Chapters (51)
- Cover
- About Dreamer's Pool
- Title page
- Contents
- Dedication
- Character List
- 1 Blackthorn
- 2 Grim
- 3 Oran
- 4 Blackthorn
- 5 Grim
- 6 Oran
- 7 Blackthorn
- 8 Grim
- 9 Oran
- 10 Blackthorn
- 11 Grim
- 12 Oran
- 13 Blackthorn
- 14 Oran
- 15 Blackthorn
- 16 Oran
- 17 Blackthorn
- 18 Grim
- 19 Oran
- 20 Blackthorn
- 21 Grim
- 22 Oran
- 23 Grim
- 24 Blackthorn
- 25 Oran
- 26 Grim
- 27 Blackthorn
- 28 Grim
- 29 Oran
- 30 Blackthorn
- 31 Grim
- 32 Blackthorn
- 33 Oran
- 34 Grim
- 35 Blackthorn
- 36 Grim
- 37 Oran
- 38 Blackthorn
- 39 Oran
- 40 Grim
- 41 Blackthorn
- Acknowledgments
- About Juliet Marillier
- Also by Juliet Marillier
- Copyright page
Donagan must have made up that part himself – what prince would say such a thing? I made no comment, just stood there waiting for him to go. But he didn’t seem in a hurry to move on.
Grim came up, not rushing, stopped a couple of paces away with his gaze on Donagan, put down the sack he was carrying, didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to, since everything about him said, What do you think you’re doing here?
‘Grim,’ said Donagan in a friendly enough tone. ‘Prince Oran’s been hearing good reports of your work in the district.’ And when the two of us only gaped at him, he went on, ‘It seems you’re skilled not only in thatching, but in several other crafts.’
‘Do what I can,’ Grim mumbled, then shot a glance at me. ‘Has something happened here?’
‘Story to tell,’ I said. ‘Later.’
‘Prince Oran may well wish to make use of your skills in the future,’ Donagan said, looking at Grim. ‘And yours,’ he added hastily, glancing at me.
‘We have work already,’ I told him. ‘Plenty to keep us busy.’
‘Ah, well.’ Donagan was unruffled. A courtier, skilled at keeping things running smoothly. ‘Thank you again, and I’ll bid you good day.’
Grim managed a grunt; I gave a nod. Donagan strode off to his horse, which was tethered under the trees at the far side of the garden.
‘What was all that about?’ asked Grim as we watched the king’s man ride away.
‘Come inside and I’ll tell you. How were the flour bags?’
Grim gave me a funny look. ‘Heavy.’ He cast his glance over the garden; he sniffed like a hunting dog. ‘Folk have been here; not just him, a lot of folk. And horses. Just as well I fixed the wall around the vegetable patch. Here, a bit of this’ll be good in the brew.’ He leaned over the dry-stone wall and plucked a few sprigs of basil, a few leaves of thyme. ‘Good pile of horse dung over there. I’ll dig it into the new patch.’
‘Brew first. Dung later, if you insist.’
11 Grim
11
~GRIM~
I’ve come home with a story to tell. But Blackthorn’s got her own story and it’s bigger than mine. So instead of talking I sit down and listen.