The Shadow Companion - Laura Anne Gilman [8]
Unlike Ailis, he knew where his place was, and he was satisfied.
Having abandoned the girl to her sulking, Newt walked back out into the sunshine and was immediately engulfed in the calls of several squires who wanted to know where to water their horses now that several of the other squires had foolishly fouled the small inlet in the creek they had been using.
Yes. The things he knew—the homely, ordinary things he knew—were needed. He was needed.
TWO
“Witch-child, where are you? I can feel you, I can sense you, but I cannot see you. Who is hiding you from me? Is it Merlin? Never fear, I will find you.”
The scrying crystal shimmered slightly in response to Morgain’s words, but the haze did not clear. Whoever was protecting the girl from her—and she could only assume it was Merlin—was doing an excellent job of it.
“Arrrgh!”
Her hand swiped over the crystal and it shimmered again, then shattered in a silent explosion, disappearing as it broke apart. A waste, but she felt better for the momentary release of frustration.
A cool hand rested briefly on her bare shoulder, and she pulled the fur robe up more securely, brushing off the contact. She wanted no comfort, not from that hand. Although the workroom was perfectly insulated and heated, she felt a shiver in her bones; a shiver she refused to let show.
“Let go of the girl, my lady. There are more important things which require your attention at this moment.”
The voice was as cool as the hand, but Morgain had spent her entire life listening to what others were not saying as much as what they were, and she heard the disdain in those tones. Looking over her shoulder, smoothing her plush red, fox fur robe with one hand, she merely raised an eyebrow at the speaker, half daring more to be said.
The shadow-figure was dressed today not in its usual flowing robes and billowy hood, but dark leathers more suitable for travel, with a woolen cowl that came up over its shoulders and covered the back of its head. Even when looking closely, its features were obscured from view, as though the moment a person tried to see its face, their vision would fail.
“Your goal is within sight, Morgain. You must concentrate on that. Let go of the girl. She will still be there when this is done.”
The sorceress rose from her chair and made her way to a map on the wall. Small, glowing lights moved over the outline of an island, and in the waters just off the coastline. Pale blue, cold white, and dark red—each color indicated different factions. Blue for Arthur’s forces, white for Morgain’s. Her allies were smaller in number, but more cunningly placed, hidden in the common farms and towns throughout the land. Arthur might have mighty warriors, but she would have the element of surprise. The red dots, the allies her companion promised would rise to her aid, were invisible to all who might seek to discover them.
“I am thinking beyond…to the next day’s goals,” Morgain said. “And I’m looking to the months and years after that. Do you have the supplies you requested?”
The shadow-figure nodded in assent: A shipment from the Isle of Apples, Morgain’s magical stronghold, had arrived that morning.
“Then go work with them. When the next gift for my brother is ready, inform me.”
One delicate hand traced the cold lights on the map. Then she pulled a canvas cover over the entire map, hiding it from sight. The word “gift” was ironic—it will not be given to him; it will not give him satisfaction or pleasure. But one could gift another with frustration as easily as joy.
She noted that the shadow-figure was still hovering nearby. She commanded, “Go!”
The ghostly creature went, with irritation clear in every line of its body.
Morgain sat back down at her worktable and called a new crystal out of storage. But she did not immediately use it.
She needed her companion’s aid and assistance. There was no way, humbling and hateful though it was to admit, that she could have gotten this far on her own, not with the level of coordination her plan required. But soon, when the time was