The Shadow Companion - Laura Anne Gilman [9]
Who did they think caused the grains to grow, the people to increase in number, the winds to rise properly for ships to reach these shores? It was not man, with his sword and shield. It was not man, with his armor and horse.
She snorted, an unkind noise. It was not man who had first tamed horses, either. But they forgot that. They forgot everything.
She would be the one to remind them.
And for that, for now, she needed her companion. But not forever.
“Where have you been?”
“Nowhere.”
“Nowhere?” Gerard repeated the word with disbelief. Sir Matthias hadn’t returned yet from his meeting with the knights, and Ailis had been gone just as long. It was already well past dusk and raining steadily. He had been sitting on the edge of Sir Matthias’s cot, sharpening the edge of his own dagger. His blade was a simple one, but it required as much care as Sir Matthias’s more elaborate, expensive one. Ailis’s return was a welcomed break from the monotony of stroke and test, stroke and test, but he couldn’t imagine what had kept her out so long, especially once the weather began to worsen.
Ailis let the pavilion’s flap fall down again behind her. “Gerard, leave me be. I’m neither your sister nor your wife, and you have no right to order me about.” Her tone was as mild as she could make it, but warning signs were clearly placed. He ignored them, his concern overriding common sense.
“Ailis, I—the storm. Is that your doing?”
Hours ago, clouds had begun rolling down from the north. Sir Matthias had ordered everyone to move their gear under cover. The rain had started coming down soon after that, and was now pelting hard on the pavilion’s roof as though trying to imitate the onset of Noah’s flood. The grass outside was now slick with mud. Throughout the encampment, men and dogs remained under cover, while horses nickered and flicked sodden tails patiently.
Inside, Matthias’s tent was warm and dry, with expensive beeswax candles giving the space a soothing golden glow that was at odds with the gloom outside. Sir Matthias was many things, but miserly was not one of them, and he did not begrudge spending money on his people, either.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ailis took off her heavy shoes and outer jacket, shaking as much water as she could off her skirt and blouse before giving up and sitting down cross-legged on the pile of carpets with a sodden lack of grace.
She was nowhere near as wet as she should have been, considering the downpour, but Gerard refrained from pointing that out. He merely handed her a cloth, and sat back to watch while she unbraided her plait and rubbed her hair dry.
“Magic, Ailis. I’m talking about magic. Storms like this don’t simply blow in out of clear blue skies. They have to be called.” Although to be fair, it was autumn when rain was more the norm than not. Starting the Quest now, rather than during the originally planned and much drier summer, was purely due to the delays caused by Morgain’s mischief. Still, if she had not meddled, he would not be on the Quest at all. Thoughts like that, curling around and chasing their own tails, made his head hurt.
“Because you know so almighty much about magic?” Her scorn was thick and understandable. “And did I use magic to make the monks decide not to help us? Or cause the knights to squabble? Oh, did I also use magic to make the laundry pot overturn and all the shirts being washed to fall into the mud?”
He sighed. “No, Pothwen and his idiot dog did that…. Ailis, you haven’t answered my question.”
After a while, since she showed no signs of responding and simply sat and combed out her hair, Gerard got up, threw an oiled cloth over his head to keep away the worst of the rain, and went outside. He came back a little while later carrying the evening meal; two bowls of