"Truly," she heard Mordred ask him: "How do you feel?"
"Stiff," Galen said. "A bit confused. But fit."
After a hesitation, Mordred said, "Good."
She wouldn't have thought that of him: that he could be so petty and vindictive—nipping like a small dog at Halbert's heels, not even willing to allow himself gladness that Galen was recovered and sound—just because he had been proven wrong. She remembered their conversation of the night before, when Galen had warned that Mordred was a person who would hold a grudge. She hadn't been willing, then, to believe it, though Mordred had admitted it, though it had already been hinted at earlier during the King's council.
Still, he had helped her. She didn't want to be angry with him: She didn't want to carry a grudge.
With her back still turned, while Galen dressed, she called over her shoulder, "What were you saying?"
"What?" both Mordred and Galen asked.
"Mordred," she said, but apparently that wasn't explanation enough. "Just before Halbert came in. You started, 'You know...'"
There was a long enough pause that Alayna wondered if he still couldn't place what she was talking about. Then he said, "Never mind." She wanted to turn around, to try to read his expression. Couldn't he remember? Or was it unimportant, one of those things that made sense at the time, but didn't bear repeating later on?
Or was it something he didn't want to say in front of Galen?
The last, she decided, reluctantly. Probably Mordred was going to say something critical of Halbert, and was ashamed to do so in front of one who—simply by being alive—owed more allegiance to Halbert than he ever would to Mordred.
CHAPTER 10
They arrived in the vicinity of Bel Bois about the time evening was turning into night—which was what Halbert had indicated and Mordred hadn't contradicted. That, Alayna reflected, seemed suddenly the best she could expect of Mordred: that he not contradict everything.
They left their horses within cover of the woods, well beyond range where any noise the animals might make could be heard—for Halbert suggested they approach on foot, under cover of darkness.
As though he and Mordred had never argued about exactly the same thing, Galen silently acquiesced, inclining his head in agreement.
This, Alayna thought, was what Mordred had wanted all along, but he didn't accept winning gracefully. Glowering, he turned his back on all of them without a word, and set about tethering his horse with more concentration than was needed.
They walked in silence. They would have, in any case, but the tension among them let Alayna hear her own breathing, her own heartbeat, as though they echoed in the night. The four of them approached as near as they dared, which was only for so long as they had the cover of trees. They could smell the place before they could see it—or, at least, they could smell the dinner: roasting pig, Alayna guessed. Her stomach grumbled at the unfairness of it; she hoped the others couldn't hear. She had eaten only a cold supper her one night at Camelot, forgoing the communal meal in favor of bed, and she had lived on field rations since. The pig that she could smell, she would have been willing to wager, was likely the most delicious pig anyone had ever roasted. She tried not to picture the skin glistening with fat, the meat practically falling off the bones.
She had seen that Kiera was fed. Or, at least, that her abductors tried to feed her.
Then, finally, Alayna had her first look at Bel Bois to go along with the wonderful smell.
She recognized its general shape from the glimpse she'd had in Halbert's crystal. It was smaller than she had anticipated, smaller even than Burrstone, which was not large, and it didn't have the almost toy-like prettiness of the wizard's castle. But the most daunting thing was its location: in the middle of a wide, fast-moving stream. Alayna had seen the water in the vision in Halbert's crystal, but hadn't realized that the castle was surrounded by it. Whether there was a naturally occurring outcrop of rock rising from the water, or whether men had labored to construct an earthwork mound—the result was still that Bel Bois was an island. The only ready access was the causeway the drawbridge formed to the nearer shore. And that, of course, only when the drawbridge was lowered.
Which it was not.
Halbert stopped, motioning for the others to stop, too—which surely was not necessary: They could all see as well as he that the trees ended here, and that to go farther was to be out in the open.
But neither did Mordred need to look so sour.
Alayna settled down to wait, determined not to look at either of them. She faced Galen instead, to make sure he was fit. Surely a man ... She pushed the thought away, but it persisted. Surely a man so recently dead shouldn't be riding all afternoon and then lying down in the damp grass.
Anxiously, she watched Galen, wearing his new breastplate emblazoned with the wizard's colors. He was still pale, and uncharacteristically quiet, so fatigued that his hand shook as he covered his eyes, trying to rest until the moon set. Was that normal? Was that to be expected? She wanted to prod Halbert, to demand assurances.
But Halbert sat apart from them. In the almost dark, he had drawn some sort of design in the earth and was doing something with sticks and pebbles. Game to pass the time or wizards' calculations, Alayna couldn't tell. Certainly she had never seen Toland do anything similar.
Beside her, Mordred sat cross-legged on the ground, also watching the castle. Although he appeared totally absorbed in watching the guard who walked the battlements, he would certainly notice if she got up, and would probably take it amiss if she went to speak to the wizard. Alayna was left with her thoughts. No matter what followed, how this turned out, whether they all survived or were dead by morning—now and forever, there would always be this division. There would be the time before Kiera was taken, and time after. Everything would be colored by that one event. For the second instance in days, she thought of dyeing wool. There was before the dye, and after. No matter how long the cloth lasted, no matter how it faded or was stained, even if it was dyed again or bleached, it would never be the same as it had been before.
Night deepened. No doubt all that was left of the wonderful roasted pig was its delicious fragrance that still tinged the air. Candlelight shone through shutters in the upper rooms as the castle's occupants readied themselves for sleep. If they knew anything about tending children, Kiera would be abed long since. If they knew. If they cared.
Stop thinking.
Mordred leaned closer to her. Never taking his gaze off the castle, he said, softly, "Must you keep doing that?"
"What?"
"That sighing."
"I have not been sighing." Alayna propped her chin up on her hand and stared harder at the castle, willing the people to go to sleep.
Her mind skittered off, once again, in the direction of Kiera. Sweet dreams, she used to wish Kiera every night. And if she forgot, Kiera would remind her because she was often tormented by bad dreams. How many of them, Alayna wondered, really came to pass? For Kiera was a smart girl. She knew her mother didn't like to be told what was going to happen. It might well be, Alayna suddenly realized, that most of Kiera's dreams came true, but she only talked about the ones that frightened her.
She sighed, and caught a quick grin from Mordred, which was the way things had been between them before. She was about to protest that it was her first sigh of the evening, but he suddenly put his finger to his lips.
What? she mouthed.
Listen, he answered without sound, tapping his ear lest she couldn't make the word out.
A breeze rustled the leaves overhead, and the night's insects buzzed and whined and chirped. Then Alayna heard the creak of machinery, and in another moment the drawbridge started to lower.
"Galen," she called in a loud whisper.
Galen didn't budge, but the wizard approached at a half crouch and knelt between her and Mordred, forcing Alayna to make room.
"Let him sleep as long as possible," Halbert whispered. "He needs to rebuild his strength."
<
br /> She nodded her head, first in agreement, then toward the knight who rode out of Bel Bois. "Is that one of them—Edgar or Osric?" she asked, although she knew they were at too great a distance for identification.
Halbert shook his head. "Possibly Osric, but I don't think so. Sir Worthington, maybe, or perhaps Sir Payne." He shook his head again. "Edgar has three or four knights in service, I'm not quite sure how many, and I don't know them well. Edgar wears a full beard to cover scars left by the pox. Osric has much the same face, minus the beard and pocks."
All three of them ducked as the knight rode out, even though he didn't come close to where they hid.
"They left the drawbridge down," she noted.
"Were you planning a frontal attack?" Mordred asked her. "Three of us against we're-not-quite-sure-how-many of them?"
"Four of us," Halbert corrected. "I can hold my own."
Mordred made an apologetic gesture that his half-smile belied. Alayna wondered if Halbert, really, was the one Mordred had been discounting, or whether it had been her, or Galen.
"I only meant," Alayna said, mentally begging Mordred not to start an argument, not now, "that he probably will not be gone long, or they would have closed up after him."
"Probably," Mordred agreed.
"Probably," Halbert echoed.
Still, the open drawbridge was enticing, given that their plan was to wade into the fast-moving and undoubtedly cold stream, then try to scale the sheer wall with grappling hook and nerve, all between rounds of the guard.
But despite their unanimity, the night got cooler and darker, the bridge stayed open, and the knight didn't return.
Galen awoke, and he too agreed that whoever had left must be returning soon. For Bel Bois did not have the look of a place that would be careless about defenses. Alayna would have thought so even without the evidence of seeing—at regular intervals—the guard walking the battlements.
"If I had known we were going to spend the night, I would have brought my blanket," Galen grumbled. He stooped down beside Alayna, and from his borrowed clothes she caught once again the faint aroma of the herbs Halbert had used for storage, "The moon is down. I say we go now."
Mordred looked worried. "Wherever that rider went, we can count on him to return just when it would do us the most ill."
Galen said, "There's danger, too, in being overly cautious."
Mordred obviously didn't like the sound of that.
"I hate to waste the night," Alayna said, though her mind was by no means set. "It would be much easier to steal Kiera away while most of them are asleep, rather than fight our way in and out by light of day."
"I think we should go now," Galen repeated.
Halbert nodded. Which Alayna was sure would set Mordred against going. Still, King Arthur had clearly indicated that Galen was accompanying Mordred, not the other way around. And nobody had ever anticipated Halbert being in charge. She turned to Mordred. She asked, "What do you think?"
"If the three of you are determined to go in, it makes little difference what I think."
"I'm not—" Alayna started.
But Galen interrupted, "So. That leaves you covered no matter what happens."
Mordred looked startled. It was, even in Alayna's estimation, twice now in a matter of moments, that Galen had hinted Mordred was a coward. But Mordred only said, quietly, "Perhaps."
What was the matter with them? They were supposed to be friends. "Whatever is going on in there," she said, mostly to say something to get them to stop glaring at each other, "at least a squire will be waiting up."
Mordred gave her a sidelong glance, as though recognizing her diversionary tactic.
Galen, however, only nodded and said, "Does anybody have an idea how we can get him out here, without making him nervous enough to wake up the whole castle?" He was hugging himself for warmth. "Preferably while the man guarding the battlements is inspecting the far side? And preferably before I freeze to death?"
Alayna rested her hand on his, felt the cold of it. The night was cool, but not cold. She felt a twinge of dread. He never should have come. He should have stayed behind to rest, no matter what Halbert said. She regretted not insisting. Galen obviously wasn't himself.
But she could guess what Galen would say if she recommended he stay here while the three of them went into the castle.
Regrets take too much time and energy, Toland used to say. We must make the best of a bad situation.
She and Toland had certainly had bad situations, usually involving the kinds of spells Toland refused to do, or bad luck that townspeople felt he should have been able to avert from them.
What's the good of having a wizard ... old Croswell had said.
"Halbert?" she began. "My husband used to be able to make a sort of ... mist, or ... smoke, or..."
"Mist? Smoke?" Halbert's tone said his professional pride was stung. He stooped and touched the earth. Softly he began to chant.
Mordred sighed. Loudly.
Halbert glowered at him. "Preliminaries. I must warn the forces of nature that they are about to be manipulated."
Mordred smiled condescendingly.
"Surely your mother knows of such things," Halbert said smugly, reminding Alayna of the rumors that Queen Morgause of Orkney was—depending on one's point of view—a witch or a sorceress. Halbert said, with obvious enjoyment, "Didn't your mother teach you anything?"
"Celtic, of course," Mordred said, a bit too naively to be believed. "A little German."
Alayna saw the flash of annoyance in Halbert's eyes, but he spoke with calm. "A bargain," he offered: "I shall grant that you are young, but not stupid, if you grant that I am old, but not a fool."
Mordred flashed a grin. "Ah! We're talking about magic?"
"We're talking about magic," Halbert agreed.
"My mother is not one to share an advantage." Mordred wore the same sardonic half-smile that the wizard always seemed to bring out from him. "But, then, magic is not always what it seems."
Halbert gave his own cryptic smile. "Nor is life, Mordred."
"Very profound," Mordred jeered.
"Please," Alayna begged in a hiss.
Never taking his eyes off Mordred, Halbert touched the ruby pendant he wore, and simultaneously with his free hand he plucked a dandelion that had gone to seed, and blew.
Some of the seeds flew into Alayna's face, and she impatiently tried to brush them aside, but there were more than she had thought and she closed her eyes and tipped her face away because they were cold. Still they fell. Catching on her hair. Melting.
"Snow!" she whispered gleefully. "Snow in summer!" Already it was sticking to the ground and bushes.
"Impressive trick, wizard," Mordred conceded.
"Look!" Alayna pointed to the castle's portcullis. Halbert had sent a swirl of snow inside, and the amazed squire was coming to investigate. The white flakes formed a dancing halo around his torch.
Mordred silently reached for his bow.
Alayna averted her gaze, unable to watch, even knowing that this may well have been one of the men who had killed old Ned and taken Kiera. Or, at the very least, he owed allegiance to those men.
Mordred released the arrow. The squire made no outcry, but there was a faint splashing sound, and Mordred and Galen simultaneously cursed.
"What?" Alayna demanded in a frantic whisper. The squire was sprawled motionless on the drawbridge. What was wrong now?
"The torch landed in the water," Mordred said.
They waited to see if the sound would attract the guard from the battlements. Alayna didn't think he'd be able to see the fallen squire, unless he leaned over—but she wasn't sure.
Nothing. He must be watching the unexpected snow accumulate on the trees on the far side of the castle.
Without warning, Galen dashed out from the cover of the surrounding trees and ran toward the drawbridge. Halbert seemed the only one ready for it and followed on his heels. Mordred dropped his bow and was drawing his sword when
Alayna passed him.
In a moment she caught up with Galen and the wizard, and a moment after that, Mordred caught up with her. From the trees, the drawbridge had appeared much closer. All the while they ran, Alayna was very aware of what easy targets they made for anyone watching from the walls.
She had planned to look at the face of the fallen man, to see if she recognized him; but he'd landed face down on the drawbridge; and the others moved too quickly. She couldn't take the time to check for fear of being left behind.
They ran with an odd, self-conscious gait, trying for both speed and quiet. They passed the small guardroom by the portcullis, then started down a corridor.
"This will be the Hall," Halbert warned as they came to a doorway from which torchlight shone. The three men slowed.
Determined to be of some worth, Alayna didn't and shot past them. Either someone was there—and if someone was, that person would have heard their approach long since, quiet steps or not—or no one was there. She came to a dead stop only one pace from the entry, and quickly bobbed her head in, then out. She was determined to be of some worth, but she didn't want to make an easy target.
No one was in the Hall. Not exactly.
But she had, she saw, taken an incredible risk.
She turned around and hastily raised her hands, motioning frantically lest the others make any noise. She walked on tiptoe to join them.
Before any of them had a chance to offer complaint of her actions, she said, in a whisper, "There are stairs at the far end, and a second floor balcony. Someone is sitting up there, in front of a closed door. I don't think he saw me."
Halbert closed his eyes and clutched at the red pendant on his chest. "Fifth door?" he asked.
She nodded, then realized his eyes were still shut. "Yes."
"That is where she is. I can see her there. Sleeping."
It made sense. Why else would someone be guarding the room? But still Alayna felt tingly all over, just as she used to when Toland would have one of his sudden insights. She said, "We can't rush at him: He would see us the whole length of the hall, up the stairs, and down the corridor. And have time to wake up the entire household before we got there." The thought of Kiera being so close made her clench her fists in frustration.
The Book of Mordred Page 8