was a real beauty, with razor-sharp edges and a surface like a fine mirror. Even the hilt of Merlin’s dirk was amazing: the guard tipped with silver, the handle of black leather interspersed with silver rings, and a round pommel that held a small green jewel.
Garth bit off a hunk of greasy meat, tastier than the boiled mutton they’d had last night. The druidow had stolen the sheep from the monks, and it served those brown-robes right for selling his bagpipe. He hated them for it.
“Do you like it here with the druidow?” Caygek inquired.
Garth closed his eyes and swigged from his waterskin. Oh, how he liked it. No more tending the sheep. No hoeing or planting. No milking the goats. No sneaking tuck from the barrels in the cave. Now it was one adventure after another. And no more being teased for looking like a monk!
And the Stone made him feel strong and important. Why did he need parchment learning when he could see wonderful things in the Stone? And now he even dreamed about it during the day, which was kind of strange. Even stranger, he’d snuck a peek at Dybris earlier, but a floating image of the Stone blocked his vision.
Just as well … He’d never forgive that man for stealing his bagpipe.
“So I hear your father was a fisherman,” Caygek said. “Do you like the sea?”
Garth almost groaned. Would the man ever stop pestering him?
Thankfully someone ran up, calling for Mórganthu. Connek. Garth’s lip curled. Why they allowed this thief with them, he didn’t understand. Maybe the druidow, in their kindness, were helping him.
Connek, out of breath, ran to Mórganthu and Mônda and gave them some news. Connek pointed up the mountain toward the east side of the village.
Mônda pleaded with Mórganthu, but he shook his head. She sobbed and grabbed his arm so tightly, Mórganthu couldn’t pry her off. Finally she spoke in his ear, and Mórganthu blinked and smiled. Garth liked it when Mórganthu smiled. He wished he could hear what they were saying. Maybe if he snuck behind, he could —
“Gather!” Mórganthu commanded the druidow. “We will fight our enemies! They move against us, and so we will call on Lugh with the Galow Golm. With the power of the Stone, perhaps we may destroy them.”
Most of the men rose.
Garth stood too, but Caygek whispered to him.
“Only druidow proper form the Knot of Calling. Filidow and brihemow aren’t allowed. And you don’t want to take part, trust me.”
Garth searched the nearby bag for another fatty grouse leg, but finding none, he sat down with a small wing. He thought back to that first day when he had stolen the chicken leg and was thankful he didn’t have to sneak anymore. But where did that Trothek fellow go? The one Caygek knew. It seemed like forever since the old man had stood up to Mórganthu.
A few druidow had been sent away, and they sat down near Garth. One of them spoke, a squat man with a cloak the color of lobsters. “When someone needs pushing, Podrith the novice always get pushed.”
“What do you mean?” Garth asked, but Podrith just grunted and shuffled through the bag of meat.
Caygek squinted at the novice and whispered in Garth’s ear, “If you’re ever in trouble, come find me.” He got up and slipped away.
Garth wondered what that was supposed to mean, but the activity around the Stone distracted him. The druidow formed two concentric rings. Then they interlocked hands in such a way that their arms crisscrossed the rings and formed a knot.
They all started walking in a jerky rhythm by ducking under raised hands or stepping over lowered hands. The drummers started, and the druidow chanted in their foreign tongue.
Mórganthu stood in the center, shook his staff before the Stone, and looked to the sky, where a few wispy clouds swirled.
Garth wiped his mouth with his sleeve and turned to Podrith. “What’s he doin’?”
The man stared back with bloodshot eyes. “Yer a fool jus’ like them filidow. Watch and learn the power of the druidow.”
The living druid knot pulsed to the beat of the drums. Garth rubbed his eyes, for the men seemed to fade. When he looked again, they had been replaced by the apparition of a monstrous white snake. The creature’s rippling muscles propelled it through its own knotted coils. The shiny head passed in front of Garth, having swallowed its own tail. The fangs dribbled a track of blood on the pressed grass, and