Read Igraine the Brave for Free Online Page A
Authors: Cornelia Funke
“We can’t possibly work with such a beginner. He doesn’t even know how to read our writing properly.”
Albert jumped up. “Of course I do!” he said in an injured tone. “And I know the page numbers of almost all your magic songs. Even my mice practically know them by heart, I’ve said those numbers out loud to myself so often!”
“But that … that …!” The books were whispering to each other. “That’s an insult!” one of them squawked.
“Oh, don’t make such a fuss!” said Igraine, taking her brother’s side. “We’re good enough to dust you, right? But when it comes to working magic …”
“Hush, hush, hush, my dears!” grunted Sir Lamorak, nudging his children gently with his snout. “This really isn’t the time to quarrel.”
“Dear books, believe me, you wouldn’t like living with that Osmund,” said Melisande.
“He wouldn’t dust you every other day!” said Igraine crossly. “And I bet he wouldn’t give you nice padded shelves.”
“He’d chain you up, the way the King chains up his valuable books,” said Albert. “The chains would be just long enough to let you be taken off the shelves. And you’d have to sing until your voices sounded like toads croaking and your pages fell out like an old man’s hair!”
The books looked at each other in dismay.
“Do please help Albert, books,” said Sir Lamorak. “It’s only for a few days.”
“He mustn’t leaf through us!” said a fat red book.
“Or dog-ear the pages!” grumbled another. “No bookmarks, and always a civil tone of voice, if you please.”
“All right, all right!” muttered Albert. “I’m not a beginner, you know!”
“Oh, yes, you are!” cried the books. Then they put their heads together and whispered, while Albert juggled his mice and Igraine scratched her parents’ bristles (pigs’ backs tend to get very itchy).
At last one of the books tipped forward and leaned down from the shelf to them.
“Very well,” it muttered. “We’ll help Albert. Just for once, and only on account of the adverse and extremely ominous circumstances. What’s more, we don’t think that man Osmund is worthy to be our new master.”
“Good, excellent!” cried Sir Lamorak. “In that case …”
“In that case I’m riding off this minute to find those giant’s hairs,” said Igraine.
Her piggy parents immediately drooped their ears.
“Don’t look so sad,” said Igraine, putting her arms around their bristly necks. “I’ll be back in two days’ time with the hairs, you wait and see.”
“Two days’ time?” Albert wrinkled his sharp nose in derision. “How are you planning to do that? Have you learned to fly now, little sister?”
“No, but I’m going to take the fastest horse between the Whispering Woods and the Giant’s Hills,” replied Igraine. “You’d fall off him the first time he broke into a gallop.”
“What are you talking about, honey?” asked her mother, sounding worried.
“I can’t go on my pony, Mama,” said Igraine. “That would take at least four days, and Osmund will be here very soon, you said so yourselves. I wouldn’t be any faster on one of our other horses, either. They’re all dear creatures, but slow and a bit too stout. And as for Albert’s powers as a magician, no offense intended, but the books are right: He is still a beginner, so I’d better be as quick as I can.”
“Meaning what?” said Albert. “You want me to conjure you up some wings?”
“No,” said Igraine, “they’d probably fall off while I was still flying over the moat. Meaning I’m going to borrow Lancelot. On him I can do the journey in two days, not four.”
“The Baroness’s favorite horse, Lancelot?” Albert looked at Igraine as if she was out of her mind. “That horse is so wild that no one can ride him!”
“Well, I …” Igraine avoided looking at her parents. “I’ve often ridden him before.”
“You’ve done what?” cried the horrified Sir
Albert jumped up. “Of course I do!” he said in an injured tone. “And I know the page numbers of almost all your magic songs. Even my mice practically know them by heart, I’ve said those numbers out loud to myself so often!”
“But that … that …!” The books were whispering to each other. “That’s an insult!” one of them squawked.
“Oh, don’t make such a fuss!” said Igraine, taking her brother’s side. “We’re good enough to dust you, right? But when it comes to working magic …”
“Hush, hush, hush, my dears!” grunted Sir Lamorak, nudging his children gently with his snout. “This really isn’t the time to quarrel.”
“Dear books, believe me, you wouldn’t like living with that Osmund,” said Melisande.
“He wouldn’t dust you every other day!” said Igraine crossly. “And I bet he wouldn’t give you nice padded shelves.”
“He’d chain you up, the way the King chains up his valuable books,” said Albert. “The chains would be just long enough to let you be taken off the shelves. And you’d have to sing until your voices sounded like toads croaking and your pages fell out like an old man’s hair!”
The books looked at each other in dismay.
“Do please help Albert, books,” said Sir Lamorak. “It’s only for a few days.”
“He mustn’t leaf through us!” said a fat red book.
“Or dog-ear the pages!” grumbled another. “No bookmarks, and always a civil tone of voice, if you please.”
“All right, all right!” muttered Albert. “I’m not a beginner, you know!”
“Oh, yes, you are!” cried the books. Then they put their heads together and whispered, while Albert juggled his mice and Igraine scratched her parents’ bristles (pigs’ backs tend to get very itchy).
At last one of the books tipped forward and leaned down from the shelf to them.
“Very well,” it muttered. “We’ll help Albert. Just for once, and only on account of the adverse and extremely ominous circumstances. What’s more, we don’t think that man Osmund is worthy to be our new master.”
“Good, excellent!” cried Sir Lamorak. “In that case …”
“In that case I’m riding off this minute to find those giant’s hairs,” said Igraine.
Her piggy parents immediately drooped their ears.
“Don’t look so sad,” said Igraine, putting her arms around their bristly necks. “I’ll be back in two days’ time with the hairs, you wait and see.”
“Two days’ time?” Albert wrinkled his sharp nose in derision. “How are you planning to do that? Have you learned to fly now, little sister?”
“No, but I’m going to take the fastest horse between the Whispering Woods and the Giant’s Hills,” replied Igraine. “You’d fall off him the first time he broke into a gallop.”
“What are you talking about, honey?” asked her mother, sounding worried.
“I can’t go on my pony, Mama,” said Igraine. “That would take at least four days, and Osmund will be here very soon, you said so yourselves. I wouldn’t be any faster on one of our other horses, either. They’re all dear creatures, but slow and a bit too stout. And as for Albert’s powers as a magician, no offense intended, but the books are right: He is still a beginner, so I’d better be as quick as I can.”
“Meaning what?” said Albert. “You want me to conjure you up some wings?”
“No,” said Igraine, “they’d probably fall off while I was still flying over the moat. Meaning I’m going to borrow Lancelot. On him I can do the journey in two days, not four.”
“The Baroness’s favorite horse, Lancelot?” Albert looked at Igraine as if she was out of her mind. “That horse is so wild that no one can ride him!”
“Well, I …” Igraine avoided looking at her parents. “I’ve often ridden him before.”
“You’ve done what?” cried the horrified Sir