“What about it? Simply refrain from getting killed. I’m sure even you can manage that much.” Merulo’s hair fell into his face, an oily curtain that draped to the stained pages of his ancient book.
I felt ill. Had he not enjoyed my presence here, as a cleaner, a companion, a co-conspirator?
Perhaps he tired of my silent dawdling, for the sorcerer shut his book with a snap. “I have errands to run in town. By the time I return, I expect to find you gone.”
I stood open-mouthed, wanting to protest but not knowing what exactly I was objecting to. He didn’t give me time togather my thoughts, but stalked from the library without another word, and was gone.
It took me less than an hour to pack. From under my cot, I retrieved the tattered remains of my trusty linen dress, and folded it reverently. Gareth’s sword, I buckled around my waist. I restored the curtain I’d been using as a blanket to its original wall. Then, changing my mind, I tore it back down again. In the kitchen, I loaded it with food and tied it into a little bag to carry over my shoulder. “My curtain now,” I said.
After some consideration, I also packed my spare dress. I could barter it for room and ale, the latter of which would be sorely needed.
Throughout, I hoped to see the flash of construct eyes, the stuttery turning of their heads as they tracked me, but all the castle servants moved past me blindly. Merulo was not even bothering to watch me leave.
With nothing left to do but go, I stood unmoving in the hall that led to the courtyard. We’d had a fight, yes, but we’d fought before.
“I’m objectively hot, and a massive catch!” I shouted in frustration. “And what’s his side of things? That I’m ruining his suicide?”
The bundle over my shoulder already felt heavy. I turned back and forth, indecision spinning me in place like a bottle, until something clicked.
“Too bad. If he wants me gone, he can drag me out himself. And I’ll cling to every wall and doorframe on the way.” Let him live in a castle with my scratch marks winding through it, the bastard. When had I ever been obedient? And now I was marching out to, what, humour one of his fits? Absolutely not!
I’d feel a bit stupid unpacking my scarce belongings, but the sorcerer would come back, and we could communicate,properlythis time. It would be alright.
Things could still return to how they were.
In the hall ahead, the air split. A circular glyph unfolded, its detailed edges resembling lace. A transport portal. For a single joyous instant, I thought it was Merulo, regretting his words and returning early.
Then the dark blot in its center materialized into a crouching elf, and I felt death close around me.
“Oh. Hello, Glenda.”
CHAPTER 23
In Which My Past and Present Have Collided in a Most Unpleasant Way. In Which I Have to Act Fast, or Something Terrible Will Happen to Me. In Which, through All the Screeching in My Head, I Understand with Horrible Clarity that There Is Nothing I Can Do but Wait for It to Happen.
Not even the burliest of knights can go five minutes against a thin-boned elf girl.
I didn’t last one. Glenda barely materialized before she was bounding down the hallway to grab me. Her hand closed about my wrist like an iron shackle. I wasted my last moment staring down at her stupidly as she strong-armed me through the closing portal.
We emerged in a church with a high tapered ceiling, resplendent on all sides with scenes of stained glass. In one quick motion, Glenda unsheathed the sword from my waist and stepped backward.
Knights crowded this place of worship, but I ignored them in favour of the largest stained-glass window, a depiction of God’s Descent in a mosaic of interlocking colours. Lightstreamed through it, splintering into a fantastical rainbow where it fell upon the checkered floor.
The sight should have brought me comfort. I’d grown up under God’s many eyes. They’d watched me from the illuminated pages of my family bible, from the carved wood of our church altar, and from stained-glass displays much like this one. God was integral to my upbringing, His shape as familiar as my brother’s hens.
Now, looking at the tentacled mass, the eyes that sprung from irregular locations like teenage acne and the red halo of light that kept Him in perpetual silhouette, I felt as the sorcerer must. As though I looked upon an intruder, foreign to my understanding. For the first time in my twenty-five years, I looked up at God and felt only dread.
“Sir Cameron,” a voice called.
I turned to see a white-robed Elder walking at an unbothered pace between the assembled knights. As if I’d entered the church on a whim, and she just happened to recognize me.
She came to a graceful stop before me, unblemished robes gathering at her feet, and smiled with true kindness. “Despite your actions, we are not without mercy. We thought to give you a chance to pray to God in His holy house. To ask forgiveness, and ready your soul for its journey.”
Perfection!I’d recite the longest prayer in my memory, until the knights were rolling their eyes and begging permission to drag me out in chains. She’d offered a precious gift: time for Merulo to notice my absence and rush to my aid with a swarm of constructs.
Why, then, did the thought sicken me?
“I appreciate the offer,” I said, barely registering the words as coming from my own mouth. “But me and God aren’t on speaking terms right now.”
