Chapter 5

Later in the day, as Merlin was cleaning up after Arthur's lunch, Arthur came into the room and frowned at him. Merlin wasn't about to ask. Frowns were never good.

Finally, Arthur gave a little laugh. "Iseldir asked that you participate in his instruction into the old Religion. I can only think he values your poor servanting skills. Or perhaps he wants you there to show everyone that clumsiness isn't catching. He can't want to listen to a fool ramble on for hours at a time."

"Or maybe he just wants someone to teach him how to talk back to a prat," Merlin snapped back. He wasn't about to let Arthur know how pleased he was about it all.

"Nah." Arthur scrunched up his nose, then shook his head. "Not possible." Standing over Merlin, watching him start to pile the dirty plates onto a tray, Arthur said, "Maybe he needs an example of incompetence to correct. But nevertheless, I expect you to be there. He wants Mordred, too, but at least that I understand. After all, he knew Iseldir when he was a kid and lived with them for a time. Since he's a loyal and competent knight, he might give some insight into the problems at hand. Unlike you."

What could Merlin say, that the git was wrong? That Merlin knew more about the problems than Mordred and certainly more than Arthur? Instead, he threw a half-eaten biscuit at Arthur.

Arthur threw one back.

When Arthur finally left, Merlin had even more of a mess to clean up than before.

A week passed. Merlin had to admire Iseldir's teaching methods. He didn't start with hard and fast rules, talked more about the philosophy of the Druidic life and the joys that a natural lifestyle could bring. He even showed them a little bit of magic, a few flowers blooming, water turning into ice, a butterfly floating free.

Arthur looked sick at first, his hand kept going to his dagger, but he put his hands deliberately onto the table and watched—and relaxed the more the magic seemed an innocent plaything.

"Balance is important in all things. Our people try to be one with nature, to heal the sick, to grow crops when nature is unkind, to help with the well-being of all. We use magic for beauty, too, but not too much or too often. There is always a cost. We choose to accept it."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, his voice neutral but he seemed tense. "A cost?"

"Balance, of course. When I force a flower to bloom before its time, it doesn't live as long, and I'm also weakened a little. It isn't enough to be an issue, but we are always careful in our choices." Iseldir waved his hand and the butterfly disappeared.

"Would that be true for stronger magic use? Killing something or saving it? How much balance is required?" Arthur said, always the warrior, thinking about larger issues.

Iseldir didn't hesitate. "To save a life that is destined to perish, another must be sacrificed. When you were bitten by the questing beast, Emrys offered his own life for yours." He glanced at Merlin, then deliberately turned away. It didn't help that Mordred was looking at Merlin, too. "But we rarely have that problem. It's mostly a healer needing to rest after dealing with a patient or a farmer recuperating after tending to his sick crops."

"Who is Emrys?" Arthur was like a dog with a bone, never wanting to let things go. The git.

Merlin sent Iseldir a plea. 'Please don't tell him. He doesn't know it's me.'

Iseldir nodded, then said to Arthur, "Someone wise and foolish, clumsy and graceful, intelligent and idiotic. Someone who makes hard choices but is willing to do so for you. Someone close to you, someone who wants your well-being above all, including his own life. It was only with a twist of fate that he survived his sacrifice. But he continues to aid you, hidden until such time that he can breathe free."

Arthur looked around the room, staring at some of the nobles, looking at Gaius and Geoffrey, Mordred and Leon, ignoring Merlin entirely. "Is he here now? In this room?"

"Young king, that I cannot answer. But some day you will know. Until then, accept his gift. He offers it without any thought of reward," Iseldir stated, calm and final, then continued, "Magic has many uses but it isn't the entirety of the Old Religion. For example—"

Interrupting, obviously still thinking of the dire problems they've had to face over the years, Arthur said, "I know there are those among the sorcerers who practice evil. Mind control, murder, all manners of horror. How can I trust magic when I've seen such thing with my own eyes?"

"We are not asking you to trust it. Do you trust the viper in the grass or the horse thundering down the road about to trample you? Magic is a tool, used by good people and bad. I will not lie to you and say that it will be easy. But if an assassin uses a sword or magic, the person is still dead and the murderer still a murderer." Iseldir seemed to echo the same reasons as Merlin did in the glen. Maybe this time, it would stick.

"But a sword can be fought with a sword. Magic, on the other hand—" Arthur said, pressing his point.

"If magic is used, we often use magic to counter the attack. But you have seen sorcerers cut down with swords or arrows." Iseldir glanced at Merlin again, then said, calmly, "A mad dog would be put down. So, too, those who use magic for evil, although we will try reason first. But if that does not succeed, we may exile them or if they are unredeemable, they will pay for their deeds with their lives." When Arthur looked like he was about to ask again, Iseldir put up one hand to stop him. "You must understand that such a thing grieves us, the stain on us lasts a lifetime. But we have councils set up to judge and those with enough power as a collective to overcome most sorcerers. Perhaps you could set one up yourself, even have someone designated as an official of your court for such as head."

Iseldir looked at Merlin again and gave him a little nod. Merlin certainly didn't nod back. He was too worried that Arthur would see how the Druid kept looking at Merlin and wonder why.

Standing up, nodding to Iseldir, Arthur said, "The hour grows late. You have given me much to think about. We will continue tomorrow."

Merlin tried to avoid Arthur but was cornered just outside the council room.

"Who is Emrys?" Arthur insisted. "You must know. Gaius knows everything and he tells you everything."

"Gaius tells me nothing except that I haven't cleaned the leech tank in a week. Or that I got the mixture wrong on your salve. How is your shoulder, by the way?" Merlin tried to look innocent, blinking a little and giving Arthur a gormless smile.

"My shoulder is fine, you idiot. It's been fine for weeks. You are just trying to avoid answering me," Arthur growled out. "You must know. Iseldir keeps looking at you every time Emrys is mentioned."

"Maybe I'm Emrys?" Merlin said, his voice squeaking a bit.

"Don't be ridiculous. Iseldir said he was wise and even though sometimes you say things that seem wise, they're not. So find out, will you? If nothing else, if he's protecting me, he should be rewarded or exiled for using magic, I'm not quite sure which just yet," Arthur snapped, looking a bit put upon.

Narrowing his eyes, scowling at the git, Merlin said, "See, that's why whoever this Emrys is, he probably doesn't want to be exiled. Otherwise, he could just leave, you know?"

"Argh, you are useless and annoying. Go. Clean out the leech tank or muck out the stables or something. I'll find this Emrys myself." Arthur stomped off, grumbling about idiots.

"Good luck with that, you arse," Merlin yelled after him.

It had been a long day.