66
The Nature of Kings
April 20, AD 643, near Eoforwic
Thomas drifted in and out of the menacing mist-dream several times until he woke with a gasp, sitting bolt upright. He lay on furs on the floor, against the wall of a small dwelling. A typical house, with wattle-and-daub walls, one window and a door, and what furniture there was lined up against the walls. The mingled odours of onions, smoke, fish, and animal manure hung in the air.
A middle-aged Fey woman sat by the hearth fire, working on some mending. A white-haired Fey man snored under a blanket on a pallet nearby. The woman turned to Thomas as she heard his movements, her hostile, narrow-eyed gaze giving him no welcome.
Odda sat beside him, his eyes fixed on him. “Master—”
Thomas put up his hand. He sensed the boy’s worry. B
