The road to Nemeth's seat seemed the easiest Merlin had ever traveled. The resting position of his face had become a smile.
"So what's our plan?" asked Gwaine.
"I've been thinking about that," said Merlin. "I want to try starting with the truth."
"That's a novel approach," said Gwaine. "And you're ready for all of the fallout that comes after?"
"I am," said Merlin seriously.
The two agreed that they could not imply King Arthur's consent in their dealings in Nemeth and Gedref. When they later arrived at the castle, Gwaine wore civilian riding clothes and left his Camelot-red cloak packed in the saddlebags. Merlin, ironically wearing King Arthur's own cloak, showed no outward hint of his recent employment. All traces of Camelot had been carefully removed from their appearance.
"What is your business?" asked the guard at the gate.
Merlin spoke up. "I seek an audience with the King."
"You'll have to present yourself to Sir Benedict. He's in that office at the end of the courtyard. He'll decide if your request is worthy of the king's time."
Merlin and Gwaine led their horses through a crowded yard full of farmers and merchants to the place indicated by the guard. They tied their horses by a water trough and eyed their consigned destination. The office was packed with men, women, children, and even some livestock. Still others cued up outside the door and into the courtyard. All seemed to be noisily waiting their turn to see the Sir Benedict.
Merlin and Gwaine sighed and took their places in the line.
After over two hours they got their turn. Sir Benedict was a stocky middle-aged man clad in chainmail. His bearing was professional, and his manner was no-nonsense. "Next, please!"
"I would like to speak with the king," said Merlin. "My name is Emrys."
Sir Benedict looked blankly at him. "And?"
Merlin felt a little sorry that his first 'big admission' of identity had so little effect on it's hearer. The enormous secret he had just revealed had been of life and death consequence to all of the Pendragons. But what exactly had he been expecting?
Gwaine actually had to prod Merlin so that he would stop goggling and continue.
"My name is Emrys," he repeated, "I'm a sorcerer from... other lands. I wish to speak with the king about the labyrinth of Gedref."
Sir Benedict did not look convinced nor impressed. "The king is a busy man. What is the nature of your business with him?"
"I'd like to help the king set things into order in Gedref. I am offering him my help."
"Right," said Sir Benedict. "Well, we appreciate your kind offer. The king already has several men on staff who are adept at sorcery. I'm afraid he is not seeking further help at this time. But we do thank you. If you'd like to leave your name and a place where you can be found, we'll keep your information on file in case of an open position. What was your name?"
Merlin was at a complete loss. "It's Emrys."
"From?"
"Um, …the forest of Gedref."
"Emrys, forest of Gedref," mumbled Sir Benedict, making a quick note in his book. "Thank you, and good day to you."
And with that, the companions found themselves again in the courtyard, blinking in the sunlight.
Evan possessed no magic. But a man can have other gifts. Cleverness. Ruthlessness. Foresight. Speed. Brute strength. Evan had more than his share of all of these. And he was not the type of man who wasted.
Evan had spent over a week in the dungeon. Getting out was never the problem. He'd sorted that out in the first hour of the first day. The thing that had taken so much time was the plan. Evan was going to return to the Labyrinth and the animals - that much was absolute certainty. But when he did, he would take with him an effective way to protect them. And planning for that had taken time.
As night fell, Evan made his move. The guards did not notice his escape. The household staff never noticed him weaving his way through the castle. And until morning came, Princess Mithian was the only person who noticed her kidnapping.
