“Newt asked. “No.” Gerard didn’t even bother to shake his head. He was staring at the road ahead of them with more concentration than the flat path deserved. He didn’t have to ask who “they” were. The adults. Camelot. “No.” Ailis mulled over the word. “I don’t think so, either.” Not that anyone could have found them to tell them the news, if they had. She was riding a horse now—an unnamed, rangy, torn-eared roan gelding with white-rimmed eyes. It looked uglier than a toad, but Newt had picked it... out that morning from the others that the local farrier was willing to sell, having sorted through the herd with a practiced eye. Gerard hadn’t wanted to spend the coins, since they only had what the squires had been able to pool together, but riding double was slowing them down too much, and the mule flat-out refused to carry any more weight in addition to their supplies. They’d been away from Camelot heading northeast for two days now, following Gerard’s map to the nearest of the sigil-marked locations.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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