The Camelot Spell - Laura Anne Gilman [40]
“Look around this room,” he said again, still whispering. “The map. It’s glowing.”
“How can you tell?” As far as they could see, it was still tucked into his back, safely out of sight.
“I can feel it. It was warm before, but it’s almost hot, now. Almost…almost as if it knew I couldn’t see it and wanted to be sure it got my attention.”
“You think the talisman is in here?”
Gerard’s scorn won through the anger he was feeling about the trap they found themselves in. “Any other reason the map might be glowing, horse-boy?”
“I haven’t any idea.” Newt put his hands on his hips and glared at Gerard, wanting nothing more than to knock him down again and wipe that look off his face once and for all. He caught the guards staring at him and lowered his voice again. “It’s all magic…and I’m tired of it.”
“Well, don’t be. It might be the only thing that saves us,” Ailis snapped. “Merlin put his magic into the map,” she reminded them with a bit more patience. “So if the map is getting warm now, it must be reacting to something in this room. It’s Merlin helping us as much as he can. That’s what he meant when he said he couldn’t help us directly. He has to work through the map.”
“So if the talisman is in here,” Gerard said in an undertone, “wouldn’t that be Daffyd’s most valuable possession? Do you really think he’ll let us walk out of here with it?”
“He has to if we find it,” Ailis insisted. “His own magic should bind him to his side of the deal, the same as it binds us. But we need to find the talisman first. And we have no idea what it looks like.”
“Then we’d better start looking,” Newt said, but his voice didn’t sound like he had much hope of success.
The three of them separated and walked around the room as though deep in thought over their predicament, carefully avoiding getting too close to the two guards by the door.
The study itself was unremarkable, a farmer’s hodgepodge of bits and ends: bags of seed in one corner, ledgers on a narrow shelf, and a pile of harnesses tossed in another corner. The floor was scuffed from wear, and the only furniture other than the chair Daffyd sat in like a throne was a battered wooden table covered with more ledgers and parchments. It was prosaic and ordinary and boring, and no place you would think to find a magical talisman that would help free a king from enchanted slumber.
Newt walked slowly, trying to pretend that he was deep in thought while his gaze scanned every surface, every handspan of the room. It had to be in here. Not because he believed Gerard’s stupid map, but because if it wasn’t, he had no idea what they’d do next. He wasn’t going to become a slave in all but name for this madman of a farmer, that was for sure! And he wouldn’t let Ailis end up here, either. The thought of abandoning Gerard to his fate was tempting, but Newt quickly discarded it. He didn’t like the oh-so-proud squire any better than when he had knocked the snot out of him four days earlier, but it would take all three of them to even have a chance of escaping this room. Once they’d gotten free, they’d have to abandon the horses. It pained him, but he knew the animals would be treated well here—good horses were more valuable than people, especially if you used slaves—and the surprise factor of not trying for the stables might ultimately buy them some time.
On the other hand, trying to go on foot would slow them down horribly. Even if they found the talisman here, they’d still have two more to find and—counting the rest of this day—only four days left to do it.
Newt ran the plan over again in his head, trying out all the possible angles. It had about as much chance as a goose in Cook’s huge hands, but he’d yet to see a goose give up without a fight. He looked up, meaning to try and catch Gerard’s eye, when something caught his attention.
There. In the far corner of the room, in a jumble of junk. He frowned, trying to determine why he was looking there. It was nothing. Just a…
He frowned again. What was that? A goblet of some sort?