For his own part, Curtis was struggling to choke down the remainder of his very dry wheat roll, and wasn’t in a position to say anything at the moment.
“So? Come on, spit it out.”
“Nothing much. We went to the forest. Collected rocks for Curtis’s slingshot. Pretty dull stuff, really.”
“I’m sorry I missed out. Anyway, this is for you.”
Sarah was wearing a brown leather vest over a white shirt with intricate lacework on the neck and the cuffs of the sleeves. She pulled out a small piece of parchment that had been rolled into a scroll and tied with ribbon from her vest pocket. She slid it across the table to Sam.
Sam took it and immediately began untying the ribbon.
“Don’t open it here,” Sarah said sharply. “Wait until later.”
“What’s the big secret?”
“You’ll know when you read it,” Sarah said, and thought he saw her give him a surreptitious wink, but couldn’t be sure.
“All right. After dinner then.”
“No. It has to be before dinner.”
Curtis, who had by this time managed to force down the rest of his roll, said, “Sheesh. Make up your mind.”
Sarah stood up. “Just remember to follow the instructions to the letter,” she said.
Sam and Curtis watched her leave.
“Well? Aren’t you going to read it?” Curtis asked.
“You heard her. Not here.”
“But before dinner.” Curtis chuckled. “What difference does it make?”
“I’ll read it after training today. Let’s get going.”
Alsted had been in a foul mood throughout training that day. They had spent hours on end learning a new transitioning move that should have been fairly simple, but Sam had found it surprisingly difficult.
The object of the move was to start out holding your sword underhanded, and then with a certain twist of the wrist, you would be holding it over handed, so the bottom of the sword’s handle was closest to your thumb and the tip of the blade was pointed toward the ground. It was a quick way to block certain types of attacks. Sam had tried over and over again, but kept doing something wrong when he turned his wrist, resulting in him dropping his sword at least a dozen times before he started to get the hang of it. Although he had grown stronger over the last month, Rusty was still heavy and awkward to wield one-handed.
Sam had wasted the first part of the day figuring out how to complete the transition correctly, and after lunch they had picked up where they left off, only this time with their partner playing the role of the attacker. Each time Sam performed the move as Curtis closed in on him, but when Curtis struck Rusty with Gwendolyn, Sam would lose his grip on the sword and it would clatter to the ground. And each time it happened, Alsted would sigh loudly.
To his relief, Sam had noticed some of the other boys having trouble as well. And Alsted would sigh when it happened to them as well, which made Sam feel a little bit better about things. At least he wasn’t the only one. The dwarf’s face appeared sunken and the same dark patches that had been under Sarah’s eyes had been under his as well.
By the time training ended, Sam had felt as though his wrist was going to fall off. He hadn’t mastered the new technique, but he could perform it reasonably well. Well enough that Alsted had eventually stopped giving him disgusted looks and moved on to watch the other boys.
They had already left the arena when Curtis said, “Are you going to read it now?”
Sam stopped and pulled the tiny rolled parchment from his pocket. He untied the ribbon and opened it.
Sam,
I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner tonight in the castle? Sometimes I eat with the King, and he has granted me permission to invite one person to join us. If you are interested, report to the guards that keep watch outside the main castle doors when the other boys have gone to dinner. They have been informed of your coming. All I ask is that you exercise caution and do your best not to be seen entering the castle. There are enough rumors going around as it is. Hope to see you there.
Sarah
“What’s it say?” Curtis said eagerly.
Sam ignored him, reading the letter over a second time. Surely, this must be some kind of joke? Dinner in the castle? With the King? It sounded more like a scheme Cully Duke would devise to lure him to a secluded spot and beat the stuffing out of him. No doubt Cully would have already started planning his revenge after what had happened in the forest the day before.
And he would have believed that (maybe because he had grown so accustomed to bad luck, that this sudden good fortune seemed impossible), but Sarah had handed him the note herself.
Maybe Cully talked her into it, Sam thought. It’d be the perfect way to make sure I fell for it.
But he rejected the idea almost immediately. Cully didn’t like Sarah any more than he liked Sam, and Sam couldn’t see the older boy approaching her to do something like that. He also didn’t think Sarah would go for it. Even if Cully had promised her something as ridiculous as total acceptance by the other boys, Sam thought Sarah would have rejected him anyway.
“Well, are you going to tell me or not?”
Sam debated whether he should tell Curtis or not. After all, Sara had mentioned in her note that he should be as inconspicuous as possible, but Sam hadn’t kept any secrets from Curtis before, and decided he wasn’t going to start now.
He handed the note to Curtis. Curtis read it. When he was finished, he looked up at Sam, wide-eyed. “Is she for real?”
“I should think so,” Sam said, but didn’t entirely believe it himself.
“Are you going?”
“How can’t I? It would be rude to blow her off. Not to mention I’d be taking dinner with the King.”
“I don’t know, Sam. It might be more trouble than it’s worth.” Curtis handed the note back to Sam. “She’s right, you know. There’re plenty of rumors already. If someone saw you going into the castle…who knows what people would say.”
“Stop being such a nag. So what if people talk? They won’t know what really happened because they won’t have been there.”
When Curtis responded, it was as though he were addressing a small child that was woefully naïve about the outside world. Thats not the point. It doesnt matter if they were there or not. Theyll just make stuff up!
“Then I won’t let myself be seen.”
“How are you going to pull that off? An invisibility spell?”
Sam shrugged. “Everyone’ll be at dinner. They won’t even notice.”
“They’ll notice you aren’t there. And they’ll notice that she isn’t there. Even if it wasn’t true, two and two will still add up to you being off spending time with her.”
“I guess you’re right,” Sam said.
“Of course I’m right.”
“But that doesn’t change anything. I’m still going.”
“At some point you have to start thinking about how your secret meetings affect other people. Namely, your best friend. Talking with her in the first place was bad enough. Then you went and decided to learn magic – with another girl, no less! And as if that wasn’t enough, now you’re going to sneak into the castle to see the other girl. You’re the only person I’ve ever known to be juggling two different girls.”
“I’m not juggling anything,” Sam said. “Sarah’s a friend. And in case you forgot, she’s your friend, too.”
“And the other one?”
“She might become a friend.”
“I think this is your worst idea yet.”
Sam chuckled. “I’d think there was something wrong with you if you didn’t. Just cover for me, okay? If anyone asks, just tell them I wasn’t feeling well or something.”
“All I do lately is cover for you. And get made fun of because of you; and can’t make any other friends because of you.”
Sam listened patiently. Better to let Curtis get it out of his system. “Okay. You’re right. But will you do it?
”
Curtis, as averse to the idea as he was, responded the only way a true friend could. “Of course I will,” he said.
The main entrance to the castle itself lay directly past the main square. Sam walked past the living quarters, the mess hall, and through the main square, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but in doing so stuck out like a sore thumb. He couldn’t help but feel that all eyes were on him as he passed the stone well that stood in the center of the square.
His nervousness was so debilitating that it took all his concentration to simply put one foot in front of the other; it felt like he was walking an invisible tightrope. His legs were wobbly, and his eyes were cast at the ground as though he were deeply ashamed of what he was about to do.
Get it together, he thought. You’re acting like a little ninny. It’s not like you’re doing anything criminal. And stop holding your breath!
He could see the castle’s main entrance, two guards standing on either side of the doors. Glancing up, he could see sentries holding bows in several of the towers.
Just a little farther, he thought.
The other boys would just be starting dinner. He picked up his pace.
Directly behind the guards, to the sides of the doors, stood statues carved of stone. Each depicted the same stoic-faced warrior with a long and tangled beard, wearing a crown on its head. Sam recognized the face; he had seen it in several of his books. It was King Dashelmore, the first true king, or so it was told.
Sam reached the guards. The one on the right said, “What business have you?”
They have been informed of your coming, Sarah’s note had said.
“I’m here to meet Sarah…for dinner,” Sam said, raising his eyebrows.
The guard on the left nodded, and the other guard grabbed the large iron handles and opened the doors, allowing Sam entrance. “Thank you,” Sam said as he walked past them.
As Sam entered the Great Hall, his mouth hung agape. The room was elaborately decorated; colorful tapestries hung from the walls. All along the room, candles burned in decorative wrought-iron sconces.
It’s huge! Sam thought.
A giant crimson rug lay over the stone floor at the center of the Great Hall, the face of a lion embroidered on it. Sam noticed something strange about the lion: it had piercing blue eyes.
Doors lined either side of the room, and at the end of the room was a wide stone staircase that branched off near the top, offering a choice of three different directions; straight, left, or right.
Sarah hadn’t mentioned in her note where he was supposed to go once he was inside the castle. To Sam, who now had his choice of over a dozen different doors to choose from, as well as the divided staircase, the entire place felt like a giant maze.
She should have drawn me a map, Sam thought. He stepped onto the crimson rug and waited. He considered checking some of the rooms, but the last thing he needed was to be caught snooping around where he wasn’t supposed to.
Within seconds, a man wearing a blue robe with yellow designs on it (Sam thought it looked as though gold ivy was crawling all over it) appeared from one of the doorways. Upon closer examination, Sam could see that the man was older; what little hair he had left stuck up on the dome of his head in wispy silver coils (more hair growing out of his ears than on his head, Sam thought).
“You must be Sam, Lady Sarah’s friend,” the blue-robed man said. “My name is Beaugard. I am the King’s head servant. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Beaugard extended his hand and Sam shook it. The old man’s fingers were as brittle as dry twigs.
“If you will follow me,” Beaugard said, “the King and Lady Sarah are waiting.”
Now it’s Lady Sarah, Sam thought and laughed to himself. He would have to remember that and give her a hard time about it later.
Sam followed Beaugard to the other end of the room, where they went through a narrow doorway to the left of the staircase.
“Right this way,” the King’s head servant said. “It isn’t far.”
Beaugard led them down a long corridor. Life-sized statues depicting different warriors, wizards, and priests from the kingdom’s history flanked them on either side. As they passed them, Sam had the disturbing feeling that he was being watched. The statues were so life-like that he expected them to start moving at any moment.
Candlelight danced and flickered on the walls. Sam absently wondered how long it must take to extinguish them at night and light them each day. I’ll bet the King has someone whose entire job is only that – making sure all the candles stay lit all day long.
Beaugard glanced over his shoulder and said, “This is called the Hall of Ages,” he said. “They almost look real, do they not?”
Sam nodded, deciding that it would be bad manners to mention that he was more interested in how they kept all the candles lit than in the statues.
“Here we are.”
They passed through a low doorway and into the Banquet Hall, which was the largest room Sam had ever seen in his life. He was certain that three houses the size of his parent’s cottage could have fitted into it easily. Iron chandeliers hung down from the wooden rafters, each holding dozens of candles.
A long table was situated in the center of the immense room; long enough to seat fifty people. However, only two people occupied the table at this time. One of them was Sarah, and the other was King Leodan.
Sam’s legs became wobbly again as Beaugard led him to the table, pulled out a high-backed chair, and gestured for him to sit down across from Sarah. King Leodan occupied the chair at the head of the table.
After Sam was seated, Beaugard slid his chair closer to the table.
“Care to join us, Melnic?” King Leodan asked, looking to Beaugard.
“I’m afraid I must politely decline, Your Majesty,” Beaugard said. “There is still much to be done, and we old men like to turn in early.”
“Very well. Thank you, Melnic.”
“Nice to have met you, Sam,” Beaugard said before he left. Sam replied with the same.
“Hi,” Sarah said. “I see you managed to find your way.” She looked more radiant than ever. The dark patches under her eyes had faded. Her hair fell in golden curls around her face, and she was wearing a pearly white dress. Seeing her, Sam felt underdressed, still wearing the same clothes he had worn to training.
“It wasn’t that difficult,” Sam said. He could sense the King looking at him, but found it impossible to make eye contact.
To the King, Sarah said, “He isn’t always this shy. Most of the time you can’t get him to stop talking.”
Sam felt the heat of embarrassment rise in his cheeks.
“Hello, Sam,” Leodan said.
Say something! a voice in Sam’s head commanded.
Sam forced himself to look at Leodan, meeting the King’s piercing blue eyes, which reminded him of the rug he had seen in the entrance room. They were the same blue as the lion’s eyes. “It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty.”
“Likewise, Sam,” Leodan said. “Sarah tells me you show great promise in your warrior training.”
Sam smiled, glancing at Sarah. “She exaggerates.”
“He’s being modest,” Sarah said. “A few weeks ago, he could hardly lift his sword. Now he’s really getting the hang of it.”
Which was true. He had gotten stronger.
“Allow him his modesty,” Leodan said. “It is the mark of a wise man to be truly great at something yet remain humble.”
“Sam Finch? Modest? That’s something new,” Sarah said, laughing. Sam couldn’t help smiling a little himself. She was so overwhelmingly beautiful, and her laughter lit up her face with something that was almost otherworldly.
“Ignore her, Sam. She has a mischievous streak, and you can’t hope to gain the upper hand when she’s in one of her moods.”
“I’ve noticed that,” Sam said.
“But we’re letting our food get cold. Shall we eat?” Leodan asked.
Sam hadn’t been ignorant to the wonderful smells reaching his nostrils. He had caught a whiff as soon as he had sat down, and his mouth had been watering ever since, but his extreme nervousness had overshadowed his hunger.
Sarah removed the silver cover from a large platter, revealing a golden-brown turkey, glazed with butter, bits of shredded pineapple clinging to it. Basketfuls of freshly baked biscuits, bowls of creamy mashed potatoes, and a porcelain boat filled to the brim with gravy surrounded the platter. Without waiting for Sam or the King, Sarah dug in, loading her plate with turkey and potatoes, and pouring a generous amount of gravy on top of it all.
Sam watched her with a mix of bewilderment and amusement. He kept stealing glances at the King. How could she be so bold as to help herself first? Proper etiquette dictated that the King was always served first.
“What are you waiting for?” Sarah asked. “A servant to put food on your plate for you?”
“No, but…”
The King was already piling food onto his own plate. After he was finished, Sam helped himself to a little bit of all of it.
There was a raised stage built against the wall at the far end of the Banquet Hall. A small wooden chair was positioned at the center of it. Sam glanced over as a bard wearing brown pants and green tunic ascended the stairs, walked across the stage, and sat down in the chair. He lifted the lute he was carrying into his lap and began to play, strumming the strings lightly as he sang along to the melody in a soft, high voice.
That does it, Sam thought. I’ve obviously stumbled into another world.
They ate in silence for a while. Sam stuffed himself, taking full advantage of the opportunity to eat something other than watery oatmeal, stale rolls, and meat that tasted like old leather. It wasn’t long before he felt as if his stomach was going to explode. He finished what was on his plate and leaned back in his chair, convinced that if he ever saw food again it would be too soon.
Sam Finch and the Zombie Hybrid (Sam Finch Series Book 1) Page 9