2.

It was times like these, Gaia reflected, as another candle spluttered out in a puddle of its own wax, that she missed magic. It was easy to think of magic in terms of grand gestures and stupendous displays. But it was the little cantrips-the heatless tongues of flames following one about from task to task, the whisk that stirred itself, the water that was always just the right temperature for one's bath, the easy, everyday spells that made life just a little sweeter-that was where one felt the lack.

She sighed and lit another candle. Ratchett, the steward's assistant, was forever complaining that she used too many. But her eyes were none too bright anymore, and when else was she to conduct and compile her research but at night? Her days were filled with her duties-compounding poultices and potions, making her rounds, attending to the sick and injured as needed.

Perhaps when Balinor's daughter came-what was her name, again? Perhaps the girl could take over some of her more mundane tasks. She'd been surprised to receive Balinor's letter; it had been a long time since she'd seen him. But he'd been a good friend, once, before things went-well, before. And she was looking forward to meeting what's-her-name.

She paused, her pen hovering over the inkwell on her cluttered desk. The relentless banging outside her chambers was distracting and she tried to ignore it, but still her eyes were drawn out the window to the scaffold where some poor accused would lose his head in the morning. A sorcerer, of course-hardly any other crime merited death in Uther's Camelot.

She sighed, moved the candle away from a precarious stack of parchment. Heatless flame. Hot bathwater. Gentle words that knit skin faster, made sleep easier, stanched the flow of blood. These were the evils she had forsaken in the name of Uther's Camelot. In the name of keeping her own head attached to her shoulders.

She resolutely put these morbid thoughts aside and buried herself in her work. She was good at that. And when the girl came, she would be free to do so even more.

It was clear from the moment Merilinn met Gaia that her father had not told the old doctor everything about her. Well, anything about her. Merilinn hadn't meant to use magic approximately twelve minutes into her arrival at Camelot-after witnessing an execution, no less-but what was she supposed to do, let the old lady break her neck?

It was just as well. Her father had said Gaia could be trusted. Better to get it all out in the open right away. Never mind that Gaia was not best pleased, and had put her to work more or less immediately, sending her out to deliver various medicines with more admonishments than Merilinn thought were strictly necessary to not, under any circumstances, use her powers.

As if I need any reminders, she thought, as she passed through the courtyard which had just yesterday played host to a dying man. She slowed as she passed the training yards. A young knight stood to the fore of a knot of others, holding a bow. With a shock of realization, Merilinn realized that this was no knight at all, but must in fact be the Princess Ursula. Rumors had reached even Ealdor of the beautiful princess who insisted on training with her own knights.

Merilinn watched her notch the arrow to the bow. A dark-haired man, standing slightly behind her and to her left, gave her some instruction and the princess adjusted her stance. She let the arrow fly.

Merilinn watched its path across the field until it buried itself in a wooden shield. That was when Merilinn realized that the shield was being held not by a frame but by a person-a cowering servant hardly more than a boy.

So this was the glorious, much-vaunted Camelot. Men with powers like hers were killed in the marketplace and spoiled nobles shot arrows at servants for fun.

She didn't realize she'd walked out onto the field until she'd already done it. She stopped and looked at Princess Ursula and the group of knights. She saw confusion crease the princess's face; then she and three knights made her way towards her. They did it slowly, insouciantly. Merilinn recognized that she was being made to feel that she was no priority of theirs.

"Are you daft?" Ursula called. "Do you wish to be shot?"

"I certainly do not," Merilinn replied. "And neither does he." She indicated the boy behind the shield, who was peeking nervously at them.

Ursula's eyes widened. "I see," she said, drawing out the syllables, inviting the knights to laugh. "Well, since you're so concerned for his well-being, why don't you take his place?"

Merilinn looked the princess up and down. She was certainly as lovely as everyone said-tall, statuesque in the armor made especially for her, shining golden hair plaited and bound round her head like a coronet. She certainly didn't look like she ought to be a complete prig. But as Merilinn had learned the hard way, sometimes the most vicious bullies were dressed up in the nicest packages.

There was evidently something less than respectful on Merilinn's face, because the princess's chin went up, her cheeks colored, and she called across the field, "You there! Bradford! This chit of a girl is going to take over for awhile."

Bradford slowly lowered the shield, looking nervously from Ursula to Merilinn. It was Ursula's turn to give Merilinn a once-over, and Merilinn suddenly felt even smaller than her five feet; she felt every inch the plain, thin, awkward country girl. She felt her magic gather under her skin and ruthlessly pushed it back down. It was enough just to know that she could bash this arrogant prig's face in with her mind. She smirked to think of it.

"Something amusing, mouse?" Ursula asked, generations of contempt in her tone.

"Oh, nothing, my lady" Merilinn snapped, dropping an ironic curtsy. "It's just that I was always taught that the upper class had...well...class."

"Is there some reason why I shouldn't leave you right where you are?"

Merilinn looked up at Gaia from her mean pile of straw in the castle dungeons, feeling disoriented. "It wasn't you calling my name just now, was it?"

"What?" Gaia frowned, then shook her head. "My dear, I'm coming to realize that it's difficult for you to keep one thought in your head for any length of time, but do try to pay attention. I've half a mind to let you feel the hospitality of the dungeons for another night or so just to let the lesson sink into that skull of yours." She sighed, eyeing Merilinn with exasperation. "However, against my better judgement, I have arranged for your release. With conditions, of course."

Which was how Merilinn found herself with her head in the stocks, being used as handy entertainment for the local children. An inauspicious beginning, but at least one that let her keep her head, as well as her position with Gaia.

"It was brave of you to stick up for that boy."

Merilinn craned her neck. A handsome, dark-skinned man grinned at her. She became acutely aware of her humiliating position at the moment, the smear of rotten marrow on her face and in her hair. "Thank you," she said.

"Stupid," he continued, "but brave."

Merilinn felt a flush of anger and with it, a burst of temptation to use magic to free herself, stand up, and walk away from Camelot forever. "Tell me, does the princess always behave like a stuck-up little prig playing dress-up?"

"You do have a mouth on you, don't you?" the man said. "The Princess Ursula is hardly playing dress-up, and you should not underestimate her. She works hard to prove herself on the field. Works hard in every respect, if you see what I mean."

Merilinn did see. It was not difficult to understand that a woman trying to fit in with a group of knights might try overhard to prove herself as one of them-crude, bullying tricks and all. "All the same," she grumbled.

The man laughed. "All the same, indeed. When we meet properly, my name is Jens. Lord Morgan's manservant."

"Merilinn," she said. "Physician's dogsbody."

"Until next time, then, Merilinn," Jens said, and disappeared from her line of sight.

The king kept a dragon in his basement, because of course he did. He was that kind of man.

The dragon told her things she did not want to hear, things she did not really believe-or so she told herself. That pilgarlic of a princess the Once and Future Queen? She herself, a little nothing who couldn't even cast a spell without risking death, she was destined to be Ursula's dedicated protectress?

And yet, who could disbelieve the words of a dragon? A great and terrible creature from the depths of time. What possible benefit would such a one derive from lying to the likes of her?

"You're wrong," she protested feebly. "You're wrong about this. I'm nothing-I'm nobody. I'm less than nobody. I just got out of the stocks three hours ago-the stocks that Ursula put me in!"

"There is no right or wrong," the dragon said. "There is only what is and what isn't."

Merilinn frowned; this was not what her father had taught her. Do no evil and help those who need it, that was Balinor's mantra. Not this stern bloviating about destiny at any cost.

The dragon saw her distaste and grinned, showing his gleaming, pointed teeth. "You cannot escape your destiny, my girl," he said. "Better to accept it, and take your place at Ursula's side."

"At Ursula's side!" Merilinn cried. "That spoiled showoff wouldn't let me within ten feet of her royal person!"

"We shall see," the dragon replied calmly.

It couldn't be true.

It wasn't true.

But there was an enchantress who sent the court to sleep, an enchantress with a knife who stood on the verge of plunging it into Ursula's heart, and Merilinn, the only one not affected by the spell, had one brief, unworthy thought-I should let her drive that knife into the heart of Uther's daughter-before she took Ursula by the back of her fine gown and jerked her out of the way. Do no evil, her father's voice said, as if into her ear.

The spell was broken, the knife plunged harmlessly into the wood of the table, and King Uther made Merilinn his daughter's personal maidservant, all within the space of a moment. She stood next to the princess and heard the king's pronouncement; she and Ursula exchanged started glances, united, for once, in surprise. Merilinn's mind flashed back to the dragon's words. Better to accept it and take your place at Ursula's side. And then her father was there as well: Help those who need it.

It couldn't be true.

Unless it was.