over his shoulder, but still he did not speak.
âWhat is wrong?â I asked him.
âNothing.â
Ongwynn let off plaiting my hair and turned to peer at him. He set the last square of peat in place, stood, straightened his shoulders and spoke to her.
âIf all is well here,â he said quietly, as if speaking of a bucket to be mended or a hare to be skinned, âIâll be leaving.â
The words went through me like a spear. I leapt to my feet. âThomas, no!â I cried before I realized it was not my place to speak.
Morgause spoke out of turn also. âLeaving? But Thomas, what for?â
He kept his eyes on Ongwynnâs face, and to this day I am not sure whether he was speaking to her or to us. âIt is not fitting that I should remain here.â
And already in my heart of hearts I knew well enough what he meant. I had not yet experienced the monthly courses of a woman, and my breasts were just beginning to bud, but I felt the ache in me and I hoped he felt it too. I knew.
âNo,â I bleated like a child. âThomas, no, stay, you must stay here with us!â
âHush, Morgan.â Lumbering to her feet, Nurse laid her palm upon my dewy, half-plaited head. âThomas is right.â To him she said, âWhere will you go?â
He shrugged, and gave no other answer.
âHave you no home?â
He shook his head. âLike the youngest son of the poor nobleman in the old tale,â he said, trying to joke, âI must venture forth to seek my fate.â
âFortune,â Ongwynn corrected him, and leaving my hair half-dried and half-dressed as it was, she set about packing him a bag of provisions as if the word fate meant nothing to her. But it froze me into such a misery of fear for him that I could barely move, for I remembered: The midwife who had birthed Thomas, who might have been such a wise woman as Ongwynn herself, had said he was fated to die ... I could not bear to think in battle, to remember the blind head on a pike like a scarecrow over deathâs ghastly garden, so I went numb. I sat on the hearth, hugging myself and watching the others as if watching reflections in water, hearing them as if they were very far away, without much comprehension.
âGive me no more than I can carry,â Thomas was telling Ongwynn. âIâll leave Annie with you.â
He was giving away his most precious companion. He saw death before him. I knew it. Andâwhat could I do? Could I change his fate with the milpreve? To heal Ongwynn, I had somewhat promised to submit to my fate; was Thomasâs fate part of mine? I did not know, I did not understand enough, I was not strong enough; I could do nothing. I could not move even to cry.
âThomas, no,â Morgause protested. âYou donât have to leave Annie, you need her! How will youââ
âIâll walk.â
âButââ
âIâm not trying to be noble,â he said with a hint of exasperation. âIâve outgrown her, thatâs all.â
âBut youâll miss her!â
I wished she had not said that. It made him wince.
I do not remember whether he replied, or how. Time became a sharp stone that skipped, rippling the watery images before my eyes. Thomas was saying his good-byes. Ongwynn reached upâThomas was that tall nowâand took his head in both her hands, blessing him.
âProtector, thank you for everything,â he told her.
âYou will meet with dangers,â she said as levelly as if speaking of the weather.
âI know. I will be wary.â He turned and hugged Morgause, then walked over to where I was sitting andâ
I donât know what I was expecting or hoping for. A kiss? A pledge, a token?
He reached down and tugged one of my braids as if I were a child.
My chill misery heated in a flash. Fit to breathe fire, I leaped to my feet, yelling at him, âStop it! Let me alone! Go on, get
Matt Christopher, Stephanie Peters
Christopher Knight, Alan Butler