Filed To Story: The Knight and the Moth Book PDF Free by Rachel Gillig
“He’s only just been chosen by the knights. Surely the nobles in the hamlets will want to meet him.” Two’s back was straight, a pupil desperate to impress her tutor. “How can they respect a king whom the Omens frown upon?”
The abbess came into the room. Chose my mattress over the others and sat next to me upon it, her fingers soothing knots from my hair. “Do not trouble yourselves with the world beyond our wall. Kings come and go. Benedict Castor is not worthy of respect, or even mention. The politics of the hamlets, and the crown that answers to them, do not touch Aisling.”
She said our creed. “Swords and armor are nothing to stone.”
There was nothing to do after that but to agree. But I couldn’t scrub Rodrick pissing Myndacious from my mind.
You know of the Omens and signs and how to look down your nose at everyone, but nothing of what really goes on in the hamlets. Nothing of the real Traum that awaits you the moment your tenure is up.
The abbess finished combing my hair. “The gates will open in an hour for Divination. One. Two. Three. Put on your robes and meet me in the cathedral in twenty minutes. Four, Five”-her voice warmed-“Six. Assume your usual tasks. Join us in the cathedral after the twelfth bell.”
She placed her hand on my cheek, then moved to the other Diviners and did the same, gifting us her affection.
Then she was gone, taking her gargoyles with her.
“Last time I let you drag me out all night, Four.” One pushed to her feet. “I’m a worn-out rag-“
I was out of bed, throwing on my chemise and overdress, practically knocking One over to get to the door before her. “I have a proposition.”
“Offering to dream in my place?” Three muttered. “Great. I accept.”
I pulled in a breath, suddenly wide awake. “How much longer is our service?’
“Two months, thereabouts,” Five answered.
“Forty-nine days,” Two corrected.
I kept going. “The abbess says not to concern ourselves with what’s beyond the wall, but our ten years at Aisling are almost over. And I want to know what it’s like out there. I…” It was uncomfortable, proposing we break the rules. Maybe that idleweed had destroyed all my good sense. “I’d like to leave the tor.”
I could feel their eyes prodding at me from behind their shrouds. “Sneak out?” Five asked, incredulous. “All of us at once?”
“Well, well, well. The abbess’s favorite, gone rogue.” Four clapped her hands. “I’ve been trying to convince you shrews to do this for years. I say we go to Coulson Faire and have a proper evening of debauchery.” She launched out of her chair. “I’m ready. Let’s leave right now.”
“Keep your underpants on,” One said. “We can’t miss Divination. The abbess will send the gargoyles after us.”
“Then we’ll go after dark.”
“You want us to leave at night?” Five was all limbs in her animation. “What about sprites? Or thieves, or, I don’t know-bad weather? It might rain.”
“People leave Aisling at sunset and walk to Coulson Faire in the dark all the time without being assaulted by sprites,” Two said, pragmatic as always. “Ergo we should have no trouble doing the same. If there are thieves, they’ll be sorry to learn we have nothing worth stealing. If the weather is bad, it’s a good job we’ll be wearing our cloaks with hoods to hide our faces.” She gave Five a pointed look. “Any other concerns?”
Four nodded vigorously, like it had been she who’d made the winning argument. “Yeah!
Ergo.”
One’s attention was still on me. “Not like you to want to break the rules, Six.”
I kept my face even. “I’m capable of having fun.”
“Who said you weren’t?”
Five kept frowning. “Really-six strange women in cloaks is hardly a disguise. What if someone corners us, demanding to look beneath our shrouds?” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s not safe without an escort.”
“We’ll take a gargoyle,” Four countered.
“Because that won’t be conspicuous,” Three muttered.
I looked out the window, finding the pitched roof of the dormitory. “Hold tight. There might be someone else who could escort us.”
I hurried down the stairs, out of the cottage into the cool morning air-
And ran headlong into the batlike gargoyle.
“Ahh, Bartholomew. You’re looking less green around the gut this morning. I’ve brought your tools.” In his hands were a hammer and chisel. He shoved them at me. “Come, come. The abbess has requested that we mend the south wall.”
“‘Green around the gills’ is the proper expression.” I peered over his shoulder. “Are the king and his knights still here?”
“Unfortunately, yes. They are partaking in breakfast.”
“Good.”
I left him on the path, my fingers wrapped around the hammer and chisel, hurrying to find the foulest knight in all of Traum.
It was still the breakfast hour, and the commons door was open. Strewn about in clusters, knights ate off tin plates. Many were already clad in armor. Or perhaps they’d never shed it.
One knight choked on a mouthful of rye bread as I approached. He elbowed the man next to him, the word
Diviner a searing whisper on the breeze.
Heads turned-conversations halted.
I surveyed the crowd, frowned, then pushed into the commons.
There were more knights inside, seated at the tables or standing in a crooked line at the counters fixed with food. A few lingered by the hearth, but none near the feline gargoyle with human hands who cooked the food over the fire.
I sliced my gaze across the room. One of the wooden tables had been moved to the far side of the commons. At it, seated between Maude and the king, mouth turning in a sneer that was growing more familiar by the second-
Rodrick Myndacious. That boar.
I drew air into my nostrils and marched forward.
King Castor saw me coming, his porridge spoon halting halfway to his mouth. Maude’s brows shot into her hairline. “Did someone call for a Diviner?”
“Pardon the intrusion, King Castor,” I said, steeling myself. “I need a favor.”
“Oh-of course.” The king wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled toothily, like a nervous dog. “What can I do for you, Diviner?”
“Not you, Your Majesty.” I pointed my chisel at Rory’s chest. “Him.”
The bastard didn’t bother lifting his gaze from his breakfast. “Awful demanding this morning, Number Six.” When he noted my tools, Rory bit the inside of his cheek. “I see you’re armed.”