expression that cast shadows over my eyes and made my teeth seem terribly pointy and threatening. There were feathers and a spot of blood on my chin.
This didn't upset me. Much. It was best to look dreadful before the Knight, given my feelings toward him. Newt had forgotten my hat, and my hair, long and silky and shining even in the faint light, was draped over my shoulder as if on display. It was a lapse I never would have made, but Newt was new to the art of looking witchly.
Newt spit flecks of bone. 'I'd wondered where he'd gotten to.'
The Knight handed me over. I missed his touch the moment it was taken away. Out of his arms, I had no reason to remain in Newt's feathers. I undid the magic, and our minds returned to their proper bodies. The demon in Newt's mind united with the essence in his flesh, and he instantly threw up. He was kind enough to turn his head away.
'Are you certain he's well?' the Knight asked with genuine concern.
'He's part demon,' I said.
'Possessed?'
'No, not possessed. But there is a dab of demon in him. Enough to make him sick in the presence of true virtue.' I gave Newt to Gwurm. He strolled away, carrying Newt a comfortable distance from the White Knight's vomit-inducing virtue.
There was no way to gracefully retreat. I disregarded politeness without excusing myself and ducked into my tent. The conversation carried on, but I was too busy tending to my appearance to listen. I tucked my hair under my hat and pulled the brim low as it would go. Then I rubbed dirt over my grimy face. I should've hid until the Knight went away, but I didn't have that much sense. I stepped out, keeping my head down and eyes on the ground.
'My sincerest apologies for your duck, good woman,' said the Knight. 'I thought I was helping the poor creature.'
'It's the thought that counts,' Sunrise said. 'Might we know your name, good sir?'
'How impolite of me.' He took her hand and bowed. 'I am Wyst of the West, Defender of the Weak, Destroyer of the Foul, Sworn Champion of Decency, Avowed Foe of Evil.' He bent lower to touch his forehead to her hand. 'And I am honored to make your acquaintance, miss . . . ?'
'Sunrise. And you've met Newt. The troll is Gwurm.'
My broom tapped Sunrise's shoulder.
'Oh, yes. This is Penelope.'
I could only see the Knight's boots. They turned in my direction, and the heels clicked together. 'And you are?'
'She has no name,' Sunrise replied.
I called upon my best mysterious whisper. 'Does the wind need a name? Do the stones or the stars or the trees? To name these things is both foolish and unneeded. Putting a name to them doesn't make them be any more than they already are.'
I allowed myself a small smile. I sounded very much like Ghastly Edna at that moment.
'How very true.' He bowed, but I didn't offer my hand. 'And very witchly.'
The compliment reddened my cheeks. I turned my back and felt those tingles that seemed only to be growing stronger despite my best efforts.
'Could we reward you with something to eat?' Sunrise asked.
'I eat only bread.'
'Some tea then?'
'I drink only water, and I really must get back to the fort. There are grave matters I must attend to.'
'Of course.'
Wyst of the West, Defender of the Weak, Destroyer of the Foul, Sworn Champion of Decency, Avowed Foe of Evil, bid us a pleasant evening, bowed once more, and started back to the settlement proper at a brisk walk.
'You were right,' Sunrise observed. 'He isn't exactly handsome. Not in an obvious manner. But the features of his face combine subtly in a very pleasing fashion. It's better than handsome because handsome can fool you. Most anyone can be handsome in the right circumstance, but a pleasing face only gets better the more you look at it.'
Penelope twirled and somersaulted through the air in agreement. I was glad to know that this was not merely my imagination.
'Why were you trying to get him to stay?' I said.
'Just trying to help. You may be a very fine witch, but when it comes to romance, you have less experience than most children.'
I started to protest, but she had none of that.
'I won't argue the point. You may be privy to forbidden secrets, but I know a few secrets myself. This is greater than both of you. Any notions you entertain otherwise are merely wishful thinking. Now what did you learn?'
I told of the approaching gobling horde and how the White Knight had come here to lead the men of Fort Stalwart against it. My thoughts were elsewhere though. Not on the Knight, but on Sunrise's words. It took a half hour of contemplation before I grasped their true meaning. By then, she'd finished her last cup of tea and was setting off to work.
'Did you say, greater than both of us?' I asked.
'Yes. Couldn't you tell?'
'Tell what?'
'Oh, dear nameless witch, you didn't notice, did you?'
'Notice what?' I felt vaguely annoyed.
She laughed. My embarrassment caused me to blush, something I seemed to be doing often lately.
'Why Wyst of the West, dear. He's smitten with you as well.'
9
I didn't steep that night. Another of my undead gifts was a talent for borrowing vigor against future rest. The longest I'd ever gone without sleep had been a week. I could have easily gone longer, but Ghastly Edna had ordered me into bed. I'd slept for two weeks, so soundly not even magic could wake me. She'd warned me then to watch myself. It would be easy to slip into a habit of staying awake for years, then slumbering away decades. As with all her warnings, I took it seriously, but I just couldn't make myself go to bed. I stared at the fort and thought of Wyst of the West in lustful, unwitchly ways.
I thought of the gobling horde too. It was a contradiction in logic. Goblings did not amass in hordes. They were a voraciously carnivorous species. Anything a gobling catches-including other goblings—it eats. There had to be some magic involved in this, and as the witch of Fort Stalwart, it was my duty to get to the bottom of it.
Mostly though, I thought of the White Knight, his warm, lean body intertwined with mine, how his dark flesh would taste, his eyes, and those oh-so-delectable ears that so needed a good, long nibbling.
In the morning, I went to the fort to see Wyst address the soldiers. Gwurm and Newt accompanied me. We were early, and while we waited for the men to wake and assemble, I explained the contradiction inherent in a gobling horde.
'Hold a moment,' Newt asked. 'If goblings eat everything, including other goblings, how do they reproduce?'
'They're asexual,' Gwurm replied. 'Every week or so a gobling squats and lays a gooey blob that grows into another gobling. Providing the original doesn't eat the glob, which they often do.'
Newt puckered his bill. 'Disgusting.'
'They're foul little creatures. Far be it for me to slander an entire species, gods know we trolls have suffered from that practice, but I've yet to run across one that didn't need killing.
'I visited a city in the Wastes once. They had gobling fights. They'd throw a pair in a large cage and take bets which would consume the other. Gruesome spectacle. I only watched once. That was enough. The two fiendish little beasts twirled about in a slavering, hissing, blood-spurting blur. A few seconds and it was over. That match was a draw. There was nothing left of either but a scrap of wing and puddles of yellow blood.'
