The Book of Mordred (9 page)

Galen's breathing seemed frighteningly shallow, but Halbert insisted she should not be anxious about it.

Not be anxious. Alayna couldn't get her hands to stop shaking.

Thank God, she thought over and over, that Mordred had been wrong about Halbert. Thank God that Halbert didn't hold a grudge for the awful, accusatory way they had spoken to him before ... Before.

Halbert summoned servants to ready a room and to carry Galen to it. Several of the wizard's men-at-arms hovered about the area; of course they had come—hearing the sounds of fighting and of servants frantically summoned—but the archer who had struck down Galen was not among them.

All the while, Halbert apologized with every other sentence he uttered, assuring Alayna and Mordred that he had never—ever—given his men orders to attack; that even if they somehow misunderstood something he had said, they should have known enough to seek clarification because he had never—ever (again!)—ordered them to harm anyone; that he would seek out the archer in question to see if anything could be learned from him since—obviously—something was very much amiss that Halberts guests should be attacked as soon as he turned his back.

"I would that I could question Sir Denis," Halbert said, wringing his hands as the servants settled Galen into the bed that had been hastily prepared for him, "for now I very much wonder at the manner in which he came to be in my service."

Mordred looked up sharply at that. "He was only recently with you?" he asked.

"Very recently," Halbert stressed. "And now I wonder if there is some connection between that and the matter about which you are here. A strange coincidence, otherwise."

"Yes," Mordred said, drawing out the word as though he thought ... With Mordred, it was always hard to tell what he thought. "Perhaps," he suggested, "it would be best if the archer were to be questioned in the presence of all of us."

Alayna's breath caught. What was the matter with him? He had seen how Halbert had healed Galen. How, then, could he still mistrust the wizard? Had she been standing closer, she would have been tempted to kick him.

Halbert looked startled. He had to know what Mordred was implying. But, all meekness and ever agreeable, he simply nodded. "If you so wish." He turned, and one of the men-at-arms stepped forward.

"Barth," that one told Halbert. "It was Barth did it. He has already reported to the captain of the guard."

"Bring him here," Halbert ordered. He gestured for all the men-at-arms to leave them, along with the servants who were no longer needed.

That left only one of the serving women, who had just brought in a bowl filled with water and a linen cloth. "Shall I, my Lady?" she asked. "Or will you?"

Alayna indicated she would take over. It was something to do with her hands. She dipped the cloth into the bowl and wrung it out, releasing the tart smell of peony root and yarrow. Gently she wiped the sweat and dirt off Galen's face—Shouldn't the cool water cause him to stir?—then folded the cloth and draped it across his forehead. Should he still be so pale?

While they waited for the summoned archer, Mordred pulled up a stool and began to busy himself with Galen's armor, cleaning off the blood.
Cleaning off the blood.
Now Alayna could think those words, could see the damaged equipment without cringing, could know, as surely Mordred must also, that in truth the breastplate was beyond repair and would need to be melted down and reforged if anyone was to ever wear it again. Now Alayna could acknowledge the blood, and that it had been Galen's, but now he was all right. And Kiera was all right, too—she must be, seeing as how they had made it so far. Soon they would have her back and then everything—everything—would be all right. Please God.

Halbert stood looking out the window, having finally run out of apologies, of words.

There was a clatter in the hallway, then a knock on the door. The guard who had been sent to bring the archer entered, and with him the archer himself—who immediately dropped to his knees and said, all in one breath, "Pardon, my Lord, I didn't know, I was only following orders, and I thought they were your orders, I didn't know Sir Denis had taken it upon himself, he said that you said, and I didn't know he lied."

Halbert no longer acted the pompous, self-pleased host who had greeted them, nor the shaken, near-to-babbling penitent who had begged them to believe his innocence in this matter. His restrained anger showed in the paleness about his mouth and nostrils. "What," he demanded in a voice Alayna would have dreaded to face, "are you talking about?"

The man, Barth, bowed, for all that he was already on his knees and close to groveling. "Sir Denis," he repeated, as though that explained all.

"What about Sir Denis?" Halbert asked.

"He said they"—he jerked his head in the direction of Mordred and Alayna and, beyond them, Galen—"would be coming."

Halbert looked in their direction, puzzlement and distress evident on top of his anger. "By name?" he asked incredulously.

"No, your Lordship. He just said 'people.' He said 'enemies of the lord wizard.' He said he would give us a signal. Or you would."

Halbert narrowed his eyes at the man. "
When
did he say all this?" he demanded. "Between the time they arrived and—"

But Barth was shaking his head. His voice was quavering. "A week ago."

A week ago—Alayna thought—was even before Kiera had been taken.

Even Halbert, who didn't know that, was dubious. "
A week ago?
" he repeated. "Denis has only been in my employ for a fortnight."

Barth said, "Then, when I heard the sounds of fighting, when I looked and saw Sir Denis dead and you nowhere to be seen, I feared—"

Halbert made an impatient gesture. "Go. You are dismissed."

The man scrambled to his feet, still bowing even as he backed toward the door. But he hesitated and asked, "By 'dismissed'—"

"From service," Halbert clarified. "I do not want men in my employ who take another's orders and do not question them even if they go contrary to everything you have ever heard from me. Go."

"Yes, your Lordship," the man said, backing out of the room. "I beg your Lordship's pardon."

The guard who had fetched him also exited, closing the door behind him.

"So," Mordred said evenly, as though resuming a conversation started only a moment before, "tell us how Sir Denis came to be seneschal of your estate in two short weeks."

Halbert said, "My former steward died, suddenly. By mischance..." He paused, considering, weighing, and then finished, "Which, now, I realize may perhaps not have been chance at all." He paused again, as though in reflection, and Mordred said, "And Sir Denis...?"

"Denis," Halbert said, "was recommended to me by my nephew Sir Bayard."

"Oh, Bayard," Mordred said.

But what it was Mordred knew, or thought he knew, he didn't share, and after waiting a long moment, Halbert opened the door of the room and gestured for one of the servants. To Alayna and Mordred, he continued, "And I find it inconceivable that Bayard would recommend a man such as Denis proved to be." To the servant, Halbert said, "In my room, among my papers, is an opened letter from my nephew that bears a seal of red wax with the impression of three ravens, arranged in a row. This should be near the top of the papers. But look you farther down in the drawer also for any other letter from Bayard. Fetch and bring both letters here." Once more to Alayna and Mordred, he said, "We will see if this is truly in Bayard's clerk's hand, and if it is Bayard's seal."

Mordred turned from Halbert as though to look out the window. As far as Alayna could tell, he was sulking and being stubborn, not wanting to admit he was wrong. For how could Halbert be evil, how could he be against them, if he had ... She had to admit it: He had raised Galen from the dead.

The servant came back, bearing two letters. Halbert took the papers and, holding one in each hand, set to scrutinizing them.

"Ah!" he cried in a moment. "Look you here." He handed one of the papers to Mordred. He poked at the blob of sealing wax. "Do you see how—"

Alayna was leaning around Mordred for a closer look when he gave a startled cry as the page burst into a thousand red sparkles. He jerked his hand back as though to drop the paper, but it had already disappeared.

Halbert stepped back with a startled oath.

"Are you injured?" Alayna asked, for Mordred was looking at his hand the way someone might after touching a hot kettle—in the moment between realization and pain.

"No," Mordred said, but he rubbed his hand against his leg.

"Are you certain?" she asked, demanding his attention rather than letting her mind settle on what she had just seen.

"I am unharmed," he said testily, but still without conviction.

"There is magic involved here," Halbert said.

"No!" Mordred gasped. "In a wizard's own home?"

His sarcasm and provocation finally needled Halbert into annoyance. "Not
my
magic, you fool. I was about to show you." He held up the remaining letter. "The ravens here are exactly straight because that is the way they are embossed on my nephews seal. What I was about to show you with the other letter was that the ravens did not line up. Someone drew them into the wax separately, by hand. That letter was a forgery. Bayard never did send Denis here."

"So," Mordred said—he was still rubbing his hand as though it tingled or burned—"someone with enough magical power to destroy the forgery, but not enough magical power to create a truly convincing forgery, arranged to have Denis here ... Why?"

"Probably something to do with you." Halbert nodded to include Alayna.

"Oh, aye, probably," Mordred said.

This time, Alayna did kick him, the side of his foot, anyway. Halbert may not have seen that, but he had to hear her when she told Mordred, "He's trying to help. Somebody has hurt
his
household, too, killed his former steward, misused his trust." She found herself picturing Halbert's former steward as looking like old Ned, whom she had not yet had time to mourn. She said, "It would also explain why Galen acted so strangely in Halbert's Hall. He was bespelled."

But all Mordred said was "Perhaps," and he turned away from both her and Halbert.

"Why," Halbert asked, "did you come here? You said your daughter was missing..." He glanced from Mordred to the bed where Galen yet lay, entirely still. Not quite a statement, not quite a question, he finished, "You thought I had her."

"Yes," Alayna admitted.

"Why?"

"Because..." She took a deep breath and just said it. "Because she has magical ability."

Halbert's eyebrows shot up.

"We thought a wizard might seek her because of that."

"There are a number of wizards," Halbert pointed out. But he didn't question why they had chosen him. Alayna was going to tell him that other parties had gone out to question other wizards, but before she had a chance to he said, "And one of them, apparently, is my enemy, too." He looked from her to Mordred. "I have a scrying crystal," he said, which he had already told them—it seemed so long ago. "I will get it. I will bring it
here,
"—he emphasized the word, and he looked at Mordred while he said it—"where you can watch me use it. We shall see, together, whether we can find this poor, lost child. And learn who is trying to get to
me
through her."

As soon as Halbert left the room, Alayna turned on Mordred. "What is the matter with you?" she demanded. She bit off what she'd been about to say, that he was acting almost as unreasonably as Galen had in the Great Hall.

Mordred looked at her with that infuriating impenetrable expression.

Galen was alive—despite all reason. And a wizard was going to help them find Kiera. They
would
succeed. They would, she knew it. Yet there was a little voice that intruded on her feeling of well-being, that insisted,
What now?
Desperate to still that voice, she said, "He looks better, don't you think?"

"Yes," Mordred admitted—grudgingly, she thought, reluctant to be in Halbert's debt.

He stepped over to the bed.

"Let him sleep," she started, just as he leaned over to prod Galen. "He needs to gather his strength."

"Galen," Mordred said.

In any case, Galen gave no sign of reacting.

Mordred looked annoyed: She couldn't tell whether at Galen or at her. He said, "You know—"

But just then the door opened, and Halbert came back in. He had what appeared to be a jagged piece of quartz. It had the shape, roughly, of a short, squat, squared-off candle, rising from a jumble of candle parings. The upright portion was clear, the rest milky. This he set down on the chest at the foot of the bed. Then he came to stand by Alayna. "Still asleep?" He touched Galen's shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. She was willing to let him try, because he, better than she or Mordred, knew the limits of the healing spell he had performed. "Sir Galen," Halbert called.

Galen groaned and turned slightly. Alayna was so relieved, she almost missed his words. "The girl..." he mumbled, "get the girl..."