The Court Sorcerer of Camelot completed his purchases at the market and wished the stallholder a cheerful good day. He wrapped his cloak tightly around himself to block out the bitter cold. A smile touched his lips, as he remembered how reluctant he had been to accept the cloak as a gift, but the queen had overcome his resistance. He was glad of it now, even if the rich blue material, decorated with silver moons and stars, seemed a little ostentatious for someone of his humble origins. The royal couple had been adamant that he should dress according to his new status, and this was the only concession he had been prepared to make. He'd had his moment of triumph though. When Arthur had presented him with a matching pointed hat, no power on earth would have been enough to make him wear it. The king had tried to insist, but he'd made his displeasure clear. After Merlin had turned all the knights' cloaks a delicate shade of pink and all their swords into daffodils, the king had admitted defeat, and the matter had been quietly dropped.

He turned his footsteps towards the citadel, and it was not long before he became certain that he was being followed. He whipped around but saw no one. Shrugging a little, he resumed his path. He could feel someone behind him but had no accompanying sense of danger. Determined to catch his pursuer, he stopped dead and looked over his shoulder, just in time to see a young boy dive for cover in the nearby bushes.

"Come out. I know you're there," Merlin commanded. A stifled sob was the only answer. Merlin came closer and tried again. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I won't hurt you, but I do want to know why you are following me. Do you need help?"

The boy emerged slowly and came to stand shivering before Merlin, who instantly recognized the ragged appearance of someone who had made a long journey. He was dressed in peasant attire, similar to the clothes Merlin himself used to wear as a boy. A pair of enormous brown eyes, set in a handsome face, stared up at him, containing unknown reserves of intelligence, sensitivity, and bravery in their depths. Merlin felt something stir within him.

"You look as if you have come a long way," the warlock said. "Do you have friends in Camelot?"

"I have been walking for three days," the boy replied, and I don't know anyone in Camelot. I came to find you." Merlin was shocked, but before he could reply the boy continued. "I want to be a sorcerer. Will you teach me? I could be your servant as payment. I'm much stronger than I look, and I'm prepared to work hard. I'll do whatever you tell me."

The hero-worship in the boy's eyes unsettled him. It was an uncomfortable experience, but to refuse would be like kicking a puppy. He couldn't bring himself to do it, even if he had no need of a servant. The boy's plight touched him. He would have to make enquiries about his family later, but for now he searched his mind for a viable alternative.

"Wouldn't you prefer to train as a knight? Most young boys want to be knights," he said thoughtfully. "Perhaps Sir Leon or Sir Gwaine would take you as a page."

"No!" the boy replied vehemently. "I want to serve you. It must be you. And besides...I...I have magic," he blurted.

Merlin was stunned by the boy's admission but chose not to require proof of the matter. Taking an instant decision, he said, "You have, have you? Well, come along, then. You'll feel much better when you are warm and fed."

"Thank you, My Lord," the boy beamed at him, his eyes expressing gratitude and sincerity. "I promise you, you won't regret it." They made their way to the castle, the boy trailing respectfully in Merlin's wake. As they passed the stables, the king returned from an expedition with a party of knights. Catching sight of Merlin, he dismounted quickly and handed the reins to a waiting groom.

"Ah, Merlin," he called, looking pointedly at the boy and then raising his eyes to meet the warlock's. "Would you introduce me to your companion?"

The warlock sighed, afraid that this addition to his household would be a prolonged source of merriment for the king and his knights. "This is my new...apprentice, Sire," he stated baldly, daring the king to laugh. Arthur had no such intention and instead smiled at the boy.

"What is your name, lad?" he asked kindly.

"Alain, Sire," he replied, executing a low bow.

"Welcome to Camelot, Alain," the king responded, impressed by the boy's politeness. "So you are going to look after my Court Sorcerer, are you?"

"Yes, Sire," he replied solemnly. "I will work hard and serve Lord Merlin faithfully and well."

This time Arthur did laugh. "Ha!" he said. "A boy after your own heart, Merlin. You are well suited."

Something about the boy's earnestness and intensity appealed to him, and he said in a low voice. "He reminds me of someone."

"Me too," Merlin replied, "but I can't quite put my finger on it."

"The Sorcerer's Apprentice. That has a nice ring to it," the king said, winking at Merlin.

There was a sudden thud as the boy collapsed to the ground, exhausted.

"Ah, poor lad," Merlin said. "He probably hasn't slept for days. Let's get him to Gaius. He can sleep in my old bed."

The physician passed no comment as Sir Percival carried the sleeping boy through his chambers and deposited him carefully in Merlin's old room. Waiting until the door was firmly shut on the knight, he turned to the warlock.

"Merlin, are you out of your mind? You cannot keep this boy!"

"Why not?"

"Well, we know nothing about him. He could be a runaway, and his parents could be looking for him."

"I think he has no one," Merlin said, "but I'm sure he will tell us his story when he's slept and eaten. We'll decide what to do then, but...he's a nice lad, Gaius, and I feel strangely attached to him already."

Gaius raised his eyes. He knew it wasn't worth arguing when Merlin's mind was made up, and merely said, "May I ask how you propose to look after him? A child is a big commitment, Merlin."

"Ah," he said, turning on his most charming smile full blast at his former mentor. "I was hoping that you might help me out there, Gaius. He says he has magic, and we could share his education between us. Perhaps you could also teach him medicine. He would be company for you while I'm engaged on the king's business or when I have to travel away from Camelot. He can accompany me when he's older, but for now, he needs stability."

Gaius stared at him, speechless for once.

"I'm sorry, Gaius. I know it's a lot to ask, but...there's just something about him."

"Well," the physician replied. "You seem to have it all worked out, Merlin, but I'm an old man. I don't know if I can cope with a young boy. We'll have to discuss it again after I've had time to think it over."

...

The boy woke early the following morning, but shyness made him wait to be summoned. Merlin knocked on the door and entered.

"Come and have some breakfast," he said. "You must be starving."

The speed with which the boy responded proved the truth of his assertion. He watched, smiling, as Alain devoured three bowls of steaming porridge.

"Now," he said gently, once the boy had eaten his fill. "I would like to know more about you. Do you feel able to tell me?"

"I am eight years old, and I come from the village of Taymore. My mother died of the fever recently, and I am left alone." His voice trembled, and he fought back tears. "I came to you for shelter, because as I told you, I want to be a sorcerer, and I had heard of you before."

Merlin wondered exactly what Alain meant by that, but he forbore to ask, instead pursuing a more pressing question.

"What of your father? Has he passed on, too?"

"I don't know. I never met him."

"So he left you?" Merlin pursed his lips and tried not to appear disapproving.

"You mustn't blame him," the boy leapt to his father's defence.

Merlin looked up, startled at such uncanny perception in one so young. Could the boy read his thoughts? Yet again, there was that faint stirring in his memory which proved frustratingly elusive.

"He never knew my mother was with child," Alain explained. "She took him in when he was injured, and she nursed him back to health. When he recovered, he didn't wish to be a burden. I never found out what happened to him," he said sadly, his eyes drenched with tears again. He looked at the warlock hopefully and said in a small voice, "Perhaps you can tell me, My Lord. You used to know him."

"I?" Merlin answered, scarcely daring to breathe.

"Yes; he told my mother that you were the kindest man he had ever met and the best friend that anyone could wish for. I can see that it is true."

Tears filled Merlin's eyes and overflowed, cascading down his cheeks. I must be dreaming, he thought. This can't really be happening. Taking a deep breath, he ventured, "Do you know his name?"

"Oh yes," the boy replied, his voice a mixture of pride and longing. "His name is Lancelot."