Sir Amik noted his sudden unease and sought to calm him.
“Your coming here at this time is surely fated, my aged friend,” he said. “I would have your opinion on a matter of which we are unsure. A weapon has come into our hands in the most exceptional circumstances-a sword we believe to be made of adamant. Would you be willing to examine it, to confirm or deny our suspicions?”
Doric nodded without hesitation.
And following an order from Sharpe, Theodore left the room at once.
As the young man walked swiftly across the courtyard he could feel the excitement in the air. He felt eyes focus upon him from high windows and shaded arches. He could feel the jealousy of the younger knights, who envied the fact that fate had dropped the girl into his life, and his subsequent adventure to and from Taverley. It wasn’t that the town was far from Falador-many of the squires and all of the knights had been farther afield-but the existence of the monster had given his short journey an adventurous tone that few of theirs could equal.
He saw the longing looks of the young peons, and in them he noted a different light-an aspiration, an increased willingness to be more like him. But he noted too the jealous looks of his fellow squires. To them, he had always been seen as the hardest worker, and recent events would most likely turn their envy into anger.
He knew his life would be more difficult from that moment on.
The excitement that permeated the castle was enhanced by the fact that the mysterious girl had awoken, lending a breathless fever to all who crossed his path. One old knight, whom Theodore held in high regard as the ideal of restraint and humility, glanced at him with open curiosity.
“She’s awake, is she?” he asked the squire.
“Yes, sir-so I’ve heard.”
The old knight pulled on his moustache in excited thought.
“What can it herald?” he mused aloud. “There is a meaning to this mystery, Theodore, I know there is!”
The squire bowed in acknowledgment of the knight’s experienced words before continuing.
The excitement had also seized Theodore. He tried to resist it, but couldn’t. As he retrieved the sword from the armoury, wrapping it in a dark cloth under the watchful gaze of the duty guard, he decided to take a different route back to the interview, one which would take him directly past the ward.
He stepped rapidly as he descended the steep spiral staircase that wound itself inside the tower. His footsteps were louder than he would have liked, as if the stone were intent on betraying his presence. As he turned a corner he caught sight of two peons he knew by name, keeping a secret vigil outside the doorway in case any person left it open long enough for them to catch a sight of the mysterious girl who lay within.
“Be on your way Bryant! I expect better of my peons!”
The peon farthest away fled immediately, but the boy Bryant stood his ground.
“I am sorry Squire Theodore. We meant no harm.”
Theodore nodded. Bryant was one of his twelve charges, and it was his duty to coach them in the best traditions of the knights, looking after their physical and spiritual needs. He had tried hard with Bryant-more so than with any other peon-for the boy was neither dexterous nor strong, and often he would lag behind the others in their exercises. But he was popular nonetheless, for his great strengths were history and lore, much as Castimir’s had been when they were children together.
He was imaginative, clever, and quick-witted.
Still, Theodore often doubted if it would be enough. Knights had to be fighters first and thinkers second.
“Everybody is talking about her, Squire Theodore,” the peon stammered. Theodore knew Bryant was right. The thought of the girl and her identity was irresistible to him, as well.
Theodore drew a long breath and put his hand on Bryant’s shoulder.
“I can’t fault you for your curiosity Bryant. I would be a hypocrite if I did so. But skulking in shadows and passageways is not a habit I wish to see continued. Have you said your midday prayers?”
The peon nodded.
“Then I have a task for you. Go to the stables and ensure that my mare is being adequately looked after. And make sure she has enough hay. It’s scarce enough in this winter and I suspect that Marius’s peons have been taking more than their share for his animals.”
“Yes, Squire Theodore.” The boy ran from him quickly, no doubt glad of so slight a reprimand.
Finally, when he was alone, he put his hand gently against the the door to the ward.
It wasn’t locked, and swung open with ease.
She was there, in her bed. The sunlight was broken into bright shards by the high windows and it played upon her sheets, lighting her face.
For a long moment he watched her, not daring to move. Then her dark eyes opened and she stared at him in silence, her gaze unmoving.
“How do you feel?” he asked, the words feeling awkward in his suddenly dry mouth. He knew she could speak the common tongue, since she had done so upon her arrival. As far as he knew, however, no one had been able to convince her to talk since.
“It’s you.” She spoke slowly, as if she hadn’t done so in a long time, yet there was an excited tone in her voice that made Theodore step forward instinctively.
“I was on the bridge the night we found you,” he acknowledged. “I carried you here.” The blood pounded in Theodore’s head. He couldn’t think straight.
“I remember,” she said. “I was dying.” She blinked slowly and shivered slightly. Her blonde hair fell across her face and she raised a bandaged hand to wipe it back so that she might see Theodore more clearly.
He was about to speak when the matron’s song reached his ears, echoing down the ward toward him. She was singing one of the many nursery tunes that she claimed had finally revived her patient. The squire tried to leave before he was discovered.
But the girl would not let him. Her dark eyes would not release him, and he stood rooted to the spot, as though she had worked some unknown enchantment on him that surpassed the most powerful magic that even Castimir could summon.
“Theodore?” The matron’s voice was sharp and accusing. “Leave here at once, young man! The patient is not fit to be disturbed.”
That broke the spell. The squire bowed immediately and backed away, still unable to turn from the girl’s dark gaze.
“Thank you, Theodore,” she said as he retreated, and he thrilled at the sound of her voice speaking his name. Then her head fell to the soft pillow, her eyes closed again, and she seemed instantly asleep.
As he passed through the door the matron followed him and clicked it firmly shut behind them, careful not to awaken her charge. Then she turned and fixed her eyes on the squire.
“What have you done, Theodore?” she asked angrily.
“Nothing!” he protested. “She woke when I opened the door-that is all!” Theodore felt guilty. He had done nothing wrong save go into the ward, yet he felt as if he were lying. He could feel the hot flush on his face and could not meet the matron’s stern gaze.
“She’s never spoken before,” the matron said. “This is the third time she’s been awake, and no one has been able to convince her to say a word.” The woman’s face was red with anger. “I shall inform Sir Amik of this shortly, after I have tended to my patient. Who knows what damage you may have done.”
She re-entered the room, slipping through the gap so that he could not see past the door. As soon as she had shut it, he heard a firm
Theodore strode across the courtyard, his head bent low toward the ground-so much so that he did not notice the shadow that barred his way until he was within an inch of colliding with its owner.
He looked up, startled, and immediately knew that he was in trouble.
It was Marius, standing a full head taller and with his arms crossed.
There was a long-standing rivalry between the two squires. Marius was expected to rise to the height of his profession, yet Theodore-with his monkish adherence to duty-had advanced more quickly and had been entrusted with the trip to Taverley.
“Well, Theodore,” he said, “it seems you’ve attracted a lot of attention. Rescuing damsels and stalking monsters… You’ve become quite the hero!” His tone was openly mocking.
