“It's a sovereignty poem," she says. "It's about claiming to be everything, all of nature, the life force speaking through human form."
My mind flashes back, back to something Emrys told me months ago, what feels like a lifetime ago.The grail isn't a what, it's a who.
"This is a person who?—"
"A woman," Gwenna interrupts me. She's staring at her desk. "Who embodies viriditas, who renews what's dying...”
“Who heals the Fisher King and who makes the wasteland bloom,” I add.
She nods. “And who burns but is not consumed. It’s all…” she trails off.
“It’s all the Grail,” I say. “You were right. I didn’t see it at first?—”
“Wouldn’tsee it,” Gwenna mutters.
“—but it is,” I finish. “Theologically. Mythologically. It all aligns. We have proof that whatever you saw in the future is…right.”
The three of us sit silent a moment.
"My," Emrys says. “My, my, my. You’ve cracked it. The two of you have cracked it.”
I shake my head. “Hardly.” I look at Gwenna. “She put it all together.”
She doesn’t look at me, but her mouth twitches, like she might smile.
“So.” Emrys turns to me. “What now, Mr. Pendragon?"
"Me?" I say.
"Yes, you," he says. "What must we do now? Do you have a report to make, or…”
He trails off.
Of course. Somehow, despite having trained for this my whole life, I forgot what the quest actually is.
It’s not simply finding the Grail. It’s bringing it to the White Brothers.
“Don’t you know?” I ask, a bit helplessly. He shakes his head.
“Alas,” he says. “The mechanics of what happens next—well, next for the two of you—are shrouded in mystery. Even to me.”
I look at Gwenna. "There's nothing to tell," I say quickly. "Yet."
She looks up.
“It’s too risky right now,” I say. “We’re leaving soon, for St. Ignaty. They will…” I clench my fist. “They’ll play dirty,” I say. “Try to hurt me, or all four of us. I know how they work.” I haven’t wanted to say it aloud yet, haven’t wanted to acknowledge the truth, but there’s little point in denying it much longer.
The Russians don’t simply want to beat us in a fencing tournament. They want to debilitate us.
The fire was only a taunt, an immature lashing-out that happened to destroy much more than a few million dollars’ worth of manuscripts. Bringing us to their home turf is the kind of killing blow they could only dream of.
“We need to just…get through this,” I conclude. “I apologize, but until then, I’m simply going to be…too distracted.”
I duck my head, not wanting to look either of them in the eye.
“A final trial,” Emrys murmurs. “A feat of arms.” He looks between the two of us. "I suspect," he says slowly, "with the incipient travel, and your recent loss, Ms. Vale, we might be best served by taking a bit of recess in this class, just for today."
Gwenna nods. "Okay."
