“The knights found the lair, and the mages got them inside,” Sir Graybow replied. He turned away and began pacing. “Verdilith was there, all right. He slew one knight and then escaped—” Sir Graybow paused to draw a tight breath “—apparently with the aid of a wizard.”
Jo and Braddoc looked at each other, then said simultaneously, “Teryl Auroch!”
“Exactly,” the castellan replied. “My people recognized him immediately.” The knight resumed pacing. “They were obviously in the process of relocating Verdilith, for virtually all of the treasure had been removed. I doubt the wyrm will ever return to that cavern.”
Jo felt a surge of wicked joy fill her and was only slightly chagrined by it. Yes, she thought, yes! I can still be the one to avenge Flinn’s death! Jo turned away from the others, embarrassed that she hadn’t shown—couldn’t show—the proper sorrow for the knight who had been slain, or suitable consternation over the dragon’s escape.
Braddoc spoke to the castellan. “If it’s all right with you, Sir Graybow, I’ll be leaving shortly.”
The castellan nodded as Jo turned nervously back to the dwarf. “You’re leaving?” she asked Braddoc. “You’re not leaving … because of me, are you?” Sir Graybow discreetly withdrew to the trestle table at the side of the living area and began arranging the books there.
The dwarf brought his hands together. He said to Jo, “I’m leaving for a few days—nothing special. No, I’m not leaving because of you, or because of what you’ve just found out, or because you’re happy that Verdilith’s still out there for you to hunt down.” He paused, shaking his head in slow warning. “I’m going to check on my home, gather a few things, and then return.” He smiled when he saw Jo’s blushing, crestfallen face. “Don’t worry, Johauna. I’ll be back in time for the initiation ceremony. Have no fear.” Jo took a step toward the dwarf. “Why don’t I come with you, Braddoc?” she asked and then gestured at the castellan. “I’m sure Sir Graybow wouldn’t—”
“I’m afraid you’re wrong there, Jo,” Sir Graybow interrupted. Jo turned to the castellan, who pulled out a chair for her and motioned her toward it. The squire hesitated, then quietly took the proffered seat. “Thank you,” Sir Graybow said quietly, touching the table before her. “You have much left to learn during this last week before your initiation. There is no time to spare.”
Jo watched Braddoc retire to his room and heard him begin to pack a few belongings. She looked up at the kindly face of her mentor, and her brows knitted in perplexity. “But … Braddoc didn’t mention this trip to me until now,” she began.
“At my request,” responded Sir Graybow. He took a step toward the other end of the table. During their lessons he preferred to stand, and Jo had grown accustomed to the arrangement. “We didn’t want to distract you from your lessons, either with the sword or the quill.”
“But he’s my friend—” Jo said, then gave voice to what really troubled her. “He’s my friend, and I’ll miss him—” The castellan nodded, his pale eyes filled with understanding. “I know, Jo, I know. You miss Karleah and Dayin, and now Braddoc’s leaving you, too. But he’ll be gone for only a little while.” The old knight hesitated, then Jo saw his eyes crinkle into what sometimes passed for a smile. He said firmly, “I’m your friend, too, Johauna. Don’t forget that.” He gestured toward the papers covering the table. “Come. It’s time to begin your lesson.”
Jo leaned Wyrmblight against the nearby wall and pulled her chair closer to the table. Sir Graybow had never questioned her desire to have the sword constantly near her. If he had, Jo’s only response would have been that she found the presence of the blade comforting. She lightly touched the four sigils, wishing Flinn would talk to her again through the blade. No matter how hard she pleaded with the Immortals and the sword itself, Jo had never again seen Flinn as she had in her wounded delirium.
Have faith, the blade whispered back.
Jo’s fingers lingered on the third sigil, and for the first time she wondered why the sword never admonished her about the other points of the Quadrivial. Then the thought came to her: Without faith you cannot attain the others. Sir Graybow cleared his throat, and Jo turned to him, startled. The words had been so faint that she wondered if it had been her own mind or the sword speaking.
The squire looked at the castellan and said lightly, “I’m ready, Sir Graybow. What intricacy of courtly manner am I to learn today?” She smiled at the castellan to soften the teasing in her words. Her respect for the aging knight had grown with each new thing he taught her, and she wanted to convince him she was a fast and serious learner. Sir Graybow frowned as if lost in thought, then opened his mouth to speak.
Braddoc came out of his room then, a knapsack and a bedroll over his shoulder, as well as an iron box about a foot square. Jo recognized the unusual box Braddoc had taken from the dragon’s lair, and she asked, “Have you had any luck yet getting that catch to open?”
The dwarf looked up distractedly, apparently surprised that anyone else had noticed his growing obsession with opening the box. His eye lingered for long moments on Jo before he shook his head and said, “No, none. I mentioned it to a mage named Keller, and he’s offered to have a look at it for me while I’m gone. Damnedest construction I’ve ever seen.” Braddoc shook his head again and glanced over his shoulder at the peculiar box. “Marvelous though, simply marvelous.” His eye, seemingly a bit watery now, turned toward the castellan and his student. “Well, I’ll take my leave now, Sir Graybow,” the dwarf said formally. He gave a slight bow to the castellan, then turned to Jo. “Take care, Johauna. I’ll be back soon.”
Impulsively, Jo stood and hugged her friend, who was too weighted down with gear to return the gesture. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away immediately. Braddoc would never appreciate my crying, she thought. She returned to her seat at the table and looked at the dwarf. “Please hurry, Braddoc,” she said simply.
A strange look came over Braddoc’s face, but Jo couldn’t fathom it. “You say the strangest things sometimes, Johauna Menhir,” Braddoc said. He shook his head, gathered the rest of his things, and quit the room without a backward glance.
Jo turned back to the castellan. She looked expectantly at him and asked, “You were about to say something, Sir Graybow?”
The older man looked quizzically at Jo, then suddenly shook his head. “No, nothing—-just an old memory,” he said lightly. He picked up one of the books on the table and began leafing through it. “Let’s begin the lesson today with the ceremony of the joust… .”
Curiosity got the better of Jo, and she asked hesitantly, “What … memory was that, Sir Graybow?” She had never asked the castellan a personal question before, and she wondered now if he would take affront at her prying.
The book snapped closed, and Sir Graybow abruptly looked at Jo. His watery blue eyes did not blink, and his face remained carefully blank. Jo could only stare back at her mentor and think how stupid she had been to commit such a foolish mistake. The castellan looked away as he rested the book on the trestle table.
“I … was thinking how much you reminded me of… my oldest niece,” Sir Graybow said, his voice distant and quiet. He turned his back to Jo and gazed out the window.
“Your … niece?” Jo asked neutrally. “I didn’t know you had a niece.”
The castellan slid the book back and forth across the table’s cherry surface. His brows drew together, and he said in an even more remote voice, “I had two, actually.”
A tiny silence followed, broken only when Jo finally asked softly, “Had—?”
The castellan nodded, his brows still knitted and his attention still on the book beneath his hand. “Yes, had,” he said in a flat voice, made emotional by its directness. “They … died … many years ago.”