The fey’s look of horror intensified.
The man plunged another paddle into the water, giving off a cloud of steam like a dragon’s breath. “Picking up or dropping off?” he asked again, in a cheerful bellow.
“Neither,” the fey said, and fled.
The woman stayed outside the tent, to ward off any more interlopers with the terrifying child, while the man went around to the other side of the table, where Pritkin had already scrambled out. And pulled open the back flap of the tent, to look out over the open space between the towns.
“All right, then, Myrddin?” he asked.
Pritkin nodded. “Thanks to you.”
“Glad t’ help. But they’ll be back, when they don’t find anythin’ elsewhere. Best be gone by then.”
“Can you glamour?” I asked.
Pritkin shook his head. “Not now. Not for two.”
“Not two. One.” I pulled my hood up. “I’m going to the castle—”
“The castle?”
“I need to see Morgaine.”
“Why?”
“To ask her about the staff. She was the last to have it—”
“And why do you want it?”
The question was as hard as the hand suddenly wrapped around my wrist. I looked down at it in confusion. “Does it matter right now?”
“Yes!” He looked at me, green eyes searching. “The king caught up with me, after you disappeared, at a camp in the forest. I think he would have killed me, if there hadn’t been three or four covens’ worth of witches around!”
“I’m sorry—”
He shook his head. “I got away. But he is convinced there was a conspiracy between us to steal the staff. Either that, or that you were using me to get your hands on it for some nefarious purpose he won’t talk about—”
“And you believe him?”
“I don’t know what I believe! I saw what you did. I saw you save those children, back at camp, and then I saw you get taken by those . . . those magic workers. And then the king said—” He stopped abruptly, his eyes on my face, searching. “I don’t know what to believe,” he repeated. “But you’re not getting out of my sight until I get some answers!”
I licked my lips. I couldn’t tell him—he knew too much already. But I couldn’t not tell him, either, if it meant sitting here until the fey caught up with us. And he would—he was absolutely that stubborn.
“All right,” I compromised. “I’ll tell you what I can. But not here.”
“Where, then?”
“I told you.” I looked up, at the distant gray towers. “I need to get in there. Can you help?”
Pritkin thought for a moment, his eyes on the castle. And then they switched to something coming down the main road, next to the theater. The one leading to the walled city.
I couldn’t tell what it was; too much dust was billowing around. But I guessed Pritkin could. “I have a way in,” he told me. “But you may not like it.”
“Trust me. If it gets me in, I’ll like it.”
Chapter Forty-nine
I didn’t like it. “Are you sure there’s no other way?” I asked, frowning.