Once behind a tree, I think carefully about my goal then twist my lauvan appropriately. I’ve begun experimenting more frequently with changes in my appearance, subtler things than my deer form. The fewer changes I make, the easier they are to hold. My jaw softens, my nose shrinks, my hair grows long on my head and stubble disappears from my chin. My shirt lengthens to a dress and tightens around newly formed breasts. If only I could see myself to check for inconsistencies. I look around and spy a puddle between two nearby trees. Luckily it is a wet spring.
A dark-eyed beauty gazes back at me from the still water. Perfect. I laugh out loud and the woman in the puddle lets out a man’s guffaw. Whoops. A quick twist of lauvan around my throat and my mirth releases in a dainty titter. I’m ready.
I mince out of the woods and idly meander close to Arthur. We watch the bonfire for a moment. When he notices me, his eyes widen and snap back to the fire. I sigh inwardly, then take the initiative.
“I love Imbolc. The delicious apple cakes and fresh milk, and this time of year is so precious, with the sweet little lambs being born. Don’t you think?”
Arthur reddens at being addressed by me.
“Yes, it’s very nice.”
Is that it, Arthur? I prod for more.
“My father has promised me a new horse this year. I’m not sure what to call it. Perhaps Lady or Sweet Apple. What’s your favorite?”
“I don’t know.” He glances at me quickly, then looks away and furrows his brow as if pretending to think. I’m growing exasperated and try one last tactic to get him to engage.
“Do you like my dress? I don’t know if red really suits me.”
He looks more carefully at me, catches sight of my breasts, and turns away, blushing.
“It’s nice.”
I smack him across the back of the head.
“Arthur Pendragon. If a woman asks you how she looks, you can do better than that. Flattery will get you a long way. I have a lot to teach you if that conversation is your best effort.”
Arthur’s stunned look is swiftly replaced by comprehension, followed by embarrassment and indignation. His cheeks flush again, but this time from anger.
“Merlin?”
“One and the same.”
“That’s a dirty trick.”
I laugh.
“I was trying to give you some practice. You sorely need it.” I twirl in front of him. “What do you think? Don’t I make a fine woman?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“You’re right. Larger tits.” I twist my lauvan and my temporary breasts swell. Arthur’s mouth falls open and he covers his eyes with one hand as if he has a headache. I give a great belly laugh that turns heads. “All right, I’ll leave you alone now. Don’t forget: color, name, sweet. And remember to compliment her, and say more than two words at a time.”
I’m still chuckling when I retire to the privacy of the trees to change, although it emerges from my mouth as a quiet titter. Sometimes it’s too easy to tease Arthur.
The road north is nearby but I’m uncertain exactly where. It doesn’t matter—everyone is at the gathering already. I close my eyes and release my lauvan with a sigh. They spring back with alacrity and a tingling, shifting sensation tells me I’ve returned to my true form.
A gasp erupts in front of me. My eyes pop open in horror.
“Merlin?”
Gawaine sits atop a gray charger, his mouth agape and eyes wide. Oh no. No one here knows except Arthur, and I hoped to keep it that way. Only a month ago, a woman was run out of her village by her fellows for witchcraft. Most of Uther’s acquaintance laughed at the backward villagers but if they see true powers before their eyes, they may not be so complacent.
“Gawaine! You’re back.” I don’t know what to say and feel ill at ease. What does Gawaine think he saw? How can I ensure his silence?
Gawaine’s round, honest face is fearful. He twists the reins in his hands and the leather creaks with the strain.
“Are you really Merlin, or one of the devils that the monks speak of?”
I debate briefly with myself which option would give me the advantage, but decide on the truth.
“It’s me, Gawaine. Truly.”
“A devil would say that.”
“Nothing I do will convince you otherwise if you believe that. Honestly, I’m human. I was born with unusual abilities, that’s all.”
“That’s all?”
“Look, you know me. I mean no harm, I promise. I’m good-natured. Usually. When I feel like it.”
This cracks a reluctant smile from Gawaine’s worried visage.
“I’ll admit, that does sound like you. How can you change your appearance at will?”
“Who knows? I was born with the ability. I’ve never found a satisfactory explanation. Don’t you want to know why I looked like a woman?”
“I don’t know, do I?”
I laugh and Gawaine’s patient horse reaches down with its nose to graze.
“I was trying to give Arthur flirting practice. He’s quite abysmal at it.”
Gawaine throws back his head in laughter.
“I wish I’d seen his face. Poor Arthur—I’ll see if I can help.”
“I’m sure he’ll be grateful.” I tug at the horse’s bridle to lead him toward the meadow. “What news from Ergyng? I didn’t think you’d be back already.”
“Not good.” Gawaine’s usually cheerful face sets into grim lines. “Uriens’ stronghold was ransacked, and Uriens is dead. The Saxons are moving early this year.”
My heart sinks. Uriens has kept the Saxons at bay for years. It’s ominous news if even he is vanquished.
“Have they crossed the river yet?”
“No. They don’t know where the ford is, and it’s far too marshy this time of year. But if this fine weather holds, it won’t be long.” We enter the meadow, and I let go of the bridle when Gawaine swings down from the saddle. “I must give my father the news. Oh, and Merlin?” He turns to me and lowers his voice. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He punches my shoulder genially, chuckles, then leads his horse away. I’m left unsure of the future. Another person knows of my strangeness—I hope Gawaine can contain the secret. And the Saxons are growing ever bolder. Can I leave these folk to their battles without my help?
***
Arthur kicks his horse into a trot.
“Come on, Merlin. We’re almost there. Do you think Ban has any ale to spare?”
“For you? I expect so. After your victories last year, the lords all think the sun shines out of your ass. Perhaps you can convince him to give me some ale, too.”
“They’re not so sure of you, are they?”
“It’s all right, I’m used to being an outsider. Besides, I’m a good enough fighter than no one wants to get rid of me, for fear of losing. That’s an agreeable validation.”
We trot through a meadow of early spring wildflowers, yellow cowslips and violet pasque flowers, and splash through a tiny brook before skirting a copse of blackthorn. Arthur points at a group of figures past the trees.
“Isn’t that Ban?”
I squint at the group. A pack of dogs yips and whines at the men’s feet.
“A hunting party. Looks like your ale will have to wait.”
“I was looking forward to that. Oh, well.” Arthur urges his horse into a slow canter, then hails the group. “Lord Ban! Good day!”
The men stop and turn, and the dogs start to bark. My horse snuffles uncertainly but I prod him into a canter to keep up to Arthur. Ban disentangles himself from the men and dogs and strides forward.
“Arthur Pendragon, well met,” he shouts across to us. We narrow the gap and Arthur swings down from his horse to grasp Ban’s arm in greeting.
“How is the hunt?” Arthur gestures at the waiting group.
“Only just begun,” Ban says happily. “Slow to get started today. With any luck, we’ll pull down a few rabbits, and perhaps a stag. Slim choice this time
of year. What brings you to northern Gwent in the spring? Here, join us on our hunt.”
“Gladly,” Arthur says. He points at me. “You remember my adviser Merlin?”
“Yes, of course. Well met, Merlin.” Ban’s reception is slightly cooler to me. I’m a foreign enigma to these southern lords, and they still haven’t figured me out. Ban is all right, though, only a little wary.
“Lord Ban.” I dismount and walk my horse beside Arthur’s. The dogs streak ahead and the men follow. There is a festive feeling in the air.
“We’ve heard rumors over the winter from the Saxons,” Arthur says. He glances briefly at me. What he has heard is not a rumor—I infiltrated some Saxon settlements on the south coast with a disguise of blond hair and the Saxon tongue on my lips. My information is much better than rumor. “The Saxons have invaded, yes, but they are not necessarily looking for a fight.”
“I’ve seen plenty of fight in them,” Ban says amicably.
“Not all of them,” Arthur corrects himself. “Some are fleeing persecution on the mainland, and wish to settle peacefully here. Most of our men have known fighting all their lives. I’d like to send emissaries to the Saxons, see if they’ll discuss a truce with us.”
Ban waits a minute before he answers. The dogs begin to bark and set off in pursuit of a rabbit. Some of the men follow, shouting encouragement. Ban finally speaks.
“It’s funny you should say that. It was only yesterday that I had another visitor speaking of the Saxons. But his message was much different. He urged me to show no mercy to the interlopers, to leave no one alive who dared trespass on our lands. His words, not mine. I must say, he was convincing. Why should we care what problems the Saxons have on the mainland? Let them stay there and work it out themselves.”
“Was the man sent from Idris and Morgan?” Arthur asks quietly. When Ban nods, Arthur sighs. “My sister and her husband are single-minded in their quest. Tell me, Ban, even if you don’t care about the Saxon plight or how their children are being slaughtered by savage hordes in their homeland, how do we benefit from ceaseless fighting?”
Ban shrugs. Arthur presses his point.
“And is our land overrun? Are we so inundated with farm workers after the plagues twenty years ago that we want to turn away able bodies? And tell me, Ban, what is a better defense against a wolf in the flock: a tame dog, or another wolf that follows your command?”
Ban chuckles.
“You have a point, there. I won’t deny more fighters on our side would be welcome, even if they speak the Saxon tongue. You may be young, Arthur, but I see that head on your shoulders is a wise one. You can count on my support.”
“Thank you, Ban. We’ll leave you to your hunt. We’re to call on Cador next.”
“Good luck with him. A fiery one, but get him on your side and he’ll follow you to death and beyond.” Ban rubs the head of a dog who nudges his leg. “All right, all right. Look, even the dogs want me to hunt.”
“Farewell, Ban,” Arthur says, and we mount our horses and strike out to the west. I wait until we are out of earshot before I speak.
“I’m impressed, Arthur. You are developing quite the silver tongue. Keep at it, and Idris and Morgan will have to follow your lead.”
“I hope so. I truly believe this is the right path. We might finally have the advantage, find a peace of sorts—could you imagine?”
I nudge my horse into a trot.
“Come on, Cador won’t convince himself.”
CHAPTER XIII
After my morning class, I stop at Wayne’s office. It’s cramped, with packed bookshelves and a small window cracked open in a vain attempt to entice a breeze.
“Hi, Wayne. Need a break?” I hold up two coffees and pastries bought at a shop on the way. “Hope you like raspberry.”
“Merry! Hey, thanks. Yes, I’m falling asleep here.” He stands and stretches. “Sitting too long. Do you want to eat on the roof? I swiped a key from the office. There’s an overhang to get out of the sun.”
“Lead the way.”
The roof is blazing hot, but the promised overhang protects two lawn chairs from the punishing sun and a steady breeze carries away the worst of the heat. I pass Wayne a coffee and pastry before we sit and stretch our legs out comfortably. Students mill below us on the lawn like sedentary rabbits.
“How’s the fighting? Any new bruises lately?”
“Nowhere I’m willing to show you,” Wayne says with a grin. “Naw, it’s going well. My fights have been evenly matched so far. What about you? Any news on your stalker?”
Right. I’d forgotten I’d told Wayne about that. I suppose it’s time to let him in a little more. He took my last news without blinking, after all. If I’ve read him right, he’s worthy of letting in. I hope.
“He found me. More specifically, a bullet from his gun found my body.”
“What?”
“Just a graze, thankfully.” I don’t need to tell Wayne more than that. “He tore off afterward and I’ve been on the hunt for him ever since.”
“What did you do to piss him off so badly?”
“I did a good deed, but got in his way. He’s part of some criminal organization. It’s called Potestas, have you heard of it?” Wayne shakes his head. “All I have to go on is his name, Drew Mordecai. His name is tangentially connected to a few businesses in town. Coast Bond, Wilson and Jones, Douglas Savings, Sweet Thing.”
“Douglas Savings is a credit union, and isn’t Sweet Thing that cupcake shop on Fourth Avenue? What are the others?”
“An insurance broker and a legal firm.”
“What’s the connection?”
“I don’t know. They come up when I search for his name online. But when I click on the links, the pages can’t be displayed.” I spread my hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I’m a literature instructor, not a detective. I’ve visited each physical location, but they’re all useless.”
“By the way you’re talking, I take it you aren’t going to the police.” He eyes me sideways, then shrugs. “You have a good reason, I hope. So, criminal organization, hey? I’ve never heard of anything fishy from those companies, but they could be good at hiding. You want me to help search for this Drew Mordecai? Sounds like I’ve got a few more skills in the technology department than you do.” He grins at me.
“Researching secret criminal organizations never seemed like a relevant skill set to acquire. Who knew?” I shiver suddenly. The sun dims, hidden behind a thick bank of cloud rolling in from the north out of an otherwise cloudless blue sky. I stand in amazement at the edge of the roof.
“Where did that come from?” Wayne stands beside me and we watch the unseasonable fog bank move inexorably in our direction. Students below us point at the fog and hastily gather their belongings.
It could be a freak weather pattern, brought on by conflicting air masses. But after the warning in my apartment, I’m wary. This might be for me.
Within seconds, the fog is upon is. I’ve rarely seen fog this dense—Wayne is standing beside me, but I might as well be by myself. Am I still five storeys up? Who knows?
“Let’s go inside,” says Wayne’s disembodied voice. “It’s pea soup out here.”
“If we can find the door.” I let go of the barrier, then wish I hadn’t. Now I have no frame of reference.
A flapping sound dives past my ear and I duck instinctively. Another follows, and feathers brush my cheek. I yell and swat at my unseen avian attacker.
“What’s going on?” Wayne shouts.
“Damn birds attacking me. Argh!” I duck again and flail my arms in the hope of grasping some loose lauvan, but no such luck. I whirl around when I hear approaching wingbeats behind me. The bird hits me straight in the face, a maelstrom of flapping wings and black feathers. Silver lauvan swirl frantically, almost unseen in the fog.
I can’t keep my feet and stumble backward but my legs hit the barrier and stop. My torso, however, swings forward. I let out a strangled cry when my top hal
f whips around in an arc over the unseen void. My mind races over my options. Will I have time to transform into a hawk? How can I land to keep my arms and head protected in order to heal myself with lauvan?
A hand grabs my upper arm and pulls roughly, almost dislocating my shoulder. I’m flung onto the gravel of the roof, blood pounding deafeningly in my ears and gravel digging into my palms.
The light swiftly brightens when the unnatural mist blows away in tatters with the resumed breeze. Wayne holds onto the barrier a few feet from me, face pale under his tan.
“What the hell just happened?”
I shake my head wordlessly and stand, my legs shaky from the aftermath of adrenaline. I rub my shoulder.
“Nice reflexes, Wayne. Thanks for saving my life. And, know this—whatever you’re doing at the gym, it’s working.”
Wayne laughs, a little wildly.
“Freak weather, rabid birds—I’m getting off this roof. Come on, I need a drink.”
***
Wayne and I walk out of the campus pub, both at our ease. Beer went a long way toward dispelling any lingering adrenaline from our avian adventures on the roof. The sun is low in the sky and the spaces between buildings are shadowy.
“It’s stupid,” Wayne says. “But ever since I started MMA, I’ve secretly wanted someone to jump out at me from a dark alley.”
“You want to test yourself. That’s not stupid at all. Although the someone in the alley probably has a knife.” I look around but the stretch of pavement we’re on is empty. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got?”
“What?” Wayne laughs incredulously. “Here, now?”
“Why not? No one’s around. Come over to the grass, for a softer landing. I promise to avoid your face.”
“But you haven’t trained at all. I’ll pummel you.”
“I’ve done a few other things along the way. Trust me, I can handle myself. Come on, take me out. If you can.”
Wayne raises an eyebrow.
“It’s like that, is it? Okay, Merry, you asked for it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
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