“What do you mean, ‘don’t worry’? What’s there to worry about, Karleah? Karleah?” Dayin tugged on the wizardess’s arm. His blue eyes were wide with fright. “Are we ever going to see Jo and Braddoc again?”
The old woman turned to the boy and looked at him with something akin to exasperation. Then she smiled reluctantly and drew Dayin into her arms. The boy closed his eyes in relief. All will be well soon, he thought. Karleah will take care of me.
“Always, child,” the old woman murmured. Dayin smiled. Karleah had read his mind! It pleased him when she did so, for he knew she did so only with those whom she trusted. Karleah gave him one last squeeze, then said briskly, “Come. It’s time we were off.”
“Are you sure you’re well enough?” Dayin asked anxiously.
The old woman blinked her dark eyes rapidly. “I feel fine enough, aside from my magic,” she said, then shrugged her shoulders. “I want to leave now.”
“What will we do about food and supplies?” Dayin sensibly asked.
“We’ll take one tent and some of the gear; I imagine the equipment’s still in the stables, along with the horse that Graybow lent me, and Braddoc’s pony for you,” Karleah answered, gathering up the few personal belongings they’d brought with them to the chambers. “We’ll stop at the kitchen on the way out. I’ll get some foodstuffs—have no fear.”
“Why should I fear, Karleah?” the boy asked innocently.
Karleah pulled up short and looked at Dayin. She ruffled his shaggy blond hair and said softly, “Because something happened in the dragon’s lair, Dayin. Something happened to my powers. It’s more than the loss of a few simple spells; it’s a loss of much of my inner magic.” Karleah cocked her head to one side and added, “I’ve even lost the magic that lets me change into a wolf.”
Dayin shook his head, his eyes widening in fear. He had seen Karleah once or twice in her wolf form, and he had envied her. She’d promised to teach him how to change into an animal when the time came. Could she still teach him now? he wondered.
“I’ve lost the first magic I ever knew, Dayin,” Karleah said, her raspy voice quiet and her eyes wandering about the room. “Either something has stolen my powers, or I’m turning senile. Either way, I don’t want to be rendered helpless and stuck here in this stone block. I want to return to my valley. There, I’ll know what’s what.”
Johauna’s eyes stretched wide, and her face blanched. “I will not give up Wyrmblight, Baroness Penhaligon! I cannot,” she said staunchly. Jo heard the hollow ring of fear inside her words. Her hands gripped Wyrmblight all the harder.
Arteris sighed, then fixed Jo with her stony brown gaze. “Young lady—”
“I’m a squire, Your Ladyship,” Jo broke in quickly, “until you decree otherwise.” She bit her lip, appalled at her brazen interjection. Apologize! she told herself. Apologize immediately and maybe she’ll forgive yet another faux pas. No! her other half spoke up stubbornly. No! I will not be bullied this way! She can’t take Wyrmblight away from me! I’ll give up being a squire before I let her take Flinn’s sword from me!
Arteris smiled coldly, her lips forming more of a grimace than a true smile. Beside her, Sir Graybow abruptly rubbed his cheeks, hiding his mouth and keeping his eyes on the table. Jo felt sudden remorse; the castellan had tried to warn her, but to no avail.
“I’ll ignore this one intrusion, Squire Menhir,” Baroness Penhaligon said graciously enough, though Jo couldn’t help hearing the undercurrent of threat running through it, “but only because of the bond I know squires feel for their masters. That bond is now broken—” but not forgotten, Johauna thought mulishly “—and you have no use for the sword. Wyrmblight is a treasure that should be displayed for all to see—”
Jo couldn’t contain herself. “But—!”
Sir Graybow coughed loudly, effectively cutting off Jo’s torrent of words. The glance he cast her was murderous, and that alone quelled the squire. He pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose noisily, then turned to the baroness with elaborate courtesy. “My sincere apologies, Your Ladyship,” he said loudly. “Pray forgive me.” Arteris inclined her head.
The castellan shot one more black look at Jo before gesturing toward the sword. “It’s a most intriguing prospect before the council, Your Ladyship,” Sir Graybow continued smoothly, “the question of what to do with Wyrmblight, the most renowned sword in all of Penhaligon.” Jo opened her mouth to speak, and the castellan said quickly, “And what are all our options, do you suppose?”
“I believe,” the baroness said without hesitation, “that we have but two options: to put Wyrmblight on display or to leave it in the hands of Sir Flinn’s squire.” Arteris paused, her agate eyes glittering coldly at Jo. “If Sir Flinn’s protege can contain her passions, she may tell us why she feels she ought to bear the sword.”
Jo made a move to speak, then stopped and glanced at Sir Graybow. She wondered if she had misread Arteris’s invitation. But the castellan nodded, a slight smile of encouragement on his lips. Jo turned back to the baroness. “Your L-Ladyship,” she stammered, then gripped Wyrmblight tighter. Have faith, the blade whispered. “Your Ladyship,” Jo began again, her voice growing stronger and more sure, “I feel I should bear the sword for one specific reason, if no other.” She paused for effect and swept her eyes over the council members. “Sir Flinn would wish me to wield it. Of that, I am certain.” One or two of the council members murmured to each other, then silence fell once more in the room.
Lady Arteris rubbed her fingers together. “Clearly, you cannot bear the sword unless you remain a squire for Penhaligon. However, the knight who chose to sponsor you has, most regrettably, died, Squire Menhir,” the baroness said with unusual gentleness. “This puts you in an awkward position. We currently have no knights who are without squires. We could give one knight two squires to train, but in the past we have found that detrimental to the squires’ learning.” Arteris paused to let that information sink in.
“I am without a squire,” Sir Graybow said distinctly All eyes turned to him.
“By tradition the castellan is usually without a squire, Sir Graybow,” Arteris said after a momentary silence. “A castellan has too many duties to properly attend to the training of a squire ”
“Save when he is training his replacement,” Graybow rejoined.
“But you took on Sir Flinn as your squire, presumably with the intent that he should one day replace you,”
Arteris said equably. “Sir Flinn has since died.”
“And has left behind the woman he chose worthy to be his squire,” Sir Graybow said neutrally. He turned his head toward Jo, and she swore the old man winked at her.
“I … see, Sir Graybow,” Arteris was at a loss for words. She looked at Jo, then turned back to the castellan. “It must be pointed out that you were considerably younger when you took Sir Flinn as your squire so many years ago. How do you propose to provide training for Squire Menhir?”
“I shall, of course, provide instruction in the virtues of knighthood, in etiquette, in reading and writing, geometry, tactics, and the like. As to the combat training, I intend on enlisting the aid of Braddoc Briarblood,” Sir Graybow gestured toward the dwarf. Jo turned to her friend. Although Braddoc’s face remained passive, Jo had caught the fleeting look of surprise in his one good eye. “If that is agreeable with friend dwarf, of course.” The castellan inclined his head toward Braddoc.
The dwarf cleared his throat, took a step forward, and bowed low toward Sir Graybow, and then the baroness. “I should be honored to assist in any way I can, Sir Graybow.
I would consider it a privilege to so repay old debts to my lost comrade.” Jo had to repress a smile at the sound of such formal speech from her friend.