The Camelot Spell - Laura Anne Gilman [31]
He stood in the doorway, looking at them through the clear door. It was thin, barely a finger’s width, and was cold to the touch.
“An ice house?” Ailis ran her fingers over the wall, fascinated enough to ignore the light that came from inside and played over her, attracted by her motion.
Merlin shrugged; a careless gesture.
“May we…come in?” Gerard asked, uncertain about the protocols of dealing with an enchanter. Ailis, despite her claims of knowing how to communicate sensibly with Merlin, seemed too fascinated by the structure to be any help.
The question made the enchanter laugh. It was a short and bitter noise. “I’d come out if I could.”
“You’re trapped?” Gerard looked around as though whoever had trapped Merlin might suddenly spring from nowhere at them. “How?”
“Who did it? Is it the same person who cast the spell on the court?” Ailis asked in dismay. That would make sense, but if the same foe could take both Merlin and Arthur, the three of them might as well give up and go home!
All three of them started asking questions at once. Then their chatter stopped. They were abashed at being so rude to the second-most powerful man in the kingdom.
“My life’s never that easy,” the enchanter said, running one hand through his black-and-silver hair, leaving it standing on end and sparking brightly with random magic. “No, my lady Nimue is having her fun with me.”
The three teenagers stared at him: Gerard in disgust, Newt in amusement, and Ailis in sympathy. Nimue was a name whispered in Camelot—a former student of Merlin’s who had enchanted the enchanter, then left him only to return and leave again, proving him no better than any mortal man.
“Oh, dry it up,” he said, seeing their looks. “She played me for a fool and I deserve to stay here until I can find my way out.” Merlin was clearly out of patience with them already.
“If you’re trapped here, you can’t help us,” Gerard said. “You can’t help your king, who is caught in a bespelled sleep, along with all of his court. You can’t—”
“Dry it up, I said,” Merlin snapped, and even knowing that a magical wall stood between the two of them, Gerard took a step back.
“You know what has happened,” Ailis said, stating a fact rather than asking a question.
“I know,” Merlin said. “You think your lot is difficult? Thank the stars above that you’re not me…. And yes, I’m cranky,” he added before any of them could say anything. “You try spending your days in an ice house. Your posterior gets cold after a while. That woman has an evil sense of humor.”
He looked at the three of them and sighed, the light that always seemed to burn in his eyes fading a little under their worried, helpless stares.
“We have trouble, children. Whoever has done this clearly wishes to stop the Quest from going forward; either that, or it’s the most inconvenient timing in history. And I don’t trust coincidences.”
“Why would anyone want to stop the Quest?” Newt wondered. “Isn’t it just a way to get everyone out of Arthur’s hair for a while?”
Merlin almost laughed at that. “If that were so, Arthur would have sent all the troublemakers out, rather than his best and brightest. No, youngster, much as I disagree with Arthur about how he is going about this, the Quest is more important than anyone realizes, even Arthur. The Grail is not merely a symbol of rightful kingship.”
“The stories are true?” Gerard blinked, his exhaustion melting away with this revelation. “A man who holds the Grail cannot be defeated?”
“Stories have truth at their soul…or they die. That story has lived for generations. That fact alone is enough to make it absolutely vital that Arthur hold this Grail.”
“Rather than a rebel chieftain,” Gerard said.
“Yes. From the Northlands or across the water. Or, the gods defend us, Rome returning to our shores.” The enchanter shook his head regretfully. “I can help you, children. But only so far. You’re going to have to do this on your own.”
“Do what? How are we…what are we supposed to do?” Ailis had hoped that Merlin would explain the voice she