24

“My word, that was a close shave!” sighed Albert as he dried Igraine’s wet armor in front of a magic fire. “And all your cat’s fault, too. He kicked up such a fuss in your room that I let him out, but Father didn’t want him eating any more knight-fish — because after all he’s planning to turn them back into men again once this stupid business is over — so I locked the gate! How was I to know you’d be coming back that way?”

“All right, all right,” muttered Igraine, pushing a strand of dripping hair back from her forehead. “No harm done.”

They were sitting near the main gate in one of the turrets on the battlements. Bertram and the Sorrowful Knight were on watch up on the wall, but at the moment, all was calm outside the castle. Perhaps Osmund was tired of letting Albert make a fool of him, for the time being — or alternatively he was sitting in his tent thinking up a few brand-new nasty tricks. Whatever the reason, Igraine was glad of the silence.

“We had a terrible fright when Bertram came back without you,” said Albert, undoing a knot in the tail of one of his mice. “Luckily he remembers magic spells better than you do, and he got the stone lion to open its mouth. When we heard about the fix you were in, your friend the sighing knight had the idea of distracting Heartless’s attention by making his challenge right away, to give you a chance to escape. And it worked. But jumping into the moat like that …” Albert shook his head. “You’ve always been so impulsive, little sister.”

“You’re right.” Sighing, Igraine shook a tiny fish out of her shoe and threw it through the window and back into the moat. “I’m sorry about the dragon skin.”

“Don’t worry,” said Albert, blowing the magic fire out. “The water snakes will fish it out.”

They were just imagining what their parents would turn Osmund into — currently Albert favored the idea of throwing him and his castellan into the moat as a pair of particularly fat fish, and then letting Sisyphus loose on them — when the Sorrowful Knight hesitantly joined them.

“So the lance really was enchanted?” he asked.

Igraine nodded. “Oh, yes. But Albert’s powder put out the green glow. So you’ll have your first fair fight with him this evening — and I’m going to be your squire!”

Albert rolled his eyes and left them alone without another word. The Sorrowful Knight, however, folded his arms and looked down at the place that Osmund’s men were preparing for the single combat.

“You would be an excellent squire, no doubt about it,” he said. “And I thank you with all my heart for the offer, but a knight without honor can manage without a squire, too. Truly, you have shown quite enough proof of your courage. And your brother and your parents will need you this evening.”

“Not half as much as you will!” replied Igraine, picking a few water-lily petals off her armor. “You can talk as much as you want, I’ve made my mind up. I’m going to be your squire whether you like it or not. There’s nothing you can do about it! I’ll hand you your lances, catch your horse if she throws you, make sure Osmund doesn’t go casting any spells — and if the Spiky Knight tries any nasty tricks,” she added, as her lips began to tremble, “then … then I’ll push him off his horse with my own hands. I will, as true as you can call me Fearless Igraine. Because we’re friends. Aren’t we?”

Once again the Sorrowful Knight looked down at the tilting ground where he was to fight the Spiky Knight, and for a moment Igraine thought she saw something like a smile on his lips. “Yes, we’re friends,” he said, “and what I call you is Brave Igraine. So you shall have your way. You will be my squire, and I’ll try to prove myself worthy of your service.”