The Indigo King - James A. Owen [98]
The path to the right dropped sharply down to a pebbled beach, where a number of rusted weapons and tools were scattered in the sand.
There ahead of them, watching through an old iron grate half-buried in the sand, was a young girl. She was auburn-haired, with wide green eyes and a face that bespoke innocence. She was playing with an assemblage of gears that resembled the insides of a watch.
Gwynhfar walked to the girl, who stood and kissed her mother on the cheek. “I’ve brought you some visitors,” said Gwynhfar. She introduced the companions one by one, and the girl nodded and smiled at each of them in turn.
“And what is your name, my dear young lady?” asked John. “How are you called?”
Gwynhfar answered instead, shaking her head. “She has never been named. Her father has never seen her or spoken her name. So she has waited to choose her own name.”
On impulse more than anything else, Hugo reached inside his jacket and removed the indigo rose he’d been given by the Serendipity Box. He looked to Gwynhfar, who gave him a curious look in return, then nodded, and he turned and gave the flower to the girl.
“It’s called a rose,” he said mildly. “I … I think I brought it for you. Will you come with us? Will you come, and help us?”
The girl nodded. “May I give you a thimble?” she asked, and kissed him on the cheek before he could reply. “Thank you for my name. I’ve been waiting for you a long time.”
“It’s a flower, not a name,” Hugo stammered, still blushing from the kiss.
“A thimble might be a kiss, a flower might be a name, and a dragon might be a ship,” said Gwynhfar. “Sometimes things are simply what we need them to be. And sometimes things are not what we expect.”
She turned and walked up the steps, expecting the others to follow. Her daughter and Hugo went behind her, then Jack and Chaz.
John was about to follow, when he caught sight of a movement farther down the beach. He stopped and looked more closely, then realized it was an old fisherman, bent over his nets.
The fisherman saw John and lifted an arm to wave. John waved back, then trotted up the steps to catch up to the others. “He always returned to watch over his children,” he murmured. “That’s the way to do it, old-timer.”
Back in the temple of Diana, the companions stood with the enchantresses, Gwynhfar, and the girl.
“Thank you,” John began. “We cannot express what this will mean to the world that you are helping us.”
“Your gratitude is not necessary,” Circe said. “It is a fair exchange, in the manner of the old ways.”
Exchange? John thought wildly. What exchange? He’d forgotten that the Morgaine rarely gave anything freely; they usually expected something in return. But they had brought nothing with them except …
“You don’t mean to take our boat, do you?” John said. “We need it to—”
“Not the Dragonship,” said Circe. “It has not the value.”
“Then what?” asked Jack. “What is it you want?”
“Blood for blood, a life for a life,” Circe said simply. “It is the Old Magic, and it is the Law. If the child is to leave Avalon, then one of you must stay.”
“You’re going to sacrifice one of us?” Hugo gulped.
“No one will be sacrificed.” Calypso sighed. “But he who stays will be expected to serve, as our daughter will serve in the Summer Country.”
“The Green Knight,” Jack said suddenly. “They mean for one of us to become the Green Knight.”
John understood. That was why they hadn’t seen one of the familiar guardians of the island. There had been no guardian, not until this point in time. And one of them would have to stay behind and take up the mantle, if they were going to have the chance to save Arthur.
Chaz stepped forward. “I can do this. I want to do this.”
Jack shook his head. “No,” he said flatly. “You don’t realize what you’re offering, Chaz.”
“I know one of us has t’ stay,” reasoned Chaz. “What else do I need t’ know? You two are real Caretakers. You have t’ go back. And rescuing Hugo was part of the reason you’ve done all this t’ begin with. I’m