The Camelot Spell - Laura Anne Gilman [41]
Whatever it was, it was…glowing. Faintly. Barely even noticeable; barely even there, unless you were looking with eyes that had seen too much magic for comfort. Tiny blue sparkles around it were similar to what had come from Merlin’s hand when he touched the map. That alone gave Newt the confidence to move toward it.
The closer he got, the more intense the flickers became until he was amazed that nobody else was jumping forward to grab it. A quick glance backward showed that the two guards were oblivious so long as nobody went near the door, and Daffyd was watching Gerard. So the squire had been right about how Daffyd would react, if not in the way he thought. Ailis had been conferring with Gerard, their heads bent together, red to blond. But while Newt watched them she looked up as though sensing his attention. He let his gaze flick from them to the talisman—what he hoped was the talisman—and then back again. Her eyes widened slightly, and she nodded, then reached out to touch Gerard’s hand as though continuing their discussion.
Gerard then picked up a tarnished metal tankard and turned toward Daffyd, distracting him further, while Ailis walked slowly to join Newt on the other side of the room.
“You see it?”
“Yes.” She moved forward, as though drawn on a string, and reached out to lift the talisman from the junk surrounding it. “It’s beautiful.” Her voice was soft with amazement.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. But…it feels warm.” They were whispering, but there was no need. Daffyd was still watching Gerard, and the guards were watching Daffyd, waiting mindlessly for his signal.
“Like the map?”
“I…don’t know. I suppose.” Her fingers were stroking the glass the way she might a kitten, examining and protecting at the same time. The sparks seemed to flow into her skin and then back out into the glass, slowly fading the longer she held it.
“You’re stalling, Gerard.” Daffyd’s voice carried across the room. His tone was still jovial, but the blade was no longer hidden. “Give me your guess. Or pay the forfeit.”
“This,” Ailis said, holding up the glass object, her fingers curved around the widest end. Daffyd turned to look at them with satisfied anticipation.
But his expression faltered and broke as the blue sparks flared again, deeper and darker and more brightly than before, almost as though taunting Daffyd’s disbelief.
“Impossible!”
The guards stirred at his outburst but, seeing no physical mayhem, did nothing more than glare suspiciously at the trio.
Daffyd stood, his entire body radiating a palpable menace. There was no more landed farmer—he was every inch the bandit, more so than the ones who had robbed them by the lakeside. “Give that to me!”
“No.” Gerard stepped forward, getting between the farmer and the talisman. “You said we could have your most valuable possession if we guessed it. We’ve guessed it. It’s ours.”
“He didn’t know,” Ailis said. “He didn’t even know what his most valuable possession was! That’s why no one has ever escaped him, because even if they found what he thought was most valuable, it wasn’t. He was thinking in terms of what was important to him, probably something costly, not what was valuable in and of itself. The talisman has been here, all the time, but he thought it was junk. But the magic knew that somehow, it was the most valuable thing he owned!”
“Silence!” Daffyd roared. Ailis inched back, but her hold on the talisman remained steady. Gerard stepped into the blast of the man’s anger, his shoulders squared and firm as though he were readying a lance for a joust.
“Your own magic betrays you,” he said, and even the faint squeak in his voice didn’t faze him. “No matter what you thought or believed, it doesn’t matter. Your words bind you, as they bind us, and now you must abide by them. Let us go.”
Daffyd scowled terribly, his predator’s smile