Free LANCE OF TRUTH by KATHERINE ROBERTS

against my cousin, then I’ll joust against him myself!”
    Lancelot’s men glanced at their leader. Some of them grinned at Rhianna.
    “I’m not joking,” she said. “
I’m
not afraid.”
    Lancelot sighed. “I don’t blame you for thinking I’m a coward, Princess. Believe me, I’d gladly die a hundred deaths and let the Wild Hunt take my soul, if it would save your mother’s life. But you being here changes things. I can’t risk duelling against Mordred with a broken lance, and once he finds out you’ve got Excalibur you’ll be in rather moredanger than her. So I’ve got to stay alive for the time being, because you’re not going to get very far in these parts with only Soft Hands, a squire and two unmounted guards to look after you.”
    “Don’t forget me and Arianrhod,” Elphin said.
    Rhianna gave her friends a grateful look. “Have you brought the Lance of Truth with you?” she said, getting impatient.
    “I kept it, of course. It’s outside on my horse’s saddle. But it’s not a lot of use now, I’m afraid, not since… it splintered.” He seemed about to say something else, but frowned at the fire instead.
    Sir Bedivere sighed. “It was your own fault, Lancelot! And now we’re all paying for it. The king’s sleeping in Avalon awaiting rebirth, while barbarians rampage unchecked up anddown the coasts, and the Saxons are more or less in residence in the south. Meanwhile, as if we haven’t got enough problems, Mordred’s got Guinevere and his greedy eyes are on Camelot. You’re going to have to do some fast talking when Bors and Agravaine get up here, I’m warning you now.”
    “You wouldn’t understand,” Lancelot said tightly. “You’ve never loved a woman, have you, Soft Hands?”
    Sir Bedivere flushed.
    The two knights glared at each other. Rhianna hoped it wouldn’t come to a fight. Sir Bedivere would probably come off worse, and she felt a bit sorry for him, having made him come after her through the stones.
    Then Elphin’s harp rippled out of the shadows, making the fire flame brighter. “I thinkI can help,” he said.
    Everyone looked at the Avalonian boy.
    “As I see it, the problem is with the Lance of Truth being broken,” he said. “If Sir Lancelot carries the working lance, then no man can best him – true?”
    “No man except King Arthur,” Sir Bedivere muttered.
    Lancelot ignored this. He gripped Elphin’s slender wrist. “Can you mend it?”
    “Maybe. If I have all the pieces – and if my wrist isn’t broken so I can still play my harp.”
    Sir Bedivere’s lips twitched as Lancelot quickly let Elphin go. “It needs a new shaft,” the champion knight admitted. “And there’s a bit missing off the head. I’m not sure how much. It splintered – I kept all the pieces I could find.”
    “It’s certainly worth a try,” Sir Bedivere said. “Gareth, go and fetch Lancelot’s bag.” Gareth cast a hostile glance at Elphin and ducked out into the night, muttering under his breath about being too old for squire’s duties.
    Rhianna eyed her friend. “Can you really mend the Lance of Truth?” she whispered. “And if you do, will it help Sir Lancelot kill Mordred?”
    Elphin’s eyes whirled violet. “I don’t know about killing Prince Mordred. But it’s one of the Lights you need to bring your father back, isn’t it? It won’t be as simple as sticking a jewel to a sword’s hilt, but I’ll do my best.” He readied his harp for the second time that day.
    The men who had ridden with Sir Lancelot grumbled about needing sleep, not entertainment, and those who had followedRhianna through the stones sighed at the mention of more magic. But Gareth emptied the pieces from the bag into Elphin’s lap and stared a challenge at the Avalonian boy.
    They all looked tired, Rhianna thought. Surely it couldn’t be that easy to mend one of the four Lights? They should take it back to Camelot and find Merlin, maybe wait until midwinter again, when magic was at its