Dark Moon
“Eyes closed, he stroked the harp strings, sending out a fluted ripple of notes. ‘That is very pretty,’ said Shira.
‘It is wrong,’ he said, opening his eyes and looking at the girl. Dressed in a skirt of russet brown and a blouse of cream-coloured wool, she was sitting on the round wall of the well. Putting aside his harp, Duvodas walked to her and kissed her cheek. ‘I am not good company today,’ he told her.
‘You are always good company, Duvo. And what do you mean, it is wrong? What is wrong?’ ‘I don’t know – exactly. I saw a painting once of three women on a castle wall, staring down over the sea. I remembered it for years. But when I saw it again one of the women was wearing a green dress, though I had remembered it as blue. Suddenly the picture looked wrong to me, as if an artist had changed it.’ He paused, then returned to his harp. Balancing it to his hip, he played the chorus notes of the Love Song of Bual. When he had finished, Shira clapped her hands. ‘I love that,’ she said.
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