5
In all my decade at the Society, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a proper, old-fashioned hero quest before. Deserted halls! Monsters! An artefact of great power!
Course, when Frodo and Sam set out to destroy the ring, they numbered nine, and one of them was some kind of a demigod. In our Quest for the Lyre we numbered but three, and one of us was half-dead and missing body parts.
At least we weren’t heading into Mordor.
Hopefully.
‘Right, then,’ I said, wand and pipes at the ready. ‘Where’s the lyre?’
‘Good question,’ said mother.
‘I thought you said you’d seen them?’
‘Years ago, and the circumstances were unusual.’
‘Namely?’
‘Well.’ Mother seemed absorbed in the study of her right toe. ‘The Yllanfalen hold great parties.’
‘Parties.’ I think my eyebrows did that sceptical-Jay
