Taminy Read Online Free PDF

‘Bevol, and that boy and two girls—one little, one
big.’”
    “Ah,”
Bevol nodded. “So now I’m hiding a humiliated Prentice under my roof, is that
her tell? I thought they’d all settled that Meredydd was dead or inyxed into a
myth.”
    “Marnie’d
have none of that. Here she’d been, chewing on this tidbit for weeks and just
biding till she might uncork it. All a-sudden, Backstere’s got this tasty bit
about the Cyne—Marnie’d have to best that.”
    Bevol
shook his head, chuckling. “Well, now. I wonder how long it will take for
Marnie to get her sly chatter up to Halig-liath?” He sighed, set aside his
napkin and eyed Gwynet’s near empty plate. “Sop that up child, and you and
Taminy will begin a study of rune crystals.”

CHAPTER 2
    What is seen in Nature in a flash of
lightning—That is Wonder.
    That comes to the soul in a flash of vision.
Its name is Tighearnan, which means “Lord;” and Halig, which means “Holy;” and
Caoim-hin, which means “the lovable, the gentle.”
    As Tighearnan, That should have obedience.
    As Halig, That should have reverence.
    As Caoim-hin, That should have adoration.
    All beings will love the lover of such a
Lord.
    — The Corah
Book II, Verses 51,52
    “I’m
not made happy by this, Lealbhallain. If I’d my will in this, no son of mine
would go into such a den of ambiguity.”
    “But
it isn’t your will I serve, father. I serve the Meri’s will.”
    Giolla
Mercer could not help but find his boy a constant source of amazement. If
anyone had told him his timid, chuckle-headed child would return from his
Pilgrimage a diminutive but solemn adult—an Osraed, by the grace of God—he
would have pronounced that person daft. Leal’s new aura of quiet confidence
seemed to extend even to the tips of his unruly hair.
    Now,
under the intense paternal gaze, the boy blushed right to the roots of that
hair, red on red, but continued to fold clothing into the hidebound case that
was his family’s farewell gift.
    Giolla
Mercer sighed volubly and glanced about his son’s attic room. It would be empty
soon. “I know you’re right, boy. And I couldn’t be prouder of you, or more sure
of your path, but I can’t help but worry when I hear such things from
Creiddylad as are being whispered through Nairne these days.”
    Leal’s
green eyes glinted. “Oh, I wouldn’t say they were whispered , da.”
    “Should
have been. The tale of the Cyne’s artistic pursuits doesn’t bear repeating.” He
hesitated a moment then added, “Nor, I’d say, does Marnie-o-Loom’s tell of
seeing Meredydd-a-Lagan home from Pilgrimage.” He watched his son’s usually
expressive face and felt a sense of loss in its new opacity. Not even out the
door, his boy, but no longer at home. “You don’t believe it, Leal?”
    “That
Meredydd’s here and hides? No, da. She wouldn’t hide from me. The Osraed Bevol
wouldn’t let her hide. I believe the Osraed’s tell. But I don’t pretend to
understand what it means.”
    Giolla
Mercer nodded and did not betray his own beliefs. If Osraed Bevol was mad, it
would come to light in God’s own time. “So,” he asked, managing a
conversational tone, “have you heard when you are to give the Pilgrim’s Tell?
Will you go before the Cyne?”
    Leal
shook his head. “I’ve heard we may give the Tell at Halig-liath this year. The
Cyne’s a busy man, according to the Osraed at Court. He wasn’t at Farewelling.”
He didn’t say “again,” thinking it too critical. “Though there was a letter
from his Durweard, bidding us good journey.”
    Giolla
frowned. “Last Season he sent up a man, at least, to say that he was ill. There
was no excuse given for that letter. Merely ‘urgent business at court.’ What
can things be coming to in Creiddylad that our Cyne can’t even be bothered to
meet his new Osraed face to face? Over six hundred years the Cyne’s been
hearing the Tell at Castle Mertuile. An age of tradition and Colfre sneezes it
away in