The Shadow Companion - Laura Anne Gilman [33]
“I’m far, far too old for this,” he muttered, stretching out his legs and feeling them creak. He had discarded his usual robes for more comfortable pantaloons and an exotic billowing tunic. He would never wear them in public, of course, but for intense spell-casting, the wizards of the far-off eastern deserts had the right idea when it came to comfort.
On his worktable, four small vials that represented the king’s four groups were set upright, their contents smoking gently, in colors alternating between a thick, smoky gray and flashes of blue, and occasionally spiking into red or green. Red meant he needed to do something, and green meant whatever he had done was working. It was a crude method, but with four bands of knights instead of one to watch, on top of everything else he was being asked to do, crude did the job.
Two of the vials had sparked a violent red this morning, while a third had a slow thread of scarlet rising in its smoke. He had taken the first two and made an additional spell of protection around them, and the men it represented. The third had required more; he had spent almost all morning putting that flame out. By then, the slow thread in the third had turned to a faint pink, and then faded away entirely; whatever crisis was brewing, it had been dealt with on the ground. That had been Sir Matthias’s group, he noted.
Merlin rather liked Matthias, even though he was one of those men who worried about the effect of magic on his Christian soul. He wasn’t going to find the Grail, not with his particular prejudices and blind sides. The Grail might be holy from its association with the Christ, but it had been touched by many faiths, many beliefs since then, and all had left their mark on it. As was the inevitable way of all living things.
Matthias was a perfect example of that: raised by a faerie sorceress, taught by a monk, oath-bound to a Christian warlord of pagan descent…
It would be an interesting chart to work out, if he didn’t already have so much work to do already. First and foremost: Advise and protect Arthur as he deals with the daily business of his kingdom. Never a simple act, but one he knew well. And he had to keep the general protections in place around Camelot. By now, that was something he could and did do in his sleep. But the fact that Morgain had been able to sneak her way in—that had caused him to yank up all his protections by the roots, checking each one for flaws, and then regrounding them more firmly inside the castle walls—a time consuming and energy-draining process.
Merlin was also bound to the task of finding the identity of the shadowy figure the children had reported seeing in Morgain’s keep. Arthur and he were in agreement on the fact that Morgain was a threat, but a known one. This new player in the game was disturbing. Anything that shifted the balance of the game they played was to be taken seriously.
Those three things alone were enough to stress even an enchanter such as himself to near breaking. And Merlin also had to protect the knights on their holy Quest for the Grail, without them noticing that they were protected by that dubious figure of an enchanter, naturally.
It was necessary. He had not exaggerated when speaking to the girl-child Ailis: It was essential that the Grail come to Arthur, and that the knight who brought it was to keep his eye on the greater glory, not his own enrichment. To do that, Merlin needed to know where they were, and what they were doing at every moment of every day. But he also had to sleep at some point.
“Merlin, do this. Merlin, accomplish that. Merlin, since you’re not doing anything, can you balance a sword on the tip of your nose as well?”
Balancing the sword would be easier at this point than trying to keep track of every single knight in each group.
“The things I do for you, Arthur, and your kingdom…”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the strain between his eyes. There were potions he could make for it, of course, but adding that might distract