“Must run in the family,” Matt said with a glance at Pascal. ‘Well, I’m really glad for you, Spiro-and glad I could be of service.“ He almost volunteered to help out if the ghost developed any further little problems, but caught himself in time. Besides, Spiro beat him to it. ”I am in your debt, mortal, and I dislike that state. If you need my aid, call upon me.“
Matt stared. Then he recovered and said, “Oh, that’s not necessary! I was just trying to help out a little, that’s all.” As a matter of fact, all Matt had really been doing was trying to get a very intimidating specter out of his room. He felt guilty about taking any kind of payback for it, even gratitude.
But Spiro was determined. “I must repay my debts, mortal! That is the nature of Purgatory!”
“Well, uh, thanks-but you’re going to be in Greece!”
“I shall be farther than that, if I have any choice,” Spiro assured him, “and I have, or I would not be here. Nay, even from Purgatory, I can hear and come to aid you-in whatever manner a soul may, who has Passed Over.”
“I’m sure there’s some medium of communication there,” Matt assured him. “Okay, nice offer! Thanks, Spiro! If I need a friend Over There, I’ll call! Assuming I can find a way to send a message, that is.”
“You have it.” Spiro nodded at Pascal, who instantly did the best he could to become invisible. Unfortunately, there was no cover besides the tent, and he hadn’t even started to pitch it yet. “Pascal?” Matt turned to frown at his friend. “He’s no medium!”
“Nay, but he is of my blood,” Spiro assured him, “and blood speaks to blood; like will to like. Have him call upon me, and I shall hear.”
“C-C-C-Call?” Pascal stammered. “Have you no wits?” Spiro demanded. “My blood has grown weak if it reposes in such as he!”
Pascal stared. Then his face darkened and he stood up straighter, clenching his fists. “Ah, that is better!” Spiro allowed himself a smile. “Never forget that you are the son of a squire, lad-especially if you truly seek knighthood! Stand tall and remember your honor! Even as your friend does.” He turned to Matt with a frown. “I would think you were a knight, if you were not so plainly a minstrel.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.” Matt just hoped they were. He needed a quick change of topic. “Say, if you founded the whole line, then you must have been the wizard!”
“Nay, he was my son.”
“Then you must have something of his talent for magic.”
“Not ‘must’-but I think I may have a trace.” The hollow eyes creased in a smile. “I shall hear young Pascal call, never fear-and I think I may find a way to answer. Farewell!”
“G’bye.” Matt waved as Spiro’s form blurred into the tendril of mist again and sank into the ground. Matt watched it recede, then gazed at the bare grass. “Well, I always said I needed every friend I could get”
“Then you must have some very odd friends indeed!” Pascal wilted, knees gone rubbery. “I am amazed that you are so undaunted! You truly are a knight!”
“Yeah, well, just don’t noise it around.” Matt turned back to the pile of canvas. “You want to cut the sticks for the tent, or shall I?”
The low whistle brought Matt out of a light sleep. He looked around, but the campsite lay still in the pale light of a quarter moon. There were no trees, just the boulder and a copse across the road. Maybe a night bird? Then the whistle came again, and Matt was sure no bird really sounded like that. He was on his feet with his dagger in his hand in an instant, fumbling for his sword. “Pascal! Visitors!”
His answer was a snore. “Pascal!” Matt hissed. “Wake up!”
“Oh, do not trouble him,” said a deep voice, and harness creaked as mounted figures loomed up out of the night. “It is yourself whom we have come for.”
Well, that let out bandits. Matt brought his sword out slowly, turning it to make sure the moonlight gleamed off its twenty polished inches. “And who might you be?”
“I am Vanni, bailiff to the reeve of this shire-and these are my watchmen.”
“Oh.” Matt lowered his sword. “Well, that’s a relief. What can I do for you?”
Pascal, awake now, stared at him as if he were crazy, but rose to stand at his side. “You can come with us.” Vanni sounded a bit surprised himself. “We have come to arrest you in the king’s name.”
Matt stood still for a few seconds, letting the news soak in-and, oddly, found that he had almost been expecting it. “On what charge?”
“For the murder of a man.”
“I murdered no man.” Matt frowned. “Who is my alleged victim?”
“We do not know his name,” Vanni answered, irritated. “He was a stranger-the man with whom you fought.”
“Oh.” Matt shrugged, making sure the movement made the light gleam on his blade again. “No problem there-I wound up fighting in self-defense. He tried to kill me.”
“I did see the stranger wielding a knife,” one of the watchmen said.
“And I saw the minstrel strike it out of his hand,” Vanni snapped. “Innocent or guilty, it is not for us to say.” His gaze stayed on Matt. “It is only for us to bring you to the reeve.”
Why did he have the feeling that the reeve was not going to give him an unbiased hearing? Matt wondered. Maybe the mention of the king?
“The stranger just died all of a sudden. His heart stopped. I had nothing to do with it.”
Vanni barked a laugh. “Died while fighting you, and you had nothing to do with it? Nay, surely!”
“We’re in a land of sorcery,” Matt countered, “and you doubt it?”
Vanni frowned. “The young king is no sorcerer!”
“What kind of magic does he work, then? Even in Merovence we’ve heard that he’s powerful enough to protect himself-and in a kingdom with a lot of unemployed and vengeful sorcerers running around, that’s no mean skill!”
“The king’s magic is not your affair,” Vanni snapped. “Obeying his law is!”
“I did.” Matt decided it was time to call in reinforcements and raised his voice. “Didn’t I, Manny?”
“Indubitably,” the rich voice said out of the night. Vanni frowned, peering into the darkness beyond the circle of firelight. “Who said that?”
“I did.” The manticore stepped into the light, grinning and lashing his tail. The horses screamed and tried to bolt. A few of them managed it, with riders shouting halfhearted protests. Most of the men fought their mounts to a standstill, though-and looked as if they wished they hadn’t. “The minstrel obeyed the king’s law in every particular,” the manticore said, giving Vanni the full double grin. Vanni goggled at the monster, then managed to wrench his gaze back to Matt. “What manner of man are you, who keeps company with a manticore?”
“Just a traveling companion, really,” Matt answered. “Manny isn’t so much with me as he is with my friend, here.” He slapped Pascal on the shoulder. The young man gulped and managed a rather queasy grin. His nervous glance was ticking back and forth between the bailiff and the manticore so regularly that Matt found himself wondering if his eyes were run by clockwork. “The youth?” Vanni stared down at Pascal. The young man’s lips twitched in an attempt at a grin. “He is an old family, ah, friend.”
“A DNA-linked spell,” Matt explained. Vanni’s stare snapped up to him. “Are you a sorcerer, too?”
“No,” Matt said truthfully. After all, Vanni hadn’t asked if he was a wizard. “But I’ve heard talk about it.”