style="font-size:15px;"> Once drowning, so with a pleasant melody!
«Just don’t sing any slow ballads. I do not stand them,» almost resentfully hissed snake. He wanted to bury his ears in his tail, but the problem was that he only had one tail, and two winged ears. One was left free to hear Brendan play.
The music made the snake relax. Could it have a hypnotic effect on him? Then it was not for nothing that he did not want to listen to it. Five minutes passed, and Brendan kept striking the strings of the lute, playing melodious sounds. The serpent did not think of interrupting him. On the contrary, he wagged his tail awkwardly and broke the clock, which he himself had set on the edge of the well. The sand in it was green. It hissed as the glass shattered, but the serpent paid no attention. He began mumbling something sleepily to the music.
«Living vines! Dry vines! The whispering of fairies! A spell! She should never have turned him down. The groom was good. And now there’s magic everywhere. Grapes and roses are about to drive me out. They are as aggressive as the magically gifted matchmaker.»
It must be another mystery. Maybe the serpent forgot that he hadn’t guessed the first one either. It’s a clear overdose. Brendan’s riddles and problems immediately gave him a headache. As his uncle the king had often told him, he was stupid. He hadn’t even mastered swordsmanship. But he did learn music. It was more useful with the serpent. With one sword he would have been strangled here long ago.
«What a wonderful sound!» The serpent stretched and yawned sleepily. «It’s a long time since my mistress played for me like that.»
«And you even have a mistress! May I see her?»
Maybe, at least, she’ll tell him do not to terrorize travelers.
«It is all right! Come on in!» grumbled the serpent. «I only let you in because I have a weakness for musicians.»
Brendan rejoiced. He had told his uncle he had talent! And the old king didn’t believe him. And he shouldn’t have. Music doesn’t need an army to put a dragon to sleep. Still, Brendan had a guilty conscience after all.
«I will try to solve your riddle on the way back,» he promised.
«Is it on the way back?» The serpent grinned sarcastically, letting out a puff of green smoke as he fell asleep. «He is an optimist! He hopes there will be a way back from here.»
Another man would have been alarmed, but Brendan decided to let the well-dweller mutter all he wanted. In his half-asleep state, the serpent resembled a drunk. And drunks, as everyone knows, don’t know what they’re saying. The music probably had the same effect on him as alcohol does on people. Even the green vapor he exhaled folded into hearts and notes. Who would have thought the well dragon would turn out to be such a music lover. Brendon rejoiced in his good fortune and moved on. Strangely enough, as soon as he passed the well, the silhouette of a beautiful white-stone castle twined with vines loomed up in the distance. He had not seen it a moment before.
Cat’s Castle
The green creature on the well was sleeping peacefully. Brendan kept turning around, fearing that the serpent might blow green fire at him. He said «pass,» as if his mistress were hiding just ahead. But there was no one around.
Brendan tripped over something and swore. It felt as if his boot had been bitten right through. Was there another snake hiding in the grass? No, it was just a skull underfoot. It was an unusual one. He was neither animal nor human. It looks like the skull of a supernatural creature, with several eye sockets, a mouth with fangs, a shell-shaped skull, and curved horns, also made of bone. He wondered what such a creature was called while it was alive.
«Don’t go!»
Well, what’s the matter! Why does everybody keep telling him, «Don’t go»? Is that where the devil is waiting ahead?
«You won’t come back like me, you fool!» warned the skull as Brendan gently stepped over it and went on.
If everyone warned not to go ahead, then there’s a fabulous treasure waiting there, Brendan thought.
The white stone castle loomed in the distance, against the blue skies. Its towers had the color of puffy clouds floating above them. The fortress wall was also white.
It would take an hour to reach it, Brendan estimated in his mind, but he did not reach it until late afternoon. The torches on the parapet were already blazing, illuminating the bizarre architecture of the walls.
Up close, the castle was even more beautiful than he could have imagined. Vines stretched along the walls like a luxurious net. The walls themselves abounded with stucco decorations and alabaster statues.
The gates were open, as if they were already waiting for a guest. The caryatid winked at him. Or was it just a dream?
Outside the gate was a beautiful garden of roses, jasmines, magnolias, and exotic plants.
The avenue of rosebushes leading to the open castle doors was empty. No guests but Brendan himself, no guards.
There are also bas-reliefs of graceful cats engraved on the doors that open. And inside you can see tapestries depicting a cat’s hunt for mice and birds. The interior of the castle was decorated either by a great humorist or an avid feline.
Brendan whistled when he noticed a fountain inside the spacious hallway, with wine pouring out instead of water. And he wanted to drink from the well! Of course there was no bucket or glass beside the fountain, but if he was thirsty he could always take a scoop of wine with his hand. It was sweet and invigorating, of the highest grade for sure! It was not until he was thirsty that Brendon remembered that the wine might be bewitched, or worse, poisoned.
«Look who’s here!»
A pleasant girl’s voice came from the top of the stairs. Brendon looked up and saw two slender ladies. One of them, a brunette in a blue dress with bows, was an incomparable beauty. The second was dressed even more splendidly, but for some reason she hid her face under a veil. Was she a sorceress, perhaps? Effigenia also liked to throw a black veil over her head from time to time. She was rumored to enhance her connection to the spirits that way. Someone more realistic asserted that she was hiding age-related wrinkles. Since she used the veil most often in bright daylight, the second is more likely. What about the mistress of this castle? Brendan was sure it was the lady under the veil who was the mistress, because only a princess could afford such an expensive outfit, embroidered with gold thread and pearls. Is she hiding her face because she has made some elaborate vow to the gods? Or is it because she is ugly?
In any case, Brendan was more attracted to the first girl. She had black sable eyebrows, violet eyes, a chiseled profile, and soft dark hair that cascaded down her bare shoulders. In a word – beautiful! Except that her plump pink lips pouted dismissively at the sight of a mere minstrel. Perhaps she was waiting for a prince. A mere musician showed up. And he was in his dusty clothes. If only she knew how difficult it was to run through the magic fields without tearing his clothes.
«It is another guest!» She blurted out phlegmatically, as if Brendan were a disappointment to her.
«I am not a guest. I am an employee,» he immediately tried to prove his usefulness and showed her the lute. «I am a minstrel.»
It was as if the beauty
