Chapter XXI: Sabotage
"I have an idea."
"What is it, Mother?" Merlin asked, popping another bite into his mouth.
"What if we interrupted Uther's lines of communication?" she suggested. "He needs to send messengers from Camelot. What if those messengers were somehow interrupted?"
"You want to kill them?" asked Morgause, looking far too interested for Merlin's comfort. (Merlin still wasn't entirely certain why his mother had invited the priestess to dine with them. She'd just smiled and said something about how he should at least try to be on good terms with Morgana's sister.)
"What?" Hunith was appalled. "Of course not!"
"So you want to take them captive?"
"I don't think we have the facilities to keep them here," Balinor lamented. "I suppose we could stick them in the Perilous Lands."
"I know spells of eternal sleep," Morgause volunteered. "Or I could turn them to stone, or perhaps animals."
"Or," Gaius cut in, "you could simply replace the letters." The others turned their full attention on the old physician. "Ambush the messengers with a sleep spell, swap their orders, and send them on their way."
"'Dear everyone,'" Merlin said, "'Uther's gone mad again, so we're suspending all state-sanctioned murder until further notice, which will be never.'"
"Not quite how I would phrase it," Gaius deadpanned, "but yes, something like that."
"We could ask them to send false reports," Morgause speculated, tapping her fingers against the table. "Make them as real-looking as possible to satisfy the mad king." She was smirking. "I quite like it."
"Yes, I thought you might."
They spent the rest of the lunch working on the practicalities of the plan: how to know when messengers were on the move, how to find them, what spells to use, who could be recruited to carry it out. There was a brief debate concerning whether they should have two or three people on each team. Merlin thought that two was more than enough manpower to take down a single unsuspecting individual, but Morgause pointed out that the messengers might be accompanied. Then Hunith reasoned that not every spellbinder was as powerful as the two of them; wasn't it easier to transport two rather than three people? Morgause acquiesced, and when their meal was over, they rummaged for parchment to draft the first replacement missive.
By the time the evening ended, they had a working copy of the letter. Hunith, in a rather transparent attempt to keep her son from overexerting himself, suggested that Merlin should be in charge of replicating it. The warlock felt like he ought to be offended, but it was getting increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. His recovery had been progressing nicely (or so said Gaius), but he still wasn't back to his usual self.
Morgause took her leave; she intended to spread the word about this project and acquire the first volunteers.
Balinor stood as well. Hunith and Gaius raised their eyebrows at him. He explained, "I have another idea for a distraction."
"Oh?"
"Kilgharrah," he replied, grinning wickedly. "I'm sure that he'd love to lead Uther's goons on a wild goose chase throughout the kingdom."
Hunith and Gaius laughed. Merlin gave a brief chuckle, but he somehow had difficulty appreciating how absolutely hilarious his father's idea was. There was something about dragons that he was… not quite forgetting, however much it felt like something he'd forgotten. Something he should know about them, something terribly important. But when he reached for the thread, it slipped through his fingers, disappearing into a haze of steadily increasing exhaustion.
Gods, how he hated being so tired.
The trick to getting away with things, Isolde had told her, was to act like you had nothing to hide. The merchandise they were carting through the streets was completely legal. The couple striding arm in arm towards the market was most certainly not two suspected criminals. (The boy in the neckerchief wasn't a druid at all, and Prince Arthur's manservant couldn't possibly be a warlock.)
So Gwen and Morien walked through Camelot like they had nothing to fear, nothing to hide—at least until they got to the castle. Then they 'stopped to talk' while scanning their surroundings for any onlookers. Seeing none, they ducked into the half-completed building.
Sunset was rapidly approaching, so there were no workmen present. The castle was as quiet as a tomb and nearly as dark. It was still considered uninhabitable, parts of the ceiling far too likely to collapse.
"You're certain that this dragon tunnel hasn't caved in?" Morien demanded.
Gwen froze in her tracks. She hadn't considered that possibility, hadn't even thought of it. "I've… never actually been in it," she was forced to admit.
Morien blanched. "Then how do you know that it ever led to the outside?"
Because she was Merlin's friend, and he'd eventually told her about his not-a-joke-at-all sheep-smuggling, but she couldn't tell that to a magic-fearing bloodcloak. She settled for, "Well, the dragon had to escape somehow, and he would have been noticed coming up through the building."
"But that was before the earthquake."
Gwen was saved from answering by the sound of footsteps. She and Morien fell silent, ducking against the wall, then relaxed when it was only Aglovale. "Here they are," he called, and the smugglers materialized out of the darkness behind him.
The group made their way down through the too-quiet castle, down to the place that a cave mouth yawned wide. They encountered no debris on their way, nor any wall hangings or decorations. Those had been cleared out before reconstruction began. Their torch-born shadows flickered larger than life against the walls.
The entrance to the dragon's lair was unobstructed. Still, the party paused for a moment before setting foot inside, following the narrow tunnel down into a much vaster cavern. Here, at last, they could see evidence of the earthquake. Stalactites had plummeted from the ceiling, cracking and shattering against the floor, leaving behind naught but round pale scars and small jagged just. The stalagmites were in slightly better condition. They hadn't fallen quite so far, so most of them were still relatively intact.
A crude staircase led from the ledge to the rest of the cave. Merlin's doing, probably, to make his illegal activities easier. Now it was being used to further Gwen's exciting new criminal pastimes.
Honestly, he'd probably approve of that.
They descended in a silence that was only broken by Tristan's sharp inhalation when he spotted the huge ruined manacles which had once bound Kilgharrah to his prison. "Look at the size of them," he murmured. They had been mostly melted by dragon fire, lumps of shapeless metal atop scorched stone, but a few links of chain remained. The metal was as thick around as Gwen's wrist. Just looking at it made her shudder.
By some unspoken agreement, they remained quiet as they traversed the cave. No dragon lurked in the shadows, and even if he had, Gwen knew that he wouldn't harm one of Merlin's friends. But the very air of the place was thick with years of grief and simmering wrath.
There were a few fallen stones along the way, and in one place, they had to scramble over a trio of great boulders that had fallen from the ceiling. (Aglovale, with his wounded leg, barely made the climb.) But then the atmosphere changed, hints of late summer air wafting in, and they picked up their pace. Tristan and Isolde half-doused their torches, reducing the flames to a faint red glimmer, and signaled the others to follow suit.
The sun had set completely, and only a few traces of twilight blue lingered in the west. The sky was clear, though, and the waning moon shone bright. Between it and the dimmed torches, the four travelers would have enough light.
"How long do you think you can walk on that leg of yours?" Isolde inquired.
"How far is the border?" Aglovale retorted.
Gwen pressed a few coins into Tristan's waiting hand. "Try and stay safe, all of you," she pleaded.
"We'll try," Isolde promised. She brushed her hand against the hilt of her sword. "But Tristan and I are quite accomplished at getting out of trouble." Her smile flashed in the darkness.
Gwen stayed there until she could no longer see them, then made her way back through the secret passage. They would definitely have to do something about that once Arthur was king, but for now, she would keep her silence.
Once she was at the door to the castle, Gwen peeked out at the city. Most of the lights she could see were stationary, but a few were on the move. Guards. It seemed that the curfew really would be enforced. She watched them for a time, mentally mapping their routes as well as she could. Then, when no guards patrolled nearby, she slipped outside.
The journey home lasted too long. Her senses were on high alert. Every dull noise was a guard's footstep. Every glint of light was a patrolman's torch. Every corner was a danger.
Needless to say, Gwen was beyond relieved when she got home. So was her father. He wrapped her in a fierce hug the moment their door was closed.
"It's okay," Gwen assured him. "Nobody saw me."
"I know that," Tom said. He did not say that she wouldn't have made it home if someone had. He didn't need to. "I don't suppose I could talk you out of doing this again?"
"Sorry," she sighed.
He pulled back, his expression serious. "Gwen, we need another way to get in contact with Blaise or Merlin or… the other one, I can't remember his name."
"Anhora, Dad. He's the Keeper of the Unicorns."
"Good for him. But, Gwen, this is the sort of thing that could get you killed at a moment's notice. You need a way to get out quickly."
She nodded slowly. "I could… try and visit Blaise tomorrow. He might have something."
"Would you be allowed to leave the city?"
She shrugged. "That's why I said 'try.'"
Tom groaned softly. "Didn't Merlin use to get herbs from him?"
Gwen perked up. "That's right, he did. He'd go on herb-picking excursions and get magic lessons at the same time. And I'm reasonably well-known to be a healer, so that won't look suspicious at all."
"Just remember to come back with herbs," Tom cautioned her.
"I'll bring my biggest basket," she promised.
By the time morning arrived, however, she'd slightly modified her plan. Instead of heading directly for the gate, she strode towards Leodegrance's manor and made her way down to the dungeons.
Morgana was visibly relieved to see her. "It's ridiculously boring here, Gwen," she complained. "Arthur and the guards are terrible conversationalists." Silently, she added, "How did the smuggling go?"
"Quite well. Tristan and Isolde are willing to do it again, assuming that they make it to the border and back unscathed."
The lady grinned. "But I'm sure you'll have something more interesting to say."
"Oh, yes, I have quite a bit to say."
"Like what?"
"Dad pointed out that we need a faster way to get in contact with the spellbinders who will help us escape. I'm going to visit Blaise."
"I might have something," announced a very unexpected voice. Gwen nearly jumped out of her skin, stuttering on the beginning of the irrelevant anecdote she needed to tell to keep the guards from becoming suspicious.
"I taught Arthur thought-speech," Morgana explained. "There's not much else to do here."
Gwen continued on with her story.
"Merlin gave me a sort of amulet thing that will supposedly let me summon him at will," the prince explained. "It should still be in my chambers, possibly still in my bags. It's a gray metal disk on a leather strip. You're supposed to call his name three times to make it work."
Gwen paused her story long enough to say, "All right, I'll try to find that. Thank you."
The rest of their conversation took place out loud, with Gwen telling random tales while Morgana and Arthur offered commentary. It would have been a pleasant way to spend a couple hours if they weren't in the dungeons.
It was time to leave. Gwen made her goodbyes and emerged from the dungeons. She did her best to follow Isolde's advice—be bold, act natural, and they will have no reason to suspect—as she went through the manor to Arthur's chambers.
There was a maid sweeping the hall. Gwen nodded to her and walked past. She'd either need to kill time or find an excuse to legitimately enter Arthur's room, which would be rather more difficult now that she'd just nonchalantly passed it by.
She ended up helping out and chatting with two laundresses, then delivering clean clothing. If this job happened to bring her past Arthur's room very often, that was most certainly not suspicious.
When the maid was finally gone (she'd decided to mop too, much to Gwen's frustration), she ducked inside the room and made a beeline for Arthur's bag. It had been completely emptied, of course, which really shouldn't have surprised her. Of course the servants would unpack for the Crown Prince. Hopefully they'd put the amulet in with Arthur's jewelry (not that he had much, just a few plain rings) instead of having it destroyed as a potentially sorcerous artifact.
Gwen's luck held. Arthur's amulet rested between a thin golden chain and a gaudy ring that might have been a gift from some queen who'd never met him. She swiped it, then slipped out as quickly as possible. She was, she reflected, becoming far too adept at this whole sneaking-around business.
A trip through the manor, a brisk walk through the sullen frightened city, and she was at the gate. Not many people were trying to leave; those who got too close eyed the guards' weapons with wary disdain. Gwen wasn't too surprised when they refused to let her through, even when she proffered her basket as proof of her intentions.
"No luck?" asked Tom when she returned.
"I'm not quite sure yet," she answered, going into the house. She shut the curtains. Ordinarily, that would have looked suspicious, but half the city was keeping their curtains closed now even in the brightest daylight.
Gwen pressed her fingers against cool metal. "Merlin," she called softly. "Merlin, Merlin."
And then he was there, eyes burning gold, fire in his hand. He blinked upon seeing Gwen, straightened, looked around. "I'm confused."
Gwen laughed, because that was so very Merlin. She wrapped him in a hug. Sudden tears rose unexpectedly to her eyes, but she blinked them away before separating.
"I'm not complaining," the warlock said, "but what's going on?" He surveyed the room once again as though he thought some enemy might have climbed out of the woodwork.
"I wanted to test this," his friend explained, "see if it would work for people other than Arthur. Gods, Merlin I've missed you."
"I've missed you too, Gwen. Scrying is well and good, but it's not the same." He hesitated a moment, then forged on ahead. "I wasn't doing anything important when you called, just reading some more of Sigan's grimoire. Did you want to catch up?"
"Very much," she replied.
He stayed for nearly three hours. They swapped tales and made each other laughed and got into a small but good-natured argument about whether 'Rupert' was a suitable name for the wyvern that was now hanging around the Isle of the Blessed. ("I'm telling you, Gwen, he just looks like a Rupert.") Tom came in at one point, grabbing a quick snack between smithing jobs, and exchanged greetings with his daughter's friend. "You can come to her in mere moments?"
"Yes, I can." He tilted his head. "Are you… all right with this? With us being friends, I mean."
"I'm not all right with the danger, if that's what you mean." Merlin winced. "But I'm glad that you care enough about her to save her. I just hope that she never needs your help, or at least not until we're ready to leave."
"I hope so too."
"As do I," Gwen acknowledged. An idea struck. "Say, Merlin, you mentioned something about scrying earlier?" At her father's incomprehension, she added, "That's when spellbinders look in on people far away." Tom's eyes widened in comprehension.
"Elyan's doing well," Merlin assured them. "They should be entering Gawant sometime today. Would… would you like to see?"
Tom's nod is slow, but it comes.
Elyan was riding, his new red cloak spilling out behind him, and listening to (or perhaps ignoring; he did look fairly bored) one of Gwaine's improbable tavern tales. He might not have been doing anything exciting, but Gwen preferred it that way. A boring journey was a safe journey, and she would like for her brother to remain out of danger for a while.
They watched until Gwaine finished his yarn. He looked ready to start another, but Lancelot broke in with a question about Gawant's royal family. Gwaine sulked at being cut off, but the other knights (she still had trouble believing that her brother was a knight) were relieved.
"…I'd better get back to work," Tom lamented. "Thank you, Merlin."
"You're welcome."
The scryed image faded, leaving clear water behind. Gwen narrowed her eyes at him. "You're still recovering from claiming the Perilous Lands, aren't you?"
"What makes you—" But here Merlin interrupted himself with a huge yawn. "Oh. Never mind." He huffed. "I'm doing much better, though."
"I believe it," she assured him. "Now go home and sleep, Merlin. You need to keep your strength up. Oh, and say hello to Gaius and your parents for me."
"I will. Goodbye, Gwen. I'm glad we got a chance to catch up."
"Goodbye, Merlin. I am too."
The days were beginning to blur together. There was no sun in the dungeons, no hourglasses, only the delivery of their meals and guards changing shifts. Sometimes visitors arrived: Gwen, of course, and Leon's parents, and various other acquaintances. Once, Arthur's uncle Agravaine arrived, only to be sent off to represent Camelot at the summit meeting that Uther had apparently decided to ignore entirely.
Morgana probably would have gone mad if she hadn't taught Arthur thought-speech. That was the only way that they could speak freely.
Speak, and plot.
They had to do something about Uther. While they were both reluctant to flat-out kill him, they also understood that he had to be taken off the throne. The best way to do that would be to bring back the scattered members of the Royal Council, who had fled first from Sigan and then from the king's insanity, and convince them to name Arthur regent. So, when Gwen arrived to distract their guards, Arthur wrote letters on the parchment that she had smuggled in, royal orders to return to the citadel to see Uther for themselves. This plan would take time, yes, but it would give Arthur's regency the legitimacy he would need to make sweeping changes. Soon, he'd sent orders to everyone he could, smuggled out by the few messengers they could trust, and all he and Morgana could do was wait.
Waiting, the witch reflected sourly, would be a great deal more pleasant and productive if Uther would just let them out of the blasted dungeons already.
"How long is he going to keep us here?" Arthur demanded, not for the first time.
"He's probably waiting for us to apologize and publicly support his… methods."
"So we're never getting out of here."
They'd had a variation of that conversation dozens of times before. Perhaps it was time to add something new.
"We could probably break out if we really had to," Morgana speculated.
The guards stiffened.
"But what would we do if we broke out?" Arthur wondered.
"I suppose that we could lead the guards on a wild goose chase across the country." According to Gwen, Merlin's dragon friend Kilgharrah was doing something similar. He'd be sighted first in one place, then twenty miles to the north, then halfway to Mercia. They didn't know how many soldiers had been sent after him, but there must have been quite a few.
"We'd have to split up," the prince mused. "Why settle for one wild goose chase when you could have two?"
It was fun, winding up the guards like this. "We could spread rumors as we went," Morgana suggested. "'Prince Arthur was spotted in Gedref.' 'They're both in Essetir.' 'Lady Morgana crossed the White Mountains.' Confuse everyone, hide our trails better."
"But wouldn't people just follow the sources of those rumors?"
"We'd have to be subtle about it, obviously, and it wouldn't hurt to have a disguise. I could probably pass myself off as a man. How do you feel about hair dye?"
Fortunately for their poor guards, a page chose that moment to come scurrying into their line of sight. "Orders from His Majesty," the child panted. "Prince Arthur and Lady Morgana are to be brought up and bathed, and then they are to attend him."
Morgana raised an eyebrow. She would certainly appreciate a bath, but it seemed strange that Uther had specifically ordered them to get clean. Maybe he wanted to parade them around in front of the nobility (some of the Council members had to have arrived by now), pretend that he hadn't let his own son and ward rot behind bars for the last however many days. Or maybe he didn't want to look at the reminder of what he'd done.
Not that she was complaining. Once they were out, she and Arthur could find more ways to fight back.
So she let herself be led to her chambers, where Gwen was waiting with a warm tub. Her friend looked a bit tired from all those late-night smuggling excursions (Tristan and Isolde were worth their weight in gold), but they exchanged grins when Morgana arrived.
Then another woman came bustling inside, an ornate red gown on her arm. "The king wants you to hurry so that your hair is as dry as possible," she explained, grabbing the soap right out of Gwen's hands.
"Why does he care?" Morgana demanded.
"Because you're to be presented to your fiancé in less than two hours. King Cenred is almost here."
Alternate chapter title: "In Which Beloved Fan Favorite Agravaine Finally Shows his Face, Only to be Booted Out Immediately"
Next chapter: January 24. Morgana tries to not explode Cenred's head. Merlin does some teleporting. The knights arrive in Gawant and learn something worrying about the princess.
Happy New Year!