The Camelot Spell - Laura Anne Gilman [64]
“Is this how you keep order?” Gerard asked, his voice carrying in the silence. “Is this how you hold Camelot in our absence?”
“Bossiness has always been a problem with him, hasn’t it?” Newt said to Ailis from behind one hand. She bit the side of her cheek to keep from laughing. It wasn’t really that funny, but they were so very tired.
Gerard swung down off his horse, wincing as he did so. Even for a squire, riding through the night and past dawn took its toll on the body.
Someone took the reins of his horse and led the beast away for a well-deserved rubdown and treat. Without having to turn around, Gerard could feel his companions dismount and fall in behind him, their presence surprisingly comforting; as much or even more than the three-in-one talisman in the saddlebag now slung over his shoulder.
They made their way through the silent castle to the Great Hall, but Arthur and his court no longer sat at the feasting tables. The Great Hall had been scrubbed spotless. The long trestle tables which had been brought out for the feast were removed, so that only the high table remained. The great salt dish and heavy gold candlesticks suggested that at any moment servants would begin setting the table for the midday meal.
“We thought it best to keep things as…normal as we could,” Thomas said, meeting them at the door. The squire looked as though, unlike the adult inhabitants of the castle, he had not slept in days.
Gerard didn’t care; he only had one thing on his mind right now. “The king?”
“Come with me.”
They walked through the castle hallways, unnerved by the soft echoes of their feet on the floor. Thomas didn’t seem to notice. Perhaps, after a while, it started to feel normal, the same way the constant noise had been normal, before.
Ailis thought she might from now on always divide her life into Before and After.
“You know how to wake them up?” Thomas asked anxiously.
“Yes.”
“We think so.” Ailis qualified Gerard’s claim.
“You think?” Thomas’s voice broke on the last word, making Gerard realize suddenly that his hadn’t cracked in more than a day. Or was it two? He wasn’t sure. He knew exactly how many days had passed since they set out, but the details of what had occurred were beginning to blur.
“Yes.” This time Gerard tried to sound more confident, but honesty compelled him to add, “We have to do it before midnight, though.”
They found themselves outside the great wooden door of the Room. Gerard looked up, remembering the last time he had snuck in to sit at the Round Table, to pretend that he was a great knight home from a perilous quest.
He had thought it would feel wonderful, satisfying.
Mostly, it felt tired.
“They’re in there,” Thomas said with a gesture of his hand. But he made no move to enter the Room.
“All right.” Gerard turned to enter the Council Room, then stopped and clapped his fellow squire on the shoulder. “Thank you,” he said. “You’ve done well.”
It should have felt odd or silly to say that to Thomas. Thomas should have taken offense, being spoken to that way by someone his own age. But he merely nodded, looked relieved, and stepped back.
“Let’s do this,” Newt said, stepping forward to open the servant’s door as though he had gone through it a hundred times before. Ailis and Gerard looked at each other, both amused by Newt’s matter-of-fact confidence.
“He was a dragon in another life,” Gerard said, only half-joking, and followed the stable boy into the Council Room.
Ailis proceeded, only to step on Gerard’s heels. The two boys had stopped just inside the door.
Arthur sat in his chair, upright, his hands flat on the table in front of him, the bare blade of Excalibur on the table under his fingers. His eyes were closed, as though he had somehow, impossibly, dozed off while hearing the advice of his knights.
Around him, each in his chair, the chosen knights of Arthur’s council sat. Lancelot was to his right, Sir Kay directly across the table, Sir Owain and Sir Balin and Sir Marhaus in various poses of interest. Gerard shook his head slightly. Despite