In Stone's Clasp Read Online Free PDF

and then the slaughtering of the animals for winter food storage. Jareth found he felt better if he walked among the fields, orchards and stables before the time of reaping came. There was a soft brush of sorrow and then acceptance, from the wheat or the apples or the sheep. They grasped even better than he their roles. He knew, as they knew, that next spring the wheat would sprout again, the orchards would be redolent with the scent of apple blossoms, and lambs would dot the green hills like little white clouds come to earth. But there could not be rebirth without death, and that always made Jareth sorrowful.
    He walked through the wheat, his golden hair akin to their golden heads, saying his own farewell, then joined the others in bringing sickle to stalk.
    Others talked animatedly, eager for the festival that would be coming in a few days. Truth be told, Jareth was no less eager than they. For the closest villages to Skalka Valley would be coming for the festival, to barter their own harvests and to participate in a lavish feast, followed by dancing and an enormous bonfire.
    He had not seen nor heard from the lovely Taya Relaanan since that day several months ago when he had asked the earth and trees to find her little sister Vikka. He was taken with the girl, and had thought the interest was at least somewhat mutual, but perhaps it had been only gratitude that shone in her eyes when she accepted the flower.
    The thought of the young woman, whose hair put the glory of the sun to shame and whose face haunted his dreams, made Jareth’s loins ache. He shifted position and tried to concentrate on his task. But once she had floated into his mind, Taya had taken up residence. Jareth desperately hoped he would see her at the festival.
    And then what? He was no stranger to the delights of the flesh. Tall, handsome, well-formed, he would have drawn women to him like bees to honey even had he not been the Spring-Bringer. More than one village girl—and some from other villages as well—had come to him in the night, climbing quietly into his bed. They had given him great pleasure, and Jareth ensured that they, too, left satisfied. He suspected that some of them had not wanted him for himself, but had coupled with him in hopes of conceiving a child blessed with his so-called “magical” talents. To bear such a child would bring her honor. And more than one girl had desired a more formal union and had offered a gift made by her own hands as a bride price, for in Lamal, women did the asking. Jareth had accepted none of these hopeful young women. No, the Kevat-aanta did not have to go without a willing woman in his bed unless he so chose.
    Surprising everyone, including himself, he often did so choose. At first, when he was younger, the coupling was exciting. But as time passed, Jareth realized he wanted a deeper connection than attraction and mutual desire. His feelings toward the women who shared his bed were like that of most people toward the forest and earth—pleasant, but nothing very deep. The earth itself had taught him what it was like to have a powerful bond, and he wanted one with a woman—one woman, to share a lifetime with.
    Taya was more than just beautiful. He’d seen beauty before and while he was not unmoved by it, he wanted more. Taya carried herself as if she was proud of who she was. He suspected she would push him and challenge him if she were his wife—and she would be a mate who would be a partner and friend, not just a bedfellow.
    You’ve only met her once, Jareth. You’re assuming a great deal. Anyone who chooses you will have to share your burden, and that is no small thing.
    Cursing himself, he returned to his task. In thinking of Taya, he had closed down the connection between himself and the grain. Now, he deliberately opened it again, concentrating on accepting the wheat’s pain as he brought the scythe down again and again, sending the tall stalks falling gently to the brown