But he was gone before I could reach him, vanished before I could even leave the castle." He grabbed my arm even harder. "But by chance or design, the boy was left behind."
"By design. To answer a riddle."
"Damn the king and damn his riddling. Do you think I run his errands like a hound? Or fly from the hand of Lord Beryn like a falcon to make his kill?"
"No," said Innes quietly."All you want is the gold."
"Bales and bales of it," answered the Grip.
With a leer on his face and gold in his eyes, the King's Grip loomed over me. And yet he seemed much smaller. Before, he had carried the weight of the king's will. Now he was only a greedy traitor who wanted to know the secret of spinning straw into gold.
But it hardly mattered. We had failed to answer the riddle. Whether the King's Grip took me, or whether we were both caught by Lord Beryn's Guard, the ending would be the same. Four days from now, the riddle unanswered, the rebels would be hanged at the castle. And all the riddles in the world would no longer matter to them. That world suddenly seemed too large for me. A terrible longing seized me for Da and for my old quiet home that had disappeared in such a very short time. I shivered with the loss.
"So now," the Grip said to Innes,"I leave you with more riddles than you began with. Fly away and solve them—that is, if the good people of Twickenham do not hand you over to Lord Beryn's Guard for the reward beyond imagining. See if they will take pity on someone the King's Grip has blinded." And he turned me to the ladder.
That was when Innes said the one thing that neither the Grip nor I could ever have expected. He said it quietly and evenly, standing with his hands held open. He said it like a benediction: "I've forgiven the blinding." And as he stood, his arm held a bit crooked, his body covered with the dust and sweat of the last days, I thought with a start how much he looked like the golden king.
The Grip stopped, his hand still tight. He did not turn around. When I looked at his face, I saw it curling into a snarl. But I also saw what it curled from: amazement.
"As if I had need of your forgiveness," the King's Grip whispered.
"Perhaps not. The need to forgive was my own," answered Innes.
Now the King's Grip did turn to him, and the snarl had vanished. "Do you know who you are, boy?"
"Innes, the blind fool."
A long time passed, the mill dust twirling in the sunlight, the sounds of the village going on. The Grip watched Innes, and for a wild moment I thought he might weep. He opened his mouth as if to speak but paused again. He almost seemed to want to touch him. Then, finally, he spoke, slowly and even sadly. "The day might have been when I would have bowed my knee to such a blind fool. And bowed it gladly. But that day is gone forever." He gathered himself and pushed me toward the ladder. "As for me"—he waved his free hand in the air—"forgive someone who wants forgiveness."
Innes said nothing more.
Instead, he lowered his shoulder and sprinted headlong into our backs, battering me down and the Grip through the ladder's opening. With a shout the Grip flailed at the frame, then half slid, half rolled down, crashing from step to step until he struck with a squashy thud against the stone floor.
Innes, breathing heavily, whispered, "Tousle?"
I looked down the ladder and tried to focus my eyes."No need to whisper. He won't be hearing us." I looked down again. He was not moving. "Now he has something to forgive."
"Is he dead?"
"Just a little bit more than me. Couldn't you have told me what you were about to do?"
"I didn't suppose he would give us a private moment to plan our escape."
I stood up, running my fingers along my ribs to see if they were hurting only because they were bruised. "He shouldn't be after us again."
"There are still Lord Beryn's Guard," Innes pointed out.
"Innes," I said,"you needn't always leap to point out the difficulties."
"Then here's one happy leap: You were right. The
"By design. To answer a riddle."
"Damn the king and damn his riddling. Do you think I run his errands like a hound? Or fly from the hand of Lord Beryn like a falcon to make his kill?"
"No," said Innes quietly."All you want is the gold."
"Bales and bales of it," answered the Grip.
With a leer on his face and gold in his eyes, the King's Grip loomed over me. And yet he seemed much smaller. Before, he had carried the weight of the king's will. Now he was only a greedy traitor who wanted to know the secret of spinning straw into gold.
But it hardly mattered. We had failed to answer the riddle. Whether the King's Grip took me, or whether we were both caught by Lord Beryn's Guard, the ending would be the same. Four days from now, the riddle unanswered, the rebels would be hanged at the castle. And all the riddles in the world would no longer matter to them. That world suddenly seemed too large for me. A terrible longing seized me for Da and for my old quiet home that had disappeared in such a very short time. I shivered with the loss.
"So now," the Grip said to Innes,"I leave you with more riddles than you began with. Fly away and solve them—that is, if the good people of Twickenham do not hand you over to Lord Beryn's Guard for the reward beyond imagining. See if they will take pity on someone the King's Grip has blinded." And he turned me to the ladder.
That was when Innes said the one thing that neither the Grip nor I could ever have expected. He said it quietly and evenly, standing with his hands held open. He said it like a benediction: "I've forgiven the blinding." And as he stood, his arm held a bit crooked, his body covered with the dust and sweat of the last days, I thought with a start how much he looked like the golden king.
The Grip stopped, his hand still tight. He did not turn around. When I looked at his face, I saw it curling into a snarl. But I also saw what it curled from: amazement.
"As if I had need of your forgiveness," the King's Grip whispered.
"Perhaps not. The need to forgive was my own," answered Innes.
Now the King's Grip did turn to him, and the snarl had vanished. "Do you know who you are, boy?"
"Innes, the blind fool."
A long time passed, the mill dust twirling in the sunlight, the sounds of the village going on. The Grip watched Innes, and for a wild moment I thought he might weep. He opened his mouth as if to speak but paused again. He almost seemed to want to touch him. Then, finally, he spoke, slowly and even sadly. "The day might have been when I would have bowed my knee to such a blind fool. And bowed it gladly. But that day is gone forever." He gathered himself and pushed me toward the ladder. "As for me"—he waved his free hand in the air—"forgive someone who wants forgiveness."
Innes said nothing more.
Instead, he lowered his shoulder and sprinted headlong into our backs, battering me down and the Grip through the ladder's opening. With a shout the Grip flailed at the frame, then half slid, half rolled down, crashing from step to step until he struck with a squashy thud against the stone floor.
Innes, breathing heavily, whispered, "Tousle?"
I looked down the ladder and tried to focus my eyes."No need to whisper. He won't be hearing us." I looked down again. He was not moving. "Now he has something to forgive."
"Is he dead?"
"Just a little bit more than me. Couldn't you have told me what you were about to do?"
"I didn't suppose he would give us a private moment to plan our escape."
I stood up, running my fingers along my ribs to see if they were hurting only because they were bruised. "He shouldn't be after us again."
"There are still Lord Beryn's Guard," Innes pointed out.
"Innes," I said,"you needn't always leap to point out the difficulties."
"Then here's one happy leap: You were right. The
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