Now that he had put the feeling into actual words, he realized how true it was. But the strangest part of what he felt was that even now he did not know why he should feel so. Merlin had not been threatening in any obvious way. The closest Jim could come to an explanation was to remember that in his first meeting with Carolinus he had been aware of a great deal of real power and strength in the older man—in spite of Carolinus's apparent ego and rather ridiculous cantankerousness. There had been a similar awareness—without the cantankerousness—at a much greater level when he spoke to Merlin.
But the QB was now speaking again.
"I pray you pardon me, Sir Brian. Merlin would not permit it."
"I should entreat your pardon," said Brian. "It is for him to say, of course."
Brian had already led the horses to the bench and seated himself. He was all but lost in the obscurity now. Surely, thought Jim, this was too soon for night to come again? Of course, this was Lyonesse and the last dark period had been in the Borderland, which was more or less in the Drowned Land.
But still, he had been assuming that the white sun above Lyonesse was the yellow daystar of the Drowned Land, only robbed of its color. But it could be they were different, as the kingdoms themselves were different—now the utter blackness of the dark period surrounded him.
"You need not move, Sir James." The QB's voice seemed to speak almost in Jim's ear.
"I wasn't planning to," Jim said, a little more sharply than he had meant to.
Once more, as on his earlier visit to Merlin, he felt a breeze in his face. It cooled his skin for a few minutes, then stopped abruptly. He waited. Then, without warning, he was hearing the QB's voice in what surely had to be the tail end of a conversation.
"—if in your kindness you will permit, Merlin."
"I will," came the same strong voice he had heard once previously. "He is a magician of a different sort; and that makes him welcome when others would not be, so soon after his last visit. Beginning now, QB, you will hear, but not understand as we talk. We will be speaking of things it is not time for you to know."
"You know why I'm here?" Jim stopped his hand just before it went up in a ridiculous, instinctive effort to fan aside the darkness, as if it had been smoke or mist.
"That and many other things. Live as long as I have, Jim, and you will also know many things. You will also know that you know nothing—you are a babe just beginning to understand. But you do realize that simply by living, you are learning more each minute?"
"I hadn't thought of it that way," said Jim. Strange how Merlin pricked him to a kind of defensiveness. He was feeling the other's strong influence, but, as before, he found he could talk. "But if you want to include every bit of information, useless as well as useful, you've got to be right, I suppose."
"There is no such thing as useless information. You will learn that, too, someday. But there was a question you have come to me with."
"Yes," said Jim. "It was—"
"You did not know that I never answer a direct question. The time may come when you do not either."
"Then I've wasted your time and mine in coming," said Jim, a ready anger rising in him in reaction to the way he felt of Merlin's power.
"It is never a waste of time if the one you talk to wishes to talk. If you like, I will tell you a thing about yourself, instead."
"That'd be interesting," said Jim, holding on to his temper with a great effort. "But the question you won't let me ask needs an answer that's critical right now—more critical than anything—including what you might tell me about myself."
"How can you be so sure of that? So, you wish to hear nothing from me, then?
Jim's That's right! was on the tip of his tongue, when, just in time, an instinctive caution stopped him from uttering it.
"No, of course I'll listen," he said. "Where there's life—I mean, where there're words, there's hope—or at least some information that can be useful."
"The first sensible thing you've said, so far," Merlin told him. "Carolinus said you had a sensible bone in your body. Just one; but that's more than the average individual has, by quite a bit."
"Have you talked to Carolinus recently?" Jim asked.
Silence.
"On the other hand," went on Merlin, "he also said you were always determined to do things your own way, so it was a waste of time trying to steer you in the right direction. But what you then do might be so remarkable it was worth gambling on you. Oh yes, he also said you had a good heart. I notice our trees back him up in that."
"I'd like to know how they think they know it," muttered Jim.
"So would I," said Merlin. "If you think that I know everything, you're wrong. But to get back to what I was talking about, there are limits to what magick—as Carolinus and others pronounce it—can do—yes, I know you pronounce it another way, but your way makes a word that means something different to you than what Magick means to those like Carolinus." Jim found himself nodding, but Merlin was continuing.
"As I was saying," Merlin went on, "the magick has its limits; and beyond them are further unknown territories where everything is different. Carolinus has gotten to the point where he can glimpse the unknown territories. But at the same time, and for the first time, he has also begun to doubt that he, himself, will ever reach them."
"No!" said Jim.
He had not had time to think before bursting out so sharply; but it had exploded inside him all at once that the Carolinus he knew—that sometimes-infuriating old man, apparently so jealous of his magical knowledge, and rarely seeming to exert himself for anything but his own ends—might also be, in his own eyes, stuck at the foot of a ladder he had always dreamed of climbing. Within, he could still be a serious young student yearning for something Jim himself could not even imagine; and in the process hiding inside himself—well, who knew what emotions?
"It is hard to suddenly see all we have overlooked before in others," said Merlin, as if he had been able to read Jim's mind in that moment.
"It's that bit about a promised land that gets me," said Jim, "and your saying he'll never be able to cross over to it. Are you sure—I mean, it's hard to believe there's no way he could get there."
"Perhaps you will show him the way," said Merlin.
"I might?"
"I will assume that was an expression of astonishment rather than a question," said Merlin. "Why not? Stranger things have happened; and will go on happening forever—eternity being only a subdivision of possibility. At any rate, he hopes to see you get there yourself; and having seen how you did it, he may manage to follow you. So might I."
"You?"
Silence.
"But as regards your concern over this attempt by the Dark Powers to own Lyonesse. The QB was correct when he told you that Lyonesse cannot win unless a king leads the others. Arthur is gone. Lancelot also, to become a hermit for the rest of his days. Indeed, he may already have died. Could he be brought back he now would not lay hand to sword or lance again, even if he was as he used to be. But knowing you have done the best possible with Pellinore may give you some peace of mind."
"Forgive me," said Jim, "but what you say is pretty cold comfort."
"That is all the future ever certainly promises. I say that, whose work has always been with the future, not the present. Like the Old Magic and like you, I am not a magickian. I am a magician; but unlike you, my first concern is the future.
"I am a seer. That is why I do not answer questions and some other things. One whose study is the future must not only know the past, but avoid meddling with the present which will make it. I shall only tell you one thing with perfect certainty. In the end any battle is always between the selfish and the unselfish. The selfish often win in the short run. The unselfish always win in the long."
"But I've got to get some idea of where to go from here. I needed to find out from you whether the trees or the Old Magic would help us—and how they could."
"There!" said Merlin. "You have finally achie
ved a perfect example of what everyone should understand is meant by the word communication. It is perfectly possible to inform someone else of what you want to know, other than by thrusting it at him as a question."
"Thank you," said Jim.
"—And, incidentally, I am immune to irony. I will tell you some of what you would like to know. The trees do what they want; and no one can foresee what they will want. The animals share equally with we who are human and the land. They have their own link with the Old Magic, one we have never understood—but we understand that Lyonesse is theirs as much as ours." He did not pause, but Jim felt a difference in the next words.
"The Old Magic, itself—note that I pronounce the word as you do," Merlin said, "has its roots lost in the deep darkness of time; and is so different as to never be understood. I have looked as far down as I was able, to try and find why and how it does what it does—but the answer always lost itself in the ancient Dark."
Jim was speechless.
"I can tell you only," the voice in the darkness continued, "that the Old Magic is necessary to Lyonesse; and therefore necessary to the rest of us. In a very real sense the Old Magic's presence is necessary to keep us all living. Between our earth and our sky all belongs to Lyonesse alone, and from Witch Queen to gray squirrel we hold it in common; and if we lose it, we are lost indeed."
"In other words," said Jim, "there's no use looking to it for help—"
"There's no use you looking to it for help."
"—As far as I'm concerned, I suppose I should have said. But perhaps the Old Magic is a part of Lyonesse that itself needs help."
"I would not say so."
"All right. But the Knights'll need it, the trees'll need it, if whoever invades wins. So it'll be a waste of time my trying to turn to either trees or Old Magic now."
"Very good—and quite correct. But there are others who may help."
"The Drowned Land people?"
Silence.
"But now the day comes," said Merlin, breaking it. "You must be gone. I need no fellowship, here where I am."
Jim breathed out a long breath.
"Good-bye then," he said, "and thank you."
"May God speed you as well," said Merlin. "Thanks are unnecessary. No. Wait—"
Jim, who had been about to take an automatic step backward, checked himself.
"I will tell you one thing," said Merlin. "Even I do not understand it. The Old Magic has been active in some way, since the Dark Powers appeared over us. This can mean something that could be a help to you, or it could mean only some meaningless small thing like a change in our weather. We will have to wait and see."
Then Jim was back in final silence. The darkness seemed to wrap itself more tightly around him, alone.
"A moment only," said the welcome voice of the QB, "and we are on our way to our friends, Sir James."
Once more Jim felt the breeze in his face; and then the full darkness was no longer with them. The white sun of Lyonesse was not yet visible—indeed, it was probably still below the horizon which the surrounding trees hid; but the sky was beginning to lighten, enough so that he found himself looking at Brian, seated on the bench that was half a log and still holding the horses' reins in his hand.
The horses were eating, as usual. In fact, they had cropped a circle in the grass about the bench.
"James!" said Brian, starting to his feet, but still holding carefully to the reins. "You are back. I did not think you would be gone so long. Or else the dark seemed longer than I thought."
"Sir James was, in fact, longer than expected, Sir Brian. Even longer than I expected, who am familiar with Merlin and his ways." The QB looked at Jim. "Have you any good tidings for us, Sir James?"
Jim opened his mouth to say that Merlin had told him nothing important; and then remembered Merlin had, but mostly in matters that concerned him personally.
"He knows so much more than I do," he told the other two, instead. "I'll have to do a good deal of thinking about what he said. But the only thing he told me that might help was that Pellinore was a good choice to lead the rest, because he was a king. He also said something about every being in Lyonesse—human, animal, and tree—holding the Old Magic in common. He also said others might help us."
"What others, James?"
"I asked him. Unfortunately, he doesn't answer questions."
"A table dormant with empty plates and empty cups, that conversation of yours, then," said Brian. "Or perhaps he is not the Mage he is commonly claimed to be."
"Sir Brian—" began the QB, with sudden, unexpected fierceness.
"It's all right, QB," said Jim hastily. "It's all right. Brian, I give you my word as a knight and as your friend—Merlin is all they say and more. I'm not easily impressed by words alone—and it wasn't words alone, with him. I could feel his power, and you would have, too, if you'd been with me."
"Well, well," said Brian, recovering his usual good humor. "It could be common repute is right—it often is. I would much rather think of him as a great Mage, rather than otherwise. But what now, James, QB? Should we go in pursuit of King Pellinore, rather than waiting? Or somewhat else?"
"I do assure you he will be back at any minute, now," said the QB. "I give you my word. The word of a Questing Beast is not one that men are asked to take every day; but I promise you it is good—look, there he comes now!"
Jim and Brian looked where the QB was pointing with his serpent head, at the forest into which King Pellinore had ridden.
"Where?" asked Jim.
"By my faith," said Brian, "I do not see anyone."
"I forgot," said the QB. "Neither of you is used to looking from the bright day into the shadow of the trees as I am. Keep looking, though, and you will see him."
They stared for a full minute longer; and then Jim saw motion among the tree shadow, and then a shape that could be a man on a horse.
"So I do," said Brian. "You were right, QB. Our eyes are no match for yours."
"A matter of practice, only," said the QB.
They all watched as King Pellinore emerged from the gloom and rode up to them, dismounting when he reached them. Without a word being said his horse walked off, around the same corner of the log building from which it had appeared. Jim and Brian watched it go with interest; but when they turned back to Pellinore, they saw his gaze was on the QB, rather than them.
"A marvel, QB," he said to the Questing Beast. "Balan and Balin are with us again. There is also word of others of the Table who fought against Arthur at that last great battle and were thought dead: but are also now back and repenting their falsity to him, saying that it was Modred who led them into such traitorous acts. Even Gawain himself—who, you remember, repented himself to Arthur on his deathbed—is back again and of a changed heart."
"I remember," said the QB. "He lamented to Arthur that he had been the cause of Arthur's unwilling war against Lancelot, and so of Modred's treason."
"So he did," answered Pellinore; and they both stood silent, possibly remembering things of a long time past.
It was not the kind of silence that strangers can feel comfortable interrupting. But Jim had been reminded of something, that now seemed as if it might be too important to go unasked.
"Tell me," he said. "You must both know what Modred looked like. Will you describe him for me?"
The two looked at him, then at each other. But, when the QB said nothing, King Pellinore answered.
"He was tall and well-made," said Pellinore, "but not so great as his father, Arthur. Not an ill face, but neither what might be said to be a well-favored one. His shoulders were overwide for his height and his arms overlong, his hands large."
He turned to the QB.
"What else might you say of him?"
"He was young of face," said the QB. "Full-grown, but there was something of one almost too young for knighthood about it—though his years were enough and his skill with arms equal to those about him. But he was uneasy in company and preferred to drive the
men he commanded, rather than leading them—just otherwise than did Arthur."
"For all that," said Pellinore, "there was no weakness of spirit in him."
"No," said the QB. "Indeed there was not."
"Tell me more about his face, his mustache, his beard," said Jim.
"He had neither mustache nor beard," answered the QB. "He was clean-shaven at all times, as much so as was Lancelot and Galahad."
"Then he couldn't have a bushy mustache and a chinbeard?"
"He could have, I am sure," said the QB. "But he did not care for such things; and also, such was not the fashion of the Knights at Arthur's court. Except for Arthur, who in his later years grew a noble beard."
"Why do you ask, James?" Brian's voice was curious.
"Remember, when the Earl of Cumberland and Agatha Falon had us in that large tent, there was a man behind them in the shadows? All I could make out was that he had a mustache and a goatee. But that was the man that the QB said was Modred, by his scent."
"I could not see him well," said Brian; "but mustaches and beards can be grown and shaved off again."
"Yes," said Jim, "and if Knights are being brought back to life again, Modred could have been brought back, too. Merlin told me the Old Magic had made some change, though he did not know what it was—that it could be something unimportant, but there was no telling. Perhaps this return of the Knights is part of that."
"Modred will find small welcome in Lyonesse," said Pellinore.
"I didn't think so," said Jim. "But there he was, behind the Earl of Cumberland and Agatha Falon."
"Who is this Earl and this Lady?" asked Pellinore.
"Old enemies of Sir Brian and myself," Jim said. "But I've never known them to be outside of the land above, before—wait! That's not true—I'd forgotten that Agatha appeared in Lyonesse to trick us into an ambush—you remember, QB, when you saved us from those giants."
"I recall, but I did not see her at that time," said the QB.
"No, she vanished once the trap had been sprung," Jim said.
The Dragon in Lyonesse Page 29