The figure before him seemed to switch itself off, just like a light bulb, and velvet blackness touched his eyes again. The presence was gone. Yet John was gripped with a wild exhilaration. He was evil. It was a new sensation to him, a sensation he had never before dared to let himself feel. He was different What adventures awaited him now? The pain in his shoulder slowly sub-sided to a dull and throbbing ache.
6
----
Death
Sentence
The sun's glare dazzled John. He squinted at the strange trio in front of him, King Bjorn and Queen Bjornsluv seated on boulders, and Vixenia, her brush curled neatly around her feet. On either side of him stood two Matmon with swords. A fly persisted in buzzing round his head, settling annoyingly on his face from time to time so that he was obliged to wave it away constandy.
To his left, on slighdy lower ground in the forest glade, an assortment of Matmon sat on the grass and watched them. John had looked eagerly for Folly, king of donkeys, but Folly was not there. He realized with dismay that his rescue from the cave was not through Folly's intervention.
It had been a huge relief when first he had heard the sound of the boulder being removed. It had been glorious to be hit by a burst of sunlight from the cave's mouth. But his rescuers had been surly and uncommunicative. Hungry and thirsty, he had asked them about food and drink, but they had ignored him, bustling him unceremoniously along a narrow forest trail. Three hours later they had reached the very forest glade he had dreamed about in Pendleton.
"You say you are the Sword Bearer" Bjorn said in measured tones.
"Yes, I am."
"Then where is your sword?"
Out of the corner of his eye, John had seen Bildreth's bitter twisted face among the little assembly on his left.
"The one you call Bildreth took it from me. He took the scabbard and the sword—and my belt."
Bildreth sprang to his feet, his thin lips curling in a sneer. "He lies! He had no sword—"
"Silence!" Bjorn shouted. "You have already spoken. You will not speak again unless you are bidden, Bildreth son of Baldon!"
Then turning to John, he asked the same question, "Where is your sword."
John felt sorry for himself, resentful and a little frightened. "He took it," he said, "I'm not lying. There was another one with him called Gutreth. He told him to take it from me. Gutreth said I was the Sword Bearer and it would be safer if they took my sword."
Again Bildreth stood, crying in agitation, "It is false! It is false! I was alone when I captured him. I, Bildreth alone, subdued him! Alone I imprisoned him in the cave! I speak truth!"
Bjorn's face was purple. "Silence, I said! You will be sealed in the cave yourself if you speak out unbidden again."
Queen Bjornsluv's merry eyes were fixed on John's face. "He has the same voice," she said.
"And the same shape," Vixenia barked.
"—and he has not the face of one who is accustomed to lying. Where were you going, young one, when you were captured?" Bjornsluv continued.
"I don't know."
"You don't know? Explain yourself," demanded the king.
"I came through the door. When I opened it, it was dark, very dark I couldn't see anything and I had no idea where I was. I thought it might be here, so I felt for the scabbard—"
"You came through what door?"
"Oh—er, from the Changer—"
"You say you came from the Changer?"
John hesitated. Was there a Changer? The Lord Lunacy had said it was a dream. Was everything a dream? Was he dreaming now? If he was, then he was dreaming that his mouth was parched. He was also dreaming that he was sick with hunger, that he felt dizzy and confused, and that a fly kept landing on his face. He waved it away angrily. "I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I thought it was the Changer," John sighed. "It was beautiful. But maybe I was dreaming."
"What is your name?" King Bjorn asked.
John thought quickly. He knew his life might depend on the answer. "I am John the Sword Bearer," he
6
----
Death
Sentence
The sun's glare dazzled John. He squinted at the strange trio in front of him, King Bjorn and Queen Bjornsluv seated on boulders, and Vixenia, her brush curled neatly around her feet. On either side of him stood two Matmon with swords. A fly persisted in buzzing round his head, settling annoyingly on his face from time to time so that he was obliged to wave it away constandy.
To his left, on slighdy lower ground in the forest glade, an assortment of Matmon sat on the grass and watched them. John had looked eagerly for Folly, king of donkeys, but Folly was not there. He realized with dismay that his rescue from the cave was not through Folly's intervention.
It had been a huge relief when first he had heard the sound of the boulder being removed. It had been glorious to be hit by a burst of sunlight from the cave's mouth. But his rescuers had been surly and uncommunicative. Hungry and thirsty, he had asked them about food and drink, but they had ignored him, bustling him unceremoniously along a narrow forest trail. Three hours later they had reached the very forest glade he had dreamed about in Pendleton.
"You say you are the Sword Bearer" Bjorn said in measured tones.
"Yes, I am."
"Then where is your sword?"
Out of the corner of his eye, John had seen Bildreth's bitter twisted face among the little assembly on his left.
"The one you call Bildreth took it from me. He took the scabbard and the sword—and my belt."
Bildreth sprang to his feet, his thin lips curling in a sneer. "He lies! He had no sword—"
"Silence!" Bjorn shouted. "You have already spoken. You will not speak again unless you are bidden, Bildreth son of Baldon!"
Then turning to John, he asked the same question, "Where is your sword."
John felt sorry for himself, resentful and a little frightened. "He took it," he said, "I'm not lying. There was another one with him called Gutreth. He told him to take it from me. Gutreth said I was the Sword Bearer and it would be safer if they took my sword."
Again Bildreth stood, crying in agitation, "It is false! It is false! I was alone when I captured him. I, Bildreth alone, subdued him! Alone I imprisoned him in the cave! I speak truth!"
Bjorn's face was purple. "Silence, I said! You will be sealed in the cave yourself if you speak out unbidden again."
Queen Bjornsluv's merry eyes were fixed on John's face. "He has the same voice," she said.
"And the same shape," Vixenia barked.
"—and he has not the face of one who is accustomed to lying. Where were you going, young one, when you were captured?" Bjornsluv continued.
"I don't know."
"You don't know? Explain yourself," demanded the king.
"I came through the door. When I opened it, it was dark, very dark I couldn't see anything and I had no idea where I was. I thought it might be here, so I felt for the scabbard—"
"You came through what door?"
"Oh—er, from the Changer—"
"You say you came from the Changer?"
John hesitated. Was there a Changer? The Lord Lunacy had said it was a dream. Was everything a dream? Was he dreaming now? If he was, then he was dreaming that his mouth was parched. He was also dreaming that he was sick with hunger, that he felt dizzy and confused, and that a fly kept landing on his face. He waved it away angrily. "I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I thought it was the Changer," John sighed. "It was beautiful. But maybe I was dreaming."
"What is your name?" King Bjorn asked.
John thought quickly. He knew his life might depend on the answer. "I am John the Sword Bearer," he
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