“Tertius. And Maude and Brian.”
“How do you do?” said the man, coming around from behind the table. He was short, not much taller than Tertius, and quite plump. “I’m Alwyn, and … Tertius? That’s a strange coincidence. Those two hulking brutes who were just in here are Primus and Secundus.”
“I know,” said Tertius. “They’re my brothers.”
“Oh? I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” said Tertius.
“Am I to take it, then, that you don’t find them—shall we say—congenial?”
“That,” said Tertius, “is putting it very mildly.”
“I’m delighted to hear it. And all the more delighted to meet you,” he said, shaking Tertius’s hand enthusiastically. “And you, madam. And you, sir.” Then, “Is there something wrong with your arm?” he asked Brian.
“She put a spell on it,” said Tertius. “He can’t use it.”
“That’s bad,” said Alwyn, suddenly serious. “She casts a very powerful spell. I’m afraid I can’t do anything to counter it; magic’s not my field. But I have some very good liniment here.”
“I don’t think that will help,” said Maude. “Tertius thinks that the best thing we can do is to get away from here.”
“An excellent idea,” said Alwyn. “Find some friendly enchanter who can lift the spell. I’ve often thought of it myself—getting away, I mean. But it won’t be easy. As you saw, they keep the door locked.”
“I know,” said Tertius. “But I still think I can manage.”
“Well, if I can assist you in any way … She said I should, didn’t she?”
“Yes,” said Tertius. “It might save time if I told you what I needed and you got it for me. First of all, sulphur.”
“Of course. What kind?”
“Is there more than one kind?”
“Oh, yes. There are many kinds. The red and the white sulphurs of Marcasita, the yellow and black sulphurs of Talc, the purple and black sulphurs of Cachimiae, the red sulphur of cinnabar …”
“Yellow sulphur.”
“Are you sure? It’s the commonest kind.”
“I’m sure.”
“Very well,” said Alwyn, taking down a large earthenware crock. “What else?”
“Potassium nitrate.”
“Potassium? I’m afraid I don’t know that. Is it a liquid or a solid? An earth, a metal, a chalk, a salt …”
“A salt. Also known as niter or saltpeter.”
“Ah, sal petrae. I have that. What else?”
“Charcoal.”
“Is there anything I can do in the meantime?” asked Maude.
“As a matter of fact, there is,” said Tertius. “Let me see.” He walked around the laboratory, looking at the walls, the floor. “Here,” he said, pointing to the corner nearest the door. “Do you have any tools?” he asked Alwyn.
“What sort?”
“A hammer and chisel or a pick.”
“Unfortunately, no,” said Alwyn.
“Never mind. This will do,” said Tertius, picking up the poker that leaned against the furnace and giving it to Maude. “Start digging there, in that corner.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” said Maude, “there’s a huge rock just outside. And if that’s the way you intend to get out, by digging …”
“It’s not,” said Tertius. “But we’re going to need a hole: not a large one, but a fairly deep one.”
“All right. Come on, Brian.”
Taking him by the arm, she led him to the corner of the laboratory and sat him down on a stool. Then, studying the place Tertius had indicated, she drove the point of the poker into a crack between the floor and the wall. Feeling like a child who has been told to sit quietly and not bother anyone, Brian watched her. Behind him he could hear Tertius and the strange, hairless man talking as they poured things from crocks and jars, weighing, mixing and measuring them. Finally, when Maude paused for a moment to rest, he rose. “Let me,” he said.
“You?” She looked at him. “Can you?”
“I don’t know. But let me try.”
Taking the poker from her, he knelt down beside the hole she had started and began chipping away at the mortar as she had been doing. It was difficult, working with only one hand, and his left hand at that, and soon he was breathing hard and bathed with perspiration. But he kept at it until his left arm felt almost as numb as his right.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“That’s enough,” said Maude gruffly. “Give it to me.” And taking the poker from him, she bent over the hole again. As she did, it seemed to Brian that her eyes were not merely soft, but misty.
They worked at the hole, taking turns, for some time. At first it went slowly but, when they were through the mortar and had reached the rubble underneath, it went more quickly. Finally, when the hole was almost two feet deep, Tertius came over to look at it and said, “I think that will do.”
He motioned to Alwyn, who brought him a large basin filled with coarse black powder. He poured the powder into the hole, ramming it down with the poker. Then, picking up the basin, he walked backward, pouring carefully as he went, so that he made a fine trail of the remaining powder, which reached almost to the furnace.
“I have been practicing the spagyric arts for more than twenty years,” said Alwyn. “I have read the Summa Perfectionis, know the Seven Canons of the Metals and have myself assisted at the birth of the Red Lion. But I must confess that I do not understand what you are about.”
“There’s no reason why you should,” said Tertius, putting down the basin.
“But if alchemy is an art, and it is, then it must follow certain laws and rules.”
“It does,” said Tertius. “Help me clear off the table.
“Clear it off?”
“Yes.”
While Alwyn was protesting, Maude came over; and she and Tertius removed the bottles, flasks and jars from the long heavy table.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Help me move it over there.”
Together they dragged it to the corner farthest from the one where they had made the hole, then Tertius tipped it over so that it fell on its side with a crash.
“Why did you do that?” wailed Alwyn.
“You’ll see,” said Tertius, pushing it back until it was diagonally in front of the corner, making a kind of barricade. “Get behind there, all of you, and lie down flat, as flat as you can.”
“But won’t you at least explain …?” begged Alwyn as they did so.
“Of course,” said Tertius, crouching down behind the table with them. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I hope,” he added under his breath. “Was it not Al Gebir who said, ‘Fire is the beginning and the end, summing up in itself all things’?”
“Yes,” said Alwyn.
“Then let us add fire to what we already have.” And taking the tongs from beside the furnace, he picked up a glowing coal and dropped it on the end of the trail of black powder.
The stone floor of the laboratory was uneven, higher in some places than in others. And lying between Maude and Alwyn, Brian found he could look under the bottom edge of the table and see what occurred next.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, as if it had been stung to life, the black powder sparked and crackled, and fire sped along its length to the far corner. As Brian drew back, shutting his eyes, there was a deafening, earsplitting roar, louder than a thunderclap, and he felt the floor under him heave and shudder as if the whole castle were being shaken like a dicebox.
Brian continued to lie there, eyes still closed, in the silence that followed.
“Who did that?” demanded a furious voice.
Opening his eyes, Brian raised his head cautiously and looked over the top of the table. The whole of the far corner of the laboratory was gone, leaving a gaping opening. The huge rock just outside the laboratory wall was gone too, shattered into a hundred pieces. And standing on a pile of rubble and framed by what remained of the wall,
was a strange but commanding figure: an elderly man with a white beard. He wore a long, dark robe, and on his head was a small round cap embroidered with cabalistic signs. Silhouetted against the sky, he glared at the four heads that showed above the upper edge of the overturned table. And dazed and shaken though Brian was, when the old man’s eyes bored into his, he knew who he was, who he must be.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I said, who did that?” repeated the white-bearded man.
Slowly, Tertius stood up.
“I’m afraid I did,” he said.
The elderly man’s eyes, blue and cold as a winter sky, swung to him.
“And do you know what you did?” he asked.
“I think so,” said Tertius.
“You think!” said the elderly man severely. “You flout history—the logical development of science—are responsible for an outrageous anachronism, and you think … Who are you?”
“Tertius.”
“That’s not a name, it’s a number. Unless …” He came down off the pile of rubble and into the laboratory. “Tertius of Bedegraine?”
“Yes,” said Tertius. “And you … are you Merlin?”
“Of course,” said the elderly man testily. “Who else would I be? But that still doesn’t explain how you did it. I know I endowed you with knowledge, a great deal of knowledge, but …” He paused. “Oh, no!”
“Yes,” said Tertius. “I’m not being critical because, while it’s been awkward, it’s also been very interesting. But I’m afraid the knowledge you gave me was all future knowledge, and …”
“Say no more,” said Merlin. “I know what happened now. And how it happened. The question is what the results will be. That was gunpowder you used, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And do you know when it is first supposed to be used here?”
“Yes,” said Tertius. “Of course the Chinese have known about it for some time now.”
“Just a second,” said Merlin. He stood there for a moment as if listening. “Apparently it’s all right. But don’t do it again. Or anything like it. Now what’s going on here? Who are these people?”
“This is Maude and this is Brian of Caercorbin,” said Tertius. “They’re my friends and companions. And this is Alwyn. He’s an alchemist.”
“Oh, yes,” said Merlin, looking at Alwyn. “She would get herself an alchemist. Had you working on the transformation of lead to gold, I suppose?”
“Yes, master,” said Alwyn. “But of course that’s not what I’m really interested in.”
“Naturally,” said Merlin. “What you’re interested in is something just as fantastic and ridiculous: the Lapis Philosophorum.”
“Ridiculous?” said Alwyn.
“Yes,” said Merlin. “I don’t like interfering in a man’s career, but I don’t like to see him wasting his time either. The Philosopher’s Stone doesn’t exist and never will. What’s wrong with your arm?” he asked Brian.
“The Lady Nimue put a spell on it,” said Brian.
“Oh?” He turned to Tertius. “Which spell was it?”
“I don’t know,” said Tertius. “What it’s called, I mean. That’s one of the things I want to learn—how to do magic, use what I know in an appropriate way. But …”
“She set a serpent, an invisible serpent, on him,” said Maude. “It’s still coiled around his arm.”
“The Caradoc bit,” said Merlin, nodding. “She always had a weakness for Welsh magic. Well, we’ll soon take care of that.” He raised his hand, then paused. “No. I’ve got a few other bones to pick with her. I think we’ll make her lift it herself. Come on.” And he started for the door.
“Were you planning to go upstairs?” asked Tertius.
“Of course. Why?”
“In the first place, the door’s locked. That’s why I blasted a hole in the wall. But, apart from that, do you think it’s wise? I mean, wasn’t it Nimue who put a spell on you, imprisoned you under a rock?”
“In other words, you think that she knows more than I do.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Tertius, hesitantly.
“I can see that, for many reasons, it’s a good thing I came back,” said Merlin. “As for the door …” Turning toward it, he pursed his lips and puffed gently, as if he were blowing the seeds off a dandelion. Immediately the door began shaking, rattling, then—as if struck by a hurricane blast—it burst open, splitting from top to bottom.
“Mind the splinters,” said Merlin, leading the way through.
They followed him along the corridor, which had small, dark cells on both sides of it. Gaunt faces peered out at them through the grilled openings in the doors.
“Excuse me,” said Brian, pausing in front of one of them. “But don’t you think we might …?”
“Yes, but not now,” said Merlin, beginning to climb the narrow, spiral stairs. “I’m much too anxious to see my dear pupil.”
Nimue was in the great hall when they entered it. She was sitting at the high table between Primus and Secundus with a dozen or more men-at-arms ranged along the wall behind her.
“So it was you,” she said to Merlin. “We wondered what that noise was.”
“Why didn’t you send to find out?” he asked.
“Because I’m surrounded by lily-livered poltroons. They were afraid to go. Was that really necessary, Merlin? The whole castle shook till we thought it would come down about our ears.”
“As it happens, it wasn’t I who did it. It was my young friend here,” and he nodded toward Tertius.
“Ah,” she said. “I knew he was clever, but I still seem to have underestimated him. Well, we’ll soon remedy that.”
She started to raise her hand.
“I wouldn’t if I were you, Nimue,” said Merlin.
“What did you say?”
“I said I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I rarely threaten,” he said. “As you should know. I’d far rather advise.”
“Well, let me give you some advice, you old dotard!” she said with sudden venom. “I don’t know how you got out from under that rock. But if you interfere in my affairs, I’ll put you back under it again.”
“Just a second,” said Merlin. “What was that you called me? A dotard?”
“Yes!” she said furiously. “A stupid and ridiculous, doddering, senile …”
“Spare me the adjectives,” said Merlin, still quietly. “I take your meaning. Now let me clear up a few things. Do you really believe I didn’t know what you had in mind when you showed me that chamber under the rock?”
“Then why did you go in? You were there for more than ten years.”
“Was it as long as that? It seemed like only a few days—quiet, peaceful days. And the truth is, my dear Nimue, that after listening to your incessant chatter, peace and quiet was what I wanted more than anything else. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you? I was bored, bored, bored to death with you. That’s why I went in there. And that’s why I stayed there—to get away from you. But now … thunder and lightning!” he shouted suddenly. Lightning flashed and crackled overhead, and thunder rumbled and roared. “Fire and brimstone!” Flames leaped up from the stone floor, and the air became thick and heavy with the smell of burning sulphur. “Do you think that you or anyone else could keep me prisoner against my will?” His eyes blazed, blue sparks crackled in a nimbus around his head and his white beard stood out stiff and straight, like an accusing finger. “You have a smattering of grammarie, know the few spells I taught you, but do you dare compare your knowledge to mine? You can call up a storm or quiet one, but can you do this?”
He raised his hand and, as the thunder continued rumbling, the lightning flashing and the flames burning, it began raining in one corner of the great hall, snowing in another, hailing in the third while, in the last, a whirlwind spun and danced, whipping pitchers, goblets and even benches up to the rooftree.
The men-at-arms
were groveling on the floor; Primus and Secundus had slid under the table; and only Nimue remained where she was. But her face was paler than ever.
Again Merlin raised his hand and the thunder ceased, the flames died and it stopped blowing, snowing, raining and hailing.
“Enough, my dear Nimue?” asked Merlin in the sudden silence that followed.
She nodded.
“Good. Don’t provoke me again or I’ll forget our past relationship and turn you into something thoroughly unpleasant, say, a wart on the belly of the biggest frog in the fens of Reith.” She shuddered, and he went on. “Now there are a few more things we had better talk about. First of all, the little plot you’ve been working on so diligently.”
“The plot?”
He looked at her witheringly. “Even if I didn’t know you, don’t you think I’d guess what you were up to; enticing knights here, trying to buy their allegiance, and locking up those you couldn’t buy in your dungeons? There will be no march on Camelot. Is that understood?”
Once more she nodded.
“Good again. Next we have the matter of the spell you put on this young man, the friend of my godson, Tertius.”
“If you don’t mind, Merlin,” said Tertius unexpectedly, “I’ve been thinking about it and, now that I have you standing by, I’d like to take care of that.”
“Oh?” Merlin looked at him searchingly. “Why not? Go ahead.”
“Nimue never finished the story of Caradoc,” said Tertius to Brian. “She never told you how he was freed of the invisible serpent. Because it is possible to get rid of it.”
“How?” asked Brian.
“It calls for a good deal of courage and self-sacrifice,” said Tertius, “not on your part but on that of someone else. For the spell can be transferred. If there is anyone who cares enough for you to become the victim in your stead, the serpent can be forced to leave your arm and go to that other person.”
“Then we’d better forget about it,” said Brian. “Because I’d never permit that. And even if I would, where could she find such a person?”
“That’s not too difficult,” said Maude. “I’ll do it.”
“You?” Brian looked at her in astonishment. “Why should you?”
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