The Book of Mordred by Vivian Vande Velde Page B

come take their horses. Still, Alayna wasn't fooled by his meek manners. Denis might be in charge of the castle's stores, but he looked no more like the overfed, lazy steward of her father's estates than Galen did. And, for a moment, comparing his voice to one burned into her heart, Alayna thought he
might
have been one of the knights she sought: the one who had snarled, "Find the whelp." Then they swung off their horses, and Sir Denis turned out to be barely as tall as she—a good head shorter than any of the intruders.
    They followed him indoors to the Great Hall. "I will summon Sir Halbert," Denis said, with a slight bow. He backed out of the room, still bowing, which might have been courtly manners—or suspicion, a reluctance to expose his back to them.
    Alayna inclined her head in acknowledgment and forced a smile, reminding herself that these people might be innocent, no matter Mordred's conviction.
    The room was large, with two entrances on the far wall, besides the one through which they had come. Heavy tapestries covered the walls. They were much richer than those at any of her fathers estates, and not as well chosen or tasteful as what shed seen at Camelot.
    She moved past a picture of a dragon, quite striking in reds and golds, then paused in front of an intricately worked hanging obviously based on Greek themes. Shed studied it for long moments before realizing that in the background, behind the dancing women in white kirtles and the men playing flutes and drums, among the trees there was a human sacrifice taking place: a youth bound on an altar, with tiny stitches of red thread signifying his blood. She put her back to the weaving in time to see Galen rub his upper arms and glance nervously to each of the three entrances.
    Mordred had been checking behind the tapestries—Alayna could only presume to learn whether anyone was lurking behind—but he finally seemed satisfied that they were truly alone in the room, and at last stood still.
    Alayna sniffed. Somebody was burning incense. She sighed impatiently and hoped that whatever was coming would come quickly. She wanted to scream Kiera's name.
    A door opposite the one by which they had come in opened. The man who entered was powerfully built, a man of about her fathers age, dressed in a dark blue velvet gown. He looked over the three of them twice before settling on her. "My Lady Alayna," he said with a bow, his voice indicating surprise and curiosity just beneath the polite manners. "Sir Mordred, so charmed to meet you again. Sir Galen."
    "My Lord," the three of them said in unison.
    His voice was like a coating of cream on the surface of heated milk. "Castle Burrstone is honored by your presence." That was either empty politeness or for Mordred's sake, Alayna thought. He couldn't have had any idea who she and Galen were.
    Unless, of course, he knew exactly who they were.
    But Halbert continued to smile at all of them, and he said, "You, of course, are most welcome to my humble home, and you are welcome to share all I have for as long as you may be in the vicinity. Yet,"—he smiled broader still, showing white, even teeth—"yet, I hope I can say without causing offense that I wonder why three such illustrious young people would choose to leave the glamour and excitement of Camelot for this quiet, modest corner of the land."
    Illustrious?
Alayna thought. That was a bit excessive.
    His eyes kept going back to her—but that may have been because of her outlandish clothing.
    "We are on a quest," Galen said with the faintest of smiles, a sign Alayna recognized as tension.
    Halbert put on a look of polite interest and absently stroked the pendant he wore around his neck, a crimson jewel. It was probably worth a year's income from the smallest of her father's estates—which was not so very small.
    "My sister is searching for her daughter."
    Halbert turned to look at her with a concerned frown.
    Alayna's hand had found its way to her sword