The March twilight settled around them in shades of violet and gray. The cloud of evil that had hung over the abbey for the last few weeks lifted and blew away on the breeze. William was surprised to see that the evening sky had cleared and the first stars were twinkling into life.
“That was bravely done, human,” Shadlok said, laying a hand on William’s shoulder and nodding in approval. “We owe you our lives. All of us.”
William felt his cheeks redden with delight at the fay’s praise. He shrugged and said gruffly, “I had to do something.”
“A good choice of weapon, too,” Shadlok added. “You would not have killed the demon with a human sword.”
“Are fay weapons magic, then?” William asked.
Shadlok nodded.
“Is that why the Dark King’s arrow was able to harm the angel?”
“The magic in the arrowhead was not quite strong enough to kill it, but for a hundred years, the angel was neither alive nor dead. If the king had used a sword against the angel, then it would surely have died that night.”
William was quiet for a while, then asked, “What do you think the angel meant about us facing a time of darkness?”
Shadlok’s mouth drew into a hard line. He picked up his sword and turned it slowly to examine it. A faint bluish glow played over the blade, and it looked as if it had been newly forged. “I am sure we will find out soon enough.”
William grimaced. “Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than facing the demon.”
“One thing I have learned, human, is not to go looking for trouble before it comes to find you.”
“We’re still bound together by the king’s curse,” William said. “Are you angry about that?”
Shadlok considered this for a moment. “I am . . . disappointed.”
“If the angel had broken the curse, where would you have gone?”
There was an odd expression on the fay’s face. “Perhaps I would have stayed here.”
William snorted. “Ha! I find that very hard to believe.”
Shadlok looked sideways at him and smiled. “Perhaps I have grown used to living in cold and poverty. Perhaps I actually like it.”
William grinned. “Now I know you’re lying.”
“The truth is, I have nowhere else to go,” Shadlok said with a shrug. “I have traveled this world many times over with Bone. I have no wish to do so again by myself.” He regarded William thoughtfully. “But we are still bound together, so when I leave this place, it will be with you. Until then, I will content myself by turning you into a fine musician. That will be enough of a challenge to keep me occupied for years to come.”
William raised his eyebrows. “I thought you said I was a quick learner?”
“Quick enough, for a human,” Shadlok said, but the hint of a smile softened his words. “You will have your new flute in a few days’ time, and then we will continue with your lessons. Be prepared to work hard.” The bruise on the fay’s temple was already fading, along with the blood and dirt in his hair. The stains on his tunic were barely visible now, and somehow his clothes seemed to have dried out.
How does he do that? William thought in exasperation. I look as if I’ve been dragged along a ditch, twice, and he looks as if he’s been sitting quietly somewhere, clean and dry.
William spotted the feather in the puddle and went over to pick it up. Perhaps it was only a pigeon’s feather after all, but to him it would always be the angel’s feather. He wiped it on his tunic and carefully smoothed it out.
“What is that?” Shadlok asked, glancing at it curiously.
William held it up.
“A feather? What do you want with that?”
“The angel gave it to me,” William said, “back in Sir Robert’s garden, when I asked it to come and help us.”
“Oh, so it answered your prayers, but not the monks’?” Shadlok said drily. “I would not mention that to Prior Ardo if I were you.”
William put the feather into his belt. “I’m not that eager for another beating, but we should let everyone at Bethlehem know that the demon has gone.”
“We will go there now,” Shadlok said. “It will be dark soon, but I think there will be no danger for us in the forest tonight.”
“I’ll go and find the hob,” William said, “and tell him what’s happened. I’ll meet you by the gatehouse.”
The hob greeted William’s news with delight. He capered about Mary Magdalene’s pen, kicking up the straw and singing, “Gone! Gone! Gonegonegone, all gone!”
The pig came over to let William give her ears a good scratch, then with a contented grunt, she flopped down in the straw and moments later began to snore.
“We’re leaving for Bethlehem, to tell the monks that the demon is dead,” William said. “I think they’ll want to come back to the abbey and start rebuilding it as soon as possible.”
“Then I will wait here for you, with the pig,” the hob said. “Bring plenty of food back with you and don’t be gone too long.”
“It’s good to see the demon didn’t dull your appetite,” William said with a grin.
“Gonegonegone,” the hob sang softly as he settled down beside the pig.
As he turned to go, William caught the last whispery snatch of the hob’s song, “Gone, all gone . . .”