He drew one quick breath, almost a gasp. I think I saw his eyes glimmer, wet. His lips parted, but then he pressed them shut again, as if he did not dare to ask what I meant. He knew.

“Go with my blessing.” He stood, lifting his hands as if he would place them on my head, although he did not touch me. I think he had never touched me except with the sword when he knighted me. “Take a spare horse with you. And take a pack mule, and supplies. And choose yourself a squire.”

But I rode forth from the gates of Camelot alone except for Gull, and no one waved me on my way.

“You’re not worried about your puppies, Gull,” I asked her, “are you?” They were old enough to get along without her.

She gave me a gentle look that might or might not have been an answer, then trotted in front of me, her tail uplifted like my lance. King Arthur had gifted me with the lance and a fine sword of Damascene steel and all my arms and gear. I carried, slung around my neck until I might need it, the blank white shield of a new and unblooded knight. I wore good chain mail and a light helm with a nosepiece, a light breastplate, and greaves on my legs, but other than that no body armor—I knew I was not strong enough to carry such weight. Someday I might be, perhaps, but I was not yet sixteen years old; I was as tall as most men in Camelot, but slender. If I fought, I would have to be faster than my opponent or quicker of wit. But I knew that I would not find what I was seeking by fighting.

Or, at least, not by fighting ordinary foes.

“Gull,” I called to her, “we’re going south. Toward the sea.” This time I would lead, not she.

It was likely to be a long road into eerie places. But I would find my way. I would find a way out of the doom Merlin had laid on me. I would fight my fate.

To love the sea, I knew, was to love my enemy. When I was a baby, the sea had taken me away from my kinfolk and my mother, starved me, sprayed salt on my tender naked skin, tried to freeze me in its chill embrace, tried to kill me. To love the sea was to love what I ought to hate.

This showed at least that it was possible. For I did love the sea.

I rode southward on a cart trail that led through the fringes of the Forest Perilous, and my heart beat faster at the thought of looking out again over vast water, breathing sea-scented air, hearing once again the cries of the gulls. But I had not ridden an hour before I encountered my first challenger.