Sir Graybow led the way past the donjon and on toward one of the castle’s numerous stables. A stable girl ran up and took Carsig. Sir Graybow dismounted and gestured for Jo and the others to do the same. Jo, Dayin, and Braddoc all dismounted with alacrity, but Karleah hesitated.
“A … little help, if you please,” Karleah whispered gruffly. “I’m feeling … a bit fatigued.” Her face was ashen, and the veins of her neck stood out, pulsing wildly.
Jo was shaken by the wizardess’s weakness, and she saw the same emotion cross Dayin’s face as they helped Karleah off her horse. The old mage nearly fell when her shoes touched the stable floor. “Sir Graybow,” Jo began, but the castellan had already gestured toward the guards.
“You’ll have the same chambers as before, Squire Menhir,” Sir Graybow said. “My men will take Mistress Kunzay to her room and call the healers at once.”
“I need rest—not healers,” the old woman interrupted irascibly. “I don’t want any clerics prodding my bones and murmuring incantations and forcing me to drink funny-colored potions made of newt brains and what-have-you.”
“Let them help, Karleah, please,” Dayin said in his most pleading voice. “Please,” he said again. Karleah nodded, relenting. A smile touched Jo’s lips; no one could refuse Dayin when he asked for something.
The guards nodded toward the castellan and then left, one carrying the old wizardess. Dayin looked at Jo for permission to follow, and she gestured for him to do so. He flashed a quick, sweet smile at her and then ran after the guards. Braddoc stepped next to Jo’s side, carrying his bulging knapsack. The stable girl came back for Jo’s horse, and then Jo turned to the castellan.
“Sir Graybow,” Jo began tentatively. She flexed her grip on Wyrmblight and then began again, more boldly, “Sir Graybow, if the council is still meeting, I’d prefer to make my formal report now and …” Jo hesitated, feeling her request was silly.
“And?” the castellan prompted. He added, “To gain what you want in life, you must learn to ask for it, squire.”
Jo took heart at the gentle reminder to stick up for herself. “… and—and to find out what’s to become of me now that—” Jo hesitated once more “—now that I have no knight to sponsor me.”
Sir Graybow nodded. “Perhaps it is best to make your report now, Squire Menhir. The council is still gathered. I had thought to let you rest overnight and give your report in the morning, but perhaps you have the right of it. Come with me.” The castellan turned and began striding across the courtyard.
Jo glanced quickly at Braddoc, who nodded his intentions to follow her. Jo caught up to the castellan and matched her steps to his. Sir Graybow frowned and said beneath his breath, “Four paces behind and to the left, squire. I’m a knight, remember. And for goodness’s sake, straighten your tunic.”
Johauna winced at the irritation she heard in his voice and felt frightened all of a sudden. I’ve forgotten what little etiquette Flinn taught me! she thought to herself as she quickly shifted her golden tunic into place. Jo took her position behind the castellan and marched onward.
They entered one of the many side doors to the main castle, and Jo was freshly impressed with the Castle of the Three Suns. She’d forgotten how lovely the place was, with its soaring stone pillars, patterned granite floors, and magnificent tapestries. Light shone everywhere from all the magical lanterns.
In silence the castellan led the squire and the dwarf through numerous hallways, up several flights of stairs, and finally to a pair of ornately carved, closed doors. Jo remembered those tall, distinctive doors, for they were the doors that led to the “small” meeting room to which Flinn, Jo, and the council members had retired to discuss Sir Brisbois’s punishment after Verdilith had fled the great hall. Behind those doors, too, had been the scene of Baroness Penhaligon’s formal declaration of Flinn’s reinstatement as a knight in the Order of the Three Suns and Jo’s own instatement as a squire.
“This is your last chance, Squire Menhir,” Sir Graybow stated, one hand on the gilt, curved doorknob. He eyed Jo quizzically, but with compassion.
Jo shook her head. She returned the castellan’s look, then said slowly, “I must make a report, Sir Graybow; I realize that. I would prefer to—to discuss Flinn’s death tonight, so that I may seek Verdilith and win vengeance that much quicker”
The old warrior arched one gray eyebrow, and Jo was poignantly reminded of Flinn. Had he picked up the habit from his castellan? “As you wish, Squire Menhir,” Sir Graybow said formally, then opened the door.
The castellan, Jo, and Braddoc stepped into the meeting room. As one, the council members stopped speaking and turned to stare at the intruders. Jo held her breath. The sun had begun to set on the surrounding Wulfholdes, and now sunlight streamed through the four arching windows of leaded glass. Strands of golden light fluctuated in the room, covering everything with a gilt patina.
Enchanted, Jo stepped forward. This was the room that had witnessed Flinn’s greatest triumph—her greatest triumph, too. Once again, she saw the intricately carved stone ceiling thirty feet above, the pale murals almost obliterated with age, the huge tapestries depicting numerous battles in Penhaligon’s history… . But, most of all, she stared at the magnificent windows lining one wall, opening out to the setting sun. One by one, the brass lanterns throughout the room were magically lighting in response to the growing darkness.
Fourteen knights and nobles were seated around an elaborately carved, U-shaped table. Sir Graybow moved to stand before the person seated at the center of the table. She was dressed in blue and silver, and, as she stood, a silver coronet shone in her chestnut hair. Baroness Arteris Penhaligon inclined her head toward the castellan and said regally, “Sir Graybow, I see you have returned.” The other council members fixed their gaze on Jo and Braddoc.
Sir Graybow bowed and said with respect, “Yes, Your Ladyship. I also bring with me Squire Menhir and Braddoc Briarblood. The squire, you may recall—”
“I am aware of who Squire Menhir is,” Baroness Penhaligon interrupted. “Pray, take your seat, Sir Graybow” She gestured to the empty chair at her left, then continued, “Am I to understand, Squire Menhir, that you are here to make your report?” Jo felt the woman’s agate-brown eyes bore into her.
Sir Graybow gave Jo a Little push before walking toward his seat at the table. Jo hesitated a moment longer, then strode farther into the room. She stood before the U-shaped table, directly across from Baroness Penhaligon. The castellan gave her a little nod of approval. Braddoc sauntered over to a chair standing against a wall, carried it to a spot behind Jo’s back, and sat down. Jo was momentarily irritated by the dwarfs cavalier attitude, for etiquette demanded that he not seat himself until instructed to do so, but she quelled the thought. She had more important things to attend to.
Baroness Penhaligon nodded coolly to Jo and then sat down. Jo bowed slightly in return and said, as formally as she could, “Baroness Penhaligon, members of the council, I come bearing tidings of Sir Fain Flinn.”
The council members other than the baroness and Sir Graybow murmured to each other, and Jo waited for them to be silent. An older woman spoke up—Madam Francys Astwood—a friend of Lord Maldrake’s. She had been covertly hostile to Flinn, and even unrepentant when she learned that Maldrake was Verdilith in human form. “Are we to take it that some tragedy has befallen the good knight?” Madam Astwood asked in mock worry.