“O ld friend,” Palamedes said carefully, “are you sure you want to go through with this?”
Saint-Germain nodded, his face the only lightness in the gloomy cab. “Of course I do.” They had been driving north for more than two hours. They’d left the M1 and the M25 far behind and were now driving down a series of twisting country lanes.
The Saracen Knight shifted uncomfortably in the front seat. The occasional streetlight washed across his face, turning his eyes to liquid orange. “My master is unpredictable,” he said eventually. “Dangerously so. His contempt for humani is absolute. He despises what they have done to the world he helped create.”
“He liked you well enough to make you immortal,” Saint-Germain said.
The big man grunted a bitter laugh. “My master does not like me. He made me immortal and condemned me to wander the Shadowrealms as punishment for an old, old crime.” He waved a hand in the air. “We will talk of it someday, but not today.” Palamedes turned off the road onto a narrow track. There were no streetlights, but the headlights picked out the gnarled trunks of ancient trees lining the road.
The faintest smell of burnt leaves filled the air, and Saint-Germain’s bright blue eyes briefly turned red. “You know we have met before, your master and I?”
“I know,” Palamedes said miserably. “He remembers. He is old now-old, old, old-but there are certain things he never forgets. And unfortunately, you are one of those.”
“Will I be able to bargain with him, do you think?” the Frenchman asked.
“You can try. Will Shakespeare and I will stand with you.”
“You do not have to do that,” Saint-Germain said quickly. “That could be dangerous. Possibly even deadly,” he added grimly.
“We will stand by your side,” the knight said. “You have stood with Will and me often enough, you have saved our lives on more than one occasion. What would we be if we abandoned you when you needed us?”
Saint-Germain leaned forward to squeeze Palamedes’ shoulder. “I am lucky to count you as a friend,” he said simply.
“You are more than a friend to me,” Palamedes answered. “My blood family is long dead. And when I lost my sweetheart to another man, I never thought I would have a family again. Then, one day, I realized that almost by accident, I was drawing a family around me, a new family: first Will, then you and my fellow knights. You are my family now. Once, I fought for my faith and my country; later, I fought for Arthur out of a sense of duty to him and loyalty to his cause. In all my years of battle, I never fought for one of my family. But tonight, I will stand by your side because you are my brother.”
The words took Saint-Germain’s breath away, and he suddenly felt his throat burning and tears prickling his eyes. It took him several moments before he knew his voice would be steady enough to reply. “I was an only child,” he said. “I always wanted a brother.”
“Well, now you have two.”
The cab swung into an empty car park, the sweeping headlights picking up a disheveled figure perched like a bird on a wooden picnic table. “Will,” Saint-Germain said delightedly. He pushed the door open even before the car had fully stopped and hopped out. Shakespeare stepped off the table and the two men looked at one another for a moment; then each bowed deeply-though the Bard’s bow was more restrained than Saint-Germain’s dramatic flourish.
Shakespeare’s pale eyes were troubled as he looked at his friend. “Welcome to Sherwood Forest.” He shivered and added, “I hate this place.”