Sword of the Bright Lady Read Online Free Page A

hands around the smooth stone cup.
    â€œThank you,” he said.
    The priest said something, probably polite. Christopher shook his head.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Christopher said, “I don’t speak your language.”
    The priest eyed him critically, bowed his head, and began a prayer. Again he spoke in a different language, beautiful and exotic, the same one the woman downstairs had used.
    Christopher could not remember the last time a prayer had any effect on him. This one did. The air felt heavy and close, and the pressure of an unseen gaze lay on him, the sensation so vivid that he looked around the room. It was empty, save for the three men.
    After his prayers the priest looked up at Christopher and said, in perfect English, “I am Krellyan, Saint of the Bright Lady, and I enjoin you to answer my questions truthfully and fully. Are you a spy?”
    Having just accepted he would never see home again, the sound of his own language was disorienting. It gave rise to hope, and with hope came fear. The mixture was indistinguishable from anger.
    â€œNo, I’m not a spy. I can’t speak the language. Why would you think I’m a spy if I can’t even speak the damn language?”
    â€œIt is not helpful to speculate on my motives,” Krellyan replied calmly. “Please, just answer the questions. Is your intent here hostile?”
    â€œNo,” Christopher said, misery washing the hard edge out of his voice. “I don’t even know where here is. My only intent is to not be here. I want to go home. Call the damn Embassy, already.” A tremor shook his body.
    â€œWhat Embassy?”
    â€œThe American Embassy. I’m an American.” Christopher felt an odd compulsion to provide a complete explanation. “From Arizona.” The priest showed no recognition, but Christopher controlled his exasperation. Arizona was a fairly obscure place, after all. “It’s right next to California.” Everybody in the world knew where California was.
    â€œWhere is California?” Krellyan asked with the perfect imitation of innocence.
    The exasperation won, and his temper snapped. “Stop fooling around!”
    From behind came a jingle of metal; Krellyan raised a forestalling hand and spoke in their foreign tongue. Christopher was reminded that an armed man watched him. The fire no longer seemed quite so cheery.
    Krellyan turned back to Christopher with a subtle frown. “Calm yourself. I am not fooling around, as you say. I do not know of any county, realm, or land by those names.”
    Christopher pounced with killing logic. “Then how in the hell can you speak English?”
    â€œIs that what you call this tongue?” Krellyan answered. “I do not recognize that name, either.” When Christopher stared at him, Krellyan continued. “Surely you understand this is merely a spell, and that I do not actually know your language.”
    â€œNo,” Christopher said heavily, “I do not understand.”
    â€œYou are far from home, then,” Krellyan said with genuine compassion. “Helga says they found you unconscious on their doorstep, like a heap of abandoned rags. Do you know how you arrived in this state?”
    Christopher shrugged helplessly.
    â€œTell me what you do know.”
    â€œNothing. I went for a walk, and then I was here. One minute I was at home, and then I wasn’t, and I have no idea how or why.” Christopher gripped the stone cup fiercely, but it was not an anchor.
    Krellyan sighed. “You did not enter any mysterious doorways? Or pass through unfamiliar arches or portals?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t. I just walked. In the open. There wasn’t any warning at all. Well,” he had to admit his guilt, “I wasn’t paying attention. One minute there was sand, and the next there was snow. But I didn’t see or feel anything. When I tried to go back, there wasn’t anywhere to go back