Tuesday dawned bright and windy. Doors and window shutters rattled, and drafts whistled through gaps. William crawled out of bed, tired after another bad night’s sleep. Fleeting images of beating wings had chased through his dreams, and the dark outline of a monstrous bird had perched on the broken rafters of the church, its harsh cries filling the air. Several times he had woken suddenly and had lain there, listening, heart pounding in cold terror, with no idea what it was that had broken his sleep. He went about his work in heavy-eyed silence. Lack of rest made him clumsy, and he quickly fell foul of the equally tired cook when he dropped a water jug and it smashed into pieces on the kitchen floor.
“Clear that up,” Brother Martin growled, landing a stinging blow across the back of William’s head.
“Give me a chance, then,” William snapped.
The monk’s bloodshot eye widened and his lips curled in the snarl of a mad dog. His big hand bunched into a fist, and he drew back his arm. William ducked just in time, but the monk’s hand kept going until it hit the wall, and he let out a yell of rage and pain.
William was out the door and halfway across the yard before the monk knew he’d gone. He wasn’t looking where he was going and ran full tilt into Prior Ardo, sending the monk flying. Brother Gabriel was behind the prior and broke his fall, but there was nobody to stop Brother Gabriel from landing heavily on the cobbles. He lay there, winded and dazed.
Brother Martin, hot in pursuit of his kitchen boy, tripped over Brother Gabriel and grabbed the prior to stop himself from falling, only to bring the prior crashing to the ground with him. William stared in horror at the three monks floundering in a heap at his feet.
The commotion in the yard brought people running to see what had happened. Reynaud the stonemason and Brother Stephen helped the monks to their feet. William looked from the furious prior to the even angrier cook and felt an overwhelming urge to turn and run. Before he could do so, Brother Snail was there. The small monk stood between William and the others and tried to calm everyone down.
“The boy meant no mischief, Prior. I saw what happened, and it was a simple accident.”
“Get out of my way,” Brother Martin snarled. He made a grab for William, but Brother Snail stood his ground.
Shadlok, who had been working with the stonemasons, walked over to stand beside William. He said nothing, but simply folded his arms and stared at Brother Martin, his gaze chillier than the brisk March wind whipping across the yard. The cellarer took a step backward. An angry flush of color mottled his face, and he watched Shadlok warily.
“Enough,” the prior said loudly. He seemed to struggle with the impulse to take William by the scruff of the neck and shake him until his teeth rattled. Instead, with a visible effort, he said, “Brother Snail is right. It was an accident. The boy does not deserve to be beaten for that.”
Brother Martin scowled at the prior’s mild words, but held his tongue.
William was as surprised as Brother Martin by the prior’s leniency. Normally Prior Ardo was all in favor of the redeeming qualities of a sound beating, and he had never taken William’s side against one of his monks before.
The prior glanced around. “Well? Haven’t any of you got anything better to do than idle here in the yard?”
There were a few raised eyebrows as people went back to their work. With a last glare at William, the cellarer stumped back to the kitchen and slammed the door behind him.
“You are no longer needed in the kitchen,” the prior said, staring coldly at William. “From now on, you will work with the stonemasons or with Brother Snail or Brother Stephen.” As if he felt the point needed to be made, he added, “Stay away from Brother Martin.”
William nodded and tried to hide his delight.
Prior Ardo turned to Brother Snail. “It might be as well if the boy slept in your workshop for now.”
William opened his mouth to protest. He couldn’t sleep in the hut, away from the safety of the abbey walls. But then he thought, It isn’t any safer inside the walls.
“Yes, of course, Prior,” Brother Snail said.
The prior turned back to William. “Find Master Guillaume and ask him what you can do to help.”
William watched the prior walk away with Brother Gabriel limping along beside him.
Brother Snail gave William a reassuring smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. William knew the monk was worried by the thought of him being alone in the hut at night. “It really is for the best if you stay away from Brother Martin for now, Will.”
Something in the monk’s voice hinted that there was more to William’s banishment from the kitchen than met the eye. “This is about more than a broken pot, isn’t it?” William asked with a frown.
Brother Snail hesitated, then sighed and said, “Brother Martin has been having nightmares these last few nights. About you.”
“Me?” William stared at him in astonishment.
“The prior knows about the bad dreams, and he most probably feels things will settle down if you are away from the kitchen for a while. Brother Martin is tired and his temper is short, so it’s probably for the best.” Brother Snail patted his arm. “You will be far more comfortable sleeping in my workshop, I am sure.” The monk turned to go, but looked back at him with a gleam in his eye. “But don’t break too many of my jugs or bowls, will you?”
William grinned. “I can’t make any promises.”
William waited until Brother Martin left the kitchen for vespers before fetching his mattress and blankets and his spare clothes. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He hadn’t realized until that moment just how much he had come to loath working alongside Brother Martin. He hefted his bundled belongings more securely in his arms and, without a backward glance, set off for Brother Snail’s workshop. In an odd kind of way, it almost felt as if he was going home. Shadlok and the hob were sitting by the fire when William reached the hut. The hob had taken William’s flute from its hiding place and was trying to play a tune. Shadlok was watching him with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. William carried his bedding over to a corner of the room and dumped it on the floor.
“You are sleeping here now?” Shadlok asked.
William nodded. “Brother Martin doesn’t want me in the kitchen anymore.”
“You can share the floor by the fire with me,” the hob said, looking very pleased with this turn of events. He laid the flute across his knees and grinned up at William.
“Thank you.” William grinned back.
“What did you do to anger Brother Martin this morning?” Shadlok asked.
“I dropped a jug.”
Shadlok looked surprised. “He tried to kill you just for that?”
“He’ll use any excuse to beat me,” William said tightly. He was quickly coming to hate Brother Martin.
“I could put a curse on him,” Shadlok said. There was a glint in his eye, and William wasn’t sure if he was being serious.
“What kind of curse?”
“Whatever you want,” he said, shrugging. “I could turn him into a fish or make his hands shrivel to stumps. I could make him fall asleep and not wake again.”
William smiled uncertainly. “You could really turn him into a fish?”
Shadlok nodded. “Just say the word and it will be done.”
“Or a frog,” the hob suggested hopefully. “Or a worm.”
For a moment, William was sorely tempted to accept the fay’s offer. He could imagine Brother Martin as an ugly old carp, mouth opening to bite on a sharp hook . . .
It was a struggle, but reluctantly he shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t be right.”
“It is your choice,” Shadlok said with the hint of a smile. “Just tell me if you change your mind.”
Oh, don’t tempt me, William thought.
The hob stared up at William in concern. “The one-eyed brother man is full of anger, like a boil waiting to burst. One day he will go sploff.” He clapped his paws together with a sharp slap.
“Well, I really hope I’m not there when he does,” William said with feeling.
The hob picked up the flute again. His fingers were too small to cover the holes properly, so the tune he played consisted of just a couple of notes, but he played them with his usual enthusiasm. William sat down across the fire from Shadlok.
“Brother Martin has been having nightmares about me. The prior thinks it’ll be better if I keep out of the kitchen for now.”
“The prior is right.”
“Do you dream?” William asked curiously. “Do you even sleep?”
Shadlok shook his head. “Not in the way humans do. When I sleep, it is more a stilling of the mind.”
“What about you?” William reached out a foot and nudged the hob.
“I dream about the forest,” the hob said, lowering the flute. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes as he stared into the fire, and a faraway look on his face.
“You miss it, don’t you?” William said gently.
The hob looked up at him. “Sometimes I do. But I would miss you and the snail brother and Shadlok just as much if I were back in the forest.” He held the flute out to William. “I would like you to play now.”
For a while, William played, and peace settled around the hearth. At last, Shadlok stirred himself and said, “It is time you learned a more challenging tune.”
He took the flute and began to play a tune William had never heard before. His long fingers moved gracefully over the holes in the instrument, and the song lilted and spun and glowed through the firelit room.
William listened, rapt. He had never heard such beautiful music before. Not even Robin’s playing was this good. Even the hob sat perfectly still for once, a look of awe on his face.
When the last few notes died away, William shook his head. “I will never be able to play like that.”
The fay handed the flute to William. “That does not mean you cannot try.”
And try William did. With Shadlok’s patient instruction, he caught a shadow of the song. Frustration welled up inside him as he strove to get closer to the beauty of Shadlok’s playing, but his fingers felt clumsy compared to the fay’s, and at last he lowered the flute and frowned at Shadlok.
“It’s just too hard.”
Shadlok sat forward and threw a stray branch into the fire. “Few things worth having are easily won. You must practice until playing comes as naturally as breathing.”
William snorted. “That’s easy for you to say.”
The fay raised an eyebrow, and a smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I had to learn once, just as you are now.”
William looked at him curiously. “Who taught you?”
Shadlok looked down, and the light left his face. It was as if a door had closed between them. He stared into the fire in silence for a while, then he got to his feet and walked over to the door. “Be sure to bolt this behind me,” he said without looking back at William and the hob, and with that he was gone.
William stared at the closed door thoughtfully. He had touched a nerve, it seemed. “He doesn’t like talking about the past, does he?”
The hob leaned over and poked a finger into William’s chest. “It hurts him, in here.”
“I wonder if he’ll ever trust us enough to tell us what happened to him, why he was exiled from his own world,” William said, “and why he and the Dark King are enemies.”
The hob yawned sleepily. “One day, he will.”
William fetched his bedding and unrolled his mattress. He bolted the hut door, then pulled off his boots and settled himself for sleep. With a contented sigh, the hob lay down beside him, and within minutes, they were both sound asleep.