Morgain's Revenge - Laura Anne Gilman [30]
Newt had declined the offer of leather chest and leg protection like the ones that Gerard wore, claiming that it would slow him down if it came time to fight or run. When the sweat began to form under the padding, sticking to his skin until it itched, Sir Caedor’s armor had to be even more uncomfortable. Gerard thought that maybe the stable boy was the wisest of the three of them.
“Perhaps in the morning, when the sun’s come up again.” He didn’t have the distrust of bathing that many of the knights and squires had, but it seemed foolish to tempt fate by getting himself wet in the cool air.
“Sir Caedor taking care of dinner?”
Gerard let out a surprised laugh. Newt and Ailis had always managed to do that; to make him laugh, even when he didn’t want to. “Somehow, I don’t think so. You want to wrestle for the job?”
“Nah, you can do it.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“Hey, I watered and fed the horses. Least you can do is feed us.”
The temptation to offer to water him, too, by throwing him back into the creek, was great, but Gerard resisted. “If I cook, you have to eat what I cook. Sure you’re ready for that?” Ailis and Newt had handled the limited cooking detail the last time they were on the road, and for a good reason: Gerard’s rabbits always came out half-raw, and the birds half-burned. He could mend armor, wield a sword, brandish a mace reasonably well, and ride a horse better than most, but he couldn’t cook.
They started walking back to the camp together, pausing to set up a picket line for the horses. A rope tied between two stakes in the ground would allow the horses to move around and graze at will, but would keep them from wandering off in the night. The mule didn’t need tethering—it was smarter than the horses, and would be fine no matter what.
“You think she’s all right?” There was no need for Newt to say whom he was talking about: No matter what other mission Merlin might have for them, no matter what the king might think, Ailis was the whole reason they were there.
“I don’t think Morgain’s hurt her, if that’s what you mean,” Gerard said slowly, finally allowing himself to speak it out loud. It was easier to worry about Sir Caedor than to imagine Ailis alone and frightened. “Merlin was right about that. Whatever reason the sorceress had for taking her, she did have a reason. And I don’t think it was just to keep Ailis from telling anyone that Morgain was in Camelot. Otherwise, why not kill her right there in some way that wouldn’t raise questions?”
“Maybe she was in a hurry and needed time to do it properly?” Newt caught the look Gerard gave him, and shrugged. “It’s possible. I don’t want to think about it either, but…”
“Merlin would have known if Ailis were…hurt.” He couldn’t bring himself to say dead.
“Maybe.” Newt didn’t sound convinced. Gerard didn’t feel convinced, either. But they had to believe that Ailis was all right.
Morgain hated her half-brother Arthur. And for some reason she hated Merlin even more. But she had shown no sign of hating the three of them, even when they had stopped her from destroying the Grail Quest. Even when Ailis was urging Gerard to kill Morgain, the sorceress had seemed more amused and—perhaps—intrigued by the servant-girl who showed such affinity for magic.
That was the hope Gerard clung to, even as it terrified him. Because he knew—even if Ailis herself didn’t—how much appeal magic held for his friend. And from their brief encounter, he knew how appealing Morgain herself could be, if she decided to charm rather than oppose.
“You, boy!” Sir Caedor stood by the fire and pointed to Newt. “Gather some firewood!”
Newt made a sour face and whispered to Gerard, “If I were to pour water over his armor, might it rust shut with him inside it?”
“He’d expect me to polish it all clean again,” Gerard said in disgust. There would be time enough to go back to polishing and repairing and running errands when he was back in Camelot with Ailis safely back in the queen’s solar.
“Come on,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s go find some