Chapter 83: The Stable Master
By late morning, Garrick appeared in the stables.
He was an older man...perhaps sixty or more, with the weathered face of someone who had spent a lifetime working outdoors. His hands were scarred from years of handling horses, his body still strong but bearing the marks of age and hard work. He moved with the confidence of someone who had complete authority over this space, who understood every inch of it, who had seen a thousand horses come and go and knew exactly what each one needed.
Garrick had been Morgana’s greatest ally in the palace.
It was he who had accepted her without question, who had taught her the proper way to handle horses and maintain equipment. It was he who had noticed her gift with the animals without requiring explanation of how she did what she did. It was he who had, quietly and without fuss, made her feel safe in a way that few people in the palace did.
He watched her work for a few moments, observing her methodical approach to grooming one of the older mares. Then he approached and settled himself on a wooden bench near where she was working.
"You’re good with the animals," he said, which was not new information but was the opening to a longer conversation.
Morgana glanced at him, a slight smile touching her lips. "You’ve told me this before, Garrick."
"And I’ll tell you again," he replied, his tone gruff but warm. "Not many people have the patience for this work. Not many people understand that these creatures are individuals, not just beasts of burden."
Morgana returned to her grooming, the brush moving in steady strokes across the mare’s coat. "They deserve the attention. They work hard. They carry people and cargo. The least we can do is care for them properly."
Garrick nodded, as if her answer confirmed something he already knew.
"I’ve been hearing things," he said after a moment, his voice lower now, more careful. "In the market, from travelers passing through, from other stable masters in the city. Whispers about the palace. About the kings."
Morgana’s hand stilled for just a moment. Then she resumed her grooming, but her shoulders had tensed slightly.
"People always whisper," she said carefully. "Palace gossip is endless. Most of it is probably nonsense."
"Perhaps," Garrick agreed. "But there’s a particular sense to these whispers. A particular fear underneath them."
He was quiet for a moment, as if deciding whether to continue.
"They say," he proceeded slowly, "that the curse is worsening.
Morgana’s hand had stilled again. She didn’t respond, but her breathing seemed to have become shallower.
"I’m telling you this," Garrick continued, "not because I want to frighten you with gossip, but because I think you should understand what’s happening in the palace. Not the official version, which is always lies and half-truths, but the real situation."
"What do you think is happening?" Morgana asked quietly.
"I think the kings are falling apart," Garrick said plainly. "And I think whatever stability the realm has had for the past two hundred years is beginning to crack. I think people are becoming afraid. And I think," he paused, looking at her directly, "that you should be very careful about where you go and who you trust."
Morgana finally turned to face him fully. In his weathered face, she saw genuine concern.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.
"Because I’ve watched you," Garrick said. "I’ve seen how the other servants treat you. How the nobles look at you. How something about you marks you as... different. And I’ve also heard that the kings seem aware of you in ways they’re not aware of other servants."
He leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable.
"I don’t know what you are or what your situation is," he continued. "But I know you’re caught in the middle of something larger than palace gossip. And I think you need to be aware of that. I think you need to be careful."
Morgana turned back to the mare, resuming her grooming with slightly more vigorous strokes. "I’m always careful, Garrick. This work, this place...it’s all I have. I don’t want to lose it."
"I know," Garrick said. "Which is why I’m warning you. The palace is changing. Things that were stable are becoming unstable. And a girl in your position..." He trailed off, shaking his head slightly.
"My position?" Morgana’s voice was slightly sharp. "What do you know about my position?"
"I know what I see," Garrick replied calmly. "I know that a servant girl doesn’t usually have three kings interested in her. I know that someone in your situation is usually caught in the middle of things far larger than themselves."
He stood, his aged joints creaking slightly. "I’m just saying, be careful. Trust very few people. And if you ever need to get away from the palace, truly away, you come find me. I have contacts. I have friends in the city. I can help you disappear if necessary."
Morgana looked at him, and for a moment, her eyes were glistening. "Thank you, Garrick."
"Don’t thank me yet," he said, and there was something almost prophetic in his tone. "Just remember what I said. Be careful."
He turned to leave, then paused at the entrance to the stable. He looked back, and his expression had changed, become more alert, more concerned.
"There’s something else," he said, his voice dropping further. "I saw someone. A man. Strange-looking, nondescript, the kind of person you’d forget immediately after seeing them. He was watching the stable. Watching carefully."
Morgana felt her stomach clench. "Who was he?"
"I don’t know," Garrick said grimly. "I’ve run this stable for near thirty years. I know every hand that works here. I know the guards, the visitors, everyone who has legitimate business in this area. That man... he wasn’t one of them. He was watching. Studying. Like he was looking for something. Or someone."
"Did he approach you?" Morgana’s voice had become quiet.