‘I arrived here a fortnight ago,’ said Orson. Even his voice had changed. It was lower now, quieter. ‘I’ve mostly been on the road since … since I left Darkhaven.’
‘Why did you leave? If you gave Whimsitt a reason, he never shared it with us.’ Isobelle was watching him intently, giving little sign she found his transformation as startling as Gwen did. But Gwen could see that her knuckles had whitened around the handle of her tankard.
‘I didn’t feel it was right to stay,’ Orson replied, looking towards the door, as if contemplating a bid for freedom. ‘I … I am not the knight I believed myself to be. I thought perhaps the road might show me a different path.’
Isobelle glanced at Gwen, a faint query in her eyes. Gwen understood the question – if Gwen didn’t want Orson here, Isobelle would get rid of him. Gwen’s eyes moved back to Orson. He looked the way someone might look if they’d been tossed into a dungeon for a few months. She looked at Isobelle and shrugged, reaching for her drink.
Fortunately, she remembered its taste before bringing it to her lips.
Sylvie had been watching Orson in silence, her face unreadable, her keen eyes unwavering. Now, she broke her silence. ‘You said you arrived here two weeks ago. Why have you stayed?’
Orson glanced at her, finding her a somewhat safer place to look than at Gwen or Isobelle. ‘Well … they were in need of a champion. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see the Lady Dragonslayer arrive,’ he added, a wry quality in his voice that verged on bitter.
‘So you’ve noticed it too?’ exclaimed Isobelle. ‘How odd this town is, how strange its people act? We thought it might be some kind of spell or curse.’
‘Curse?’ Orson echoed, startled out of his brooding contemplation of nothing whatsoever. ‘There’s no such thing as curses. No, I meant the monster.’
Gwen felt a tingle run down her spine. ‘Monster? You mean, there really is a sea monster?’
Orson’s brow furrowed. ‘I haven’t seen it myself, but I’ve heard the rumours. You didn’t notice the empty ocean,how none of the boats were out fishing or traversing the harbour?’
Gwen sighed. Just because Orson had heard rumours of the monster’s existence didn’t prove that existence was real. Lord Bingleton probably started those rumours himself to draw Gwen here, before taking the direct approach with Lord Whimsitt and simply paying him for Gwen’s patronage.
‘Right,’ she said, abandoning her disgusting cocktail and getting to her feet. ‘No doubt it’ll be a big fish that tore up someone’s net, or a seal someone glimpsed sliding back into the water.’
The others were on her heels as she stalked out of the Paladin’s Rest and into the red-gold light of sunset.
‘Wait, Gwen—’ Orson’s voice had lost its low gruffness, and he reached out to take her arm.
‘Don’ttouch me.’ Gwen heard the sharp-edged bite in her tone, saw Orson’s eyes widen as he recoiled. ‘We’ve been running into this all over the place since the dragon,’ she told him, forcing herself to keep walking. ‘Isobelle and I have been summoned to every backwater town that’s heard the story, only to find, every time, some entirely mundane explanation for their claims.’
When Orson would have protested, Isobelle spoke quickly. ‘It’s true, Orson. Muddy dogs, obnoxious neighbours, oddly shaped tree stumps in the wrong light. We’ve seen it all. Turns out genuine monsters aren’t as common as you’d think.’
Gwen cut through the alley between two buildings and emerged at the edge of the docks, where she drew her sword. More than a few of the townsfolk had turned up, following her impetuous rush out of the taproom.
‘Why else would Bingleton have summoned you here if not to deal with a monster?’ Orson protested, coming to a halt beside Gwen, who stood before the pier, scanning the water.
Beyond the boats tied up there, the ocean was calm, gilded by the setting sun.
Gwen sighed and turned to face him. ‘Because he wants me to sign off on his plans to make this a travel destination. You know, “the Lady Dragonslayer stayed here and loved it”, that sort of thing. It happened to us last week, there was this couple who wanted me to appear at their wedding …’
She trailed off, her eyes moving from Orson’s face to Isobelle’s. They wore twin expressions, their eyes no longer on Gwen, their mouths falling open, their bodies rigid. Beyond them, the ring of spectators was not much different. A few of the townsfolk turned and ran.
Behind her, Gwen heard the sharp crackle of splintering timber. Quietly at first, like the docks creaking against a wave – but then growing, growing, a series of pops that echoed off the houses that surrounded the harbour.
Gwen whirled around in time to see an entire ship shatter and fold in half, vanishing below the surface with a huge spray of water. A cry went up from the spectators asthe droplets fell and soaked them, but Gwen found herself rooted to the spot. She stood, dripping, sword in hand.
A huge reddish shadow beneath the water shifted and then flitted away, out towards the open sea.
A pair of hands came to cover hers on her sword. Isobelle spoke, her voice quivering with excitement. ‘Well, now we know why everyone’s acting so weird. There reallyisa sea monster here.’ She brushed at the spots of seawater staining her gown. ‘I wish I’d known to stay out of the splash zone.’
Slowly, Gwen sheathed her sword, her eyes on the spot where the thing, whatever it was, had vanished. For the first time since she’d faced down the dragon, she must take up her sword in battle again.
How long she stood there, her hand clenched around her sword hilt, she could not have said. She only came back to herself when she felt Isobelle’s hand slip into hers.
‘Looks like you get to do what you do best,’ Isobelle said, her blue eyes shining as she squeezed Gwen’s hand. Despite her excitement, there was a faint question in her eyes.
Gwen could understand Isobelle’s hesitation as clearly as if the other girl had spoken aloud.
