The Shadow Companion - Laura Anne Gilman [21]
Morgain’s pale skin drained even further of color, and her teeth were bared in an expression that could never be mistaken for a smile. Her blood. Her companion had used her blood to create this mockery.
“The trap has been set,” the shadow-figure said, as though reading her mind. “Your blood was needed to bait it, to set it in motion. But it is the girl’s blood which will trigger it. Her blood, which Merlin has tampered with, touched with his own, and Arthur’s as well, that gives us the key to them both.”
Morgain didn’t bother to ask for further explanation; she knew that it was just the sort of headstrong thing Merlin would do, to tamper with children in that manner. And Arthur would know no better. This was a good trap, well-made, one Morgain herself would not have been able to escape, connected as she was to Arthur through their blood ties. And if Ailis did indeed have connections to both wizard and king, then so much the better. Then the most powerful beings in Camelot would both be pulled in and trapped inside, leaving Morgain free to step into their space.
But Morgain thought of Ailis…thought of risking the witch-child, her would-be student, her protégée…
“How dare you,” she said, fury turning her words to ice. “How dare you use her?”
She moved forward, her body language screaming her intent to destroy the map. She stopped suddenly; it was as though a wall had appeared in front of her, blocking her path.
“This is what you asked for. This is what I gave you. There is no turning back.”
Morgain glared at the map, which glinted with seemingly innocent, still-inert magics.
“Do you know what you have done?” she asked, her voice still bitter, her gaze unwavering, unblinking. The map was more than a picture now; it was the land itself. To close the trap, more than a drop of Ailis’s blood would be required. She would have to be drained dry.
“All magic has a cost. All bargains must be sealed with blood. You knew this, Morgain, Enchantress, daughter of Morgause, Queen of Orkney. Take what is given and use it to accomplish your goals. Do not flinch from the cost.”
The words might not be pleasant, but that made them no less true. Morgain forced the tension and anger from her body, and made herself look at the map, not as betrayal, but possibility. There was always a cost, but it did not always have to be paid the same way.
FIVE
Branches scratched at Gerard’s face and arms as he rode through the underbrush along the path the wood-witch had taken when she disappeared. He had no idea if he was even going in the right direction. He had to trust his horse to find the way back to its stablemates. Newt had taught him that trick—horses would find water and other horses better than any human could ever hope to.
So he wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck, and prayed to the sound of hoofbeats on dirt.
“Gerard!”
It was Tom, Sir Matthias’s squire, catching at Gerard’s stirrup. He reached for the reins and pulled the horse around, stopping it from running into camp.
“Gerard, where have you been? Sir Matthias—”
“Where is he? Sir Matthias?”
“Gone. Gone to parlay with the local lord, to resupply us in the king’s name. He wanted you with him, but no one could find you. Gerard, what’s wrong?”
Gerard heard the words, but his brain was already racing ahead. Sir Matthias was too far away now to do any good in time.
Swinging down from his horse, he grabbed Tom by the shoulder. “Walk him until he’s cool, then give him grain and water. And find me another horse, plus two more—any that are ready to be saddled right away.”
“But—”
“Do it!” Gerard ordered, and Tom, startled by the tone of his command, made a hasty, instinctive bow better suited for a knight than to another squire. Gerard didn’t even notice, as he was already striding off in the direction of Newt’s bedroll. Without Sir Matthias there, he had only one option; there were only