The Seven Songs Read Online Free PDF Page B

grass. Noticing a revived but still drooping hawthorn tree to my left, I reached over my shoulder and plucked a single string. The hawthorn instantly straightened and exploded with pink and white blossoms.
    I glanced back at Rhia, hoping she might at least offer a word of praise, even something halfhearted. But she seemed completely occupied with fingering the branches of her berry bush. Turning to the rust-colored hill that rose from the edge of the meadow, I stepped briskly toward it. The crest of the hill was covered with shadowed rock outcroppings, the kind that could have concealed the caves of warrior goblins. Although I had seen many such places during my travels in the Dark Hills, I had yet to find any sign of goblins themselves. Perhaps Cairpré’s worries had not been justified after all.
    Suddenly I halted. Recognizing the pair of sharp knobs that rose from the crest, I toyed with my staff, twirling it in my hand, even as I toyed with a new idea. I veered westward, down the slope.
    Rhia called out.
    Planting my staff, I looked her way. “Yes?”
    She waved a berry-stained hand toward the hill. “Aren’t you going the wrong direction?”
    “No. I have some friends to see.”
    Her brow furrowed. “What about your task? You are not supposed to rest until you’ve finished the Dark Hills.”
    “I’m not going to rest!” I kicked at the rich grass beneath my boots. “But no one said I had to avoid my friends along the way. Especially friends who might actually appreciate what I’m doing.”
    Even with my limited vision, I could not miss her reddening cheeks. “My friends have a garden. I am going to make it grow as never before.”
    Rhia’s eyes narrowed. “If they are genuine friends, they’ll be truthful with you. They’ll tell you to go back and finish your task.”
    I stalked off. A stiff gust of wind blew in my face, making my sightless eyes water. But I pushed on down the slope, tunic flapping at my legs. If they are genuine friends, they’ll be truthful. Rhia’s words echoed in my mind. What, indeed, was a friend? I had thought Rhia was one, not long ago. And now she seemed more like a burr in my side. Do without friends! Maybe that was the answer. Friends were just too undependable, too demanding.
    I bit my lip. The right kind of friend would be different, of course. Someone like my mother—totally loyal, always supportive. Yet she was one of a kind. There was no one like her on Fincayra. And yet . . . perhaps, with enough time, I might come to feel that way about others. Like the two people I was about to visit, T’eilean and Garlatha. With a single stroke of my harp strings, I would enrich both their garden and our friendship.
    The wind relented for a moment. As I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, I heard Rhia’s soft footsteps on the grass behind me. Despite my frustration with her, I felt somehow relieved. Not because I needed her company, of course. I simply wanted her to see all the thanks and admiration that I would soon be receiving from real friends.
    I turned to face her. “So you decided to come along.”
    Somberly, she shook her head. “You still need a guide.”
    “I’m not going to get lost, if that’s what you mean.”
    She merely frowned.
    Without another word, I started down the slope, my heels digging into the turf. Rhia stayed close, as silent as a shadow. When we reached the plains, the remaining wind died away. Mist hovered in the muggy air, while the sun baked us. Now when I wiped my eyes it was because of the sting of perspiration.
    Through a long afternoon we trekked in silence. Every so often, when the fields turned dry and brittle, I strummed a little, leaving behind us a wake of verdant grasses, splashing streams, and all manner of life renewed. Yet while the sun continued to warm our backs, it could not do the same for our moods.
    Finally, I spied a familiar hillside, split by a deep cleft. Within it, seeming to sprout from the rocks and soil of the hill itself,