"Gaius?" Arthur pushed the physician's door open, wincing when he accidentally brushed his injured arm against the latch. It had taken a while, but they finally coaxed the merlin off his arm. Instead of flying back to the forest where such a wild creature belonged, it flew straight for Arthur's window and perched on the ledge. He had seen it there when he went up to change out of his bloodied tunic, a little gray sentinel guarding his window against- what? Crows and pigeons?
He shook his head and looked about the room. Though candles were lit in the sconces, the physician was not there. He decided to wait, letting his feet choose his path through the room, wandering past the table and the potion bottle-covered workbench. His shoulder accidentally brushed a bundle of herbs hung up to dry. The pollen dusted his face and made him sneeze as the dust caught in his nose. He raised a hand to stop the bundle in its swinging and left the working space, heading up the steps before he realized where he was going.
Gaius had not changed a thing in Merlin's room. The narrow bed was still made up and ready for someone to sleep in it. The side table held its candle, both free of dust. Drawings of herbs were still pinned to the wall under the window, their corners curling from neglect. Arthur brushed a finger over one to flatten the parchment, though the corners failed keep the shape he gave them. 'Even his drawings won't do what I tell them to do,' he mused, a small smile tugging at his lips as he regarded the other parchments tacked up. It never occurred to him, when Merlin was first hired, how strange it was that a peasant from a village in the middle of nowhere should know how to read and write, or that said peasant should have such a fair hand. Merlin's handwriting was understated and precise, clear and almost delicate without being florid, as many a scribe's writing was. 'The writing mirrors the man,' he thought.
In the main room, the door squeaked faintly on its hinges. "Is someone there?" Gaius called.
Arthur peered through Merlin's door "Sorry, Gaius. You weren't here when I arrived."
A faint smile passed over the physician's face when he saw where Arthur had chosen to wait. "Ah. I've just been to see your father. He seems to be doing somewhat better, though it's still difficult to get his attention." The prince nodded. A slight change, but hardly different from the past few months. Arthur returned to the main room "Is there something I can do for you?" Gaius asked.
"My arm," the prince replied, holding up his arm to show where the merlin's talons had torn into the flesh of his wrist. "This bird landed on my arm in the middle of our training session and wouldn't let go. It broke through my glove and. . . " he shrugged and sat down at the table so Gaius could better see it.
"A bird from the royal mews?" Gaius lit the candles and took the prince's arm in both his hands.
"No, a wild one. No one knows why it decided to land on me, or why it wouldn't leave, but," Arthur shook his head, wincing when the physician poked at the cuts, "I don't know. It was a wild bird, it landed on my arm, and now it's perched on the ledge outside my window."
Gaius chuckled as he rose to collect the salves, potions, and bandages he needed, "If I didn't know any better, I would say that it sounds like the bird was enchanted, Arthur."
Arthur opened his mouth, disbelieving for a moment that an animal could be ensorcelled before remembering that once, Morgause had once cast a spell on his own horse in order to lead him to her. "But why a bird? Especially a tercel like that one was? It was just a little thing."
"It's hard to say, but birds are often used for various tasks," Gaius dribbled a potion over Arthur's arm. It had a bright, astringent scent to it and made the cuts sting enough to make his eyes water. "In the days of the Old Religion, the High Priestesses used enchanted ravens to carry messages or even spells. They made very efficient spies. If I knew what sort of falcon this was, I might know better what its purpose was." The gashes cleaned, Gaius daubed a pale salve onto them before wrapping them with finely woven linen bandages.
"It, uh. . . " Arthur bit his lip, remembering the odd flashes of hope in Lancelot and Gwaine's eyes when it was pointed out what particular bird it was, "It was a merlin."
Gaius stopped mid-gesture, an eyebrow rising, "Really?" The physician blinked twice, took a breath, and went back to wrapping the prince's wrist. "That would amuse him," he said softly, almost to himself.
"So you think Merlin would have sent it?"
"It's certainly within his capabilities. But if the bird has been bound to you, as it seems it may have been- if it went straight to you and refused to be chased away, despite being wild, then Merlin would need something of you- a hair or a drop of blood in order to complete the binding."
"Um," Arthur frowned, remembering what he had thought was a dream, "A few nights ago, I thought I dreamed that Merlin was here in Camelot. In my chambers, actually. It was a bit. . . odd, really. I thought I was imagining things until I saw an apple left on my desk. Merlin always did that. George never does. But none of the guards said they saw anything at all."
A new light shone in the old healer's eyes. "Being able to walk unseen is not outside the realm of possibility, Arthur. Especially not for someone with Merlin's talents," he chuckled as he finished wrapping the prince's wrist. "An especially quiet servant can go about the palace while hardly being seen without the slightest bit of magic. No one notices servants. Given the circumstances, though, I am sure that if Merlin had been here, he would have used magic of some kind."
Arthur was quiet as he mulled over this new information. "Tell me. . . Tell me about magic, Gaius," he finally looked up, spearing the physician with an unwavering gaze. "All my life, I have heard about the evils of magic and how those who use it want only to destroy Camelot, but surely there's another side to the matter. Merlin had many opportunities to kill me- and my father- since he came here. That night in the forest, when Morgana attacked us, he could have just let us all die. Instead, he gave himself up to protect us. Come to that," he paused, his fingers brushing the lines of the bandages, "If all sorcerers were evil, then why has Merlin not joined Morgana? Or do you not think that's where he went when he left?"
A wry smile spread across the physician's face. "You have no need to worry about Merlin joining Morgana. He tried to help her when her powers first blossomed, but once she started turning against you, he opposed her at every turn. It was a path that cost him dearly." Gaius looked away for a moment as shadows passed across his eyes. "But I doubt he would change a thing, so long as you were safe."
"Tell me, then. What part of this has no one ever bothered to tell me? I need to know, Gaius. How can I make a good decision without the proper information?"
"That is something I am very glad to hear from you, Arthur. But this is a long tale, and I could use some tea before we begin." Gaius rose before the prince could object, shuffling around the room and gathering up this bit of leaf and that before setting a kettle of water to boil over the fire. "Now then," he said a few minutes later, putting two steaming mugs down, "Magic is . . . Well, it's as much a part of the world as the wind is, and like the wind, it is neither good nor evil. It is only what men do with it that makes it one or the other.
"Were there sorcerers who used magic for dark purposes before the Great Purge?" Gaius went on, "Yes, there were, and they did terrible things. But there were also healers, as well as those who used magic for entirely benign purposes. My own teacher used magic to keep the milk from spoiling and to chase insects away from his books."
Arthur smiled faintly at the thought, "But the only magic I have seen has been used against me and the people of Camelot. Sorcerers who tried to kill my father or me, or, like Morgana and Morgause- tried to usurp the throne. Where have all the good magic users been?"
"In hiding, or gone altogether to friendlier lands than Camelot. Or, like me, they gave up using magic altogether." Gaius looked away, his eyes full of old memories. It seemed to Arthur like the physician would rather not remember some of what he saw. He wondered, not for the first time, what Gaius's life must have been like before he came to Camelot.
"But why? Why did you stay?" For a heartbeat, Arthur felt like a little child asking why the sky was blue.
Gaius smiled sadly. "Your father was . . . unhinged by your mother's death, Arthur. He knew how to be a warrior and a king, but not how to be a father to a nursling. In his anger and despair, Uther seemed to forget that he finally had the son he had wanted for so long. Knowing that, I could not leave you alone. Giving up my own magic was a small sacrifice to help keep you safe."
Arthur could find no words to answer that. He had known for years that Gaius had been a sorcerer once upon a time, but he always thought that the physician had merely been a law-abiding citizen who gave up- what, a hobby?- when the laws against magic had passed. More and more, it was starting to sound like Gaius had given up a piece of himself for Arthur, as though he had cast away a hand for the sake of a mewling infant. How many of his servants had given so much of themselves for him? Gaius had given up his magic and Merlin. . . What of Merlin? "Merlin couldn't do that, too? Give up his magic?"
"Merlin could no more give up magic than you could give up breathing, Arthur. Remember when I told you, before . . ." Gaius trailed off, casting a glance down at his tea until he found the right words, "Before he left, that he had been born with his powers, and that he had used them even in his cradle?" Arthur nodded, "I have come to believe that Merlin is utterly different from anything anyone has encountered before. Magic seems to be wound through every fiber of his being. It is as much a part of him as blood and bone, and I doubt he could give it up, unless it was somehow taken away or blocked from him. If that were they case," Gaius shivered, "I think it entirely possible that he might die."
Alarm flashed across the prince's face before he could stop it. "Is there a way to block someone completely from magic?"
"Completely? I don't believe so, though your father did have a variety of . . . restraining devices made during the purge that kept sorcerers from fully reaching their magic," Gaius's eyes unfocused. He stared through Arthur for a moment, and then shook himself out of it. "Such devices kept them from completing spells, though. They didn't cut them off from it completely. Magic runs through the fabric of the world, Arthur. It is in the earth and the trees, the wind, the water, the rocks. There were stories of shackles or something like them that could cut off a man from the magic around him, but they were merely legends meant to frighten young sorcerers into behaving." A ghost of a smile flickered across the physician's face, "I'm sure you heard stories of a similar bent in your early weapons' training."
"A few," Arthur smirked. It faded quickly. He swirled the remnants of his tea around and around in the mug, watching the bits of leaves churn about in the tiny maelstrom. "You said you knew his mother when she was a child? Does Hunith have magic, too?"
"No," Gaius said, "At least, not in the way that most sorcerers do." He smiled at Arthur's confused glance. "Hunith came to the Isle of the Blessed to learn the Old Ways when she was a child. She had potential as a Seer, that is, someone who can see into the future, but it never truly manifested. There were certain things that, when she knew them deep down, they always came true, but it was not a gift that could be harnessed and used. It came and went, though it never led her astray. She foresaw the destruction of the Isle in time to flee, and she knew that sending Merlin to Camelot was the right thing to do."
"And what of his father? Was he a sorcerer?"
Gaius hesitated. "Yes," he said, the lone syllable stretched out like chilled honey, "His father was a sorcerer. Quite a powerful one, though not so much as Merlin. The rest of that story, however, is not mine to tell, Arthur. If you want to hear it, you must ask Merlin." Arthur got the feeling that the physician would hold to that, no matter how much he cajoled or demanded. Information normally flowed from the healer's lips like water in a stream, but sometimes he was a lockbox. In those cases, if he wanted to keep a secret, he kept it close and never told a soul.
The silence lengthened between them while Arthur tried to digest all that he had heard. Whatever he had been expecting when he asked Gaius about magic, it had not been this, like a door opening in his world to reveal a land of light and intrigue he had never dared to imagine before. "I made a mistake, Gaius, a terrible mistake, when I sent Merlin away. I see that now," he said quietly, "But I have no idea how to fix it. I have no idea where he is, or how to talk to him. . . "
"I think I might know a way," Gaius smiled and pressed to his feet, collecting an intricately carved wooden box just large enough to fit in his hands. He set it on the table, his gnarled fingers deftly touching a series of tarnished silver latches before the lid popped open. Without pulling anything else out, Gaius sorted through the contents for a few breaths before finding what he was looking for, then closed the lid. The latch caught with a faint click. "Lancelot brought this to me after returning from his last patrol," the physician laid a frayed feather between them, gray with black banding at the end, just like the merlin from before. "He told me it was braided into a lock of his horse's mane. Now, it's possible that it's from someone other than Merlin, but neither of us thought it likely."
Arthur gently picked up the feather, spinning it slowly between his fingers. "But what do I do with it?"
"Birds can be messengers, Arthur, and I think it likely that the one you dealt with today is one that Merlin enchanted. I think you can figure out the rest."
"How do I know it's not a trick of Morgana's?" he gave Gaius a skeptical look. He wanted the bird to be Merlin's as much as the physician did, but he refused to let hope cloud his judgment more than it needed to.
"Different magics feel different. This does not feel like one of Morgana's ploys to me. She lacks the gift of subtlety. Besides. She is a priestess of the Morrigan, and falcons and ravens don't tend to get along," Gaius said, "You'll just have to summon up a bit of faith, Arthur."
"Right," he said before pushing his chair back and turning to head for the door, still idly spinning the feather between his fingers. He opened the door without seeing it, lost in thought as he was. He turned back to Gaius. "Men sacrifice many things to be in the service of royalty. You gave up your magic. And Merlin. . . Merlin gave up his freedom for my sake, didn't he?"
Gaius nodded solemnly, "Yes, Arthur, he did."
"But why? Why would he make such a sacrifice for me? What did I do to earn such loyalty?" The feather stopped its spinning. In Arthur's eyes was the light of realization, one of the thousand little epiphanies a boy makes on the road to manhood.
"The fact that you asked that question at all may be part of your answer, Sire."
Arthur nodded, his brow furrowing as he pondered the healer's answer. He closed the door quietly behind him and set off for his chambers, ignoring the passages around him as his whirling thoughts finally crystallized into a solid conclusion. 'If my knights and my servants are willing to sacrifice so much for love of me, then it must be my life's work to earn that love.'