The Camelot Spell - Laura Anne Gilman [39]
“Ah…Ready to be on your way, are you?”
Daffyd sat in a heavy chair, his back to the one window in the room. The sun came through at such an angle that he seemed almost surrounded by the late afternoon light. If you looked directly at him, you had to squint or risk being blinded. Newt had seen better in bit-player shows. But this was Daffyd’s ground, and that made him worth watching. Even if that idiot Gerard didn’t seem to realize it, bulling forward with bluster wasn’t going to win the day.
“We thank you for your hospitality. But yes, after the midday meal we will be ready to be on our way.”
Newt had to admit, the way the words dripped off the other boy’s lips, you’d think he was Arthur himself being gracious to unworthy underlings. An annoying twit, yes, but a well-trained annoying twit. Gerard was almost as good as he thought he was.
“Not so quickly, my young sirs,” Daffyd said, stretching his legs out in front of him.
Newt tensed. He didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all.
“I have a challenge for you. A game of sorts, if you will.”
“And if we won’t?” Newt asked quietly under his breath.
Daffyd went on without hearing him. “I have in this room my most valuable possession. If you can tell me it true, it is yours.”
Ailis looked at Newt, then at Gerard. Newt looked back at them blandly, not showing his unease on his face. It felt like a trap somehow. Adults didn’t simply make offers like that, not to random travelers and especially not to young travelers without status.
Ailis spoke for them all. “And if we cannot tell you what that possession is?”
Daffyd smiled, and Newt was certain he saw sharp teeth this time. “Then you stay and work my lands.” And with those words, the three could feel the weight of something falling around them, sealing them into the room.
“Excuse us a moment?” Gerard said, taking his companions by the arm and leading them a short distance away, out of their host’s hearing.
“I don’t like this,” Newt said.
“I really don’t like it,” Ailis said in a small voice. “He stinks.” The two boys looked at her, and she clarified, “Of magic. Can’t you—” No, they couldn’t, clearly, despite it being so obvious to her. “I can smell it on him in here. This entire room. Magic. Of a darker sort than anything I’ve ever felt from Merlin. If we agree, we’ll be bound by the terms. We’ll end up like half the workers in the fields, the ones with the dead eyes.”
“You think they’re bound by magic? Daffyd is using magic to control his Grange?” He looked at Newt, who nodded, remembering the strange weight in the room when they came in. “Then the King needs to know about this!”
“To tell him, we’ve got to escape first,” Newt pointed out. “I say we decline his offer and pass on dinner as well. Once we get away, we can try and figure out what to do about the map glowing.”
“Agreed,” Gerard said. His face was pale with anger, not fear.
Behind them, the door opened. Two large men stepped inside, short swords strapped to their waists, clearly there to enforce the rules of Daffyd’s surprise game.
The three companions looked at each other: Newt unsurprised, Ailis afraid, Gerard furious.
“This is your hospitality?” Gerard demanded. “Armed guards to force us into a bargain we have not agreed to?” He might have sounded impressive if his voice hadn’t cracked halfway through. Still, he stood his ground, glaring at Daffyd.
“My boy. There have been no threats made.” But the threat was implicit in the way the two guards stood.
Gerard growled like one of the hounds from the kennel, then turned to his companions. “We each get a chance, that should—”
“No.” Daffyd shook his head with mock sorrow. “One request, one agreement, one chance. Those are the rules.”
“That’s not fair,” Ailis protested.
Newt snorted. “Nothing about this is fair. Nothing about any of this has been fair.”
Gerard nudged Ailis and got Newt’s attention as well. They moved away from both Daffyd and his guards. “Look around,” he said in a tight whisper.
“What?