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it myself. There's no mistake. The bauble was shining straight on the pages."
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"The bauble!" Taran cried. "Wait! Can it be?" Hurriedly he drew out
the sphere, while the companions halted and watched him silently. As the light
blossomed in his hand, Taran held it so that its rays bathed the pages in a
golden glow.
The writing sprang into sight, sharp and clear.
"Astonishing!" cried Rhun. "The most amazing thing I've seen in my
life!"
Taran crouched on the turf, held the bauble close to the book, and
with trembling fingers turned leaf after leaf. The curious tracing crowded
every page. The bard gave along, low whistle.
"What does this mean, Fflewddur?" Taran asked. He raised his head
and looked with concern at the bard.
The bard's face had paled. "What it means, in my opinion," said
Fflewddur, "is that we should get rid of the book instantly. Drop it in the
river. I regret to say I can't read it. I could never manage to learn all
these secret scripts and ancient letters. But I recognize enchantment when I
see it." He shuddered and turned away. "I'd rather not even look at it, if you
don't mind. Not that it frightens me. Yes, it makes me feel acutely uneasy;
and you know my views on meddling."
"If Glew spoke the truth, it comes from a place of enchantments,"
Taran said. "But what can it tell us? I shall not destroy it," he added,
returning the book to his jacket. "I can't explain; I feel as though I'd
touched a secret. It's strange, like a moth that brushes your hand and
flutters away again."
"Ahem," said Fflewddur, casting a nervous glance at Taran. "If you
insist on carrying the thing with you, would you oblige me--- nothing
personal, you understand--- but I would appreciate it if you'd stay a few
paces away."
Midday was long past when the companions reached the riverbank, but
they rejoiced at their good fortune. The remains of the raft were still there.
They set to work hastily to repair it. Prince Rhun, in better spirits than
ever, labored unstintingly. For a time Taran had forgotten the Prince of Mona
was to be Eilonwy's betrothed. Now the sad thought returned to him as he
helped Rhun knot new vines around the raft.
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"You should be proud of yourself," Taran said quietly. "Did you seek
to prove yourself a true Prince? You have done so, Rhun Son of Rhuddlum."
"Why, perhaps that's so," replied Rhun, as though the idea had never
occurred to him. "But it's a curious thing. It doesn't seem one bit as
important as it did. Astonishing, but true!"
The sun had begun to dip by the time the raft was ready. Taran, who
had grown more and more restless as the day waned, urged the companions to
press on rather than wait the night on shore, and they clambered aboard.
Twilight soon fell over the valley, and the Alaw ran in swift silver
ripples under the rising moon. The shore lay silent, flanked by brooding
hills. In the middle of the raft Gurgi curled up like a muddy ball of leaves;
beside him, the Prince of Mona slept and snored peacefully, a smile of
contentment on his round face. Taking the first watch, Taran and Fflewddur
guided the awkward craft as it rapidly floated seaward.
They spoke little. Fflewddur had not entirely lost his disquiet over
the strange book. Taran's thoughts were for the morrow, which he hoped would
bring the companions closer to the end of their search. Once again, fear and
doubt made him wonder if he had chosen wisely. Even if Eilonwy had been taken
to Caer Colur, he had no cause to believe Magg--- or Achren--- still held her
there. So little was known for certain. The book and its meaning, even the
nature of Eilonwy's bauble, were more riddles added to so many others.
"Why?" he murmured. "Why is the writing clear only when the bauble
shines on it? And why did it light for Rhun, when it had never done so before?
Why did it light for me, for that matter?"
"As a bard," answered Fflewddur, "I know a great deal about these
enchanted devices, and I can tell you..." At the narrow end of the harp, a
string tinkled as it snapped in two. "Ah, yes," said Fflewddur, "the fact is:
I know very little about them. Eilonwy, of course, has the gift of making it
light when she pleases. She's half an enchantress, you know, and the bauble
does belong to her. For someone else, I wonder--- and I'm only guessing, mind
you--- I wonder if it might have to do with--- how shall I put it--- not even
thinking about it. Or about yourself.
"What I mean," Fflewddur went on, "in the cavern, when I tried to
make it light, I was saying to myself: If I can do this, if I can find the way
for us..."
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"Perhaps," Taran said quietly, watching the moon-white riverbank
slip past them, "perhaps you have the truth of it. At first I felt as you did.
Then I remember thinking of Eilonwy, only of her; and the bauble showed its
light. Prince Rhun was ready to lay down his life; his thoughts were for our
safety, not at all for his own. And because he offered the greatest sacrifice,
the bauble glowed brightest for him. Can that be its secret? To think more for
others than ourselves?"
"That would seem to be one of its secrets, at least," replied
Fflewddur. "Once you've discovered that, you've discovered a great secret
indeed--- with or without the bauble."
THE HILLS HAD FLATTENED and given way to low fields of sedge. A [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]