King of the Cloud Forests. Michael Morpurgo

forgotten that I was at risk, but this man was not looking at my clothes nor at my skin. His eyes reached into my soul and found me out. I felt like running, but the way to the door was blocked by the farmer’s family who had crowded into the room. There was no escape.

      ‘He does not speak,’ said Uncle Sung. ‘Since the day he was born he has never spoken a word.’

      The lama’s eyes never left my face. And then he spoke very slowly and with great deliberation. ‘You have a fine son but he has the blue eyes of a “philling”,’ he said. The word sent a shiver of suspicion around the room. The lama held up his hand. I think Uncle Sung and I then acted better than we ever dreamed we could. I feigned furious outrage, and blew my nose with my fingers and Uncle Sung cursed all phillings roundly for good measure.

      ‘My son’s eyes,’ he finished angrily, ‘are an accident of birth as is his dumbness. Would you blame him for that?’

      ‘I did not mean any offence,’ said the lama. ‘But he has strangely light eyes for one of our country. He is taller than you, taller than any grown man in this room – and he has the giant feet of a yeti. But it is not his great size that troubles me. There is something about him that tells me he is not like one of us. I see a ruler standing before me. I tell you, this boy of yours will be a king, and soon.’ The lama had his eyes closed now and was speaking in a whisper. ‘He will be a king of the cloud forests. He will rule among the clouds.’ He opened his eyes. ‘That is all I can tell. Ask me no more.’