XI. Pure of Heart

Arthur preferred hunting alone.

Hunting alone meant with Merlin, of course; but when visiting lords brought sons of his own age, Arthur found himself with the entertainment duties of host. So he'd taken Edsel and Harold hunting that morning.

They'd been tracking their prey for the better part of an hour, and Arthur was in no rush to close with it. It was big, whatever it was, he could tell by the noise it made in the brush ahead of them – but it left no tracks, which suggested either a level of intelligence or the presence of magic. However, the proximity meant he could urge silence on his two guests – welcome silence – but not question Merlin for his opinion. The young sorcerer brought up the rear circumspectly, unarmed and carrying their extra gear, drawing no attention from the two young visitors.

Arthur, in the lead, held up one hand in a signal for the three following him to halt. Their prey was maybe ten yards ahead, traveling at a rate that kept it in their range, slow enough for them to keep up, and swift enough to keep them at a distance. But now it had entered a ravine, which might give them an advantage.

He twisted in his crouch, meeting Edsel's eyes, advising him by a series of motions to take his younger brother to the right flank, indicating his own intention of going to the left. Edsel and Harold each nodded eagerly, and began to make their way to the top of the ravine to the right. Merlin moved up next to Arthur.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice as light as a breath.

Arthur replied in a low tone. "I don't know," he admitted. "We'll surround it. I want you to go in there and flush it out."

Merlin huffed in a complaining sort of way. Arthur figured the younger man was as tired of this trip and their unavoidable guests as he was, but he was glad Merlin hadn't pulled any of his usual tricks, using clumsiness as an excuse for scaring off the wildlife, to bring an early end to the activity. "You want me to go in there?" Merlin demanded. "You said you don't know what it is – it could be dangerous."

"That's why you're going in." Arthur gave him a grin, which he returned with an exasperated look, but began to unburden himself of their equipment in preparation.

Arthur left him and made his way to the left, where the ground rose a good twenty feet above the bottom of the ravine. He kept back from the crumbling edge, moving from one large tree to the next. Several times he glimpsed Merlin, a flash of black hair or brown jacket, keeping pace with him on the lower ground, moving soundlessly as a druid could. Glancing down, he saw Merlin freeze, then straighten, as if he'd caught sight of whatever they'd been tracking.

An outcropping formed by the roots of a large oak, leaning out over the ravine, obstructed Arthur's view. He stepped slowly and carefully up onto the base of the tree, leaning around it, balancing his crossbow vertically against his hip in readiness to level and fire. His free hand kept his clothing free of the bark of the tree that might catch and rub and alert their quarry – he caught sight of something large and white and in the first instant thought Aithusa? No, surely the dragon was much bigger now than a horse… a horse?

Then he saw the horn. The single spiraled horn dividing the creature's forelock, a good eighteen inches long. He held his breath, leaning further forward to better his view, and froze. Merlin had approached silently to within arms' reach of the unicorn, his grin so wide Arthur could see it even at that distance and angle.

The young sorcerer made no move to touch the unicorn, though he probably could've, and Arthur in his place probably would've, but his lips moved as though he was speaking to it. The unicorn lifted its head, its ears swiveling forward to take in the low sound of Merlin's voice. Arthur found his own smile spreading at a sight he'd have been satisfied to spend all day watching, two creatures of magic communing.

The snap of a twig across the ravine, on the right flank, alerted them both at the same time. Merlin tensed, wary as a wild thing himself, clearly trying and unable to locate the source, finally looking up toward Arthur's position and putting one hand forward as if he'd push the unicorn out of the way. Arthur thought, No, dammit, we're not hunting this! and opened his mouth to bellow an order.

The bolt zipped - "No!" Merlin cried as the creature shrilled in agony.

Arthur almost slipped down the side of the ravine, trying to lean over to see. The unicorn rose on its hind hooves as if it would pivot and bolt, but instead crashed down on one side. Edsel and Harold whooped victoriously somewhere out of Arthur's view, moving noisily through the underbrush on the opposite side of the ravine. Arthur cursed under his breath as Merlin dropped to his knees beside the wounded creature, reaching to help, to heal.

The bank was too steep, too high. Arthur turned, jogging back down the way he'd come to enter the ravine just behind his two guests, joking and shoving each other in congratulations – Arthur shoved one into the other to pass them, but they took no notice that his gesture had not been in rough appreciation of their accomplishment.

The white horse's body was still on its side. Too still. Merlin's hands were equally motionless in his lap, his head bowed. Arthur opened his mouth to say I'm sorry to his friend, but Merlin spoke first.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and Arthur knew he wasn't addressing him.

"It's my fault," Arthur told him. "It's my responsibility. They're my guests. I'm sorry."

"Ha, ha!" Edsel exclaimed, coming up behind them. "It's a unicorn!"

Arthur clenched his fist at the careless arrogance in the other young man's tone. Merlin glared over his shoulder and spoke clearly, "What have you done?"

The two brothers paused for a surprised instant, then guffawed over Merlin's reaction. Arthur readied himself to have to intervene, when Merlin's expression completely changed again to a focused gaze. He turned – the other two turned – but there was nothing there. Merlin was on his feet in an instant, pushing between them determinedly, but stopped only five paces away, still staring at nothing that Arthur could make out.

He left the two brothers to join his friend, scanning the forest and underbrush himself. "Merlin?" he said in a low voice. "What is it?"

Merlin's eyes were no longer fixed on one point, but searched also. "I thought…" he trailed off. "I thought I saw… Never mind."

Behind them, Arthur heard the soft rasp of metal as one of the brothers drew his sword, but he ignored it. "What did you –" he began, then a soft crack! had both of them spinning. Harold sheathed his sword as Edsel raised the severed horn as a claimed prize, both of them grinning. Merlin made a choked noise and spun away. Arthur felt nauseated himself, and imagined it was probably worse for someone with magic.

"Come, Arthur!" Harold called elatedly. "Let's present our trophy to the king!"

…..*…..

Merlin sat sideways on the bench beside Gaius' worktable, absently twisting the pestle in the bottom of the mortar, making tiny circular ridges in the crushed dust of the grain. "Any ideas?" he said finally.

Gaius held up a tiny vial in one hand, carefully pouring a drop from the flask in his other. "No disease I know of could spread through the kingdom in one night," he said, swirling the liquid in the vial to mix it.

"What could kill all the plants?" Merlin asked.

The old physician lowered his hands. "It is not killing all the plants," he clarified. "The trees and hedges are unharmed. Unfortunately, you can't eat trees and hedges."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "It's only killing plants we can eat?"

His attention once again on his experiment, Gaius murmured, "It appears so."

"If it's not a disease," Merlin said, remembering his mentor's warning to the king – There is a legend that bad fortune comes to anyone who slays one – "it must be magic."

"We can't assume that, Merlin," Gaius reminded him. It was the reason they worked so well together – Merlin thought in terms of magic, and Gaius thought in terms of science, and between the two there was always a solution. "Perhaps there is something in the soil or water that can explain it. I can't tell the king it's caused by sorcery until I am certain."

Merlin's mouth made the connection before his conscious mind did. "It was the most beautiful creature," he said wistfully, "that I've ever seen."

The old physician answered absently. "It's a rare privilege; I understand there are few unicorns still alive."

"Why," Merlin said deliberately, "was it here?"

Gaius set the vial down and resealed the flask. "Magic calls to magic, that is a fact," he said evasively.

Merlin felt as though the bucket of water in the corner had just been upended down the back of his neck. "You mean, it came for me?" he said, aghast.

"It was once said that a unicorn would only show itself to a young maiden," Gaius observed, gazing into the air. Merlin stifled a groan – only let Arthur get hold of that detail, and he'd never hear the end of it. "That's not entirely accurate," the old man continued. "Purity forms the relation – purity of heart, purity of magic."

…..*…..

Arthur was short of temper. With the guests that had cut their visit short at the first hint of a crisis, with his father who'd reacted with restrictions and harsh punishment for any lawbreaking and a search for the enemy sorcerer responsible – all very necessary, and all very useless. With the lack of solution, magic or otherwise. With himself, most of all.

He turned from sending out guards to enforce a curfew in the lower town, to see Merlin treading calmly across the courtyard, deep in thought. He called out and his friend stopped, lifting his head absently.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, striding over to the sorcerer. "I'm going to have to lock you up now, for breaking curfew?"

"I was coming to find you," Merlin answered, but as if he gave the present circumstances and company only half his thought. "Your turn to guard the stores tonight, right? I'll come with you."

His friend was so soft-hearted he'd take one look at a looter and offer to help him carry his spoils home. Arthur sighed, and turned, the younger man falling into step. "Have any luck turning sand back to water?" he asked.

Merlin frowned at the cobblestones beneath their feet. "It's impossible to change one thing to another," he said. "I was trying to figure out a way around the curse."

Arthur grimaced. "So you believe what that old sorcerer said about the curse?"

"I saw him," Merlin said, as they entered an open passageway leading off the courtyard toward the lower levels where the grain was kept stored in the citadel for just such an emergency. "Anhora – in the wood, I mean, when the unicorn… Just for a minute. But yes."

Arthur cursed, under his breath, and then aloud. He shouldn't have taken responsibility for the unicorn's death – but it was his guest who'd killed the creature, what else could he have done? He should have demanded that Anhora visit the bad fortune upon him alone, not the people of Camelot. "So what about these tests, then?" he said impatiently, resting his hand on the hilt of the sword at his hip as they began to descend the stairs.

Merlin lifted a torch from its sconce on the wall and spoke a spell to breathe it to light. "I'm sorry, Arthur, I honestly have no idea what to expect," he said. "When it'll happen, or how, or what you're supposed to prove…" He stopped halfway down and cocked his head thoughtfully. "Although, if Anhora has no power to lift the curse, perhaps it's not about proving yourself to him, but to…"

"To what?" Arthur said.

Merlin's face was creased with the look of thoughtfulness he got whenever he was trying to work out some hitherto unknown secret of the power he had such natural access to. "To magic itself, maybe."

"Oh, hells," Arthur groaned. A person, even a sorcerer, he might have been able to form some expectation of what would be required. To magic itself. They were all doomed.

Then Merlin looked at him and smiled, his eyes gleaming with the torchlight. "Then you should have nothing to worry about, sire," he said, only half joking. "We'll manage, together, right?"

…..*…..

Merlin cursed, tripping over a moss-covered rock. Together, he'd promised Arthur. And now what? Arthur had gone haring off after a shadow, and Merlin had somehow managed to get himself left behind.

"Arthur!" he hollered upward toward the ceiling of colorful fall leaves. He listened, hearing only bird-calls and rustling breezes.

"What do you seek?"

Merlin spun around, almost twisting his ankle, to see the enigmatic figure of the white-robed old man. "I came with Prince Arthur," he said. "We were trying to find you."

"Why?"

He smiled. Arthur was proactive like that, always had to be doing something, never just waiting. "We met a man," he said carefully, "a thief. In Camelot."

Anhora made an interested sound. "A thief in Camelot – of course he was punished."

"That's the thing." Why did Merlin get the feeling that the old man already knew this? "Arthur showed compassion, allowed the man to go free with a measure of grain to feed his family. He called Arthur merciful and kind, and said he would be rewarded – and this morning Camelot had water once again."

"He passed the first test."

"Yes," Merlin said eagerly, "so we thought that maybe if we sought you out, we could ask if anything is to be done about the crops, Arthur was quite impatient to get on with the next test, if that was required." The old man's expression did not change, but Merlin felt a sudden sympathy from him.

"Impatient is correct, unfortunately," he said, almost gently.

Merlin's mouth felt as dry as sand. "What do you mean?" he said uneasily.

"The young prince did well in claiming responsibility for the actions of his guest. He did well to show compassion to a poor man desperate to feed his family. However, when he met the same thief in the woods just now, he allowed the man to taunt him to a killing rage, and his sense of pride overcame his sense of justice."

"He –" The colors of the forest seemed to swirl around him, and Merlin turned away from Anhora, only to find himself looking straight at the old man once again. "He failed?" he asked hoarsely.

"Even so."

"The curse will not be lifted?" Merlin persisted. "But he passed the first test… the water was returned. What about the crops, then?"

Anhora looked at him as if wondering whether to trust him, to tell him a secret. "The curse is temporary in nature," he finally allowed. "The affect will be limited to this year's harvest. Next year…"

The words Merlin's mother had spoken in Gaius' chamber just over a fortnight ago, pleading with the prince for whatever aid he might be able to offer, rang through his memory. The winters are harsh… won't be strong enough to survive… we barely have enough food as it is… our children won't live to see another summer… "The people are starving," Merlin said in stiff horror.

"It is a condition limited to the lands of Camelot," Anhora told him, again with the air of sympathy. "There are stores available in other lands."

Merlin collapsed onto a low rock. "Uther would never stoop to asking even his allies for help," he said, resting his forehead in his hand. Perhaps he could do something, use the treasure still beneath Dinas Emrys? Only, he didn't have the first idea how to go about such negotiations – who to approach, the organization of payment, fair distribution… Did he even have time for such a project? "Arthur passed one of your two tests," he said desperately. "Couldn't you give him another chance? He will prove himself worthy to lift the curse!"

Anhora stooped, leaning on his strange pronged staff. "You have such faith in him," the old man said. "You."

"I trust him with my life," Merlin said.

Pale blue eyes studied him. "Tell Arthur he must go to the Labyrinth of Gedref," Anhora said. "There he will face a third and final test."

Merlin smiled in relief. A quest – that was something Arthur would appreciate. "Thank you," he said.

Anhora stood and stepped back, vanishing with the words, "Do not thank me yet."

He searched only a short while before finding Arthur lying full length on the ground, supported on his elbows, his face buried in his hands. His sword was discarded next to him; he didn't look up at the soft sound of Merlin's footfalls.

"I've failed," he said. "My pride – my temper – Camelot is doomed, because of me."

"Oh, not yet," Merlin said, deliberately cheerful. Arthur squinted up at him as he seated himself. "I spoke to Anhora – you have a second chance."

"What do you mean?" Despair sharpened in the intensity of offered hope.

"Do you know where to find the Labyrinth of Gedref?"

…..*…..

Arthur halted his mount on the hilltop overlooking the Labyrinth. He'd forgotten how very extensive it was, and a sort of anticipation he would not call nervousness or uncertainty rose up under his breastbone.

Merlin's parting words to him still rang in his ears – I'm coming with you.

Not this time.

It did make more sense for him to come alone. Merlin's talents were better used in service of the people in Camelot, not selfishly hoarded for his own safety, especially when the dire circumstances were of Arthur's making. He knew that Merlin privately assumed some of the blame, wishing his reflexes had been a bit faster to stop the crossbow bolt, but it had been Arthur's decision to split their hunting party into three separate positions, allowing for the two brothers' ill-advised decision and the critical division of Merlin's attention, also. He'd taken responsibility for the killing of the unicorn, and it had been his failure of the second test that had kept his land under the curse.

He pressed his heels into his horse's flanks to start it down the hill toward the pillars delineating the entrance to the maze, trying to forget Merlin's rationale for together. Join the key. Pendragon and Emrys. You're not much good separated, are you? He resented that, a little, and at the same time, felt it essential to pass a test on his own. It bothered him to wonder if the outcome with Evan the ostensible thief in the woods would have been different with Merlin standing right there.

And if this quest did include risking – or giving – his life, he'd prefer not to have to worry about Merlin's immediate reaction, in the situation. The younger man's sense of loyalty always overcame that of self-preservation, and sometimes that of rationality. If Arthur's life was required, then it was required, and Merlin's insistence on saving him could only complicate such a situation.

Not knowing how long this might take him, he hobbled his horse near the entrance, so the animal could forage but not wander far. He hoped he'd need it again, in the not-too-distant future.

Arthur stood at the pillars of the entrance, hands on his hips, for some moments. The tests, he'd been privately disappointed to note, were not of strength or skill, not for physical prowess at all, but he'd dressed in his chainmail as a precaution, and for traveling alone, the weight of his sword reassuring at his side. Perhaps there were threats hidden in the labyrinth's walls – not all magical creatures were friendly, after all. Perhaps it was a test for endurance – how long might he be required to wander? - or cunning – perhaps he simply had to make his way through?

Hells, he felt lost without Merlin. Shaking off the thought and the feeling, he entered the maze.

He knew as well as anyone that to get through a maze, one simply had to place one hand or the other on one of the walls, and never remove it. In one of this size, however, it would take weeks to traverse, that way.

So Arthur relied on instinct, keeping his footsteps quick enough to follow a new path, take a new turn, without conscious thought. He was aware, also, that he'd failed the second test because he'd allowed his temper and his impatience to get the better of him. If he'd been thinking logically, he might have questioned the strange young thief's jibes targeting his insecurities as a crown prince and as a son far too well for an ordinary stranger.

So he walked at a quick stride, alert for immediate threat – and waited. The first test had come to him, and he'd passed without conscious effort – the second he had sought out, and…

Arthur smelled salt on the breeze, and turned his face toward the sun as he approached the end of the row. His steps halted for one surprised moment – instead of the leafy green wall he'd come to expect, there was a gap in the hedge. And sand, and surf. He paced warily to the break in the wall, taking in the rocky shore, apparently deserted but for Anhora. In his white robe, the old man nearly blended into his sun-bleached surroundings; half a dozen paces behind him, Arthur could see the corner of a low table, the stump of a tree positioned for a seat.

As he left the hedges of the labyrinth, circling to keep his distance from the old sorcerer as he would when facing any other opponent, he saw that he and Anhora were not alone. The other end of the low table was occupied. "Merlin?" he said, finding himself wearily unsurprised.

"I'm sorry," the young sorcerer said. He seemed nervous, though, and that put Arthur on edge.

Arthur addressed Anhora. "Let him go. I will take your test, but not until you've released him."

"His release is no longer possible," the old man answered mildly. "Merlin chose to participate of his own free will, and he is now part of the test. Please sit." Arthur put his hands on his hips, glaring at both sorcerers equally. "If you refuse the test you will have failed, and Camelot will fall," Anhora added.

"I told you to stay at home," Arthur said, crossing the rocky beach to lower himself to the vacant stump opposite Merlin.

Merlin shrugged, leaning over his crossed arms as if highly uncomfortable. "He asked if I wanted to help."

Arthur snorted and looked back at the old man, "All right, let's get on with it."

"There are two goblets before you," Anhora explained, gesturing to the pair of drinking cups in the center of the rough table. "One of them contains a deadly poison, the other a harmless liquid. All the liquid from both goblets must be drunk, but each of you may only drink from a single goblet."

Arthur leaned forward to see inside both cups – the liquid was exactly the same, in appearance no different than the water rushing and retreating in a background sigh beside them, each filled to the halfway mark. He took up the one nearest him to sniff at it; Merlin dipped his fingertips into the goblet closer to him and rubbed them together.

Well, that does it, Arthur thought to himself. I'm not drinking that one. "What is this meant to prove?" he said aloud. "If we can't even tell which one is which?"

"What it proves is for you to decide," Anhora said. "If you pass the test, the curse will be lifted." Arthur was watching him, and noticed something – the old man's gaze was on the two goblets, not on either price or sorcerer. He was reminded strongly of Merlin's friend Will, voicing an accusation – you did this, look what you've done – and Arthur confused as to which one he meant.

What if Anhora's instruction addressed them both?

He looked at the goblets. Across the goblets at the focused gaze of his friend, which turned gold momentarily, before Merlin made a sound of annoyance and sat back. Arthur figured he'd tried to discern the poison with magic, and couldn't.

He leaned his forearms on the table. There had to be an answer beyond simply choosing which one of them was to die at random. That proved nothing… and something about this whole arrangement bothered him. A test, to prove himself – themselves? – not to Anhora, but to magic itself.

"There must be a way around it," Merlin said slowly.

Arthur made a noise of agreement. "We have to find a way to determine which goblet has the poison."

Merlin bit his lip, narrowing his eyes, and began to mumble, as was his way when he was trying to think something through. "If I drink mine first… no, that won't work… but if it's not and I then drink… no, each is only allowed to drink from one."

Arthur drummed his fingers on the table. There was a solution, that he believed; this was only the first part of the test. It was what came after the poison was identified, that was the problem. He closed his eyes and concentrated on how the sound of the water blended with his friend's murmuring.

In both tests, he'd been in control, held a man's life in his hands. The first test he'd chosen to let the man go free; the second time he'd tried to kill him. Was that it? He had to choose to let Merlin go free. It was the clever solution – Merlin was a powerful sorcerer, and could probably… probably… heal him. He'd thought something similar after Merlin had drunk poisoned wine in his place, several months ago now. Although, Gaius had said more than once that poison was a tricky thing even for magic. So he couldn't necessarily count on Merlin's magic to save him.

His thoughts returned to the tests, to the words of the young man who called himself Evan. Your father would never have been fooled… the first test, Arthur had made a choice far different than the king would have, in his place – the second test, he'd reacted as his father would have counseled, to arrest the thief, to demand satisfaction for the insults to his honor. If Uther sat across from Merlin at this moment, there was no doubt in Arthur's mind that the king would allow, even encourage, the sorcerer to give his life that the ruler of the land might live.

"I've got it!" Merlin said, his eyes alight with satisfaction at having solved the riddle. "We pour all the liquid into one goblet, and then we can be sure it's poisoned – then all the liquid can be drunk and from a single goblet!"

So there it was. Merlin must go free. Arthur must not allow Merlin to die in his place. Only – what did it prove to magic itself, if he were to die? That's what bothered him – join the key. Pendragon and Emrys. Not much good separated… two sides of one coin. You've much to accomplish, Kilgarrah had once said, hinting at prophecies beyond that of Dinas Emrys.

"What if," Arthur said slowly, "We pour both liquids into one goblet, then share it back out again?" Merlin's eyes met his. "If the poison is halved, could we not expect to survive it?" He glanced aside at Anhora, who was impassive as ever.

Merlin shook his head slowly. "Without knowing what it is," he answered, "we can't guess that. A single drop might be fatal." He reached out for the goblet nearest him, and slowly began to pour the liquid into the second cup.

Neither of them needed to say anything. Of course Merlin expected to be the one to drink, would fight and argue and use magic on Arthur – would Anhora allow that? - to be the one to drink. And of course Arthur would answer back that the whole mess was his fault, his responsibility to pass the test, to lift the curse. But you're the prince, the future king, his friend would say. Don't, Merlin, be a hero. Not again.

The last drops trickled from the cup in the sorcerer's hand. Steady, Arthur noticed; Merlin had no qualms, no fears. His own belly was tied in knots. He said casually, as a sort of farewell that would not alert Merlin to his intention, "You never cease to surprise me – you're a lot smarter than you look."

His friend's lips quirked in a answering smile. "Is that actually a compliment?" he teased back.

Swift as thought, Arthur shifted his gaze over Merlin's shoulder and widened his eyes in alarm. "Look out!" he said. And as Merlin twisted to face whatever threat might be coming on them from behind, Arthur's hand shot out to grasp the full cup. Knowing that he would use magic to stop Arthur - in spite of Anhora or the rules of the test - Arthur gulped the mixed liquids, even as Merlin turned back, in horror too late.

"No!"

The taste was foul, but Arthur drank it fully, without even stopping to breathe.

Tears shone in Merlin's eyes. "What have you done?" he whispered, his arm stretched across the table as if he'd tried to reach for the deadly cup.

The world faded to a bright blur. He felt himself falling… falling…

…..*…..

Merlin scrambled around the table to reach his prince – for the second time that week too slow to prevent a death so wrong.

Immediately and without a word to Anhora, he poured his magic into the body of his friend, searching for the poison as he had to heal the victims of the water poisoned by the afanc, as he had to heal Sir Ewan of the snake's venom. There was nothing, no trace of danger or evil that he could find. He cursed, and tried again, flooding Arthur with magic – again finding no substance to combat. Did it act so quickly, then? He laid frantic fingers against the side of Arthur's neck, found the pulse slowed but regular.

"Has he passed the test, now?" he snarled at Anhora. "What was the poison you gave him? Tell me please, if I can save him! Let me take his place, even!"

Anhora stepped toward them slowly, sedately, and seated himself on the stump Arthur had fallen from. "He won't die," the old man informed him. "He has merely consumed a sleeping draught – he will come round shortly."

"What?" Merlin said.

The first smile he had seen on the Keeper's face was small, and fleeting, but there. "The two goblets indeed held a deadly poison, and a harmless liquid," he said. "When combined, they form an innocent potion that accomplishes a deep and immediate sleep."

Merlin said dazedly, "So we could have shared it out…"

"A unicorn," Anhora told him, "is pure of heart. Arthur was willing to sacrifice his life to save yours – proving what is in his heart also. The curse will be lifted."

Merlin rubbed the chainmail over Arthur's shoulder in a calming incredulity. "You didn't need me, you know," he said. "Arthur can be stubborn and pig-headed and annoying, but he cares about his people. He would not have let me drink from the goblet no matter who I was."

Anhora gave him an enigmatic look. "That may be so," he allowed. "But it is an inescapable fact that your destinies are linked. Both become," he said, "the chosen one."