The Merlin Chronicles: Box Set (All Three Novels)

by Daniel Diehl

  “God, you scared the life out of me.”

  “I have it.”

  “Have what?”

  “I know who we need to help rebuild the sphere.”

  “Great! Who?”

  “I don’t have a name. But I know what kind of a scientist we need. Something called a geochemist. And keep your voice down.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not here.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m back in your rooms. I’m just projecting my image into your mind.”

  When Jason reached one hand tentatively toward Merlin his fingers passed right through the old man’s body. Only then did he notice that in spite of the steady autumn breeze Merlin’s hair and beard remained unruffled.

  “Jesus! Don’t do that! It’s creepy.” Blinking slowly, he looked around. Everyone within hearing distance was staring at him. Embarrassed, he hurried down the street, head bent.

  “I’m sorry if I startled you, but I didn’t know where you were and this was a lot quicker than wandering through the streets calling your name.”

  Jason took a deep breath before he answered. This time, his voice was a barely audible whisper. “Ok. Just don’t do it again. Please. People will think I’m cracking up.”

  “Agreed. But the important thing is that I know who we need. Do you know any geochemists?” Merlin’s voice sounded perfectly normal. How could it be that nobody else heard him?

  “No, I don’t think...” He paused, remembering something. “Where have I heard that word before? Geochemist? Give me some time to think” he whispered to the empty space where Merlin stood. “I have heard that term before. I just can’t put my finger on it. I’ll meet you back at my place in a couple of hours.” Still mumbling, Jason said “And don’t creep up on people like that.” But the image had already vanished. As he wandered toward his last class of the day, Jason decided he would have to get Merlin some real clothes so he could go out in public without attracting too much attention. Maybe he could convince Beverley to go shopping with him.

  By the time Jason returned home the late afternoon clouds were beginning to close in on the city. Entering his apartment, he could hear Merlin rummaging around in his bedroom muttering to himself. “If you talk to yourself, people will think you’re going crazy. I learned that this afternoon...” He called out.

  Rounding the doorway into his bedroom, he stared blankly at a scene of incredible disorder. Piled on the bed and scattered across the floor were literally hundreds of rolls of parchment. Here and there, dumped among them, were massive books bound between heavy boards covered with decaying leather. Kneeling on the floor, slowly backing out from beneath the desk was Merlin. Waving his arms at the clutter, he said “That’s the problem with scrolls. No way to tell what anything is unless you store them on marked shelves.”

  Jason followed Merlin’s swirling hands, taking in the mountain of paper and parchment filling the room. “What is all this?”

  “My library, of course.”

  Thoroughly confused, Jason said, “I thought it was destroyed when you broke out of the globe.”

  “Not at all. I couldn’t save my laboratory, but I would never allow anything to happen to the books. Absolutely essential reference material for dragon fighters.”

  “Where were they?”

  As he stood up, Jason could see that over the track suit Merlin had fastened his old belt bearing the small leather pouch. With a conspiratorial grin, the old man patted the pouch. “Safe and sound in here.”

  Screwing up his face in disbelief, Jason asked “You expect me to believe you had all this junk in there?”

  “Of course.” Merlin’s face displayed a feigned innocence.

  “Ok. How did you manage that?”

  Taking a step toward Jason and laying a hand on the young man’s shoulder he said in a low voice, “The same way I put myself and my laboratory inside the globe. Manipulation of matter. Simple...once you know how it’s done.”

  Jason shook his head and walked back to the living room. By now he should probably know better than to ask such silly questions.

  “So. Did you think of any geochemists we might talk to?”

  “Snapping to attention, Jason’s eyes lit up. “In fact”, he said, turning to Merlin with a smile. “I did. Sheer dumb luck.”

  “Saints be praised. Good boy. Tell me all about it.”

  Plopping on the sofa and propping his feet on the coffee table in a self-satisfied pose, Jason began. “His name is Jimmy Lo-Pan. Doctor Jimmy Lo-Pan. He is a lecturer in chemistry out at the main campus. I knew when you said geochemist that I had heard that term somewhere before. It just took me a while to place it.”

  “Do you know this Doctor Jimmy Lo-Pan well?”

  “We met a few times at parties here and there, so I think I know him well enough to give him a call. He’s a really nice guy, but obviously I have no idea if he can help us.”

  “You must convince him. This is absolutely essential, Jason. Have you spoken to him?”

  “Not yet, but I got his number from the campus directory. I can give him a call now.”

  “Don’t dawdle, for heaven’s sake. Call him.”

  With Merlin dogging his every step, Jason opened his phone and punched in Jimmy’s number. While he waited for an answer, Merlin shuffled from one foot to the other like a child who needed to pee.

  “Hi. Is this Jimmy Lo-Pan?... Jimmy, this is Jason Carpenter. We...Oh, you do...Great...I’m fine…Umm, look, Jimmy, I need to get together with you. It’s sort of a professional thing and I need your advice. Well, your help actually. Do you think we could meet up one evening this week? Yeah, Wednesday would be fine...About five?...You got it. See you then. Oh, and Jimmy, I really appreciate it.”

  Even before Jason hung up, Merlin began talking. “Thank you, Jason, and may God bless you. You’re well on your way to becoming - what did you call it - a superhero. Well done. When do we meet with this Jimmy person? Wednesday?

  “Yep, the day after tomorrow. But, just so you know, Jimmy can be a little strange.”

  “Strange?”

  “Yeah, he’s a real party boy type. Lots of wine, women and song, if you know what I mean.”

  “I knew a lot of people like that at Arthur’s court. I think I can manage.”

  “Good, because obviously you’re the only one who can explain what you need. I have no idea what you scientist types talk about.”

  “I can explain it to him, but I need pieces of the globe. He will need to see the glass and analyze it if he’s going to replicate it accurately. Can you do that?”

  “I think I can do that. I can even get copies of the photos Beverley made when it was still in one piece.”

  “That would help immensely; get everything you can. With any luck, we may just be able to reconstruct it before Morgana realizes I’m in the world again.”

  “Ok, but if you’re going to go traipsing around in public, you have to look more presentable.”

  Merlin looked down at the jogging suit, scowled, and looked back up at Jason. “Not good?”

  Solemnly, Jason wagged his head from side to side. “No. Not good. And it’s not just the clothes. We have to do something with that beard and hair. You’ll just stand out too much.”

  Merlin sighed and stroked his beard lovingly. “Over the centuries I have become rather, how should I put it, attached to my beard. But if it has to be, it has to be.”

  An hour later, Jason straightened up from the kitchen chair. In the chair sat Merlin, his milky white hair had been trimmed so that it just touched his shoulders and was now pulled back into a pony tail. His beard had lost nearly a foot of its length and was neatly trimmed to a dignified point three inches below his chin. When he stood back and examined his handiwork, Jason was rather pleased with himself. Merlin could effectively pass for a university professor, a jazz musician or, at the very least, an aging hippy.

  “Ready to see the new Merlin?” Jason asked, picking up a small hand
mirror.

  The old man held the mirror in front of his face, moving it slowly from one side to the other, then upward so he could see the top of his head. “Will this be acceptable?”

  “No problem.” As Jason carried the sheet with its small mountain of hair to the wastebasket, the doorbell rang. Balling up the sheet, he stepped toward the door, shouting over his shoulder. “I’ll see who it is. You stay here.”

  At the downstairs door Beverley stood silhouetted against a background of evening clouds, their fat bellies glowing orange in the soft evening light. She looked lovely.

  “I just came by to see if you wanted to go out for that cup of coffee we’ve been promising each other,” she began without even bothering to say hello.

  “Oh, hi. Sure.” Jason said, glancing back over his shoulder, having no idea what to do.

  “Are you going to invite me in or should I just wait here?”

  “No, no. I’m sorry. Sure, come on in.” He stood back a step, allowing her to enter the narrow hall. Once she was inside, he led the way to his flat, chattering loudly and clomping his feet in the hope that Merlin would hear them approaching. When he reached his door, he opened it a crack before stepping aside for Beverley to enter.

  “It’s really sort of a mess, so maybe you want to close your eyes.”

  “That’s ok. I’ve seen a messy room before.”

  Shrugging slightly, Jason opened the door and ducked through before Beverley. On the couch sat Merlin, thoroughly enjoying the awkward moment, grinning like the Cheshire cat, but indicating that Jason should bring his guest inside. Realizing he was the only one who could see the man on the couch, he gestured Beverley inside, but having an invisible audience made him feel queasy.

  As Jason and Beverley stepped back out into the hall a few minutes later, Jason poked his head back inside. Merlin smiled a benign smile motioning him to go. Shutting the door behind him, Jason leaned against the jamb and heaved a sigh of relief.

  “You ok, Jason? You look a little pale.”

  Straightening up, he forced a smile and said, “No problem, just had to be sure I left a light on for when I come home. Come on, let’s go get that coffee.”

  Leading her down the stairs, Jason slipped his arm around Beverley’s waist as they passed into the cool, clear September air. Walking across the square and through the old city gate at Bootham, they strolled past the massive bulk of York Minster Cathedral where the omnipresent sidewalk artist was just rolling up a giant canvass. It was a copy of da Vinci’s Madonna of the Rocks, done in chalk. Stopping to look at it as it slowly disappeared into itself, Jason could not help but think it was really a very passable piece of work. He wondered out loud how sidewalk artists made a living.

  “I don’t know.” Beverley answered. “It must be really hard. But, so is archaeology. I guess some of us follow what we need to do, and risk starving, rather than just take a job because it’s safe and secure.” As she talked, he pondered just how insecure his own life had suddenly become. They wandered aimlessly toward the river, winding up at Betty’s Tea Shop where they settled into a small table and ordered coffee and toasted scones.

  “I was wondering.” Jason began “If you would mind going shopping with me tomorrow after class?”

  “I’d love to. What are we looking for?”

  “I need to pick up some clothes for my granddad. Nothing fancy, just something he can kick around in.”

  “Do you know what size he wears?”

  “We’re about the same height. I’m a little bit broader in the shoulders than he is, but if they fit me I’m sure they’ll fit him.”

  “Ok.” she acknowledged. Leaning forward, she became more interested in their little quest. “What sort of thing did you have in mind?”

  Jason pondered for a moment, rolling the question around in his head before answering. Then it came to him. “Tweeds. Maybe a nice three-piece tweed suit.” It would certainly help Merlin blend in, and it would serve him right if he looked like George Bernard Shaw.

  “Ok. Tweeds it is. Where shall we go?”

  “We’ll just poke around the secondhand shops.”

  Beverley scowled faintly before answering. “Are you sure that’s going to be ok with him? Something secondhand, I mean.”

  “I’m sure. He won’t mind. Believe me, his clothes are older than anything we’re likely to find around here.”

  The hours passed far too fast to please either Beverley or Jason. When the cathedral bells rang nine o’clock, they decided to call it an evening, but arranged to meet at four the next afternoon for their shopping trip. Walking back to Beverley’s flat, their conversation drifted to an end and they walked in a warm, comfortable silence. Pushing open the iron gate in front of the house, Beverley hesitated and turned to face Jason without looking up to his face. Only when Jason laid a hand on her shoulder did she look into his eyes. Their kiss was long and warm and moist and gentle; but they both knew a deep passion was building up beneath it. Pulling away, she said in a barely audible voice, “Good night, Jason.”

  “See you tomorrow.” He called after her retreating figure.

  “Four o’clock. I won’t forget.” And the door slid shut behind her.

  Two days later, Jason and Merlin were retracing the path he and Beverley had taken on Monday evening. Merlin, in his new tweed suit, could have easily passed for a university professor, or an antique dealer. They halted just before reaching the Lord Mayor’s house, turning into a small, unmarked alleyway. It was the only entrance to The Vaults, a series of massive, eighteenth century tunnels which had been converted into a pub specializing in ample quantities of beer and hefty servings of cheap food. It was an ideal atmosphere for attracting a perpetual stream of students and young townies looking for a good time.

  As Jason and Merlin descended the long flight of stairs leading to the underground hostelry, they passed into a netherworld of semi-darkness and noise. The vaulted ceiling magnified every sound so a dropped fork sounded like a manhole cover slamming onto the pavement. A shattered beer glass echoed like a bomb explosion. Pausing just long enough to adjust their eyes to the semi-darkness, Jason tried to locate Jimmy Lo-Pan. Across the room he heard an hysterical, high-pitched squeal.

  Turning to Merlin, who was squinting against the wall of noise, Jason shouted “That’s Jimmy, over there. I’d recognize that laugh anywhere.” Taking Merlin by the hand, Jason led him down the last few steps and through the crowded room. Their quarry was seated at a group of tables pulled recklessly together at the far end of the room. Four or five chairs stood empty but there were still nearly a dozen people seated around the haphazard conference table, which was jammed solid with glasses. Most of the glasses were empty, but there were still partly filled ones in front of nearly everyone. As Jason and Merlin approached, a voice called out from the bar, “Hey, thimble-guts, you want another pint?”

  Jimmy Lo-Pan threw up his hands in mock horror. “NO. Absolutely not. Make it a Coke.”

  “Hey, Jimmy.”

  Twisting in his chair, the figure raised a round, smiling oriental face toward Jason. “Jason. My man! How you doin’, dude?”

  “I’m great Jimmy. Nice to see you.” Motioning vaguely toward Merlin, he continued “this is my grandfather...” then, after a slight pause “Umm, Merlin Carpenter.”

  Jimmy Lo-Pan twisted further around in his seat and thrust out a stubby, brown hand. “Nice to meet you, Merlin Carpenter. I’m Jimmy Lo-Pan. Call me Jimmy, everybody else does.” From his accent it was obvious that Jimmy Lo-Pan was as American as Jason.

  Tentatively, Merlin reached out and shook the man’s hand.

  Just as Jimmy scooted back his chair so he could stand up, a pint glass brimming with beer was thrust on the table in front of him. “Aww, damn it, Bob, I said Coke.” Jimmy shook his head derisively, but picked up the glass and took a long, deep swallow of beer.

  As he paused to drink, Merlin and Jason got a good look at their companion. Jimmy was in his mid-thirties, nearly a
s tall as Jason, with a cheery face that seemed fixed with a perpetual smile. His thick, black hair was cut like an inverted bowl, making him look like Moe Howard of the Three Stooges. When he pulled the glass away from his face a small white moustache of foam remained on his upper lip.

  “What’s this ‘thimble guts’ thing?” Jason asked with a grin. “Can’t hold your liquor?”

  “See.” Jimmy began what was obviously going to be either a long explanation or a weak excuse. “There’s an enzyme in the human stomach that helps neutralize alcohol. You guys with round eyes have buckets full of the stuff, but us Chinamen, the Japs, and the other Orientals, hardly have any at all. We get shit-faced in half the time you guys do. Of course...” he continued, running his free hand through his mop of straight, black hair. “...we hardly ever go bald and most of you guys look like eggs by the time you’re fifty.” With that, he broke into another wild fit of hysteria. “Come on. Let’s find a table where we can talk.” Casting a disparaging glance at his table, he raised his voice so everyone there could hear. “This place is full of drunken barbarians and philistines. It’s no place for civilized people.” Again the laugh, as a flurry of crumpled napkins and wadded up, empty snack bags rained down on his head to a chorus of boos and cat calls.

  Leading his guests to a slightly quieter corner in the next room, Jimmy turned to Jason. “So this is about real science, is it? I didn’t know you archaeology guys were interested in the hard sciences.”

  Pulling out a chair, Jason answered “Oh, it’s not me, it’s my granddad. He’s the scientist in the family.”

  Settling into a chair, Jimmy took a hard look at Merlin, suddenly serious. “Ok, Mr. Carpenter. Tell Jimmy all about it.”

  Returning Lo-Pan’s gaze with an intensity that took the scientist aback, Merlin began explaining his situation. “Do you know anything about growing crystals?”

  “Piece of cake if you have the equipment. And I just happen to have the equipment. What exactly is it you want? I need some details here.”

  Without divulging too much information, Merlin explained that he was trying to reproduce a hollow, crystalline sphere with a very specific chemical make-up. The exact dimensions of the sphere could vary slightly from the original, but the crystalline structure had to be absolutely precise.