The Broken Sword Read Online Free PDF Page B

his crisp khaki shirt. "Use this."
    Hal leafed through the bills. "There's a thousand dollars here," he said, gawking at it incredulously. "American."
    "Yes, I believe you prefer those."
    Hal squinted. "How'd you get this much money?"
    "What does it matter?" the old man said, yawning. "It's only paper."
    "Only—"
    "Shall we rest awhile before continuing on?"
    Hal's arms flapped against his sides. "To Tangier," he said, defeated.
    "Quite."
    L ong after Hal and Arthur had fallen asleep, Beatrice sat silently gazing into the dung fire. Taliesin sat nearby, leaning against a rock. He had been watching her for hours, trying to understand why he felt such a sense of— obedience was the only word, really—toward her. Hal was right; she didn't know what she was saying half the time. It was as if Beatrice were two people, one of them a frightened child, and the other. . .
    It was the other who commanded him, though how and why he did not begin to know. "What do you see in there, child?" Taliesin asked. "You haven't taken your eyes off that fire since it was lit."
    "It's just... so beautiful," she said, looking embarrassed. "I always thought fire was just heat —you know, invisible." She smiled. "I'm afraid I sound like a simpleton."
    "Not at all," the old man said. "I've spent many an evening staring at fires myself. It gets cold in Wales."
    "Wales! Is that where you're from?"
    He nodded. "And you?"
    "Dorset. Near the Somerset border."
    Taliesin sucked in his breath. "Near Wilson-on-Hamble?"
    "Yes. Do you know it?"
    He nodded. "Have you heard about the doings on St. John's Eve?"
    She laughed. "Of course. We all have. The ruins of Camelot are in our back yard. In midsummer, on St. John's Eve, the ghosts of the Knights of the Round Table ride out in search of King Arthur. At least that's how the stories go."
    "Do you believe them? The stories?"
    She doodled on the soft ground with her finger. "I don't know. My parents didn't. They made fun of the villagers and their superstitions."
    "Your parents!" Taliesin slapped the side of his head. "Good heavens, child, you haven't told them about—"
    "There's no need." Her finger stopped moving in the dirt. "They died four years ago in a motorcar accident."
    "Oh, my," he said softly. "I'm sorry."
    "My grandmother raised me since then. And now that she's gone..." Tears sprang to her eyes and threatened to spill over.
    "Beatrice—"
    "No, I'm all right." She wiped her face. "It's just that I can't help but feel that I've somehow traded her. For my sight."
    "You mustn't believe that."
    "But I do! Even when that man was... killing her..." She wept silently, her tears falling in dark circles on the ground, "Even then, all I could think about was being able to see."
    "I understand." he said.
    "No, you don't!" she shouted angrily. "You can't know what it's like to be blind! You've probably never even known a blind person."
    "Oh, but I have. My teacher was blind."
    "It's not the same." Beatrice sniffed. "Your teacher?"
    Taliesin nodded.
    "What did he teach?"
    "She. My instructor—my master—was a woman." The old man cocked his head and smiled. "I suppose you'd say she taught life." He picked up a stone. It was gypsum, clear as water. He held it up to the slim bright crescent of light in the night sky.
    "Selene," she said. "For the moon. It will bring clarity of vision."
    "Why, quite right." He smiled delightedly. "You used the archaic term. Are you a student of the spiritual properties of stones? I understand there are quite a few of those these days."
    She frowned. "No," she said, touching the stone with the tip of her finger as if it were an insect. "I've never seen a rock like this before."
    There was a silence. Finally the old man said, "Ah, no matter. Someone must have mentioned it to you."
    "Yes," she answered numbly.
    Clarity of vision, she thought, looking into the fire. How had those words come into her head?
    How had she come to know any of the strange things she