A blessing, eh friends?”
    â€œMostly a blessing,” said Yew. “Sometimes a bane.”
    â€œI don’t need your lecture, mate,” said Anagarika. “And it wasn’t a weekend course. It was the full, advanced, practitioner training with Francis Gialias. Right here in Glastonbury. Yup; the fees are eye-watering but like I’ve been saying, I got a discount.”
    â€œSo, recommendation number three: you can’t buy shamanism. No one should charge you for this knowledge. No one.”
    â€œYou’re being a whacker, Freaky. The fee for this workshop— which, excuse me, you are at—was a hundred pounds per day.”
    I knew for a fact Freaky had not paid quarter that amount; he couldn’t have found the money. Wolfsbane liked him at the workshops because he had such a long history … he was a Glastonbury icon. Freaky didn’t miss a beat. He flicked his dreadlocks, forty years of hair that had never seen shampoo, and came straight back.
    â€œThere are certain types of transaction that are fair and reasonable. Like, we’re hiring out sleeping space plus use of the kitchen, bathroom, and the big workshop area. There’s petrol for the coordinators. And their time, their expertise. That’s an exchange of energies, friend. A blessed way of being.”
    â€œMaybe let’s leave this subject alone for a bit,” said Juke. He put the tripod in a corner of the room, as if he didn’t want to be associated with it any longer. “Talk about something else, huh?”
    â€œJuke’s right,” said Ricky. “Someone has just died. We don’t want arguments.”
    I had to tell them sometime, and this felt like my cue. “Actually, we’re all going home. Wolfsbane is postponing the workshop. No one will lose their payment. It’ll be directly transferred. We’ll have a discussion, when he’s ready, to find out when everyone is free.”
    Anag counted up the half dozen people in the kitchen. “Where is Wolfsbane?”
    â€œHe’s …” I paused. Wolfsbane had gone into Stefan’s side of the house, and he hadn’t returned. I didn’t want the others to know what they were talking about. “He’s journeying,” I lied. “To ask his guardians for strength and comfort for us all.”
    â€œIf he’s walking between the worlds, then I don’t see why we shouldn’t.”
    â€œWolfsbane and I have decided it would be disrespectful to Alys to continue this workshop now.”
    â€œAlys and Brice,” said Ricky. He’d been collecting up the empty mugs, and he stood, a cluster of them in his fist. “Even so, we could do something to mark her passing. Something to allow our own grieving to take a positive shape.”
    â€œThat’s profound, Ricky,” said Yew. He leaned back on a kitchen chair and began to replait his hair, fingers flicking rhythmically at the three locks until a tawny-shaded braid snaked down his back. He finished by transferring a rubber band from his wrist to the plait end. “I get what Ricky’s saying. It doesn’t seem right to leave without doing anything at all. I mean, would