The Camelot Spell - Laura Anne Gilman [65]
“What are you staring at?” she asked.
“They’re so…still.” Newt’s voice was hushed.
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Are you sure they’re still breathing?”
“They are. Just…slowly,” Thomas said.
The three turned, startled. Thomas had come in behind them after all. He, too, was staring at the Table, but it didn’t seem as though he was seeing the knights at all.
“We check on them every day. Make sure they’re still sleeping. Dust them occasionally.” He smiled at Gerard weakly. “We took the king out on the walls, yesterday. In case anyone was watching—anyone unfriendly. It took four of us to move him, to make it look as though he was walking on his own.
“Whatever you’re going to do,” he said losing his poor smile. “Do it. Now. We saw riders outside last night. We thought it was you, but they rode away.”
“You think—” Ailis started, then stopped.
Thomas looked at Ailis as though only now realizing that she was there. “I don’t want to think. I want my king awake to think.”
Newt made a rude noise at that, and Ailis jabbed him in the side with her elbow. Now was not the time to antagonize anyone. Even if he was a fool.
And where were the rest of the squires, anyway, she wondered. Were they all on the walls, guarding?
Gerard took the talisman out of the saddlebag and walked toward the table, something drawing him to the area behind Arthur’s chair. Newt went to his left, Ailis to his right. Thomas watched, but stayed where he was. Gerard held the talisman out in front of him, and the other two each placed a hand on the glass, carefully not touching where the letters still glowed.
“Ready?”
“No,” Ailis said. Newt merely shook his head.
“Right.”
They each had studied the spell briefly, but it had been more important to get home than to learn the pronunciation of those foreign words. Besides, none of them had been willing to risk speaking the spell out loud, before it was time. They just had to trust Merlin. Again.
Tempus medicus.
Tempus interfector.
Tempus flumen hic nunquam comprimit.
Incipat. Finiat. Renovet. Renovet.
They finished, stumbling over the last unfamiliar words, and held their breath, keeping almost as still as the sleeping knights. Gerard raised the talisman, watching the sparkling blue sands.
But the grains remained frozen. Arthur and his knights did not wake.
“Oh, well done, children. Well done. And yet…you have failed.”
The three spun around at the voice, almost dropping the talisman in their shock. Newt managed to grab it, only a handspan from the floor.
A woman stood in front of them. She was tall and elegant, her dark hair caught up in a single long braid, with regal features that looked somehow familiar but almost overpowered by huge dark eyes that seemed to see through them, judging them and finding them amusing.
“You’ve been so entertaining,” the woman went on. “I was almost hoping that you would succeed, you’ve done so well until now.”
“You!” Ailis couldn’t keep the accusation out of her voice. “Of course it was you. Who else.”
“Who is she?” Gerard’s outburst clearly confused Newt, who looked to Ailis for an answer.
“Morgain,” she whispered. “The king’s half-sister. Very wicked.”
“Wicked is in the end result, some would say,” Morgain said lightly. “My brother might be considered wicked, for all the women he has made into widows, all the children left orphans, all the old ways struck down and his new laws placed over them.
“You have to understand what it is you do, my children,” she went on. “That is a lesson Merlin never let Arthur learn. The sin will not continue another generation. Until you understand, I shall not shed a tear for my poor, foolish brother.”
A thick mist of dark green descended from nowhere. When it faded an instant later, Morgain was gone.
“She’s the one who did this? Why?” Newt asked.
“Long story,” Ailis said. “And most of it I don’t know. There’s gossip, but nothing they speak about in front of us. The one time Lady Morgain came to court, I