The Chronicles of Artie Pendragon, Girl-King of England Born
Chapter Seven; Kay - As You Wish
No, I haven't seen Artie either. Stop asking.
Anyway, after spending the past five days as far away from the royal presence as possible, today I finally ran into Merlyn. Literally. I was overseeing the maintenance of Mysterious Camelot Corridor #425 when he walked out the third door, smiling that stupid smile of his and ogling the cleaning girls, so I pretended to slip on the feather duster and pushed him right back in. Maud snickered. I glared at her, then stepped inside and slammed the door with my foot.
"Finally got you, you slimy git," I said to Merlyn, who with his robes over his head looked a bit like a malnourished pillow. "Why'd you do it?"
Merlyn floated to his feet, settled his robes, and artfully arranged his white locks over his sharp smug bonce.
"I make no plea of ignorance, dear Kay. This one is yours to question, as you say."
"That... that's not even an answer, you sissified snowball."
"Neither was your crooked query a question," said Merlyn, his eyes glinting like snakes' scales. "What did I do, my dear Kay, and why would you possibly want to know the reason?"
I put up a hand and jabbed my finger towards the door.
"First you seal that doorway, so no-one hears anything. Especially not you, Maud!"
"What?" came a feigned shout from the corridor outside. "You'll have to forgive me, Master Kay, I'm a bit hard of hearing!"
"Yeah, right! Put some hosen in it, Maud!"
"Even if I did seal the door," smiled Merlyn, "and did keep my secret—mine, mind you, not yours—what stops me from revealing it to anyone I please? You have no possible way of compelling me, dear Kay."
"Cut that out. It's Sir Kay, or Kay. I've never liked you, and you know that, so let's stop pretending. Just seal the door."
Merlyn gave his stupid smile, which looks like a smirk if you glance at the edges. He pointed a finger towards the door and said a word. The scrubbing and dusting and chatter vanished like a flock of scattered sparrows.
"Again, Sir Kay, your question."
He was the picture of politeness. For a moment, I almost felt bad. Then I remembered who I was talking to, and how he could twist and stretch around everything like a long lump of dough, and I rubbed the irritation right back into my eyes.
"When you put the spell on everyone to make them forget Artie was a girl—"
"It is a glamour, Sir Kay. It presents the beholder with what he expects to see. Not even I can alter every mind in England."
"Whatever. Point is, you did it. Second point is, you agreed not to do it to me... which is the only reason I still know who Artie is. Now, everyone says you're the most powerful magician alive. If they're right, which I'm pretty sure they are, then why in the world would you need to take precautions against anything? What's this sewer-slop about a marriage?"
Merlyn folded his hands.
"Magecraft, Sir Kay, is like a book."
"Oh, sweet Jesus, I didn't ask for this."
"A book," smiled Merlyn, in his mule-stubborn manner. "We, the Mages, scrawl what we can in our short lives, and cut the pages, and leave the still-bound blanks to our descendants. But even if you had a tome to dwarf this castle, Sir Kay, and crush these battlements with the weight of its pages, you could not with it compass all the learning in the world."
"So," I frown, "what you're saying is that someone could still slip past you. Someone with magic you don't know about could undo the glamour."
"You have a quick mind," said Merlyn. "A shame. It is wasted in the kitchen."
"Well," I flashed back, "it's just not your lucky day, is it? Because I'm here, and not in the kitchen, and your lame excuse doesn't make a lick of sense. What does getting married have to do with Artie's glamour? If it gets undone, then everyone will know that the King, a girl, took a woman to wife. They'll burn her alive!"
"Well," echoed Merlyn, and turned away, as if marking a swallow outside the non-existent window. It sounded so callous and so utterly inane that I almost stabbed him there and then. Trust me, my sword was out before I could think about it.
Then I thought about it and punched him right in the mouth. He touched his split lip and looked at me, as if surprised that I would even consider it. I hit him again. But before I could do it a third time, he said another word, and gestured.
It felt like a giant was trying to pluck my arms off. I screamed and hit the door like a flung puppet. My sword twisted like a splintering stalk, then burst, the steel shards tinkling all over the floor. They slit my hands and face.
"Understand this, Kay." Merlyn paced in front of me, to and fro, the same dreamy lilt in his unruffled voice. "It has been my curse, ever since my youth, to see the stuff of futures. Do you think this a matter for yourself alone? Do you think Arturia is yours? You are a fool, dear boy. She is not even your real sister."
He rubbed a gentle hand over his bleeding chin, and when he took it away his lip was whole. I ground out something wild and wretched, but even I didn't know what I was saying.
"No," said Merlyn, a haunted light in his eyes, "the tale of King Arthur has already been written. It was chiseled in the future by the finger of Fate long before you or I existed. Arthur will marry Guinevere, daughter of King Leodogran of Cameliard, because it is written. Hear me, Kay: the best of kings will face the greatest of knights, and at the end of all the dream will drown in blood, choked by a traitor without any choice. It is written. And Merlyn, poor wise, foolish Merlyn—"
He choked, then, a horrible noise, because it sounded so terribly human. The invisible arms twisted harder. I gnashed my teeth and snarled like a dog. Then they let go, and I fell to the steel-strewn floor, my shoulders wracked with piercing spasms and my face leaking red.
Merlyn knelt and took my chin in his cold sharp fingers.
"You, Kay," said Merlyn with awful clarity, each word as bright as a funeral bell, "are nothing. You do no great deeds. You perform no feats of arms. You rot in the kitchen for the rest of your life, a sallow bitter man, covered in grease and rancor and the shadow of your foster-brother. Most people don't even remember your name."
I burbled something, but the red snot ran through my words and washed them away.
"You know I speak the truth," said Merlyn. "It would make no difference if you denied it. So tell me, why? Why do you fight when you cannot?"
The question lingered in the air, tinged with a desperation that surpassed curiosity. I gathered my breath, looked up, and spat in his face. Merlyn stayed still for several seconds, the spittle leaving a slow snail-trail down his left cheek. Then he stood, wiped it off, and touched my forehead. The pain stopped, as if snipped by a barber's shears. My wounds sealed like sewn-up seams. The scattered remnants of my sword spiraled back together, clacked like an iron brace, and fused. Then the blade sheathed itself.
I put a hand on the door and stood, completely whole, except for the horrid sour ache in the pit of my stomach and the hatred eating at my heart. Outside birds sang.
"I don't know what you saw in the future, Merlyn," I said, trying to control the venom in my voice. "I don't know what miserable version of me they sing or talk or read about. Frankly, I don't even care if I'm remembered."
Lies. The thought hurt worse than my wounds had. But I kept going.
"Here's what you don't understand, Merlyn. Whatever your legends say, they don't know Artie. You don't know Artie. You're just like that blasted Uther—all you can see is the King. But I... I love her. And if you're going to ruin her life, then I'll be more than happy to give up mine to stop you."
Merlyn looked at me, his eyes inhumanly calm.
"There is much you do not know," he said. "You don't have the strength."
"Try me," I hissed.
Merlyn shrugged, and, walking past me, touched the door. The silence fled, and I heard the creak of craning necks and the hushed giggles of the cleaning girls. He swung the door open, to a chorus of general squealing.
Yes, even Maud.
"Oh, Master Kay," tittered the third girl, "we were just wondering what you were up to. You were in there with Master Merlyn so terribly long."
I glowered at her, but instead of bursting into flames like I wanted, she grabbed the feather-duster and flounced backwards, laughing. Merlyn flashed a winning smile, to peals of flustered delight.
"Now, ladies," he said, "there's nothing to be worried about. We were only discussing the impending marriage of our dear King Arthur."