"You are right—in that much, at least." He folded his hands, raised them and rested his chin upon them. "What I would do if he really returned, I do not know. Try to reason with him, yes—Have you any other advice?**
"Just that you be there."
"You've looked at my hand. You have the power. What did you see?"
She turned away.
"It is uncertain," she said.
That night he dreamed, as he sometimes did, of times long gone. They sat about the great Table, as they had on that day, Gawaine was there and Percival. Galahad ... He winced. This day was different from other days. There was a certain tension in the air, a before-the-storm feeling, an electrical thing... . Merlin stood at the far end of the room, hands in the sleeves of his long robe, hair and beard snowy and unkempt, pale eyes staring—at what, none could be certain ...
After some timeless time, a reddish glow appeared near the door. All eyes moved toward it. It grew brighter and advanced slowly into the room—a formless apparition of light. There were sweet odors and some few soft strains of music. Gradually, a form began to take shape at its center, resolving itself into the likeness of a chalice. ...
He felt himself rising, moving slowly, following it in its course through the great chamber, advancing uponit, soundlessly and deliberately,' as if moving underwater ...
... Reaching for it.
His hand entered the circle of light, moved toward its center, neared the now blazing cup and passed through....
Immediately, the light faded. The outline of the chalice wavered, and it collasped in upon itself, fading, fading. gone....
There came a sound, rolling, echoing about the halL Laughter.
He turned and regarded the others. They sat about the table, watching him, laughing. Even Merlin managed -a dry chuckle.
Suddenly, his great blade was in his hand, and he raised it as he strode toward the Table. The knights nearest him drew back as he brought the weapon crashing down.
The Table split in half and fell. The room shook.
The quaking continued. Stones were dislodged from the walls. A roof beam fell. He raised his arm.
The entire castle began to come apart, falling about him and still the laughter continued.
He awoke damp with perspiration and lay still for a long while. In the morning, he bought a ticket for London.
Two of the three elemental sounds of the world were suddenly with him as he walked that evening, stick in hand. For a dozen days, he had hiked about Cornwall, finding no clues to that which he sought. He had allowed himself two more before giving up and departing.
Now the wind and the rain were upon him, and he increased his pace. The fresh-lit stars were smothered by a mass of cloud and wisps of fog grew like ghostly fungi on either hand. He moved among trees, paused, continued on.
"Shouldn't have stayed out this late," he muttered, and after several more pauses, "Nel mezzo del cammm di nostra vita mi ritrovai per una selva oscura, che la diritta via era smarrita," then he chuckled, halting beneath a tree.
The rain was not heavy. It was more a fine mist now.A bright patch in the lower heavens showed where the moon hung veiled.
He wiped his face, turned up his collar. He studied the position of the moon. After a time, he struck off to his right. There was a faint rumble of thunder in the distance.
The fog continued to grow about him as he went. Soggy leaves made squishing noises beneath bis boots. An animal of indeterminate size bolted from a clump of shrubbery beside a cluster of rocks and tore off through the darkness.
Five minutes ... ten ... He cursed softly. The rainfall had increased in intensity. Was that the same rock?
He turned in a complete circle. All directions were equally uninviting. Selecting one at random, he commenced walking once again.
Then, in the distance, he discerned a spark, a glow, a wavering light. It vanished and reappeared periodically, as though partly blocked, the line of sight a function of his movements. He headed toward it. After perhaps half a minute, it was gone again from sight, but he continued on in what he thought to be its direction. There came another roll of thunder, louder this time.
When it seemed that it might have been illusion or some short-lived natural phenomenon, something else occurred in that same direction. There was a movement, a shadow-wimin-shadow shuffling at the foot of a great tree. He slowed his pace, approaching the spot cautiously.
There!
A figure detached itself from a pool of darkness ahead and to the left. Manlike, it moved with a slow and heavy tread, creaking sounds emerging from the forest floor beneath it. A vagrant moonbeam touched it for a moment, and it appeared yellow and metallically slick beneath moisture.
He halted. It seemed that he had just regarded a knight in full armor in his path. How long since he bad beheld such a sight? He shook his head and stared.
The figure had also halted. It raised its right arm in a beckoning gesture, then turned and began to walk away. He hesitated for only a moment, then followed.
It turned off to the left and pursued a treacherous path, rocky, slippery, heading slightly downward. He actually used his stick now, to assure his footing, as he tracked itsdeliberate progress. He gained on it, to the point where he could clearly hear the metallic scraping sounds of its passage.
Then it was gone, swallowed by a greater darkness.
He advanced to the place where he bad last beheld it. He stood in the lee of a great mass of stone. He reached out and probed it with his stick.
He tapped steadily along its nearest surface, and then the stick moved past it. He followed.
There was an opening, a crevice. He had to turn sidewise to pass within it, but as he did the full glow of the light he had seen came into sight for several seconds.
The passage curved and widened, leading him back and down. Several times, he paused and listened, but there were no sounds other than his own breathing.
He withdrew his handkerchief and dried his face and hands carefully. He brushed moisture from his coat, turned down his collar. He scuffed the mud and leaves from his boots. He adjusted his apparel. Then he strode forward, rounding a final comer, into a chamber lit by a small oil lamp suspended by three delicate chains from some point in the darkness overhead. The yellow knight stood unmoving beside the far wall. On a fiber mat atop a stony pedestal directly beneath the lamp lay an old man in tattered garments. His bearded face was half-masked by shadows.
He moved to the old man's side. He saw then that those ancient dark eyes were open.
"Merlin ...?" he whispered.
There came a faint hissing sound, a soft croak. Realizing the source, he leaned nearer.
"Elixir ... in earthern rock ... on ledge ... in back," came the gravelly whisper.
He turned and sought (he ledge, the container.
"Do you know where it is?" he asked the yellow figure.
It neither stirred nor replied, but stood like a display piece. He turned away from it then and sought further. After a time, he located it. It was more a niche than a ledge, blending in with the wall, cloaked with shadow. He ran his fingertips over the container's contours, raised it gently. Something liquid stirred within it. He wiped its lip on his sleeve after he had returned to the lighted area. The wind whistled past the entranceway and he thought he felt the faint vibration of thunder.Sliding one hand beneath his shoulders, he raised the ancient form. Merlin's eyes still seemed unfocussed. He moistened Merlin's lips with the liquid. The old man licked them, and after several moments opened his mouth. He administered a sip, then another, and another ...
Merlin signalled for him to lower him, and he did. He glanced again at the yellow armor, but it had remained motionless the entire while. He looked back at the sorceror and saw that a new light had come into his eyes and be was studying him, smiling faintly.
"Feel better?"
Merlin nodded. A minute passed, and a touch of color appeared upon his cheeks. He elbowed himself into a sitting position and took the container into
his hands. He raised it and drank deeply.
He sat still for several minutes after that His thin hands, which had appeared waxy in the flamelight, grew darker, fuller. His shoulders straightened. He placed the crock on the bed beside him and stretched his arms. His joints creaked the first time he did it, but not the second. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose slowly to his feet. He was a full head shorter than Launcelot
"It is done," he said, staring back into the shadows. "Much has happened, of course..."
"Much has happened," Launcelot replied.
"You have lived through it all. Tell me, is the world a better place or is it worse than it was in those days?"
"Better in some ways, worse in others. It is different,"
"How is it better?"
"There are many ways of making life easier, and the sum total of human knowledge has increased vastly."-
"How has it worsened?"
"There are many more people in the world. Consequently, there are many more people suffering from poverty, disease, ignorance. The world itself has suffered great depredation, in the way of pollution and other assaults on the integrity of nature."
"Wars?"
"There is always someone fighting, somewhere."
"They need help."
"Maybe. Maybe not.**
Merlin turned and looked into his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"People haven't changed. They are as rational—andirrational—as they were in the old days. They are as moral and law-abiding—and not—as ever. Many new things have been learned, many new situations evolved, but I do not believe that the nature of man has altered significantly in the time you've slept. Nothing you do is going to change that. You may be able to alter a few features of the times, but would it really be proper to meddle? Everything is so interdependent today that even you would not be able to predict all the consequences of any actions you take. You might do more harm than good; and whatever you do, man's nature will remain the same."
"This isn't like you. Lance. You were never much given to philosophizing in the old days." "I've had a long time to think about it." "And I've had a long time to dream about it. War is your craft. Lance. Stay with that.*' "I gave it up a long time ago." 'Then what are you now?" "An appraiser."
Merlin turned away, took another drink. He seemed to radiate a fierce energy when he turned again.
"And your oath? To right wrongs, to punish the wicked ..,?*'
"The longer I lived the more'difficult it became to determine what was a wrong and who was wicked. Make it clear to me again and I may go back into business." "Galahad would never have addressed me so." "Galahad was young, naive, trusting. Speak not to me of my son."
"LauncelotI Launcelott" He placed a hand on his arm. "Why all this bitterness for an old friend who has done nothing for a thousand years?"
"I wished to make my position clear immediately. I feared you might contemplate some irreversible action which could alter the world balance of power fatally. I want you to know that I will not be party to it."
"Admit that you do not know what I might do, what I can do."
"Freely. That is why I fear you. What do you intend to do?"
"Nothing, at first I wish merely to look about me, to see for myself some of these changes of which you have spoken. Then I will consider which wrongs need righting,who needs punishment, and who to choose as my champions. I will show you these things, and then you can go back into business, as you say."
Launcelot sighed.
"The burden of proof is on the moralist. Your judgment is no longer sufficient for me."
"Dear me," the other replied, "it is sad to have waited this long for an encounter of this sort, to find you have lost your faith in me. My powers are beginning to return already, Lance. Do you not feel magic in the air?"
"I feel something I have not felt in a long while."
"The sleep of ages was a restorative—an aid, actually. In a while. Lance, I am going to be stronger than I ever was before. And you doubt that I will be able to turn back the clock?"
"I doubt you can do it in a fashion to benefit anybody. Look, Merlin. I'm sorry. I do not like it that things have come to this either. But I have lived too long, seen too much, know too much of how the world works now to trust any one man's opinion concerning its salvation. Let it go. You are a mysterious, revered legend. I do not know what you really are. But forgo exercising your powers in any sort of crusade. Do something else this time around. Become a physician and fight pain. Take up painting. Be a professor of history, an antiquarian. Hell, be a social critic and point out what evils you see for people to correct themselves."
"Do you really believe I could be satisfied with any of those things?"
"Men find satisfaction in many things. It depends on the man, not on the things. I'm just saying that you should avoid using your powers in any attempt to effect social changes as we once did, by violence."
"Whatever changes have been wrought, time's greatest irony lies in its having transformed you into a pacifist."
"You are wrong."
"Admit it! You have finally come to fear the clash of arms! An appraiser! What kind of knight are you?"
"One who finds himself in the wrong time and the wrong place. Merlin."
The sorcerer shrugged and turned away.
"Let it be, then. It is good that you have chosen to tell me all these things immediately. Thank you tor that, anyway. A moment"Merlin walked to the rear of the cave, returned in moments attired in fresh garments. The effect was startling. His entire appearance was more kempt and cleanly. His hair and beard now appeared gray rather than white. His step was sure and steady. He held a staff in his right hand but did not lean upon it.
"Come walk with me," he said.
"It is a bad night."
"It is not the same night you left without. It is not even the same place."
As he passed the suit of yellow armor, he snapped his fingers near its visor. With a single creak, the figure moved and turned to follow him.
"Who is that?" - Merlin smiled.
"No one," he replied, and he reached back and raised the visor. The helmet was empty. "It is enchanted, animated by a spirit," he said. "A trifle clumsy, though, which is why I did not trust it to administer my draught A perfect servant, however, unlike some. Incredibly strong and swift. Even in your prime you could not have beaten it. I fear nothing when it walks with me. Come, there is something I would have you see."
"Very well."
Launcelot followed Merlin and the hollow knight from the cave. The rain had stopped, and it was very still. They stood on an incredibly moonlit plain where mists drifted and grasses sparkled. Shadowy shapes stood in the distance.
"Excuse me," Launcelot said. "I left my walking stick inside."
He turned and re-entered the cave.
"Yes, fetch it, old man," Merlin replied. "Your strength is already on the wane."
When Launceiot returned, he leaned upon the stick and squinted across the plain.
"This way," Merlin said, "to where your questions will be answered. I will try not to move too quickly and tire you.
"Tire me?"
The sorcerer chuckled and began walking across the plain. Launcelot followed.
"Do you not feel a trifle weary?" he asked."Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Do you know what is the matter with me?"
"Of course. I have withdrawn the enchantment which has protected you all these years. What you feel now are the first tentative touches of your true age. It will take some time to catch up with you, against your body's natural resistance, but it is beginning its advance."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because I believed you when you said you were not a pacifist. And you spoke with sufficient vehemence for me to realize that you might even oppose me. I could not permit that, for I knew that your old strength was still there for you to call upon. Even a sorcerer might fear that, so I did what had to be done. By my power was i
t maintained; without it, it now drains away. It would have been good for us to work together once again, but I saw that that could not be."
Launcelot stumbled, caught himself, limped on. The hollow knight walked at Merlin's right hand.
"You say that your ends are noble," Launcelot said, "but I do not believe you. Perhaps in the old days they were. But more than the times have changed. You are different. Do you not feel it yourself?"
Merlin drew a deep breath and exhaled vapor.
"Perhaps it is my heritage," he said. Then, "I jest. Of course, I have changed. Everyone does. You yourself are a perfect example. What you consider a turn for the worse in me is but the tip of an irreducible conflict which has grown up between us in the course of our changes. I still hold with the true ideals of Camelot."
Launcelot's shoulders were bent forward now and his breathing had deepened. The shapes loomed larger before them.
"Why, I know this place," he gasped. "Yet, I do not know it. Stonehenge does not stand so today. Even in Arthur's time it lacked this perfection. How did we get here? What has happened?"
He paused to rest, and Merlin halted to accommodate him.
"This night we have walked between the worlds," the sorcerer said. "This is a piece of the land of Faerie and that is the true Stonehenge, a holy place. I have stretched the bounds of the worlds to bring it here. Were I unkind I could send you back with it and strand you there for-ever. But it is better that you know a sort of peace. Come!"
Launcelot staggered along behind him, heading for the great circle of stones. The faintest of breezes came out of the west, stirring the mists.
"What do you mean—know a sort of peace?" "The complete restoration of my powers and their increase will require a sacrifice in this place." "Then you planned this for me all along!" "No. It was not to have been you. Lance. Anyone would have served, though you will serve superbly well. It need not have been so, had you elected to assist me. You could still change your mind."
"Would you want someone who did that at your side?" "You have a point there." "Then why ask—save as a petty cruelty?" "It is just that, for you have annoyed me." Launcelot halted again when they came to the circle's periphery. He regarded the massive stands of stone.
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