The Bag of Bones Read Online Free PDF Page A

did he stomp off once more along the narrow path. Gracie followed him, eating as she went. She was pleased to find that the berries tasted of chocolate cake; she had eaten them before and knew that they had a delightful habit of tasting exactly like her favorite foods. The first time she had taken the journey to the House of the Ancient Crones, she had been guided by Marlon, and he had found her the same kind of berries to eat — but until that time Gracie had eaten only potato peelings or porridge skin, and the glories of the berries had almost passed her by. Having been adopted by the crones, she was now aware that her lost and not-at-all-lamented stepfather had fed her a very limited diet; she had had plenty of time and opportunity to experiment with all kinds of delicious treats, but chocolate cake remained her favorite. Gubble, grunting happily, had obviously found something equally to his taste, and he stomped his way among thistles and stinging nettles with enthusiasm.
    “I wonder what we’ll find in Gorebreath,” Gracie said as she avoided a broken thistle that was doing its best to retaliate. “And I wonder what we can do to help.” She sighed. “The House did seem very certain we needed to go at once, so it must really be urgent. I do hope nothing’s wrong at the palace.”

    “Unk.” Gubble waved an arm and turned to give Gracie a wide smile. “Marcus?”
    A faint wave of pink, hidden by the night, swept across Gracie’s face. “Erm . . . yes. I suppose I was wondering about him. Just a little bit, you understand.”
    “Prince.” Gubble waved the other arm. “Prince Marcus. Unk.”
    Gracie, rightly interpreting this as meaning that Gubble thought of Prince Marcus as his friend, said hopefully, “Do you think maybe we should go to the palace first?”
    Gubble shook his head, and Gracie suppressed a small sigh. She knew he was right; they were far more likely to pick up news and gossip in the marketplace. Prince Marcus of Gorebreath was the only one in the palace who went out to look for adventures in the world beyond the Five Kingdoms. The rest of his family concentrated on being royal; they undertook the necessary state visits, openings of festivals, kissing of babies, and waving to peasants with an admirable devotion to duty and no imagination whatsoever. There were, of course, also a number of social occasions involving princesses from Dreghorn or Wadingburn, Niven’s Knowe or Cockenzie Rood, but Gracie preferred not to think about that particular aspect of Marcus’s life. She was especially not thinking about the Declaration Ball in Wadingburn and Queen Bluebell’s eightieth-birthday party.
    “I mean,” she said to herself as she and Gubble panted up a steep, gorse-covered hill, “why ever would they have thought of asking me? It’s not as if I was a princess or anything like that. Marcus and I were just . . . just companions in an adventure. That’s all.” She squinted up at a small star twinkling overhead and suddenly felt more cheerful. “But if this turns out to be another adventure, I suppose he might be interested. In fact, I probably ought to tell him about it. After all, adventures are what he likes best.” She smiled up at the star and jumped over a small stream. “Why don’t I find out what’s going on, and then tell Marcus?” And Gracie Gillypot positively skipped for the next few miles, even though her bedroom slippers were now soaked through.

Buckleup Brandersby was wrong. Snarler had run straight into the still-steaming mire where Truda had destroyed the blackberry bushes, and his feet were on fire. Several other dogs skidded after him, and their howls mixed with his in a cacophony of agony. Together they limped back to their master, and the smile was wiped from Buckleup’s face.
    He lurched toward them, staring angrily. “What’s this?” Even by moonlight the large blisters and boils that had sprung up on Snarler’s paws could be seen to have a purplish