Shadows at Stonewylde by Kit Berry

come. Clip straightened and took a deep, ragged breath. Was it some sort of omen of things to come? Shakily he stood up, grasping hold of the window ledge to steady himself. He went to a cupboard recessed in the ancient stone walls and selected a bottle of murky liquid. He’d prepared this remedy to ward off the emptiness that gnawed at him before a journey – maybe a draught would ease the cramp. He could cope with hunger but not pain like that. He’d no idea where it had come from and fervently hoped never to encounter it again.
    He groaned again as there was another knock at the door downstairs, which this time he heard clearly. The trouble was anyone standing in the corridor on the other side of the heavy oak door couldn’t hear his reply. He’d have to start bolting the door, he decided, as he really hated all these disturbances. The door opened below and a lad’s voice carried up the stairs.
    ‘Just leave the books down there please!’ called Clip, leaning over the head of the spiral stairs and trying to see where the boy was. Swift – Martin’s son, he thought, always a little hazy on the names and identities of that huge generation. Clip recalled the small pale-haired boy, much younger than Martin’s other children.
    ‘Oh for goddess’ sake!’ he muttered as he saw a blond head circling up the staircase. ‘Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?’
    Swift surprised Clip by being a young man, and he realised with a jolt just how out of touch he was becoming. The youth was slightly built, not tall like Martin, and handsome with straight silvery blond hair that fell into his eyes. He smiled disarmingly at Clip, not in the slightest bit out of breath. He carried a large brown package that looked heavy.
    ‘Your books!’ he said cheerfully, looking around with interest.
    ‘Very kind of you,’ said Clip. ‘Just put them down on that chair. Thanks for bringing them up for me, Swift.’
    ‘My pleasure,’ said the lad charmingly. ‘And you remember who I am!’
    ‘Well, I—’
    ‘It’s a beautiful place, your tower. I love all your collections.’
    To Clip’s dismay, the lad put the books down and sank onto the sofa with another grin.
    ‘I’d love to hear about your travels one day,’ he said. ‘Father says you’ve travelled all over the world and I know your Story Webs are full of tales from different cultures, but you never talk about where you’ve been.’
    ‘No, I suppose not. Though my travels in recent years have been negligible.’
    ‘You must miss it,’ said Swift sympathetically.
    ‘Yes, I do. It’s all I ever really wanted to do, but somehow …’ Clip spread his hands and shrugged in a gesture of acceptance at his fate.
    ‘Father says that life doesn’t always work out as we expect,’ nodded Swift. ‘But surely you can take time out now and go travelling again?’
    ‘Yes, I’m hoping that next year, when—’ Clip stopped abruptly, realising he shouldn’t confide his plans to this boy before telling anyone else.
    ‘Next year you’ll go travelling again? That’s great! Where were you thinking of going?’
    Swift smiled encouragingly but Clip shook his head, frowning down at his thick felt slippers.
    ‘Nowhere. I didn’t mean that. Now, Swift, if you don’t mind …’
    ‘I wanted to ask you something,’ said the boy quickly, flicking the long straight hair out of his eyes. ‘It’s a bit of a strange request, but I wondered if I might call you “uncle”?’
    ‘ Uncle? ’ Clip stared at him.
    ‘Yes, because according to my grandmother that’s what you are – my uncle.’
    Clip was completely dumbfounded at this and continued to stare at the lad. Swift looked up candidly at the tall, careworn man with his lined face and faraway pale-grey wolf’s eyes.
    ‘I was visiting Granny Violet yesterday,’ he said. ‘Father sends me round there with things for her, and she was talking about you – her and my Great-Aunt Vetchling and Aunt Starling. Granny said