The Shadow Companion (8 page)

“Whatever it is, I think you’ve got a new pet,” Gerard said.

“Very funny.” Newt squirmed a little at the unexpected weight, but decided to leave it be.

They packed up what few belongings they had, and set off to follow the knights back to the encampment.

“So where do you think it came from?” Gerard asked. “You think that’s what you felt watching us? Why?”

“I have no idea,” Ailis said. “It doesn’t seem to be particularly intelligent—”

“Hey,” Newt protested, already oddly possessive of the beastie.

“I’m sorry, Newt, but it doesn’t.”

“Smarter than some knights,” Newt muttered, reaching up to stroke the lizard’s head. The purr increased slightly in vibration.

“It was attracted to my making the fire,” she said thoughtfully, taking Gerard’s lead in ignoring Newt’s comment. “I think it was cold.”

“Not from around here then, is it?” Gerard joked. It was a relatively warm day, now that the sun had fully risen, and they were all sweating more than a little from their exertions.

“It’s
definitely
not from around here,” Newt agreed, feeling it tickle against his skin. “I think—it’s too big to be any kind of lizard I’ve ever seen before, and I don’t recognize the markings, but I think that
it might be some kind of salamander.”

“A what?” Gerard asked.

“A salamander.”

Ailis began to giggle. “You mean it’s a
newt
, Newt?”

“Very funny.” He scowled.

“It is, actually,” Gerard said, grinning.

Newt managed to hold his expression for a few strides, then even he had to see the joke in it. They all crossed out of the trees and back into camp, laughing.

Several of the men from the Quest who were in the act of taking down tarps and chopping firewood stopped to stare at them. On foot, with dirt ground into their clothing and Ailis’s hair still loose and windblown, their laughter must have added to an already odd sight indeed. That realization just made them laugh harder. Or perhaps it was just the recognition that they had, once again, saved the day, and there was nobody they could brag to about it. After a while, it really did start to become funny.

“Gerard!” Sir Matthias’s bellow could be heard all the way back in Camelot.

“Go,” Ailis said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes and waving the squire on. “He’ll want to know what really happened. All of it, Gerard. Don’t
try to muddy the details, you’ll only make things worse for all of us. Go on. We’ll catch up with you later.”

Gerard raised a hand in farewell and acknowledgment, then turned, dashed past another squire leading two half-saddled horses, and disappeared into the crowd.

“Looks like we’re packing up and heading out,” Newt said, looking around. “So much for the Shadows being the end of the trail.”

“Did you really think it would be? That it would be that easy?”

Newt shrugged, feeling the weight of the salamander on his neck, like an oddly heavy scarf. “I don’t think we’re going to find it at all,” he said. “Not any of the knights, no matter how or where they look, or how pure they are or anything else. I don’t think it even exists.”

He took in Ailis’s expression of disbelief and outrage, and amended his comment. “I think it
did
exist once, yes. But now, after how many hundreds of years? Even if it was kept in the finest reliquary, in the safest location, wood rots and metals are melted down, and anything jeweled might be stolen or sold to buy food in the winter. Holiness doesn’t stop you
from starving if the crops fail.”

Ailis couldn’t find anything to say in response to that, and so they walked the rest of the short distance through the encampment in silence.

T
om had taken down most of Sir Matthias’s belongings and packed them for travel by the time they got there, so there wasn’t anything for Ailis and Newt to do but collect their own small bedrolls and wait for Gerard to fill them in on what was going on.

“
There
you are!” Callum said, catching his breath.

Ailis sighed, and Newt made a face, but they both turned to greet Callum with reasonably pleasant expressions.

“You’re back! What happened?” The young squire was flushed, his arms waving madly in his excitement. “Four of the knights came riding into camp—almost naked—and they didn’t want to talk to anyone. They just went straight to where Sir Matthias was, and then they all disappeared into the
big tent, and nobody’s saying anything!” Callum stopped to take a breath. “Where’s Gerard? Sir Matthias was yelling for him something fierce!”

“Ger went to find Sir Matthias,” Ailis said. “What’s being said in camp?” The first thing you learned as a servant—the thing that Gerard never quite allowed himself to accept—was that gossip was often the best, most accurate way to get news, rather than waiting around for someone official to tell you the story.

And sometimes it was wildly wrong, like the stories about the ghost of the old Roman soldiers who walked the banks of the river, or Sir Lancelot’s secret marriage, but after a while you started to learn how to filter out the more outrageous exaggerations.

“People are saying everything. And nothing. The knights encountered Morgain herself, and defeated her. That the Grail came to them in a dream, the way it did to Arthur, and led them into battle. That the knights were distracted, led astray by a beautiful maiden, and had to sell portions of their soul to return to us, and Sir Matthias is going to send them back to the monastery to pay penance and see if their souls can be made whole again.”

Callum clearly liked that last story the best. Ailis
bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, and Newt merely shook his head. “We should wait until Gerard comes back,” was all he said.

If Sir Matthias was releasing the story, then there was no reason for them to be silent. If he was keeping things close, they would likely need to respect his decision.

“Is anyone else hungry? Because I could eat an entire side of deer by myself,” said Newt, changing the subject. They had set off early. Midday had come and gone while they were rescuing the knights, so the moment Newt mentioned food, Ailis’s stomach gave off a distinctly indelicate rumble of hunger.

“I know where you can get something to eat,” Callum said eagerly, and Newt made a “lead on, then” gesture.

It turned out that many who were waiting for news were gathering near a central fire pit, as much for company as warmth. There were maybe half a dozen knights and their squires, plus a handful of lean and muscled hounds, begging for scraps. Someone was cooking a small pot of a concoction that smelled surprisingly good over the fire. Ailis went over to cadge two bowls and a chunk of bread from the person stirring the pot.

Newt sat down on the ground, claiming a space for the two of them, while Callum, who had eaten already while waiting for them to return, stopped to speak to another squire he knew.
Acquiring more outrageous stories
, Newt presumed.

The salamander slid gracefully down Newt’s arm, and marched on its four short legs over to the saddlebag planted at his feet. It crawled in, turned around somehow in the crowded space, and stuck its blunt snout out of the pack, its eyes closed with what could only be described as a blissful expression on its lizard-like face.

Newt, mindful of how cold it had been earlier, picked up the saddlebag and moved it closer, sharing his own body warmth with his newfound pet. A muted purring noise arose from the somnolent creature, as though in thanks.

He had no idea why the creature had decided to adopt him, jokes about his name aside, but it
was
cute, in a sort of slithery fashion, and he certainly wasn’t going to abandon it now. Nobody around them seemed to notice the addition to their party, much less object—not even the dogs. And that was very, very odd.

“Here.” Ailis handed him a bowl made of
hollowed-out bread, and filled with some kind of damp meat and wilted greens. It smelled much better than it looked, and it tasted slightly better than chewing shoe leather. Newt took a bite, grimaced, and kept chewing. The salamander stuck its head out, sniffed the air, then retreated, unimpressed.

“Got any more of that?” Gerard came over and dropped down on the ground next to them. He had brushed off most of the dirt, and combed his hair, but still looked like he’d spent the morning rolling in the bushes.

“Get your own,” Newt said, leaning away in case the squire decided to make a grab for his bowl. It was bad, but it was food, and food he hadn’t had to cook.

“Some friend,” Gerard muttered, but when Ailis likewise held her food away from him, he got back up with an obvious effort, and went to beg his own bowl.

By the time he came back, Callum had rejoined them as well. There was a momentary standoff, then Callum relented and let Gerard take the better placement on the ground, withdrawing a pace so that, while still obviously sitting with them, he was no longer in the direct triangle of conversation.

“We’re moving as soon as all the horses are packed up,” Gerard said, swallowing his first mouthful of stew.

“We gathered that much,” Newt said, gesturing at everyone with their parcels packed and horses readied. “Because of the attack?”

“Yes.” Gerard nodded. “Sir Matthias thinks the entire prophecy was a setup. Half the knights want to go back to the monastery and burn it to the ground, thinking that the monks were agents of Morgain. Sir Matthias had to threaten one of them with a horsewhipping if he even pointed his horse in that direction.”

“He thinks it was Morgain who cast the trap?”

Gerard looked at Newt as though the other boy had gone completely mad for even questioning that.

“I’m just asking,” Newt said, defensively. “There’s no proof. I mean, it’s not as though she was standing there, spell in one hand, spider in the other….”

“Spider?” Callum asked, perking up. The other three ignored him. Sir Matthias was telling his men, so the entire story would be over the camp soon enough. It was a matter of pride, now, to be the first to figure out Morgain’s intentions. After all, they felt
that they did know her best.

“It has her scent on it,” Ailis said, surprising them both with the admission. “She likes to use tools to do her work for her, and not to have to come out directly. And we already know that she wants the Quest disrupted.”

“And in a way, that will embarrass Arthur as much as possible,” Gerard added. “Leaving his knights near-naked and bound by creatures the size of their hands? That would please her.”

“I can’t imagine the knights telling anyone about that bit,” Newt said. “I suppose that would explain the wild stories that are circulating.”

Gerard shrugged. “I gave a full report to Sir Matthias. He will give a full report to the king. What happened will be known.”

“That’s not going to make you too popular,” Ailis said.

“Oh, the knights in question have already convinced themselves that they were the ones who managed to turn the tide, using us as a distraction.” Gerard’s tone was dry, but the way he bent over his meal to hide his face told another story. Yet another chance of glory for him was gone.

“I’m sorry,” Ailis said.

“No, it’s all right,” Gerard said. “It keeps you out of trouble, on the magic front.” To this, Callum perked up again, but this time didn’t say anything that might interrupt the flow of information. “And, well, they
really
wouldn’t have wanted to admit to being rescued by a squire, a stable boy, and a serving girl. They’re already cranky enough as it is. Sir Matthias is worried that a number of them might try to abandon the Quest if something doesn’t change soon.”

“Can they do that?” It was too much for Callum to bear silently. “Didn’t Arthur…”

Gerard was more patient with the boy than he had been previously. “Arthur picked the knights out of all the volunteers. He didn’t order them to go—how could he? It doesn’t work that way.”

“So she shames them, makes them abandon the Quest, and Arthur’s hold on his men is seen as weakened…and that makes others think that maybe he’s not fit to be king?” Ailis was thinking out loud, putting the pieces together.

“It fits with everything else we know, doesn’t it?” Gerard said bitterly. “About what Morgain wants?”

“Do you think she has anything to do with the dissension among the knights?” Gerard went on,
almost hopefully. He would love for all the unpleasantness he was seeing among men he respected and emulated to be caused by evil magic.

“No, I think they’re capable of doing that all on their own,” Ailis retorted. Then, seeing how depressed that thought made him, she added: “They’re just people. I used to clean their rooms. Trust me, there’s not a saint among them. Especially the ones who try to claim they are.”

“What about the salamander?” Newt asked, diverting the conversation before Gerard became more melancholy, or Callum’s brain exploded with what they were saying. He was already reluctant to think badly of his new pet, but reality had to be faced. “Morgain
does
have a collection of exotic beasts.”

All four of them turned to look at the saddlebag, and saw the salamander was sleeping, oblivious to the attention.

“He
seems
harmless,” Ailis said.

“Is that a magical opinion?” Newt asked.

She shrugged helplessly. “He was certainly attracted to my working magic, but that might have been because I was using fire and he was cold. He’s abandoned me quickly enough for Newt, who is totally non-magical, so…”

Gerard turned to Newt and said, “I think…Ailis is right. We all agree it’s not from around here, but there’s no sign it’s anything other than just a big newt.”

“
Salamander
,” Newt corrected him.

“A big salamander. Little newt.” Ailis ate the last bite of her bread and wiped her face with her sleeve. “What? It was a joke. Remember those?”

“So I think, unless one of us sees something different, it’s not anything we need to tell Sir Matthias about,” Gerard said. “Callum, this includes you, too.”

Callum swallowed hard, but nodded, clearly thrilled to be involved, even if it was merely to remain silent.

“Or Merlin?” Newt asked.

“We might want to mention it to Merlin, yes. Ailis?”

She shook her head, realizing that her hair was still hanging loose down her back. Her hands now free, she reached back and started to rebraid it as she spoke. “I tried reaching out to him, before I cast the spell, but he was…blocked off from me. Not blocked like someone was preventing me from talking to him; I know what that feels like. But more like, ‘I’m busy, Ailis, try again later.’”

“You’d think he’d—” Newt broke off, unable to
finish the sentence. Merlin had sent them off on this Quest not only because he believed that they could be useful, but because he thought that Ailis might be somehow contaminated by Morgain’s touch—and so in love with magic that she forgot it had a darker side. It was very odd that he would brush her off without knowing what she was trying to contact him about.

“He’d what?” Ailis turned her hazel eyes on Newt, curious.

“He’d have the ability to handle more than one job or thought or conversation at a time,” Gerard said. “He certainly managed to yell at us while talking to himself all the time.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. I wanted to tell you that Sir Matthias said we did well to burn the bodies—I didn’t tell him how we did it—and he is going to request that the monks send someone to say a prayer over the village, maybe pour holy water there or something. It’s the least they could do, since one of their own sent us here.”

“It would be funny, though, wouldn’t it,” Ailis said, “if the Grail actually was here in this forest somewhere.”

“If it is, it’s nowhere we’d be able to find it. Not
unless Newt has a dog somewhere that can sniff out religious objects.”

“Monks, yes,” Newt said. “Grails, no.”

“So where are we going?” Ailis asked. “Or does Sir Matthias just want us out of the Shadows, and doesn’t care where we go?”

“He thinks, actually, that the monk’s prophecy may have had some truth to it. We were just misdirected. There’s an old tower up the coast, maybe two days away, that is reported to throw odd shadows at the wrong time of day, as though something inside it were glowing.”

“And that’s where we’re going? To an unpredictable tower?”

“That’s where we’re going,” Gerard said, shrugging as though to admit that he had no say in the matter.

“That’s what I love about this Quest,” Newt said to his still-sleeping pet. “All the details we’re getting. You really feel the confidence.”

“It’s not about confidence,” Ailis said, as exasperated as he knew she would be.

“It’s about
faith
.” The boys finished her sentence for her, speaking at the same time. She glared equally at both of them, and glared at Callum, too, in order
to make him feel included. Then she flipped her braid back into place and looked up at the sky.

“Merlin? Can I turn them both into chickens? Please? It wouldn’t take that much magic, and nobody would notice, really….”