Morgain's Revenge - Laura Anne Gilman [72]
“Then why?” Gerard asked.
“Because it might not have. It still may not have. Ailis is a good girl, a wise girl, with a smart head on her shoulders and brave and loyal friends at her side. I did not lie—she has earned her place on this fool Quest, despite her gender. Were there not women who followed the Christ when he bled into this cup? Who is to say a woman is not the one to find it? In that, Morgain may be entirely correct.”
“You want to use her, too. To find the Grail.” Newt’s tone was more of an accusation than was safe, speaking to an enchanter, but Merlin ignored it.
“Once we have the Grail, we will be in a better position to protect her—and any others who may be like her—from Morgain’s reach. Camelot is safe. Ailis is safe. Arthur’s kingship is safe. Everyone’s happy, then,” Merlin said.
If so, Newt wondered, why didn’t any of them look particularly happy?
TWENTY-FOUR
“This,” Gerard said in satisfaction. “Now this is how you’re supposed to set off on a Quest!”
They were standing by their horses, waiting for the signal to mount. Around them, pennants snapped in the light breeze, and sunlight glimmered on the metal points of spears, catching highlights in the armor of the knights around them. Ailis was stroking the nose of the sturdy gelding she had been given. She was wearing trousers under her skirt, for easier riding astride, but her hair was tied up in her usual braid, the feather fastened to the end where it draped over her shoulder with a smaller version of the bands the boys wore on their arms. The queen had given it to her that morning, without ceremony, without words, but with a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek for luck.
Ailis had to admit that Guinevere was quite sweet. No spine, no fire in her soul, but she took the beauty and the fortune that had been given to her and made the best of it. Ailis could see now that if you did the most with what you were given, you should feel no regret.
Ailis still didn’t know what she had been given. She could see it in Gerard, how he stood a little taller, gave his opinion more clearly now. The death of Sir Caedor had dulled some of his shine, but tempered him at the same time, like a blade dipped in fire for the final proving before being taken into battle.
Newt, on the other hand, still seemed the same as ever. Deeper, maybe. He held himself more still, as though waiting for some sound only he would hear. She wondered what his change would be, then shook off that mood with an effort. Let go of the past, she could hear Merlin advising her. Forget what Morgain taught you…for now. Wait. Grow stronger before you take too much onto yourself.
“Looking forward to sleeping under a canopy?” she asked her friends, banishing thoughtfulness with teasing.
“Hah. Odds are, we’ll be rolling our blankets under a tree somewhere, cursing the roots, same as always,” Newt said. “Canopies are for knights and soft-skinned castle-dwellers.”
“Certainly you’re neither,” Gerard said in return. “In fact, I think I heard someone saying they planned to use you for target practice, as your hide is so tough arrows will bounce right back to the archer.”
“Funny.”
Ailis leaned against her gelding, hearing it whiffle gently under her touch, and soaked in the strange normality of it all, the banter between her friends, the familiar sounds and smells of Camelot, even the bawling of a guardsman trying to maintain some sort of control over the chaos. The days spent with Morgain seemed so distant, now. Merlin had warned her about that; it wasn’t magic, exactly, what had happened to her, but Morgain had been influencing her, trying to bring her over to the sorceress’s side of things. Don’t rush into magic, no matter how appealing it may seem.
Ailis had nodded when he said that, to show that she understood. It was Merlin who hadn’t understood, though. She had known all along that Morgain was playing her. That didn’t make what she learned any less true. It didn