The Thief and the Sorcerer
"How are you feeling?" Jenkins asked.
"Like I've been shot." Ezekiel grumbled.
"Well you were." Jenkins said rather tartly. "Other than the horrible pain in your abdomen, anything else I should know about?"
"I don't think so." Ezekiel said, wincing as he sat up and examined his injury. Jenkins slipped onto the chair next to him.
"Are you sure?" He asked.
"Yeah." Ezekiel said, lying back and relaxing. Jenkins glanced at Carnwennan, which still lay on a table by Ezekiel.
"I'm glad you got that back." Jenkins said. "Very dangerous."
"Is it really that Carnwennan?" Ezekiel asked. "The dagger that shrouds users in shadows? Why has it got a white hilt if it uses shadows?" Jenkins shrugged.
"Merlin liked irony." He said.
"Emrys." Ezekiel corrected grumpily. "I know everyone calls him Merlin but my mum always said he was Emrys."
"When I knew him everyone but a select few called him Merlin. It was his name then and it stuck." Jenkins said, he was dying to bring up 'Uncle Emmy'.
"I knew someone called Emrys, he hated it when people asked if he was Merlin. He told me that his name was his identity and people shouldn't change that." Ezekiel muttered.
"Was he Merlin/Emrys, the Sorcerer I mean?" Jenkins asked. Ezekiel chuckled and stopped when it started hurting too much.
"I doubt it. He was a friend of my mum's and if he was Emrys he could have helped her." Ezekiel muttered darkly. Jenkins raised an eyebrow. Emrys had said himself that he knew Ezekiel and jumping in to save a dying lady, that was his style. It seemed strange that he hadn't.
"The Emrys I knew." Jenkins s began, ceding to the use of his real name. "Was a mischievous, irritating, sarcastic, lazy diva." Ezekiel rolled his eyes.
"Of course he was." Ezekiel said. "He's a really old, really powerful sorcerer. He hides behind that."
"Well it appears someone had a very unabridged version of the stories told to him." Jenkins said, slightly miffed. Ezekiel frowned.
"Emmy and my mum, they said something like, 'you'd hate it if everyone got your story wrong.' I agree." Ezekiel said. His eyes went downcast. He looked distressed. "Emmy said that if I asked Lady Viviane I could help my mum, but Emrys couldn't help me because he was trying to save the world." Jenkins made a choking sound.
"I know that Emrys is a Sorcerer but he doesn't spend all his time saving the world." Jenkins said. "He spends most of his time sleeping." Jenkins frowned. "Why do you call your Emrys, Emmy?"
"Because I couldn't say Emrys properly." Ezekiel huffed. He shifted slightly, trying to get in a more comfortable position. "I had a really strong accent and it came out as Emmy."
"I bet he loved that." Jenkins chuckled.
"Actually he found it endearing." Ezekiel shot back. "Emmy was a great guy. He even offered to look after me when... when I didn't have anywhere else to go." Jenkins raised an eyebrow. He didn't question it. Ezekiel was entitled to some private things.
"So instead you learned to steal." Jenkins said. There was no accusation in his tone. Ezekiel chuckled.
"Actually Emmy taught me how to steal. It started with pickpocketing. And then shoplifting. Then the bigger stuff." Ezekiel said. "Emmy was always better than me but whenever I pulled off a job on my own he was so proud. He said he'd keep an ear out for me." It did in no way surprise Jenkins that Emrys was connected to the underworld. For an excellent Sorcerer like him, crime was merely a way of entertainment. Of course introducing a child to those things was a bit much. "See me being a world class thief. It's my way of telling him I'm okay."
"So he hasn't embraced modern technology?" Jenkins asked.
"Oh he has. He just doesn't always have the same piece of technology." Ezekiel said with a small grin that screamed mischief. "Emmy is my best friend, kooky uncle and worst rival wrapped up in a mischievous, attractive lunatic." Jenkins snorted. Ezekiel, it appeared had cracked the enigma that was Emrys. And that didn't surprise him at all. Ezekiel didn't seem to have anything else to say and slumped down on the bed. Really he was thinking about all the detail he hadn't included. For as long as he could remember his mother had been sick. He didn't know exactly what it was. No one had shared it with him. Emrys had showed up one day and had pretty much stayed ever since. Ezekiel often wondered why, his mother had told him he felt responsible for her illness but Ezekiel wasn't sure how it could be his fault. Emrys had stayed and disappeared once in a while to earn money. But one time he hadn't left enough money. Ezekiel had gone out and stolen for the first time. He'd only just gotten away with it. When Emrys found out, Ezekiel was worried he'd be disappointed. He wasn't. In fact, Emrys was mildly impressed. He'd shown Ezekiel how to steal, how to run in a tight situation, taught him about escape plans and technology. He'd educated him in his own way. And Ezekiel felt all the smarter for it. Then his mum had found out. He expected a scolding, instead she told him about Camelot, King Arthur and the Knights of the round table. He loved the stories. And then the worst thing happened when he turned twelve. She died. Even Emrys hadn't been able to tell that she might pass away soon. It was sudden. That moment had seemed to last days, suffocating him, torturing him. Emrys had made the arrangements to bury her. He offered Ezekiel a home. He refused. He couldn't. He needed space. Emrys had nodded and given him the place she had been buried. It wasn't even in Australia. It was in Wales. Emrys said that it was where she had fallen in love and where she had lost it. Ezekiel had visited once, right after he joined MI6. It was by an old ruined castle. The people who ran the tours there had looked at him with mild pity when he said why he was there, someone had even taken him, told him how to get back, and left him to mourn. Ezekiel considered it, he'd been close when he went to get Carnwennan. As soon as he could move again, he was going. With that thought he drifted off to sleep.