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

can help it,” at this point Fenrig smirked, “but why you can’t learn Shian tales at home with your parents I don’t know.”
    â€œHe’s going to be a bundle of laughs,” whispered Séan to Jack.
    â€œI am not a bundle of anything,” snapped Murkle, whose hearing seemed to have improved dramatically. Several of the youngsters exchanged nervous glances.
    â€œMy unpleasant task is to impart to you impertinent young things some of my knowledge of Shian folklore,” he continued. “I warn you that I do not tolerate insolence or bad behaviour. We will start with the tale of the giant and the troll. Many years ago …” Murkle paused as he saw a hand shoot up.
    â€œPlease, Murkle,” said Purdy brightly, “I know this story. It happened hundreds of years ago, and this giant …” Her voice trailed off as she saw the look of dislike on the teacher’s face.
    â€œI did not ask if any of you knew this story already,” he barked. “And, as far as I am aware, the Congress has not asked you to teach the new apprentices. Or perhaps I’m mistaken, perhaps you are indeed the new teacher. Well, young Purdy, I’m obviously wasting my time here. Why don’t you take over?” He sneered sarcastically as she squirmed in embarrassment.
    â€œDoes anyone else want to be the teacher?” asked Murkle, glaring round at the others.
    Jack, like everyone else, had suddenly found the floor very interesting. I’m not asking him about the King’s Cup – or anything else .
    After a pause, Murkle resumed.
    â€œThe giant lived in a cave, far away to the north. In those days there were giants living on most hillsides, but they always lived alone …”
    His monotonous voice lacked even the barest inflection to make it interesting. For two hours he spoke without stopping. There was no obvious connection between the tales, and no discussion about what each had signified. He paused only once, to summon a small goblet of water, which he quickly drained.
    By three o’clock, the apprentices were all in a state of torpor. Boyce had twice dozed off, his head sliding down onto Jack’s shoulder, whereupon Jack had nudged him sharply in the ribs. Murkle drew his final story to a close, and for the first time since he had started, he looked round at his audience.
    â€œNext Monday we will continue with tales of the north countries. In time, I intend to discuss demons, including Amadan. I will expect you to be on time.” He stood up and walked to the door.
    Diana, first to her feet, strode to the doorway. Murkle bent down and placed his hand unceremoniously on her head, and whispered under his breath. In a second, she had regained her normal height, and she left without a word. The others quickly jumped off their chairs and formed a line.
    Within a minute they were all outside. After the gloominess of Murkle’s front room, the square seemed very bright. Fenrig immediately ran to the foot of the square, but the others remained where they were.
    Jack inhaled deeply and savoured the fresh air that came from the warren pipes in the rock wall.
    â€œWell, that was a waste of time,” announced Boyce. “If I’d wanted a good sleep I could’ve just gone back to bed.”
    â€œYou mean we have to go through that every week?” moaned Kaol. “What’s the Congress think they’re doing, making him a teacher?”
    Jack and Purdy strolled along the square, and she turned into the path leading up to her door.
    â€œSee you later.”
    Jack smiled back, and walked onto the next house. Aunt Katie called him through from the kitchen.
    â€œHow did you get on today, Jack dear?” she asked brightly.
    Jack mumbled something about getting on all right, but Katie wasn’t giving up that easily.
    â€œCome on, I know you’re getting on well at Gilmore’s, but tell me what this afternoon was