Cry of Sorrow Read Online Free PDF Page A

time to hear from you. The bag at your feet means, I trust, that you have been successful in your task?”
    “It does, Lord Havgan,” Cathbad replied proudly, a smile in his mad eyes. “I have, at last, rediscovered the ancient way used to control Y Dawnus. It is a way found long ago, in Lyonesse, the land that sank beneath the sea.”
    Aergol raised one brow—a look that, for him, spoke volumes.
    “You are surprised, Aergol?” Havgan asked.
    “I have not confided my experiments to my heir before this moment. What I have to show you will, indeed, be a surprise to all,” Cathbad said.
    With that, he opened the leather bag. Reaching in, he carefully pulled out a collar of dull gray hue, holding it with the very tips of his fingers. “This,” he said proudly, “is what I have made. And with this, you shall have ultimate power.”
    Slowly he turned the collar over. Tiny spikes protruded from the inside. Delicately, he held it for all to see.
    “What’s it made of? How does it work?” Sledda asked eagerly.
    “It’s made of lead. White lead, and quite common. Easily mined. You see these tiny spikes? When a Dewin or Bard is collared, these needles plunge into his or her neck. The victim begins to suffer the effects of lead poisoning. Headaches, nausea, the inability to focus attention. And, eventually, an unpleasant lingering death.”
    “Yes, yes, but how does that affect their magic?”
    “It’s a bit difficult to explain,” Cathbad said, arrogance in every word. “Druids are scientists, you know, and a layman may find it hard to understand—”
    “Try,” Havgan said between gritted teeth.
    “Well, you see, the brain must maintain a proper balance of fluids of a sort in order to work properly. The brain of a Dewin, or a Bard—”
    “Or a Druid,” Havgan said smoothly.
    “Oh, yes. Or of a Druid, must maintain the proper balance of a particular type of fluid, or the ability is lost. These spikes gouge heavily into a portion of the brain, centered here at the back of the neck, which controls that balance. And, instantly, the talent is lost. A Bard can no longer speak mind to mind. His ‘voice’ goes no farther than his own head. A Dewin can no longer Wind-Ride or Life-Read. Indeed, they cannot see anything outside the normal range of human vision.”
    “And a Druid cannot Shape-Move or Fire-Weave,” Havgan finished. “And all these abilities will cease the moment the collar is clasped on?”
    “They will,” Cathbad said in a lofty tone.
    “And how many of these collars have you made?”
    “Oh, no more than this one, so far. It has taken some time to rediscover how to make them, for their secret was lost a few hundred years ago. There are, indeed, only a very few of these collars in existence.”
    “Then this is what we will do. We will gather all the Master Smiths—and their families, too, just to keep them working hard. We will convey them to a place easily guarded. And they will turn out these collars by the cartload. Where, Sledda, would you suggest these Smiths do their work?”
    “Caer Siddi,” Sledda said promptly. “The little island off the coast of Prydyn. No one lives there, and it is easily defensible. Is such a place likely to have the lead you need, Archdruid?”
    “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Caer Siddi would be the perfect place,” Cathbad said, anxious to please.
    “Now,” Havgan continued, “that we have—at last—found a way to control the witches, we must have a foolproof way to identify them. And for that, we must get our hands on one of their testing devices—those things that the Kymri use to discover magical abilities in their children.”
    Both Sledda and Sigerric opened their mouths to speak, but Havgan cut them off with an imperious gesture. “No, do not bother to tell me that you have tried. This time there will be no failure. The four Bards who served the former rulers of Kymru must and will be found, for they alone have these devices in their possession.