Arthur was sitting at a large table with Morgana, Drake, and Drake's young nephew Aithusa. They were in an upscale restaurant, certainly not someplace Arthur would go under normal circumstances.

"Kilgarrah actually began as a magician," Aithusa said, bright blue eyes shining. "One of the best."

"Really?" Arthur asked, turning to the man in question. "You were one of the great magicians. Why did you stop?"

Kilgarrah Drake was a gruff looking man, with a sour disposition and piercing eyes. Arthur almost wished the man would look somewhere else, but he made unflinching eye contact. "Do you know how many people went to see magic performed live in the last half decade? About 1.6 million. You know how many DVD's I've sold in the same period? Five million."

"Right, so it's about the money."

Kilgarrah quirked an eyebrow. "Well, the money is only there because the need to know is greater than the desire to be fooled. Like you, I detest those who prey upon the gullibility of the masses."

"With all due respect," Morgana interrupted. "Isn't there a cost, though, to this game?"

"Cost?" Aithusa asked warily, quirking an eyebrow.

"I don't know. Careers. Lives."

Kilgarrah sighed. "I assume you're referring to Thomas Smith."

"Who?" Arthur had never heard the name before, as common as it sounded.

"Thomas Smith. A middling magician who drowned in the Hudson River thirty years ago." Aithusa explained. "On Kilgarrah's first special, he revealed all of Smith's tricks. The next year, Smith tried to stage a comeback. He was shackled inside a safe, and dropped into the river. But he never resurfaced."

Arthur frowned. "You mean he drowned?"

"I didn't kill him." Kilgarrah glared. "He killed himself trying to do something he wasn't prepared to handle." He tilted his head, eyes narrowed. "You do realize this is a game?"

"Believe me, it's not a game." Morgana asserted.

"It is a game. You're a game. You're being played. And your pathetic attempts at fawning to gain my trust..." Kilgarrah grinned, darkly amused. "I mean, come on."

Arthur shrugged, unconcerned. "You got me."

"If you really want to know how a bank in Paris was robbed from a stage in Las Vegas, my special comes out next month."

"Or we could just bring you in on obstruction charges and force you to tell us." Morgana threatened with her patented nonchalant expression. Arthur wished he could look so uncaring. "Unless, of course, what you're really trying to say is you don't know how they did it."

Aithusa glanced nervously at his uncle, and Kilgarrah got a gleam in his eye.

"Showmanship and theatrics." Kilgarrah led the agents to the stage. "When a magician says, 'This is where the magic is happening', the real trick is happening somewhere else."

Aithusa scurried in front of them, reaching back to help his uncle up the stairs. Arthur glanced at Morgana. She seemed determined and a bit amused, as usual.

"Misdirection. A basic concept of magic."

"Not interested in the concepts of magic," Arthur griped. "I wanna know how they robbed a bank."

Kilgarrah scoffed. "You're an idiot if you think they robbed a bank. But don't take my word for it." He gestured to the 'teleporter' in the center of the stage. "How about a trip to Paris? Aithusa, the helmet please?

Arthur stared. "You're joking, right?"

Kilgarrah stared back. "You want to know how they did it or not?"

Arthur rolled his eyes as Aithusa gently settled the helmet on his head, then shooed him on top of the platform.

"Now we pull this down all safe and snug." Kilgarrah was definitely amused as he pulled the curtain down. "Make yourself comfortable, there you go. And when you're ready to go to Paris, just say the magic word."

"Bite me?" Arthur glared.

The old man grinned. "That'll suffice."

"Bon voyage," Morgana laughed.

And then there was a bright flash of light and Arthur screamed as he hit the ground. He looked around. He was in what looked to be a vault, like the one that was robbed. But that was impossible, right? He pushed himself to his feet as the vault door opened.

"Bonjour," Kilgarrah smiled as he entered. "I personally prefer to take the stairs to Paris. Welcome to the City of Light, Agent Pendragon."

"Hardy har har," Arthur griped. "What was with the helmet?"

Kilgarrah shrugged. "My fun."

Morgana laughed as she entered the 'vault' with Aithusa.

"What?" Arthur frowned.

"Nothing," but she smiled at the top of his head.

"Oh!" Arthur slipped the helmet off, and turned away from his sister. "So they got a vault set."

Kilgarrah hummed and nodded.

"And it's the exact replica of the little French guy's bank."

"So he's a plant," Morgana deduced.

Kilgarrah shook his head. "He's a dupe, not a plant. They chose him, they knew which seat he was in."

Arthur squinted. "No, no, no, the audience picked the seat."

"Unless, of course," Morgana realized, "the audience didn't pick the seat."

"They let them think they picked the seat," Kilgarrah nodded, "When, actually, they were just palming the ball with the seat number they wanted. He was selected. They programmed his mind to make him go to Las Vegas. And then they kept reinforcing it, until he did. They trailed him, they studied him. Nothing was left to chance. He had no idea that he was their target. And they simply activated him in Vegas."

Arthur considered it. He supposed it made sense. It wouldn't have been difficult for The Horsemen to fly to Paris, given Nimeuh Priest's bank account. Then it would have been a simple matter of shuffling cards within eyesight, flipping poker chips, a few simple phrases on a fake phone call.

"But how did they know what bank was his?" Morgana asked.

Kilgarrah looked shocked. "You're kidding."

"Could you be any more of a condescending ass?" She glared back.

"Yes."

Arthur laughed.

"Like this." Kilgarrah pushed off the wall. "There's a very rare, very mysterious way in which a magician divines an audience member's bank." He leaned in close. "Credit card."

Morgana's eyes widened. "And that's how they got the signature for the card they left in the vault in Paris."

"Very good," Kilgarrah smiled. "You're being one-upped, Agent Pendragon."

Arthur frowned. "Okay, but they had to get the signature card in the vault. You said they didn't steal the money-"

"No, I didn't say they didn't steal the money. I said they didn't rob the bank." Kilgarrah corrected. "My guess is that they targeted a shipment of freshly minted money headed to the Frenchman's bank on-board an armored truck.

"Which, of course, is just as hard to break into. Unless you're already inside. And despite what the banks would have you believe, the men driving these trucks are not exactly metal giants. For our Horsemen, it was almost too easy."

Arthur shared a glance with Morgana. "So how did they make the fake money disappear from the vault? What was that?"

Kilgarrah pulled a small paper from his pocket, which disintegrated with a spark. "Hash paper. Magicians use it all the time. Creates no smoke, leaves no residue."

Well. Arthur supposed he knew how they did it now. But the real problem was how to catch them.

Hunith was fretting in front of the television. People had been calling her ever since she got home yesterday, whether it was friends checking up on her or reporters asking for interviews. The most peace she had had was on the plane when her phone was turned off.

Gaius had decided to stay with her until the whole commotion died down, and Hunith had managed to get vacation time from the hospital she worked at, but poor Balinor still had to go to work every day. His coworkers at the construction site had been harassing him, either calling Merlin a criminal or praising him.

And now on the TV, Conan O'Brien was Skype-interviewing Nimeuh Priest, who was on the plane with The Horsemen to New Orleans. For a moment, Hunith caught a flash of her son's hair, and she felt her anxiety levels rise again.

"Two days ago," Conan said, "No one had heard of these guys, but tonight's show sold out in 35 seconds. I think these guys have cracked the secret to show business: give your audience three million dollars!" His audience laughed, and in the top corner of the screen, Nimeuh did the same. "Puts them in a good mood, doesn't it? Best finale ever. They're going to be the first magicians in history to get laid."

Hunith snorted.

"Remember, if the oxygen comes down, put it on the lawyer first-"

Nimeuh nodded gleefully. "Yes, lawyer first, then myself, then the children." She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder with a grin.

Hunith scowled and turned off the TV. How dare they make light of the situation? Didn't anyone understand the implications of this? Her son, her baby boy, had completely ruined his life. It wouldn't be long before the FBI caught up to him, and then he would either be dead or in prison.

Merlin had always had that gleam of chaos in his eye. It ruled his heart and his brain, and as he was growing up, Hunith had taught him how to utilize it, shown him all the good he could do. She had always encouraged her son to live his dream, but now she wished that she had stamped it out.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned around.

"The story can't run forever," Gaius reassured her.

And Hunith, blinking back tears, replied, "Neither can Merlin."

"We should be getting there a few minutes early. So sit back, relax, we should be in the Big Easy soon. We appreciate you flying with us today."

Arthur was seated next to his sister on a crowded plane headed to New Orleans. He wouldn't be surprised if a majority of the passengers were also going to see The Horsemen. They had gotten rather popular since being released from custody. Arthur seethed at the thought.

"So what's in it for Priest, other than money?"

Morgana was shuffling a deck of playing cards she had bought at the airport. "Ego?" She offered the cards to Arthur. "Okay, pick your card. Look at it, put it in the deck, and tell me- no, don't tell me." She made a face.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but did as she said. Morgana smiled and shuffled the cards.

"Kilgarrah was there that night." Arthur thought out loud. "He knows exactly how they pulled it off. What about him?"

His sister looked up. "What are you saying? You think they could be working together?"

"I don't know. All I know is that these guys were a bunch of street magicians a year ago with no resources. So, how do they go from doing that to this, without some kind of outside help?"

Morgana hummed thoughtfully, then pulled a card from the deck. "Was this your card?"

Arthur laughed quietly, and pointed to the man on Morgana's other side. "No, my card is sitting over there on that guys lap. Nice shuffle."

Morgana laughed, and Arthur was reminded of childhood prank wars and petty arguments. "You know, this is hard. According to that book, some of those guys practice one simple move eight hours a day, for a year."

"Really? Some of those guys seriously need to get a life." Arthur hummed.

Morgana frowned and shuffled the cards again. "Is it magicians, in general, you have a problem with? Or specifically these guys?"

"I could care less about magicians in general. What I hate is people who exploit other people."

"Exploit them how?" Morgana offered him the deck. "Try again."

Arthur took a card as he tried to think of the right words. "By taking advantage of their weakness. Their need to believe in something that's unexplainable in order to make their lives more bearable."

"I see it as a strength," Morgana countered. "My life is happier when I believe that."

She slipped a card onto his seat tray. "Is this your card?"

It wasn't, but Arthur decided to humor her. He smiled and nodded. If anything, this case was helping him get close to his sister again. "Yeah."

Morgana beamed. "Yeah? Cool." Arthur laughed, and Morgana cocked her head. "So, tell me, brother dear. Do you feel exploited? Or did you maybe have a tiny, tiny bit of fun?"

Arthur had actually had a lot of fun, but there was no way he'd ever admit that to her. She'd never let him forget it.

Merlin fidgeted in his seat, stressing. His family had returned their tickets for tonight's show. His mother had called him before he got on the plane, but he hadn't answered, too frightened of what she might say.

Freya was sharing jokes with Alator in the back of the plane, and Mordred sat across from Vivienne Willows, Nimeuh's pretty, young assistant. Nimeuh herself sat in the center of the plane, having recently logged off Skype. No one paid attention to Merlin, but he didn't mind. He appreciated the time to himself. It gave him a chance to think about everything that was going on, and everything to come.

There was every chance this was going to end badly. It was very likely, actually. But the possibility, however small it may be, that the Eye actually existed, that whoever had recruited them wasn't playing a long and elaborate prank, well, then maybe it would all be worth it. Merlin wasn't really a gambler, but this was one he was willing to make.

Merlin checked his watch. About thirty minutes to land. Time for the next step of the plan.

He headed to the back of the plane and peeked into the separate compartment where Freya and Alator were laughing. "Hey guys? We have a show to prepare for." Merlin could tell from their expressions that they understood his double meaning.

"Oh, do we now?" Alator stood up with a small grin, and Merlin found that it wasn't that difficult to pretend to be annoyed.

"No, no, no, don't do that. You're not doing that- that thing to me. No."

"What thing? I'm just looking at you." Alator herded Merlin back into the main cabin, and Freya followed with an amused grin.

Merlin threw his hands up. "No, you're not. I've been watching you for a year now. I know all of your little tricks."

"That's what they are to you? Tricks?" Alator looked honestly offended. Merlin might have to apologize later.

"Yes, it's gimmicks. It's Barnum statements. It's reading the eyes, body language."

"I get it." Alator was annoyed. "If it's such an easy thing, why don't you do Freya?"

"Yeah Merlin, why don't you do me?" Freya had a twinkle in her eye.

Merlin shook his head. "No, you're too easy, I grew up with you. No, I'll do Vivienne."

"No." Nimeuh interrupted, as they knew she would. "Do me."

Merlin felt a bit smug, but he thought he hid it well. "Okay." He sat down in front of Nimeuh, and Vivienne and his teammates gathered around him.

"But I warn you," Nimeuh cautioned with a smile, "I can be difficult to read, when I want to be."

Merlin prepared his ego for the slaughter it was about to endure. He reminded himself that it would be worth it soon. "Just stay with me, okay? So, Nim, you were a tough kid. You know, kind of real rapscallion. You had a... dog. A real fluffy dog. A show breed. Like a real... I want to say, Poppy the pomeranian."

Nimeuh smirked. "Actually, I was a prissy little tot, and I had a white cat named Snuffles."

The other three Horsemen jeered, and Vivienne smiled softly.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Ah. Sorry."

Mordred perked up. "Wait, let me try one. I can do way better than that."

"Let him do it." Freya nodded.

Merlin played up his ego. "Come on, give me one more time, one more time." He turned back to Nimeuh. "Let's do family. You had an uncle on your mother's side. He had a real, kind of... A real masculine name. Real kind of salt-of-the-earth, you know, a real stick-it-to-you... like some kind of... Paul. Thompson? Was it a Paul..." He sighed. "Okay, you know what? I've got nothing."

Nimeuh smiled, amused. "Nearly though."

Merlin looked up in genuine surprise. "Was I?"

"My uncle's name was Basil Fisher."

Merlin immediately memorized the information, as he knew his teammates were doing the same. "Really? Snuffles and Basil Fisher? That was your childhood?"

"I certainly hope tonight's show is better than this." Vivienne joked.
Merlin wondered if later she'd regret her wish. "Don't worry. Just you wait."

AN: Sorry for the delay. This chapter didn't want to cooperate. I tried editing it multiple times, but it just didn't ever seem to be right, until a 3AM epiphany last night.

I find it funny that my favorite parts are Hunith's POV.

Guest: I did consider it, but Kilgarrah fits better for my purposes.

thejammysod: I'm glad you like it! I was honestly shocked to find that it hadn't been written before, and that just seemed unacceptable to me.

I have the next handful of chapters edited now, so there won't be another month long gap. Sorry again!