Jack Shian and the King's Chalice by Andrew Symon Page A

would have to learn about them from Daid the tutor.

18
Shian Tales …
    Two weeks after the Claville match, Jack and the other new apprentices met formally together for their new lessons. Apart from Fenrig, there was Boyce, who had joined Petros in working with Cormac the woodcarver; Lee-Brog, apprentice to Tramen the shoemaker; Purdy from next door, who was learning to be a baker; Séan, who had joined Nachie the bard; and Kaol, who was learning music with Arvin. From outside the castle came Suque, who helped with the horses, and Diana, who was apprentice to a huntsman.
    The youngsters had all finished work at twelve instead of three on the Monday and now congregated outside Murkle’s house for lessons in Shian tales. However, none was bold enough to approach the door.
    â€œHe’s really bad-tempered,” said Boyce. “Petros said his lessons are awful. He just drones on and on.”
    â€œI heard he uses his belt,” said Suque. “Well, if he beats me, I’ve got a horsewhip, and I’ll …” Her voice trailed off.
    â€œYou the one with the mad mother who ran away?” Boyce sneered at Jack.
    Jack, turning beetroot, stammered, “Sh-She’s not mad. She’s … highly strung.”
    A derisive snort revealed Boyce’s opinion of this. There was a strained silence for a few moments.
    â€œI don’t see why you lot are waiting,” said Fenrig, who had just arrived. Striding up, he knocked firmly on the door. The sound echoed through the house, but there was no answer.
    â€œIf he’s no’ in, we can have the afternoon off,” said Séan hopefully.
    Fenrig knocked again. “Murkle knows more tales than anyone else this far south,” he said without turning round. “It’s got to be better than sorting out handkerchief rejects, anyway.”
    If Murkle knows so much, maybe he can tell us about the King’s Cup , thought Jack.
    A bolt was pulled creakily back. The door opened slowly to reveal a tall, dishevelled man. Under a long and grimy black cloak, his trouser ends were visibly frayed, his shirt was similarly worn and his gloves fingerless.
    â€œWhat is it? What do you want?” he asked in a loud voice.
    â€œWe’ve come for our lesson,” said Fenrig equally loudly.
    â€œWhat?” He cupped his hand to his ear.
    â€œOur lesson,” shouted Fenrig.
    â€œAh, the lesson.” He didn’t sound very enthusiastic. “You’d better come in.”
    The hallway led into a small gloomy front room containing five chairs and two tables, arranged in front of a bare fireplace. A melancholy portrait stared from the one picture to grace the dank walls, but the room’s most overpowering sensation was its smell, like stale over-boiled cabbage. Jack curled his lip in distaste.
    He hasn’t even bothered to get the lumis crystals working again. Cheapskate.
    As the new apprentices tried to crowd inside, Murkle looked around with dismay.
    â€œOh no, no, this won’t do. Out again, the lot of you.”
    With difficulty, the nine extricated themselves from the room, some stepping outside the house, others turning and going into the small rear kitchen. Murkle grabbed Suque, the last to leave, as she was in the doorway. Without explanation, he placed his right hand on her head and clicked the fingers of his left hand. He whispered inaudibly, and she instantly shrank to half her usual height, whereupon he nudged her back into the room. Suque squealed in surprise, but realising what had happened, she went and climbed up onto one of the now towering chairs. The others followed in turn and were soon squeezed up onto four chairs.
    â€œLet’s get started,” announced Murkle. Remaining at his usual height, he loomed above the apprentices. “Now, the Congress has decided that you all need to be taught Shian tales and human lessons. I can’t speak for human beings, having no contact with them if I