The Prophecy Read Online Free PDF Page A

aid. Show me…”
    My father’s reaction to my flight. But wasn’t it more important to find out about Cedric’s plans?
    “Show me the reaction to my flight.” He would let the mirror determine what he needed to see!
    The dim reflection of his own face was a pale blur in the mirror’s surface. Perryn held his breath. A moment passed. Another. Disappointment welled in his heart. It was too soon. The mirror was drained—
    Suddenly the reflection glimmered, swirled, and began to glow. Perryn leaned forward, staring at the picture that formed there. A road. No, a fork in the road, with the main road continuing on and a smaller track branching off into some hills. Thick bushes surrounded the lesser branch, and although Perryn couldn’t see into their shadows—it was night there as well—it was clear there were no people present.
    Perryn sighed. It was too soon to try again. He should let the mirror rebuild its strength.
    “Thank you,” Perryn murmured as the vision faded. He knew he should put the mirror back into his satchel, but his own weariness swamped him and he set it aside, thrusting it into the straw near his boots. He would repack everything in the morning.
     
     
    SEVERAL HOURS LATER PERRYN SHIFTED RESTLESSLY , not quite asleep, but not awake either. He heard a rustling in the straw beside him, followed by a tug at his belt, and brushed at it sleepily. Another tug. What was it? A rat?!
    Perryn jerked upright, flailing at the straw beside him. A strong hand grabbed his collar and thrust his face into the fabric of his cloak. He couldn’t breathe! He struggled helplessly. Cedric? No, please! A hard yank at his belt—his purse! Bright spots were forming in the darkness behind his eyes. The hand on his collar yanked him up, and he gasped for air. The world went black.
     
     
    HIS JAW HURT . WHY WERE THERE WOODEN RAFTERS above his bed instead of curtains? Perryn groped for his spectacles but he couldn’t find them. He reached up and touched his jaw. A swelling bruise. It hurt. Not Cedric, a thief. His purse was gone. He was sleeping in a stable, and his purse was gone. But what about…the mirror!
    It took several minutes of searching through the straw near his boots to find it, but at least the thief hadn’t noticed it. Losing his money was bad enough. The tears that rose in his eyes were tears of relief, Perryn told himself firmly.
    “I will not give up,” he said to the empty loft. “I will not go back, and I will not turn south.”
    Running south at the first sign of trouble would prove that Perryn was as worthless as his father claimed, and tears wouldn’t help him get his money back. Perhaps the tavern keeper could. Perryn groped his way to the ladder.
    The tavern keeper offered many consoling words, and so did his wife and daughter. They found Perryn’s spectacles in the loft—undamaged, thank goodness—but they didn’t agree to replace the money he had lost, or even supply him with breakfast. They did offer to send a groom to fetch the mayor, but Perryn refused. Machidius wrote that it was the duty of all men to assist in the apprehension of thieves, but the mayor might recognize him. He would certainly remember the incident when Perryn’s father came in search of his missing son.
    The thief had gone through his satchel and evidently decided that Perryn’s bread and cheese weren’t worth stealing, but his food was nearly gone anyway by the time Perryn tramped wearily into the small village of Drindle. It was mid-afternoon, and the tavern there had only one customer.
    The tapster’s gaze moved slowly from Perryn’s dirty boots, past his scrapped knuckles, to his bruised jaw.
    “Money first,” he said.
    “I haven’t any money,” Perryn admitted.
    “Then get out.”
    Perryn gritted his teeth. “Please, all I need is some information. I’m looking for a bard. I think his name is Lysander.”
    “Oh, him. He left town this morning. He had enough money to stay the night, but after that