The Singer of All Songs Read Online Free PDF

very good to you! She’s dressed your wounds and set your foot and fed you. You should be thanking her, not ordering her away,’ said Calwyn.
    ‘I must be careful,’ said the Outlander, and Calwyn noticed again how he pronounced his words oddly, and with stilted precision. He glanced apprehensively toward the door.
    ‘You’re safe here, you are within the Wall of Antaris.’
    ‘If I could cross your famous Wall, then the one who seeks me could do the same.’
    ‘And see what the Goddess brings to those who presume to trespass in Her land.’ Calwyn indicated the foot, swollen with bandages, that protruded from under his bedcovers. It was something that Tamen might have said.
    ‘Yes,’ said the stranger after a moment. ‘Your goddess has had her revenge, and I hope she is well satisfied. But I charge you to be on your guard, you and all your priestesses, for the one who pursues me is strong, and he is dangerous, and he won’t give up the hunt. Do you hear me? He will not give up. Perhaps he is already here –’ In his agitation the Outlander seemed about to throw himself from the bed and begin searching for his mysterious pursuer. The bowl and spoon clattered to the floor.
    ‘Calm yourself,’ said Calwyn in alarm. ‘There’s no one here!’
    ‘I am perfectly calm.’ The brief effort had exhausted him, and he fell back, his face ghostly in the gathering dusk. He whispered, ‘Who rules this place?’
    ‘Ursca is the infirmarian.’
    The stranger gave a faint smile. ‘Antaris, who rules Antaris?’
    ‘Our High Priestess is Marna.’
    ‘Tell Marna that she must be vigilant. Tell her that one is hunting me, one who would be the Singer of all Songs. Can you remember that?’
    ‘The Singer of all Songs,’ repeated Calwyn in puzzlement.
    ‘Swear that you will tell her.’ His hand shot out and seized her sleeve, and Calwyn jumped. ‘Swear it! He brings great danger, not only to Antaris, but to all Tremaris.’ He began to cough. ‘If she does not understand, send her to me.’
    Calwyn smiled, despite herself, at the idea of this imperious stranger ordering about the High Priestess as well as Ursca and herself. ‘I will tell her.’
    ‘Thank you.’ He let his hand fall from her arm. ‘And tell her that he has the power of seeming –What do they call you?’ he asked abruptly.
    ‘Calwyn.’The question took her by surprise. ‘And you?’
    ‘My name is Darrow.’ He touched his fingers to his lips and then held up his palm toward her in what seemed to be a salute of greeting. After a pause, Calwyn awkwardly returned the gesture. He seemed satisfied; his eyes closed, and a moment later, to judge from his breathing, he fell asleep.
    ‘You see! I always said you had the gift of healing,’ whispered Ursca from the doorway, ‘in spite of everything.’
    ‘I hardly think so,’ said Calwyn ruefully. ‘He was happy to see someone he could recognise, that’s all.’ A huge yawn split her face, reminding her of her own fatigue.
    ‘Take yourself off to bed, child, your day’s fishing has worn you out.’
    ‘I wasn’t –’ Calwyn stopped; she was too tired to start arguing. She let Ursca bustle her out of the infirmary, and press a little pouch of dried herbs into her hand, to slip under her pillow. And whether it was the scent of the herbs or her own sheer exhaustion, she never knew, but she fell into a sleep as deep and dreamless as the Outlander’s own before she had even finished unlacing her boots.
    The orchard was white with apple blossom, as though the ancient trees held heaped armfuls of snow in their gnarled, low branches; the bees hummed their contentment, and the novices who were taking their turn to help Calwyn with the hives trotted about as sunny as strawflowers in their yellow tunics. One of them pulled off her big veiled hat to fan her forehead, squinting in the sunshine. ‘Calwyn, look!’
    Calwyn looked up, and was surprised to see the slight, blue-robed figure of Marna making her