Talus and the Frozen King Read Online Free PDF

over.'
    'But that of his murderer is not.'
    'It will be. When you are dead.'
    'And if Bran and I are not the ones who killed the king?'
    'Then it will remain a mystery.'
    'Does that not bother you?'
    'No. It is not my concern. Whoever killed the king will receive his punishment when his own life ends and he enters the afterdream himself, as every man must when he closes the last of his eyes and steps through the smallest door. There he will face a punishment I cannot comprehend. My concern now is to send my father to the afterdream, and to become king in his place.'
    In roaming around the room, Talus had contrived to end up near the furthest alcove from the throne. He stopped there and picked up the knife Tharn had thrown. Holding it by the blade, he advanced towards the dead king's son.
    'I disagree with you,' Talus said. In the circle, the stoutest of the brothers gasped. Talus handed over the knife and resumed his pacing. 'There is a tale to be told here, one that only the king can tell.'
    'A dead man has no voice,' said Tharn.
    'Your father will speak, but not in words.' Talus beamed. 'Come with me now.'
    'Come? Where?'
    'To the cairn.'
    'For what purpose?'
    'To examine the body of the king. The dead do speak, you see, and your father is no exception. Are you not curious to hear what he has to say?'

    This was the moment. Tharn would either swallow Talus's bait or swim away from his line. Or kill him on the spot. Talus wondered if the king's eldest son knew he was being charmed. If he knew that the bard was a fisherman too.
    Everything all depended on how curious he was.
    Every moment of every day, Talus's thoughts buzzed with questions. He knew it was an unusual trait; most people he'd met moved through their lives like leaves on a breeze, content to let the wind blow them wherever it chose. Content not to ask why. Not Talus.
    Sometimes, the only way to release the pressure in his head was to share his thoughts with those around him. In his rare moments of whimsy, he imagined his curiosity like a swarm of bees, spilling from his mouth to carry his endless questions out into the world.
    It was only natural, then, that he should have become a bard. Stories were all about curiosity, after all. Being a bard allowed Talus to take people down mysterious paths to unknown destinations. And whenever a new tale spun itself out of his mouth—seemingly with a life of its own—Talus felt a wonder unmatched by anything else.
    Being a bard also gave him freedom to travel. Most settlements welcomed a wandering teller of tales. People liked to hear news of other lands, and they liked the comfort of a familiar story told well—or the excitement of a new one told to thrill. In his time, Talus's feet had taken him far across the world. This wasn't the only journey he'd made in his life.

    If Talus's thoughts were bees, Tharn looked well and truly stung. The watching men exchanged their thoughts in hushed voices, but Talus paid them little heed. His attention was on the king-to-be.
    'You have earned yourself the right to live a little longer,' Tharn said at last. 'We will go to the cairn. We will see if this ... this bard is as clever as he thinks.'
    Talus allowed himself to relax.
    There was a flurry of activity as the brothers rose from the fire, reformed their cordon around Talus and Bran and steered them out of the house. Bran plodded with his shoulders slumped and his head down. Talus walked with him, tolerating the jabs and nudges delivered by the shaman whenever their pace slowed.
    'It does not surprise me that you walk slowly, bard,' said Mishina, poking Talus with his staff.
    'You are walking towards your death.' 
    'I do not fear death,' said Talus. 'And I am used to walking.'
    'Enjoy it while you can. Your journey will be a short one.'
    'No. I have a long way yet to travel.'
    The shaman continued to taunt him, but Talus ignored him. His thoughts were flying again, this time travelling backwards into the past to a very different