3.9 The Cauldron of Ceridwen
Part 1
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is an "episode" of my alternate third series. It's not necessary to read them all, as I did my best to make each story stand-alone.
Merlin sat on his pillow, still fully dressed, a magic book propped open against his raised knees. As he poured over its contents, an insistent voice vibrated inside his head:
Merlin.
Blaise's voice. Merlin glanced at the closed door of his room, at the closed shutters of his window, knowing full well that Blaise was not summoning him from Gaius's chambers, nor from the outside night. The glance was anxious instinct, for if Blaise were caught in Camelot, he would be executed.
Merlin relaxed his clenched fingers, indulging in the hope that he'd imagined things; the hour was late, the book was one he'd borrowed from Blaise without permission; perhaps sleep-starved guilt was manifesting.
Merlin, get out here!
Merlin bolted to his feet. Blaise was angry—but Merlin was too worried to care. Where are you? he asked mentally as he slid the book under his bed and snatched the dark grey coat he'd received in Cameliard, where he'd been Blaise's apprentice. Merlin hadn't worn the coat in the two weeks since he and Arthur, and nine of Arthur's knights, had returned to Camelot—but now he slipped it on like second skin.
By the North Door.
Are you insane? Merlin snuffed the candles in his room with a thought—the flames vanished simultaneously—and quietly shut his door, tiptoeing past Gaius. He rushed through the empty midnight streets wondering how Blaise had entered Camelot unseen. Why are you in Camelot? he asked.
No answer.
Blaise?
Still nothing.
Merlin ran.
As far as most knew, the North Door was simply a passageway inside the double-thick wall that separated the opulent, fortified housing of the nobility from the lower town. Blaise had gotten far. Perhaps too far, for the North Door was also one terminus of a concealed passage—known only to a select few—that led directly to the royal residences. A guardroom sat inside the wall, between the lower door and the upper door, and hid the passage entrance. Two guards and a viciously trained dog were supposed to ensure that all three thresholds remained un-encroached.
As Merlin neared the area, he slowed, trying to spot Blaise without drawing the attention of the night watch—for patrols were frequent these days, on the lookout for sorcerers. But before he could get his bearings, a hand clamped over his mouth and pulled him down behind a barley cart.
Blaise crouched in waiting. "Let's go," he hissed.
Caradoc released her grip on Merlin. She wore all black, her dark hair tied at the nape of her neck, and a purple stone pendant that swung at her breast as she peered around the edge of the cart.
"Clear," she whispered.
"What, are you trying to kidnap me?" Merlin joked.
Blaise buffed Merlin's ear. "I teach you magic, or Cameliard suffers, remember?" he seethed. He glanced about—Caradoc was already pressed against the wall, blending into the shadows beside the closed and locked North Door.
"Has something happened to Cameliard?" Merlin asked. "Has it become desolate with sand and perpetual dusk?"
Blaise shot Merlin a look that could have withered the rain.
"Ninaeve knows my destiny is with Arthur," Merlin continued, more passionately, trying to make Blaise understand. "She won't hurt Cameliard because she knows I belong in Camelot."
Blaise ignored Merlin; he faced the door and his eyes flashed gold. The now unlocked door swung open and Caradoc raised the pommel of her sword, ready to hit the guard who came to investigate.
Blaise grabbed Merlin's ear and towed him toward the door. "You may leave Cameliard when Ninaeve says you may leave—don't presume you know the mind—"
Caradoc raised her hand in warning, for no guard had come to investigate the mysteriously opened door. Merlin and Blaise hurried to her side and she peered carefully around the corner: a dead knight and a sleeping dog lay in the corridor. Noise came from the guardroom and all three ran forward. Caradoc tried to keep Blaise and Merlin behind her, but Merlin's pride of home—and his curiosity—urged him ahead of her. He peeked into the guardroom and saw Alvarr, a sorcerer who'd infiltrated Camelot the year before, pulling open a shelf that had been built onto the door in order to disguise it. The supplies stacked on the shelves had been thrown to the floor, where the second guard also lay dead—stabbed in the back by a young brunette peasant woman, whom Merlin had never seen before. She wore a faded green dress and a tight brown bodice that prominently revealed her cleavage, and she was wiping her hands and knife on the dead guard's mantle.
"Alvarr," Caradoc exhaled his name.
Merlin looked at Caradoc in surprise at the same moment the young woman finished, standing up to face Merlin—she hissed; Alvarr turned—in a smooth, well-practiced move, he pushed his hand forward, barking a short spell—Caradoc pulled Merlin aside, beyond the brunt of the spell's force, and the only damage was the slammed door.
"You know Alvarr?" Merlin demanded.
Caradoc ignored him and threw her weight against the door, but it wouldn't budge.
"Blaise," she said with plaintive urgency, but Blaise had gone outside. Bells clanged as the alarm sounded—soon guards would be everywhere. Blaise returned and grabbed Merlin.
"Let Uther deal with Alvarr," he said, heading toward the lower exit.
"No!" Merlin and Caradoc exclaimed simultaneously. Merlin pulled away from Blaise and motioned Caradoc aside. He put the flat of his hand on the door and internally recited a spell. He felt the power flow through him; he felt the door unlock; gently he pushed it open.
"Be careful," he said as Caradoc rushed past him.
"Where do you think you're going?" Blaise demanded to Merlin.
"To head him off," Merlin replied, running out the upper exit and toward the castle, leaving Blaise either to accompany Caradoc, or huddle with the dead.
Teach her.
No.
She's not evil, Ninianne, she's lost; she needs direction, not condemna—
The Cauldron, Elayne—don't get selfish, especially in the face of this dis—
The clanging bells ripped Morgana from her restless sleep. She clasped the golden bracelet around her wrist as if it were her only refuge, and looked around, swearing she'd heard voices. But her chambers were empty and the only sound was the alarm. She pulled on a robe and rushed to a window: the streets were deserted except for the patrols racing by in tight double lines.
She heard her chamber door burst open and spun in fear, instinctively reaching behind her for something—anything to defend herself; but her terror subsided when she recognized Alvarr leaning against the closed door. A woman had also entered, and was glaring at him.
"Are you insane?" Morgana demanded as the woman ran to the window and discreetly peered out.
"I need your help," Alvarr said.
"Then you'd better explain quickly and get out of here."
"We need a book of Queen Igraine's," the woman turned away from the window.
"Why?" Morgana asked.
"You said the Lady was an ally and worth the risk," the woman sneered at Alvarr.
"Be sure to tell the guards that," Morgana retorted. "I'll be quaking under the bed."
"Morgana, please," Alvarr said softly. "Igraine was a friend to magic, and we think she recorded a spell that can aid us against Uther."
"What kind of spell?" Morgana asked.
"A very powerful spell—a spell of the witch Ceridwen."
"Ceridwen's a legend," Morgana protested.
"She was very real," Alvarr said. "I should know—I am the last of her line."
Morgana paused in awe, and the woman gave Alvarr a strange, evaluating look as he continued.
"The spell is mine by right."
"What makes you think Igraine's had it?"
"Before joining my people, Bridget was a maid for Queen Morcades."
"Igraine's sister," Bridget elaborated. "I overheard things."
"We have reason to believe Igraine was trusted with this spell," Alvarr said.
"Uther burned all the books containing magic," Morgana pointed out.
"Uther kept everything Igraine had," Bridget countered. "He worships her, dead or alive."
Morgana pondered Bridget for a moment, wondering if it was simply fear that fueled such anger. "I'll do what I can," she finally agreed. Bridget did not seem satisfied, but Alvarr cut off any objection she might have made.
"We would not have come if we weren't certain," Alvarr beamed at Morgana.
"How will I contact you if I find it?" she asked.
"How are we going to get out of here?" Bridget demanded acridly, peeking out the window. She had barely finished speaking when someone rapped loudly on the door.
"Lady Morgana!"
"Hide," Morgana said, but Bridget was already crawling under the bed; Alvarr stashed himself behind Morgana's wardrobe screen, and Morgana grabbed a dagger. She opened the door: Sir Cadoc and Merlin entered.
"I have orders to attend you, my lady, until this is over," Cadoc bowed his head to her, but the motion caused him dizziness—he tried to recover without revealing the lapse and was only moderately successful.
"Orders?" Morgana asked suspiciously, watching Merlin, who was looking around, though he did not go so far as to physically search the room.
"I do not question the King's concern for your safety," Cadoc answered politely. "But if you wish to, you are bolder than I."
Morgana did not take her eyes off Merlin until he stopped surveying her chambers and returned her stare. She wanted to ask Sir Cadoc why Merlin was there, but when she turned to him, he was holding the back of his neck, wincing slightly.
"You're injured," she said, as though trying on the words.
"It's no—" Cadoc started but Merlin interrupted:
"He was attacked," Merlin watched Morgana intently, waiting for a reaction. "In the corridor. At his post."
Morgana remained blank.
"And you raised the alarm?" she asked Cadoc. He shook his head—a mistake.
"He was unconscious," Merlin stated.
"But not killed," she retorted. To Cadoc she said, "You need to see Gaius—I'll be fine—I'll bolt the door."
"Lady Morgana, I'm not—"
Cadoc whirled suddenly, provoked by a small noise. He had to steady himself again, but his sword was up, and he advanced quietly towards Morgana's bed. Merlin, sure the sound was Alvarr, watched—guarded against—Morgana. Cadoc bent his knees to gaze beneath the bed, but another, more deliberate noise—Alvarr stepping out from behind the screen—drew him upright. Alvarr gave neither Cadoc nor Merlin the chance to react, blasting Cadoc instantly.
And Merlin's last sensations that night were the sight of a strange woman scrambling out from under the bed, and the brunt of Cadoc's chainmail against his face.
Merlin woke up feeling quite rested. He was in his own bed, still wearing last night's shirt and trousers—though his feet were bare—and he didn't hurt at all, no matter where he checked. After accepting his good health, he threw on his shoes, grabbed his old brown jacket, tattering more with each year, and hurried into Gaius's adjoining chamber.
"Good morning," Gaius said, putting a plate of food on the table.
Merlin paused, skeptical—Gaius was acting too normal.
"Yes, last night was a disaster," Gaius said. "Now eat."
Merlin glanced at the food, but made for the door. "I have to find Arthur."
"He's searching for Alvarr," Gaius said.
"And he needs my help—did Cadoc mention the woman helping Alvarr?"
"Morgana or the other one?" Gaius replied.
Merlin hesitated—Gaius was getting at something. Circumspectly. He didn't want to alienate Gaius, but Arthur needed him right now. He shifted; and his stomach growled, betraying his hunger. Reluctantly he sat down to eat.
"How is Cadoc?" Merlin asked after a mouthful.
"Sir Cadoc was more severely wounded than you, and hasn't been able to speak much," Gaius said. "He'll recover, but he needs rest."
"So who told Arthur about the woman? It couldn't have been Morgana."
"I don't know Merlin, but Morgana did raise the question of what you were doing up and about so late."
"Am I under suspicion?" Merlin asked.
"No—Arthur claims you were waiting on him."
Merlin seized the explanation: "He wanted something to eat, and you know how he gets when he's hungry."
"And Blaise?" Gaius asked.
"Who?"
"Merlin," Gaius was losing his patience, "Uther is already on the rampage for sorcerers, and he considers last night an attack on Morgana—this is no time for secrets."
"Has Blaise been captured?" Merlin asked, forgetting his food and Alvarr.
"Good, you're finally comprehending the severity of this situation," Gaius said.
"I know the situation," Merlin snapped. "I'm sorry," he recomposed himself.
"It's all right," Gaius said. "Blaise hasn't been caught yet, and as far as I know, Arthur is the only one looking for him. Discreetly."
"So, if you saw Blaise . . . " Merlin said tentatively.
"I think we should worry about Alvarr," Gaius said.
Merlin wanted to press the issue of Blaise's safety and whereabouts, but a strange woman's voice answered Gaius:
"Alvarr has the Cauldron of Ceridwen."
Both men turned their heads like startled falcons.
She stood on the steps leading to Merlin's room, wearing a deep-red dress and commanding posture. Gaius twitched with recognition.
"You're Ninianne," Merlin guessed with awe.
"And you are the once and future fool," she replied. "He plans to use it."
"The Cauldron—" Gaius objected.
"Is very real," Ninianne said.
"I was going to say that the Cauldron alone won't help him," Gaius said.
"What else does he need?" Merlin asked. "It's in Camelot, I assume."
No response. Gaius and Ninianne stared implacably at each other until Ninianne said, "This is no time for secrets, Gaius."
Gaius said nothing. Ninianne walked down the steps—Merlin had an urge to back into a corner. "Alvarr managed to kill a very powerful sorcerer for this," she said.
"And conjure decades-old rumors," Gaius said.
Indeed, Ninianne's face seemed to say.
"Is this a decades-old conversation," Merlin muttered, feeling left in the dark.
"Did rumors bring down this powerful sorcerer?" Gaius asked after a moment.
"That is a question," Ninianne said. "Perhaps Alvarr had the help of a dark power. How he killed Gansguoter is my concern. Stopping him is yours," she tossed the last comment to Merlin and turned, vanishing in a blink. Merlin felt a shift in the air at her disappearance—subtle, intuitive—a sensation he couldn't be certain he hadn't imagined. A sensation gone as quickly as Ninianne. Merlin gave up trying to examine it and turned to Gaius:
"What did she mean by secrets?"
But Gaius just stared at the empty space where Ninianne had been.
"Gaius?"
"Go find Arthur," Gaius said, picking up Merlin's plate. "You have a sorcerer to catch."
Merlin wanted to ask more, but Gaius was deeply bothered—so half reluctantly, half gladly, he went to find Arthur.
Arthur was in Uther's chambers, where Uther presided over an intimate court. Four guards were posted at the door, two on the inside, two on the out; they let Merlin pass only at Arthur's command.
"No sign," Arthur reported to Uther's back. "But every gate of Camelot is guarded—he won't escape."
Uther stared out a window, silently contemplating the news as he watched the people below move about, staring apprehensively over their own shoulders.
"Unless he's already gone," Morgana said. She sat in one of Uther's ornate chairs, calm and queenly, until she noticed Merlin watching her. She lowered her eyes and bit her lip and grasped Gwen's hand. Gwen, standing dutifully beside her, returned Morgana's grasp and stroked her hair.
"Alvarr can't disappear into thin air," Arthur responded.
"How do you know?" Morgana asked.
"Because he wouldn't have needed the North Door if he could," Arthur said.
"How did he know about that passage?" Uther asked, not moving.
"I doubt he stumbled across it," Arthur said.
"Maybe he had a mirror, like Erbin," Morgana offered.
"Or maybe," Arthur hesitated.
"We have a traitor," Uther said gravely, turning around. He surveyed those gathered, emphasizing the severity of such a possibility. "Alvarr had help," he continued. "More than just this woman. Look beyond the city—scour the land," he said to Arthur, "and arrest anyone about whom you have the slightest doubt."
Arthur braced himself and bowed to his father; he turned toward Morgana as if to say something, but her eyes were downcast so he merely nodded at Gwen; he left, Merlin fast on his heels.
"Do you really think there's a traitor in Camelot?" Merlin asked once they were alone in the corridor.
"The King believes so."
"But what do you think?"
Arthur paused, trying to disentangle the knots in his mind. "I think the woman could be the traitor. Except, how she knew—did she look like a noblewoman to you?"
"No, she looked like a maidservant. How do you know about the woman?"
"Caradoc."
"Right," Merlin said. Of course.
"She thought Alvarr would attack the King, so she hid outside his chambers. When Alvarr didn't show, and the castle filled with knights, she found me. Privately," he added quickly—a warning to Merlin to keep Caradoc's existence a secret.
Merlin nodded. "So, since only a privileged few know about the Door, we start with them."
"Not 'we' Merlin, me. You need to find Blaise and return to Cameliard."
"I need to be here. Alvarr has magic, and so do many of his followers."
"I'm not some damsel in distress, Merlin," Arthur said irritably. "Cameliard is in danger—and you're not exactly safe, in case you haven't noticed."
"Fine," Merlin said flatly. "But won't it look suspicious if the Prince's servant suddenly disappears as soon as the King suspects treachery?"
Arthur begrudgingly mulled this over.
"In the middle of a search for a sorcerer?" Merlin added.
"Fine. But stay out of the way and don't do anything stupid."
"I never do," Merlin smiled, elated by his success as he walked at Arthur's side.
"Where do you think you're going?" Arthur halted.
"With you," Merlin said matter-of-factly.
"Why would I need my servant when I question the nobility?"
"I can help."
"I realize this is difficult for you to accept, Merlin, but I can do things for myself."
Merlin opened his mouth, a retort ready to spring forth—
"Go," Arthur ordered. "Do your job. Your actual job, if you even remember what that is."
My job, Merlin thought, skulking toward Arthur's chambers. Arthur knew nothing about Merlin's duty—his Destiny—why bother sometimes—(Merlin slammed the door to Arthur's chambers, buffeting the guards outside)—if Arthur insisted on thwarting—
Merlin stopped short: Blaise sat at Arthur's table, staring at the cold heap of ashes in the fireplace.
"You're here," Merlin said—the first thought that came to him. Blaise, immobile, gave no indication that he noticed Merlin's presence. Merlin was about to clear his throat when Blaise spoke:
"No one but the Prince and his personal servant should be entering his room."
"But Arthur doesn't know you're here."
"No—he was gone when I entered," Blaise kept his eyes on the soot-coated stones of the fireplace. "He must have reacted quickly to the alarm bells."
"The guards," Merlin glanced at the doors.
"Showed up this morning," Blaise grimaced.
"Where's Cara?" Merlin asked, sitting down in one of several ornate chairs scattered around the long table (which Merlin thought could easily accommodate six people—but the chairs were for Arthur's moods, not company).
"I assume Cara's doing what Cara does," Blaise replied. He finally looked at Merlin. "Is there news of Alvarr?"
Merlin studied Blaise. "Alvarr's not been caught," he ventured carefully.
"Damn."
"You want him captured?" Merlin said in surprise. "Why?"
"He's a power-hungry tick," Blaise said. "Of course I want him captured—I want him executed."
"You really don't like him?"
Blaise looked at Merlin as though inspecting an actual tick. "Why would you assume I like him?"
"I-I didn't," Merlin stuttered. "Cara recognized him."
"And did nothing to help him—since you didn't notice."
"I noticed," Merlin said defensively. "But," again, he hesitated.
"But?" Blaise prompted. But Merlin didn't know how to finish, so Blaise did: "But Alvarr has magic, which is permitted in Cameliard."
Merlin fortified his gaze against Blaise's scorn.
"Merlin, please tell me you don't always jump to conclusions like that."
"I wasn't jumping—he uses magic, and he hates Uther, just like—"
"Drawing conclusions based on surface similarities is jumping to them," Blaise interjected. "Now, any word on what Alvarr's after? If he'd tried for Uther, Cara would have caught him."
Maybe he's trickier than Cara, Merlin thought—and rethought—it was vindictive and unhelpful, and Alvarr and Morgana were too dangerous.
"He went to Morgana's chambers," Merlin decided to trust Blaise. "Probably to have her steal something for him."
"Based on what?" Blaise said.
"Based on, that's what he did last time."
"What did he steal?" Blaise asked, leaning toward Merlin with interest now.
"The Crystal of Neyetid," Merlin replied. "But I don't think he's after it again."
"Why not?"
"He's not strong enough to use it," Merlin said, provoking Blaise's impatience again; Merlin felt like a child—but he did not want to get into what the Great Dragon had revealed, so he opted for the part he knew Blaise would believe: "Ninianne appeared this morning. She said Alvarr has the Cauldron of Ceridwen."
"Then he's after a spell," Blaise said, nonchalantly accepting Ninianne's involvement. "One that will give him all the power he could ever lust for. Where is the Lady Morgana?"
"Uther's chambers. It's the only place she feels safe. She says."
"Have you told Arthur what you know?"
"I didn't need to—there was a witness—a knight. Morgana had to admit Alvarr was in her chambers."
"But have you told Arthur about the Cauldron?"
"I don't exactly know anything about the Cauldron, do I? Do you?"
"There's a story about it," Blaise said. "And about the feud between Ceridwen and Taliesin that resulted—when you say Ninianne 'appeared', where was this?"
"In Gaius's chambers. Where my own room is."
"Was Gaius there? Did he say nothing?"
"He told me as much as you're telling me now."
"So he told you that Balinore was the last of Ceridwen's line?"
"What?" Merlin asked. "My father—I'm the last of Ceridwen's line?" he digested this revelation.
"Unless there are hidden bastards running around, which I suppose is always a possibility."
Blaise said it neutrally, as if merely making an observation; Merlin was too preoccupied to read any insult into the words anyway, and his silence drew Blaise's scrutiny.
"If I were looking for the spell, Uther's chambers is a good place to start," Blaise said, pulling Merlin out of his reverie.
"Uther has the spell?" Merlin said doubtfully.
"Queen Igraine had the spell," Blaise said. "Maybe Uther knew, maybe he didn't; but when she died, he gathered everything about her into himself."
"Morgana's in Uther's chambers," Merlin said darkly, flying out the door as the implications overwhelmed him; Blaise tried to grab him, but Merlin moved too fast. Blaise would not leave the safety of Arthur's chambers, and Morgana, it seemed, was two steps ahead.
"How long are we going to stay here?" Gwen asked.
Morgana meandered silently around the room, running an occasional finger over a chest or along the wood of one of Uther's wardrobes. She paused in front of a chessboard, its pieces arranged perfectly, waiting for a game to begin. The board sat upon a small table, which suited the board so well, it must have been made for it.
"Where else is there?" Morgana asked, half to herself. She picked up the black king and noticed a small shadow on the board where the piece had sat. For years: the shadow was not from dust, but from the stationary piece blocking the sunlight. "You're right, Gwen," Morgana replaced the king, which had been routinely polished. "I can't stay here forever. I'll just feel safer once all this is over."
"I'm sure Arthur will catch Alvarr," Gwen said.
"Arthur will catch Alvarr," Morgana repeated to herself, not liking the unusual weight of the words. "What about the King?" she asked Gwen suddenly.
"The King? What do you mean?"
"You said that Arthur will catch Alvarr, not that Uther would."
"Well, I mean," Gwen stammered, "Uther will, but Arthur's the champion, I mean, Uther through Arthur—"
"It's all right, Gwen. Arthur is the one running about, isn't he?"
"To be fair, Uther did have to walk all the way to his throne today," Gwen ventured, getting a genuine laugh from Morgana—a returning humor Gwen welcomed against Morgana's dourness of late. Gwen dared hope it was a breakthrough, but then Merlin strode into the room and Morgana darkened again.
"Did the guards just let you pass?" Morgana demanded.
"Gwen," Merlin said, not taking his eyes of Morgana, "would you give us a moment?"
"Stay," Morgana ordered. "Unless there's a reason you can't speak in front of Gwen?"
"It's a private matter, Gwen," Merlin concentrated on Morgana. "Please."
"You and I don't have private matters," Morgana snapped. "Now get out."
"Gwen," Merlin still stared at Morgana, "would you go tell Arthur that I found what he was looking for, and it's waiting in his chambers."
Gwen glanced uncertainly from Merlin to Morgana. "Arthur might be angry if you don't tell him yourself," she finally said.
"Since you are his servant," Morgana added, her ire growing with each passing second. "Gwen, show Merlin the door—since he's too stupid to find it himself," she turned her back on them, staring resolutely out a window.
Gwen opened the door for Merlin. "What's going on?" she whispered.
"Nothing," Merlin insisted quietly. "She's still mad about the Morgause thing."
"But—"
"It's nothing, Gwen, really. Just don't leave her alone."
Gwen smiled meekly and shut the door as Merlin walked away; Morgana remained at the window, more closed off than ever.
Why does he get free rein?
It's his place, Elayne.
The Great Merlin. And the rest of us just have to accept the consequences of his actions.
Elayne—
He thinks Destiny is the answer to everything, Ninianne—an excuse for anything.
And you think Morgana is any wiser?
I think she's doing the best she can with what little she's been given.
Merlin paused at the end of the corridor. What now? He glanced behind him at the door of Uther's chambers—unable to speak to Morgana, his only hope was to capture Alvarr before Morgana could give him the spell—if she'd found it, that is; there was the chance she hadn't yet, especially if Gwen had stayed by her side since last night. He had to find Arthur.
Since only a handful of people—the King, the council, a few trusted servants—knew about the North Door, there were few places Arthur could be at the moment. Merlin ran, passing the numerous knights stationed at the doors of even the poorest noble. He checked Sir Oswald, one of Uther's council, and was gruffly told by Oswald's servant that Arthur had already left. Then he ran toward Ulfius's chambers, not knowing if Arthur was going in any sort of order. However, Ulfius was said to have served Uther longer than any other—longer even than Gaius—to have served at least one of Uther's brothers as well—so Arthur would probably show Ulfius a special courtesy, which, as far as Merlin could tell, meant exchanging pleasantries first and prolonging the interview.
Arthur had indeed spoken to Ulfius, but had departed. Must've started here, Merlin thought. Where next? He couldn't run about haphazardly forever, hoping to trip over Arthur by chance. The King. Eventually, Arthur would report to Uther, so Merlin decided to head for the Great Hall.
At which point, he stumbled upon Arthur, who was conferring quietly with a servant in the middle of a long, deserted corridor.
"Arthur!" Merlin ran to join them. The servant carried a small bundle of firewood that hid his face from afar. Her face. Merlin recognized Caradoc when she shifted to look at him. Momentarily taken aback, he nonetheless continued with Arthur. "Do we know how Alvarr found out about the North Door?"
"No," Arthur said. "Unless you've divined it."
"What? No," Merlin said, staring at Caradoc: she was dressed as a man, with old shoes, tattered trousers, a faded shirt, and had her hair tucked tightly beneath a cap. Up close, she was not so convincing.
"Too bad," Arthur muttered. He turned to Caradoc. "And see, you are obvious."
"Merlin knows me," Caradoc said.
"Couldn't you find a woman's dress to wear?" Merlin asked.
"A woman has no cause to be in the Prince's chambers. At least, not during the day," she replied.
"No one but my servant should ever be entering my chambers alone," Arthur said irritably. "Am I focusing on the wrong problem?"
"Your men are capable," Caradoc insisted. "I'm better. And your chambers are guarded. By Sir Madoc."
"Not impressed," Arthur said to Caradoc.
"Arthur, speaking of your chambers," Merlin leaned confidentially close, "Blaise is waiting for you."
"Yes, Merlin. Caradoc told me."