The Silver Key

by Emery Gallagher

  Griffin followed her easily.

  Annoyed, she urged Mystic faster and faster until they were galloping. But eventually the horse was breathing heavily, and she had to slow down. She turned her head slightly to see Griffin a few yards behind her.

  “What exactly did that accomplish?” he wanted to know.

  “It expressed my anger at you,” she grumbled.

  He caught up to her. “Look, I’m coming. Would you rather I follow you like I was before, except now you know I’m somewhere nearby; or would you rather I ride with you, so at least you know where I am all the time?”

  It was a difficult decision. She didn’t want his company, but she didn’t like feeling like she was being spied upon either. “For how long?”

  “What?”

  “How long are you planning on following me?”

  “Until our paths diverge, I suppose.”

  “Fine,” Charlie said at last. “But ride behind me so I don’t have to look at you, and don’t speak to me.”

  Griffin snorted but did as she asked without arguing. Every time she glanced back over her shoulder for the next few hours, he was still several yards behind her, patiently following.

  * * *

  “Here,” Charlie said, pointing.

  Griffin shook his head. “It’s at the bottom of a hill; it will flood if it rains. It’s flatter over here.”

  She shook her head at the place he indicated. “That’s too close to the road and too exposed. Besides, I can tell by the sky that it won’t rain tonight.”

  They had been arguing about where to make camp for an hour. At last they managed to agree on a well-sheltered place far away from the road and along a trickle of a stream.

  Charlie was far from happy about having to share a camp with him, and she made no attempt to hide it. She didn’t want to be around him at all, and she definitely didn’t want to share a camp with him overnight. She didn’t believe he had any intentions of hurting her, but her privacy felt a little invaded just by having him so close. He was also disrupting her regular routine in every way he could. She had always been stubborn about getting her own way, and weeks of being alone and allowed to make all of the decisions had only fed her inability to compromise. Not that Griffin was much better at it—he even fussed about the way she stacked logs for the fire. She responded by throwing a stick at him and yelling that he could do it himself.

  Arms crossed, she watched as he carefully arranged logs in the pit she had dug to keep the grass from catching fire and packed dry leaves and twigs under the logs for kindling. Then with a roll of her eyes, she went to check on her horse. When she looked back a moment later, the fire was already crackling merrily, like it had been burning for an hour. Griffin was still kneeling next to it with his hands on his knees, looking at her.

  “Well,” he said suddenly. “What shall we eat?”

  After a dinner in uncomfortable silence, Charlie slipped away into the trees. When she looked back over her shoulder, Griffin was watching her with that strange, serious look that made her uneasy. He didn’t speak or make any move to follow her, so she shrugged away the feeling of his eyes on her and walked until she couldn’t see their fire anymore.

  She assumed Griffin would think she had slipped away for privacy, and she had, if only to think and to be away from him for a while. She sat in the dark for a long time carefully turning over all the facts and details of her little green-eyed problem, considering the dangers he posed to her trip. He was curious about where she was going and excellent at ferreting out information through casual conversation. She wasn’t sure what he could, or would want to, do if he did find out, but she was not going to wait to see. She pulled her map out of her shirt where she had tucked it earlier while Griffin wasn’t looking. There was still time until she reached the next location marked on her map. She could lose Griffin by then. She only had to lower his guard a little, then sneak away. Not the first night—he’d be too watchful—but she’d bide her time and wait for the right opportunity.

  When Charlie returned, having sulked by herself long enough to think up a few plans, she found Griffin busy attacking a stick with a carving knife.

  “What are you doing?” Charlie asked boredly as she rolled out her bed, gesturing to the piece of wood and carving knife.

  “Whittling,” he said simply.

  “Whittling what?” she inquired when it became clear that he was not going to elaborate further.

  He shrugged. “Just whittling.”

  She went back to making her bed and pointedly ignoring him. As she began pulling her boots off, she felt him looking at her. Sure enough, when she looked up, he had put the knife away and was watching her again.

  “What?” Charlie demanded, exasperated.

  Griffin held up both hands like he had no idea what she meant.

  “You were watching me again! Would you stop staring at me?”

  “I’m not staring at you,” Griffin said, mildly surprised by her outburst. “I was looking at you because I was about to speak to you.” His expression said clearly that she was being quite irrational and emotional, something to be expected from a girl who shouldn’t be wandering about the country on her own.

  Charlie sucked in a breath and held it, trying to regain her calm. She would not give him the pleasure of frustrating her. “Well, what were you going to say?”

  “I was just wondering where we were going tomorrow,” he explained, giving her a pleasant smile.

  “We? I didn’t know ‘we’ were going anywhere,” Charlie replied acidly.

  “Fine.” He dropped the smile. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m not going to tell you.”

  Now Griffin was working just as hard to maintain his composure. “You know not telling me isn’t going to make me not come.” She didn’t answer. “All right,” he sighed. “Looks like it will be a mysterious adventure. Looking forward to it.”

  Charlie shrugged her indifference. “I’m going to sleep.” It was already dark, and she wanted an excuse not to talk to Griffin anymore. She felt uncomfortable crawling into her bed with him so close by, like having a stranger in her bedroom even though they were outside and she wasn’t undressed. His presence seemed to take up an abnormal amount of space in her usually neat, compact camp. She took a lot of extra time re-braiding her hair, arranging her sword within easy reach, and rearranging the blankets without looking to see if he was watching her. She passionately wished he would go away.

  Griffin stood up. “I’ll put the fire out.” He tossed his own bedroll down on the opposite side of the fire from hers, then turned to smother the remains of the fire with dirt. Halfway through he looked up at her, still sitting on her bedroll instead of lying down. He rocked back on his heels for a moment, the last flickering flames casting sinister shadows on his face. “Charlie, you’re not afraid of me?” he asked quietly, his eyes dark and serious.

  “Of course not,” Charlie snapped, but her voice had an embarrassed quiver in it.

  “Good,” he said, looking down as if realizing his gaze was making her uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t want you to think you had anything to fear from me.” He finished extinguishing the fire, and the night was suddenly very dark .

  As Charlie lay down, she listened to Griffin moving around. After a moment her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she could see the lump he made under his blanket across their little camp. She pulled her own blanket up over her nose and took a deep breath to settle her thoughts. She was angry with him for pointing out her obvious vulnerability; he was much stronger and better trained than she, and he could have easily overpowered her. She had never believed he would hurt her, but she didn’t like being reminded that she was the weaker person in any situation. Worse, she was also uncomfortably grateful that he had quietly and discreetly told her that he had no ill intentions toward her, even if telling her meant hurting her pride by reminding her that she was at the mercy of his chivalry.

  She shook off the uncomfortable thought a
nd began reviewing her various plans in her head, looking for solutions. Any answers she may have concocted faded away as she fell asleep.

  * * *

  Traveling with Griffin turned out to be as big of a nuisance as Charlie had anticipated. He was always, however innocently, in her way. Just as she had developed an exacting routine for unpacking, setting up camp, caring for her horse, and repacking the next morning, Griffin had his own system for doing those things, and he did them all with military precision. She might have appreciated having a traveling companion so industrious and conscientious if she didn’t keep bumping into him trying to do everything.

  She had woken early the first morning after Griffin joined her with a sense of foreboding, trying to remember what was out of place. When she turned her head and saw the curly-haired knight asleep on the other side of her campsite, all of the previous day’s quandaries came flooding back. Griffin was lying on his back with one arm stretched comfortably above his head, looking perfectly innocent and not at all like an annoying man who forced his unwanted presence on traveling girls. Not ready to face him, she gathered her things quietly and walked down to the stream to change and wash up.

  When she returned, Griffin was awake and looked as alert and composed as if he had been up for hours. He had already rolled up his bed and started a fire. He was watching her approach with the same level, unreadable look he had fixed her with the previous evening, and she hated him passionately for it. Without speaking to him, she sat on her makeshift bed and began to dig through her bag for breakfast.

  “Do you want porridge?” Griffin asked abruptly. “I can make some porridge. I have a pot.”

  “No,” Charlie said.

  Griffin stood, produced the pot from a saddlebag, and left to fill it with water. Charlie ate a piece of bread and a rather shriveled apple and brooded over how best to divest herself of her new companion. Griffin made his porridge and ate it, while Charlie wandered back to the stream to avoid him. They finished packing up the camp and watered and saddled their horses in silence. When they had mounted, Griffin looked at her expectantly.

  “Well, where are we going?”

  “Go away,” Charlie said bluntly.

  A slow grin spread across his face. “Nope.”

  With a sigh of exasperation, Charlie turned her horse eastward and rode on, trying to ignore her new shadow on his black destrier.

  The next few days were uneventful. Griffin refrained from questioning where they were going and simply followed Charlie, who in turn quit demanding he go away and simply pretended he wasn’t there. They set up camp when and where Charlie demanded, and they both gritted teeth and bit tongues when facing the inevitable arguments about how things ought to be done. Griffin criticized her cooking so often that she let him prepare all of their meals while she disappeared every evening to sit with her bow and pretend to hunt, if only to be alone. Griffin also insisted on building the fire each evening, and she allowed him to do that as well while she gathered kindling from the forest floor. She was distant and quiet but didn’t bother to argue or pick fights with him because she wanted him to believe her resigned to his company so he would let his guard down. The few attempts at small talk that were made ended quickly in prolonged silence.

  They were making use of the road slightly more now that Griffin was riding with her. Charlie reasoned that if she was stuck with him, she should at least use his intimidating presence to her best advantage. No ne’er-do-wells would dare confront him or, by extension, her. People stepped politely to the side when Charlie rode past; they all but threw themselves off the road and hid when they saw Griffin coming. He was an imposing figure on his big, black warhorse, but more than that, he had a way of setting his jaw and half-closing his eyes that made him look dangerous to cross. On their fourth day riding together, they happened upon a roadside inn and hostel. It was nearing dusk and starting to drizzle, and Griffin suggested that they stay the night.

  “You go ahead if you want,” Charlie said. “I’m not going in there.” And I’ll definitely be gone in the morning when you come out, she added silently.

  “Why not?” he asked. “It doesn’t look too bad. The sign says they serve dinner.”

  “I never stay in inns,” she said uncomfortably. She was picturing a place full of suspicious characters leering at her, unhygienic beds slept in by strangers, and lots of fleas. Her mother always said inns had fleas.

  “Never? Would you really rather sleep outside in the rain than stay in an inn?”

  “Well, no,” Charlie retorted. “But it’s hardly safe for me to stay in one. A girl alone attracts unwanted attention. People would ask questions about me. And I get enough questions from you.” She glared at him, freshly aggrieved that he was still with her.

  Griffin considered this. “I guess I can see that it might not be good for you to go in if you were alone,” he conceded. “But no one will harass you if you’re with me. You might even be able to order a bath if they have a tub,” he coaxed. “And I’ll pay.”

  “What about the fleas?” she asked doubtfully.

  “What fleas?”

  “Inns have fleas.”

  “Not all of them. And there are worse things in life than fleas. Come on—I’m getting soaked when we could be warm and dry.”

  “I’m not stopping you from going in,” she pointed out. “I just don’t want to go with you.”

  He looked annoyed. “You know I won’t go if you don’t come with me. If you’re going to insist on sleeping on the wet ground, I’m staying with you.”

  Charlie thought for a long moment. She wasn’t at all interested in staying in the inn, no matter what enticements Griffin was touting, but it occurred to her that this might be an opportunity to sneak away from him. Instead of sleeping a few yards from each other, they would be sleeping in different rooms. She could wait until she was certain he was asleep, then leave. He might be able to track her and catch up with her, but she’d have a head start.

  “All right,” she said at last. “But you have to do all of the talking, and I’m keeping my hood up. I don’t want anyone to notice or remember me.”

  “You’re odd,” Griffin told her. “But all right. And with your cloak on, I’m sure everyone will think you’re a boy, which I’m assuming is what you want. Come on.”

  Charlie followed him to the inn and waited while he spoke to the hostler. She kept her head down as she handed over her reins and took her saddlebags, blanket, and longbow in her arms. She followed Griffin inside and stood in the dark entryway while he went to make arrangements with the inn keeper. She could hear raucous laughter and chatter from the common room, and a wave of nervousness washed over her.

  Griffin returned and gathered up his possessions from where he had left them. “Come on, I got you a room all to yourself.”

  The large, open common room with its big fireplace and tables for dining took up must of the lower floor. The staircase to the rooms above rose out of the middle of the common area. Charlie followed Griffin up the stairs, imagining the eyes of everyone sitting at the tables downstairs boring into her back as she went. Griffin led her to a room at the end of the hall.

  “Here’s yours,” he said, pushing the door open for her. “And I’m right next to you.” Their rooms formed the back corner of the building, and his door was at a right angle to hers. If he was awake, he could definitely hear her walking by. Fortunately, she had already established that he was a very heavy sleeper. He followed her into her room and gave her a key when she had put her stuff down. “Keep your door locked. People will steal the dirt off your boots if you let them. Do you want to go down to dinner?”

  “No,” Charlie said at once.

  He didn’t argue. “I’ll have them make us a tray.” He left, shutting the door behind him.

  Alone, Charlie looked slowly around the room. It was small and poorly furnished, with just a bed, a shelf, a table barely big enough to hold a wash basin, and a single chair. She peeled back the faded blanket on
the bed and eyed the linens with dread. She didn’t see any fleas, but maybe they were hiding. Never mind that—she wouldn’t be sleeping in the bed anyway. She was still standing in the middle of the floor not touching anything when there was a soft thumping at the bottom of the door as if someone were kicking it. She cracked the door open and saw Griffin, both hands occupied with a loaded tray. She opened the door to let him in.

  “Bad news,” he told her. “No bathtub to be had.”

  Charlie couldn’t imagine feeling comfortable undressing here, so she wasn’t too disappointed. She moved the wash basin to the floor so Griffin could set the tray on the little table, and he went to fetch the chair from his room. They ate in silence, and Charlie felt strangely grateful for his company. She felt a little out of place here.

  “Anything else you need?” he asked when they were done eating.

  “Is there a privy?”

  “It’s downstairs, and it’s disgusting. Just use the chamberpot.”

  “All right.”

  Griffin told her goodnight, reminded her firmly to lock her door, and left. She heard his door shut a moment later.

  With a sigh, Charlie settled down to wait. After about an hour, she cracked the door to listen. There was still noise coming from the common room, and she had to walk past it to get to the front door. She closed her own door again and went to look out the window. Still raining. She paced for a bit, sat down for a while, then paced some more. When she was certain it was nearing midnight, she cracked her door again and this time heard only a murmur or two. That was probably as good as it was going to get. If she waited too long, she wouldn’t get a decent head start on Griffin.

  Charlie put her cloak back on with the hood pulled up, gathered up her things, and gently eased the door open just wide enough to slip out. Leaving the door open, she took a few tentative steps down the hallway, soft-footed as a cat.

  The door to Griffin’s bedroom swung open suddenly, and Griffin stepped into her path, startling her speechless. “And where are you going?” he asked pleasantly, his eyes hard.