The Camelot Spell - Laura Anne Gilman [38]
Gerard looked longingly at the thin pallets they had been given. A far cry from his bed back home, but right now it was worth a solid gold piece to him, if he could only lie down for an hour or five. But they had been invited to meet with the master of the Grange before the midday meal. From the way Newt’s stomach had been growling, Gerard didn’t think either of his companions was going to like that bit of news.
“I feel so much better,” Ailis declared, braiding her hair up again. “I feel I could take on anything right now.”
“Well, that’s good. Because we’re about to.” Newt and Ailis turned in confusion to look at Gerard. “A servant stopped me on the way up. Daffyd wants to see us, personally, before we go down to dinner.”
“So?”
Gerard shook his head, exasperated by Newt’s question. “The map said that one of the talismans was here, didn’t it?”
“It glowed. We still don’t know what that means. It could just mean that we’re moving in the right direction. Or that someone here has information we need. Or…anything!”
Gerard considered that. “Even if Daffyd does have the first talisman, how will we know what it is? It could be anywhere. It could be anything. If we could figure out some way to question him—”
“That assumes he’d be willing to help us, and that we could believe what he says,” Ailis pointed out. “I don’t think he’s to be trusted.”
“He’s not,” Newt agreed. “I spoke with some of the workers. They would not speak ill of the man.”
Ailis shook her head. “How does that—”
“There’s no slave so well-treated that he will not speak ill of his master. The only man who is silent is one who’s afraid.”
“So speak carefully,” Gerard interrupted. “Better yet, don’t speak at all. Let me talk to him.”
“What? You don’t think we can—” Ailis started, her expression indignant.
“No. I don’t. Come on, Ailis. Think for a moment. You didn’t even want him to know you were a girl. The minute you start to talk for any length of time, he’ll know. You think he’ll listen to you then? And Newt—”
“I’m not ashamed of who I am,” Newt retorted.
The squire threw his hands up in frustration. “I’m not saying you are. But I know men like this Master Daffyd. They’re proud. The way he treated us, like we’d agree to whatever he said just to get fed? You said it yourself, Newt—we weren’t impressive. If we had been—if I’d ridden in here with Sir Rheynold—he’d have been all over us like a dog hoping for a bone.” Gerard shook his head. “I’m not trying to be cruel, honestly. But the only way to talk to someone like this is from a position of strength. And neither of you can do that.”
“You just spent half the day digging weeds. What makes you think he’s going to recognize you as any better than us?” Ailis meant the words to sting, and they did.
“I have a better chance than either of you.” But Gerard’s voice, previously confident, began to waver a little with doubt. The sight of the servants slogging back from the field, half of them without any animation or casual talk at all, had unnerved him more than he would admit.
“We’re doomed.” Newt sat down on the one stool in the room and put his head in his hands. “And I’ll never get my supper.”
The moment they entered Daffyd’s study, Newt felt the unease he’d experienced before jump in intensity. A sideways glance showed that Ailis was equally nervous, if the way she kept rubbing her hands flat against her shirt was any indication. Almost in passing, Newt noticed that when she did that, the fabric pulled tight across her chest. He hadn’t noticed before, much, but they were going