Author's Notes: This chapter was unnaturally fun to write. I loved coming up with names and personalities for the council members. I bet you all can guess where Archie and Icarus have been, but don't. It ruins my fun. If Merlin seems a bit less enamored, it's because being away from Nimue for long periods brings him to what few senses he has. But we love him no matter what! Enjoy all the interesting unrest in the wizarding community of old. Thanks again for all the lovely reviews!

Near Midnight (cannot be certain, because a certain supercilious witch broke my timepiece):

Archimedes soared silently through the window a few minutes ago. I was up waiting for him like an overprotective parent.

"About time!" I shouted.

He started, clearly having assumed that he could just sneak back in while I slept.

"Just where have you been for the past—" I glanced mournfully at my broken dials and hourglasses. "Twenty-some hours?"

He ignored me like some silently guilty youth. Is everyone going to act insane today? Why not have Arthur show up to say he wants to be a eunuch? Nimue can rush in to declare that she and Morgan are now the best of friends and have joined together to torment the entire male population. And my hat will start talking—no, singing. And Arthur can provide the descant.

A plague on that owl! He winked AGAIN.

At least I can finally go to sleep in peace.

I pray I have no nightmares about singing hats. Though they would be an improvement from the prophetic visions of betrayal.

Before it is actually midnight and technically morning—five days until Nimue comes again.

Following Morning:

I did not sleep in today.

I just thought I would tell you...parchment. Why did you forget to remind me to give you a way of answering me?

Archimedes is still sitting stoically, firm in his refusal to let me know what he and Icarus were up to last night. I admit I attempted to bribe him with a dead rat I had been planning to use for greater purposes, but he remained unmoved.

At least one soul brought me cheer today. Nimue sent a clever little flower in a bottle that closes in light and opens in darkness. Was that not thoughtful?

It does remind me of her rather incessantly.

Which could be part of her plan.

What plan? I merely have a feeling she is planning something. I do wish I could see her thoughts more clearly...

Archimedes just showed his first sign of life since blinking. He was beginning to resemble a stuffed owl, the sort that doubtlessly adorns Morgan's home (castle?). He ruffled his feathers in that threatened manner and glared at me. Does he not know that bad moods are catching?

"I could have kept the window closed," I told him nastily.

Archimedes made a disdainful noise and faced the wall, fanning his tailfeathers at me most insultingly. I snorted and have merely to look at the flower again to regain my joy.

Midday:

It occurred to me that I should not have to rely on a mere flower to improve my mood. I shall put it away.

A Short While Later:


It opened when I put it in the chest. I blinked at it and found I could not look away until it was out upon my desk once more.

Most unsettling.

Nimue is too clever for her own good. Surely she didn't mean for that to be part of the spell?

She did. One cannot include something that complex and not realize it.

I—

Looked at the flower again, and no longer care.

It is a menace.

Moments Later:


It is a flower! A simple blossom cannot possibly be—

Still. I am going to ask Archimedes to dispose of it.

Not that he will. He rarely listens to me.

Evening:

Very well. Not only did Archimedes obey, he complied happily. Willingly! As though he thought it a grand idea and was proud of me for asking him. I nearly expected to hear a loud shattering noise as he dashed the bottle against the ground, but he must have flown too far away.

This attitude undoubtedly has something to do with his disappearance.

I am both sad and relieved that the flower is gone. Perhaps I should have saved it and unwoven the spells to find how it worked? I could have taken it with me to the council meeting tonight, though Morgan would have rejoiced, thinking it incrimination of Nimue.

Four days until the flower-sender comes again. I no longer look forward to it so eagerly.

Following Morning, Mid-Morning:

I could not possibly rise early this morn. The meeting stretched long into the night; I bet Morgan is still snoring. She strikes me as one who secretly snores. Of course, I did not think I snored until Archimedes began pecking me in the middle of the night until I turned over.

It is the end of the week, so Arthur is at home (if you can refer to it as such). He is probably attending church right now or studying his verses. It is good for him, though I believe it would be good for him to study the teachings of other religions as well. The Goddess teaches some fine values, as well do the deities and mantras of the East. But I fear men here are as closed minded as the council.

I found last night, much to my dismay, that many share Morgan's sentiments genuinely, though others merely agree to avoid debate. I find it terribly ironic that Nimue indirectly ended a potentially dangerous argument.

We gathered at Stonehenge. Arriving last, I alone saw the moon perfectly framed in the window of rock. I entered the circle and saw the council members illuminated by fairies convinced to alight upon the stones. Morgan looked impatient, Ariel distracted, Felix thought he had better things to do, and Janus bored. Deacon, Quillan, and Riordan were indifferent, engaged in polite conversation. The others, who I did not know as well, sat in silence. Elwin spotted me first and extended his usual warm greeting.

"Hail, Merlin! How do you fare? At last our assembly is whole."

"Hail, Elwin." I smiled. "I have fared better, and worse. Let us begin."

Morgan snorted. "At last!"

"You merely hinder us more with your disrespect," Mab croaked.

Mab is perhaps the only council member older than I am. As the elder, she rules each meeting and judges any debates. She is wise and strictly just. Her only fault, in my opinion, is a need for constant order. A little chaos now and then jars the spirit, keeping the soul from stagnating. I have not mentioned this to Elwin, who is particularly fond of her because they both take interest in magical beasts and beings.

"I call this assembly to order. Let the meeting of witches and wizards begin." Mab struck the air with her wind, sounding an invisible bell. "Who wishes to address the council?"

Morgan, Elwin, and Riordan stepped forth. Knowing what Elwin wanted (ever did he have an idea), Mab allowed him to speak first. Two fairies fluttered in to make him more visible, flashing their wings vainly. Elwin's round, eager face glowed with more than fairy light, and his simple garb seemed fine as silk in the tiny rays. Still, it pained me that his best robes were so plain. I must get him new ones. He so deserves it...

"I wish to bring to the council's attention a matter of growing concern. The centaurs have retreated further into the old forest and have severed virtually all contact with humans. They claim it is because of the war."

Janus waved a careless hand. "It is no concern of ours. If they choose not to associate with us, then we will not associate with them."

"It is not that simple!" Elwin wrung his worn robes. "They are invaluable allies as well as—"

"Half-humans."

Morgan was sneering, weary of awaiting her turn.

"As you are half mortal," Deacon said crossly. "Wait your turn, wench."

I immediately grew fonder of him.

Ariel, one of Morgan's young admirers, angered and challenged him.

"You should not speak such ways to a lady!" he cried, his wand in hand.

"She is no lady," Felix yawned.

"She will be."

Everyone turned and stared at the Lady of the Lake. We had all forgotten she was there, as she had never really made her presence known. She rarely speaks at council meetings. When she does, it is ever the truth. Morgan seemed suspicious but hopeful and Ariel fiercely glad. His auburn hair streaked with black and purple always stands on end as though aflame; now it made him appear taller and wilder. He lives in the woods as I do, though he has no cottage. I believe he resides on some Unplottable isle. I hope a tempest plunges his home into the sea as the waves took Atlantis.

Elwin squirmed. He dislikes any kind of argument and must have thought wrongly that a part of the anger crackling in the circle was directed at him. He mumbled a withdrawal of his topic and retreated into the semidarkness. Riordan took advantage of Morgan's state of flattered shock and stepped forward. Bored, the fairies began circling his head. One of them paused in their orbit to reach out and bounce one of Riordan's poet's curls, then snap giddily back into place. Riordan ignored them or pretended to take no mind.

"The war itself is a dangerous thing," he stated in his smooth voice. "Regardless of our involvement, it will affect us. We must take action to end the fighting."

At last. I had been advocating this for months, yet only now was the warring deemed grave enough to be an issue. Alas, my comrades are often blind to what they do not wish to see.

"One among us took action twelve years ago," the Lady said softly.

Riordan blinked. "What? Who?"

"Merlin."

All attention turned on me, though those who doubted refused to move their eyes. I sensed surprise, confusion, disbelief, and spite. At least one person was jealous, though I know not why. I would have gladly allowed someone else to trick Igraine and bring the wrath of Morgan upon them.

"Explain," Mab mused, waving her fairies to better light the Lady.

"Merlin brought about the birth of the one true king. The king will rise and bring the country peace. A prosperous, golden time will shine in his rule." The Lady bowed. "This is what I know."

"I see. Is there nothing we can do in the meantime?" Riordan sang.

The Lady smiled. "I know not."

Several fairies suddenly jerked over to Morgan. I saw her shift her wand beneath her cloak but said nothing. She strode forward, head high, and spoke before the council.

"Many inept and inferior people barely capable of magic have been vexing many high witches and wizards of this council, claiming their power is of equal worth. This is, of course, foolish and must be stopped."

"Hear, hear!" Janus drawled.

Deacon snarled. "This is about the half-mortals, is it not?"

I suddenly remembered I had meant to ask that the "mortals" be renamed. I cared little about the matter just then, fighting the urge to join Deacon and shove Morgan back in place. Clearly, she was not speaking for the whole council (of which I am a part!) when she came to scorn me yesterday. I nursed my silence and listened.

"Are you not also half-mortal, Morgan le Fay?" Felix inquired lazily.

Ariel shouted, "She did not ask to be!"

"Her power is greater than that of many full-blooded wizards," Janus said.

He meant pureblooded wizards. Fools. If all wizards were as obsessed with keeping our lines pure as Janus and Morgan, we would die right out. Or resort to incest. Incest is more common than I like—besides being just uncomfortable, the children seem to be quite ill. Of course, fools are more common than I like, and they seem to flourish.

"Would you have us establish a caste system, Milady, to keep those nasty commoners out of your divine sight?" Deacon growled.

"The simplest of barrier spells is all that is necessary," Janus sneered. "They lack the power even to get past those."

"My grandmother was mortal," Felix muttered.

Deacon turned to him. "And are you thwarted by childish charms? Of course not!"

The arguing grew too heated even for my liking. Shouts and sneers elevated to pointed wands and threats, insults hurled at one another's kin. Even the foreign wizards, usually silent, murmured to one another in anger or distaste. I am averse to battles of any kind, be they of sharp tongues or sharp blades, and quietly departed into my own thoughts. I dwelt on the curious flower and glanced at the moon, realizing that it was past midnight and there were only three days until I could see Nimue again. I contemplated exactly how enthusiastic I was about that.

Mab chuckled in my ear. I started out of my meditation, not having noticed she had moved behind me. She clapped me roughly on the shoulder.

"Why, Merlin!" she laughed loudly. "You are positively smitten!"

"What?"

"I had wondered why you neglected to speak during the debate, and found the answer in your distant and wistful expression. You, my friend, are thinking of a lady."

Curse that women's extra sense. The council had stopped arguing and was actually staring at me in various levels of amusement. I did not show my embarrassment, though my beard and the dim light would have covered it for me. I coughed and declared the noble Elder must be mistaken. Several members of the council snickered at this. Obviously, they had not deduced that the mysterious lady they were chortling about was the same woman they denied membership. I found this terribly amusing and joined in their laughter. Soon I was the only one laughing.

"Ladies can indeed steal one's attentions. They are the sweetest of thieves." I glanced at Ariel and Morgan. "Yet we must beware these fair ones, for they may use stolen hearts." I thumbed the brim of my hat. "Good eve to you all, or should I say good morrow? I must away."

I was not aware of my follower as I strode lightly from the stone circle. I was not aware when she left, turning to find her gone. I only heard her voice fleetingly, as though it were an echo of a thought.

"Heed your own words, Merlin," the Lady whispered.

I thought on this troubling advice on the trek home, and fell asleep still pondering it.

Midday:

Though it may seem otherwise, I do not think of Nimue, my Mysterious Lady, romantically. Rather, I am intrigued by what I do not know, and I know so little of her. Because she has closed her mind to me, I cannot pry and find out. I must actually converse with her, which is rather tedious as her beauty is admittedly distracting. Not as foolishly distracting as the green velvet dress, however. Ariel can only be excused on the ground that he is young and male.

I am not smitten. Though...I am interested. And occasionally obsessed. Unsettlingly, constantly thinking about someone is the first sign of being smitten.

What? How do I know this? Why would you ask such a ridiculous question?

You can't think that—now, really! If that were the case, some other mad king would have tried to sacrifice me. I did have a life when I was young. I WAS young once! Ah, what larks I had. In fact, I have had not one romantic experience, but many.

No, they were not with female merlins. You ass.

...parchment.

I swear on every whisker in my beard that if Archimedes laughs again, I'll turn him into a newt.