The Shadow Companion - Laura Anne Gilman [11]
“All I am saying is…be careful. Don’t…don’t play around with magic. Don’t cause storms, or…or do anything. Just…”
“Just sit in a corner and do needlework and look pretty for the knights? Is that what you’re saying?” Ailis stood up, slamming her thankfully now empty bowl onto the ground.
“I am so very tired of everyone telling me to sit, and wait, and be a good girl! ‘You’ll have your time,’ Morgain says. ‘The time is coming,’ Merlin says. ‘Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself,’ you say. Why not? Why must everything be hidden under a rock? When do I get to stand up and take credit for helping to defeat Morgain, rather than just hiding behind you and Newt and your swords and your bashing?”
Her hands balled up at her sides as though she wanted to hit something, and the words poured out of her.
“Morgain was right about one thing—nobody takes me seriously! Not even Merlin! Everyone tells me what I can’t do, and nobody wants to see what I can do! Nobody—except Newt.” She saw Gerard flinch and went for the kill, not knowing why, except that it was effective and she was angry.
“Newt’s scared of magic, but he doesn’t tell me not to use it. He doesn’t tell me to sit in a corner and act like a lady, or not to speak to anyone, and not to wear pants, or—”
She knew it wasn’t fair. Gerard had never said those things to her. It wasn’t his fault Sir Matthias wanted her to be a substitute for his delicate daughter. And Newt wasn’t all that accepting of her, either. He wanted to keep an eye out for her, reminding her of how useless she was without the magic, and how, if it wasn’t for the magic, she would never have met Morgain. And then she never would have had her eyes opened to all the possibilities in the world—the possibilities that everyone kept holding out of her reach, telling her “not yet.”
“Ailis—”
“No!”
As she shouted it, an unexpected clash of thunder split the heavens. They both stopped and stared at each other.
“I didn’t make the storm,” she said in a much quieter voice. “But I can make it stop. That should make everyone happy, right? And nobody will ever know. Just the way you all want it.”
She turned and stalked out into the rain, not bothering with her shoes or jacket or the oiled tarp.
Gerard sighed, picked up his stew bowl, and started eating his dinner. If she was going to be like that, there was nothing he could do to stop her.
Elsewhere in the camp, Newt had his hands full with a different kind of argument.
During the storm, one of the flimsier pavilions had blown over, exposing a knight’s belongings to the weather and resulting in the hapless squire responsible having his ears boxed.
Newt had come along while the boy and two of his friends were trying to get the fabric back up, while the knight took refuge with a neighbor, drinking wine and watching the boys struggle.
“Fine example of chivalry,” Newt had said, but only to himself. Out loud, he had ordered the smallest boy to collect all of the objects still lying in the grass and place them under a small, oiled tarp.
Meanwhile, he and the two other boys began replacing pegs, careful not to trip over or stumble into any of the neighboring tents in the dark. The rain finally let up just as he was about to tell them to bring out the top-most fabric. They were able to unfold the cloth and set the ropes without too much difficulty, despite the lack of light beyond the torches the knights had put up.
“Down, boy,” Newt said now, holding his hand at hip level to illustrate what he wanted, the way he would if working with a half-trained dog. His voice was soothing, gentle, and shaking with laughter, as he teased the younger boy who held