The Camelot Spell (8 page)

O
nce, just once, I’d like to hear a story that starts ‘And the enchanter told them exactly what to get, and where to get it, and what sort of dangers they would face along the way.’” Newt was grousing again.

“It doesn’t happen that way,” Ailis said from her perch behind him in the saddle.

“Well, it should. Not all the time, because those would be boring stories. But just this once.”

If Gerard hadn’t been so frustrated he would have laughed. Newt was sulking like a five-year-old. From the expression on Ailis’s face, she was having the same reaction to the stable boy’s irritation. The way Newt seemed determined to hate anything that took him out of his ordinary, familiar routine was starting to become more amusing than annoying.

When the three left Merlin in his cage of ice, they had no idea where to go or how to get back across the lake. But they hadn’t ridden for more than a few minutes before a spiral of light left the house and followed them.

“Merlin’s doing?” Newt asked warily.

Ailis stared at the light and shrugged, tucking her braid back under her collar so it wouldn’t hit her back so annoyingly when she rode. “Maybe. Maybe not. If not, it would be Nimue’s work, and for all that she’s a thorn in Merlin’s side, she’s never acted against anyone else. She’s loyal to the king. And considering we don’t have any other guides stepping forward…”

The light moved ahead of their horses, and the three companions let it lead them away from the house of ice and toward the south through a grove of pines.

The moon had set, and with it, full darkness fell over the island. They slept under the pines on a bed of soft needles for a few hours, feeling oddly protected.

They woke with the first rays of dawn sunlight coming though the trees; their guide-light had disappeared. When they emerged on the other side of the grove, they were back on the road where they had
met the bandits, back where they had started before riding into the lake.

“Magic,” Newt said again. Gerard clouted him on the shoulder and asked him if he would have rather swum across the lake, or perhaps gone back to the ice house and told Merlin that they were sorry but they couldn’t carry out the quest he had given them and oh, well, so much for Camelot. That had almost started a rematch of the stable fight, but Ailis grabbed a hank of Newt’s hair and dragged him aside, and then stared at Gerard.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she told him acerbically, and he backed down.

But now they had to decide what they were going to do, which led to more arguments, not only over the what, but the how.

“We don’t even know what the talismans are!” Newt had dug his heels in, not wanting to go farther without a definite plan and destination. He had suggested returning to Camelot, in order to search for a clue as to who their enemy was.

“We don’t have time to waste. Merlin said so.” Any doubts Gerard might have had about the enchanter had disappeared, mainly because they didn’t have any other option but to trust him. “We’ve
already used two days, not knowing. We only have five more left including today. And sitting here arguing is merely using up the time we have left.”

“Gerard is right. There’s nothing back home that can help us—even if we knew where to begin looking through Merlin’s library—don’t you think he would have sent us back there if the answers could be found that easily?”

Newt stubbornly set his jaw but couldn’t come up with any new arguments.

“So we go forward,” Ailis continued. “We need to think of where we should look.”

“No. First we need to know what we’re looking for! Newt is right about that, although I hate to admit it. We need to figure out the riddle, not blindly trust that we’ll stumble on further clues.”

Ailis picked up the end of her braid and started to tug at it as she thought out loud. “All those lines about moments…The talismans must have something to do with time.”

“Time…and the turning of time. The stopping of time.” Newt was just tossing words around to see what felt right together.

“A sundial?” Gerard asked, dubious.

“How could a sundial be a talisman? They’re
huge stone things, I’ve seen one. We have to be able to take it with us! Don’t we?” Newt looked at the other two, his eyebrow raised in question.

“I think so,” Ailis said slowly. “We need to bring all three talismans back to Camelot to break the spell. That’s how it works in all the stories.”

“So a water clock would be right out, then.”

“The map,” Gerard said suddenly. “Where did I put the map?” He scrambled for his pack, pulled out the tube, and unrolled the map. “When Merlin touched it he did something to it I think.”

They gathered around the map, now spread out on the ground. This time it stayed unrolled on its own.

“Look! That’s where the island was! And here—” Ailis touched a part of the map with one fingertip, then pulled her hand back in surprise when that portion of the map started to glow.

“What is it doing?” Gerard asked uneasily.

“Glowing?”

That got Newt a look from both Ailis and Gerard, and he shrugged helplessly in return. “Well, it
is
.”

“It’s glowing where we are,” Ailis identified the cause. “But that’s not much help. Still…Merlin
wouldn’t have done whatever he did if it wasn’t going to be useful. He did whatever he could to help us.” Ailis was certain of that.

“You think the map will show us where to go?”

“That would be a nice change,” Newt said, but his tone was softer than before.

“Keep it out,” Ailis directed Gerard.

“It’s too big. It will rip. Or get ruined.”

Ailis looked at him, then scooped up a handful of mud and tossed it. Gerard ducked, and it landed smack in the middle of the map.

“Hey!” Then he looked. “Hey….”

The mud slid off the map when he picked it up, leaving no trace of dirt behind.

“If he was going to magic it, he would make sure it wouldn’t be easily ruined. Like the Round Table, which they say never needs dusting.”

Gerard was clearly annoyed that he hadn’t thought of that first. “Fine. I’ll keep it out. But that still doesn’t tell us where we should start looking.”

“Hold it out in front of you,” Newt suggested.

“Open?” Gerard looked at the map, which was as wide across as he could spread his arms, and then looked back at Newt as though the other boy had gone mad.

“No, rolled up inside out. So we can see the marks on it—see if it does anything. Go a little one way, then a little another way.”

“And if it starts to glow—”

“We go that way,” Newt said, finishing Gerard’s thought. For once, all three were in perfect agreement.

Retracing their steps had no effect, but a foray down the road to where it split into two smaller lanes caused that area of the map to emit the faintest pale pink glow, like the moment before sunrise, and taking the left-hand turn made the glow darken to a deep rose color. But when they turned the two horses in that direction, the map faded back to its original, ordinary, unglowing self.

“Wonderful.” Gerard stared at the map as though expecting it to apologize. Newt drew a deep breath as though he were about to make another comment about the uselessness of magic. Fed up, Ailis reached from her position behind Newt and grabbed the map out of Gerard’s hands. It felt warm to the touch, like something living. Her fingers tightened around it instinctively.

“Magic’s not a cure-all. Haven’t you been paying any attention at all?” Some of this anger was directed
at herself, she knew. Part of her had expected Merlin to come back with them and set everything right. She knew what he could do. She had been closer than any of them to the workings of the castle—she had heard all the gossip from the household servants and the queen’s ladies alike. And Merlin had given them what help he could. Still, she should have asked the question that had been gnawing at her. Something was changing inside Ailis.

She had heard that voice more than once, and she had begun to feel an affinity for everything that was magic. She had no idea if that was good or bad, helpful or dangerous. Ailis didn’t dare mention these thoughts to the boys, especially Newt. She didn’t know how Newt would react at all. He didn’t like magic. But she thought maybe he liked her. And…she didn’t want to risk changing that.

Anyway, magic wasn’t just a thing, like a sword. It couldn’t be handed off, no matter what gifts Merlin gave them, no matter what voices she heard in her head. None of that would change the fact that when they ran into something that three teenagers, two horses, and one sword couldn’t handle—and there was no question that they would—it was going to be bad.

The next morning saw the three teens riding through a patchwork of fields and small, weather-beaten structures. There were people working in the fields, men and women wearing brown tunics bent over the crops, but they didn’t look up when the two horses went by.

“That’s odd,” Gerard said. “When Sir Rheynold and I ride in from his lands—”

“You’re carrying his banner, better dressed, and riding better horses,” Newt said bluntly. “We look like the tail end of a long journey, and not one well started, either. No reason for them to take note of us.”

“Still. I don’t like it.” But the buildings were in good repair, and the workers looked well-fed and healthy, and if they had no curiosity about strangers riding through, then what affair was it of his? Though it did not bode well for asking questions if the workers took no notice of what was around them. Perhaps the master of these lands would be able to give them the information they sought.

The trio passed by a neatly tended farmhouse, but when Gerard stopped to ask an old woman pulling water from a well where they might find a place to stay, she looked at him wide-eyed, like a
frightened horse, and told him, in a soft tone he almost couldn’t hear, to “go to the Grange.”

The Grange, as it turned out, was the largest, best-cared-for farm in the community. The main house was a sturdy structure of stone and wood, two stories high, and the cattle grazing about it looked well-fed and strong.

“The map’s glowing,” Gerard said suddenly.

“Much?” Ailis asked.

“Just a little.”

“Put it away. Quickly!” They didn’t know who their enemy was. They couldn’t trust anyone. But with luck, their first talisman was within reach. As an afterthought, Gerard took off his leather surcoat, with its identifying mark of Sir Rheynold’s household, and put it away, too. The master of the Grange might be educated enough to identify it.

Riding into the yard, they were met by a servant who welcomed them in the name of the master, Daffyd, son of Robert, and offered them cool water. Gerard drank deeply—to do otherwise would have been insulting to the Grange’s hospitality. Ailis took a more shallow sip, while Newt barely touched his lips to the rim of the jar, swallowing dramatically as though he had taken a gulp. Hospitality was hospi
tality, and if they were to ask questions—and get answers—they had to win their host’s trust and respect. But Newt didn’t know that there was any need to be foolish about it, not with so much weighing on the successful conclusion of their quest.

“Ah, young gentles, welcome!” The master of the Grange was a square-shaped, sly-faced man, ruddy-skinned and dark-haired, with odd blue eyes that were too sharp for his open-handed actions. Newt was reminded of a dog he’d worked with once years ago. Excellent bloodlines, but it had a nasty streak a mile wide. You’d think it was tame to the hand, and then it would turn and savage you.

He was very glad now that he hadn’t swallowed any of this man’s water. Not that he thought Daffyd, son of Robert, would poison them…but you never thought that dog would attack, either.

“How may I help you, young gentles?”

“Board for the night, if you might have the space,” Gerard said. “A hot meal would be welcome as well.”

The landowner smiled wide at them, and Newt thought there might have been sharp edges on his teeth. “And for this boarding? Will you do a day’s work for me?”

Gerard stopped, caught off guard. He had never
been asked for payment before. Occasionally, when Sir Rheynold left, there would be a touch of the hand, coins exchanged, but it was in the way of thanking, not required in advance. Newt was right. This was very different from what he was accustomed to. He didn’t know what to say in response.

“We will work for our board,” Ailis said, praying her lighter tone would pass for that of a beardless boy. “Half a day’s worth is fair bargain.” Her encounter with the bandits had given her the confidence to try and haggle. The bandits could have killed them, or worse. All this man could do was send them away. “I have training in the kitchens. My companions are trained to work the stables.”

The farmer stared at her, then at the boys. “I do not need kitchen work nor stables. But my fields are rich this season, and I have not enough workers to toil there. Fair trade, shelter and sustenance for a day’s work?”

“Half a day,” Gerard said. They needed information, a chance to investigate the map’s message, but they could not risk spending more time here if there was nothing to be gained.

“Half a day, then,” the master agreed. “But for now, come! Your horses will be well cared for while
we determine where you will best earn your keep here.”

The three of them dismounted and handed their reins to the servant who had offered them the water. Before they were led away, Gerard lifted the saddlebag with the map off its hook and draped it over his shoulder, his expression daring anyone to say something about it.

Nobody did.

“I would rather be in the kitchens,” Ailis said, “with Cook in a bad mood.”

Gerard was too tired to respond.

They were weeding: Tiny green sprouts were to be protected, while the equally tiny but differently shaped green sprouts next to them were to be pulled and tossed into the sacks they’d been issued. Hours ago Gerard had given up trying to tell the difference and was taking the weeds Ailis pulled and putting them into his sack. Freed from having to carry one herself, she was able to work quickly enough to not bring down the wrath of the man Newt had immediately dubbed the slave master, who stalked the sides of the field looking for workers who seemed to be slowing down.