Lady of Magic

Chapter Seven

For the next few weeks, Merlin did not actually see much of the King. She was busy in the clinic, occasionally modifying the wards but mostly seeing patients and directing her apothecary, while Arthur attended to his Kingly duties. They did not even eat together again because their schedules were so off, and she never got a chance to inquire after Sir Gwaine. On occasion, Gwen would drop by, but the clinic was far too intense for someone like her, and Merlin found that even though her true gender was now in the open, somehow the two women had little to talk about.

She was starting to see why Gwen claimed she was a bad fit for Arthur; the woman was the sweetest thing in the world, but she lacked curiosity and simply did not enjoy learning. Merlin found herself constantly talking in medical jargon, and anything and everything reminded her of a patient case she saw or had not seen, or something she had read in the books, and it was all a little much for Gwen, who had always been content with simply knowing what she needed to learn as a servant and little else. After a while, Gwen only dropped by infrequently, and despite being surrounded by familiar walls and a familiar diversity of people, Merlin found her living situation to be quite like Griton, with considerably less harassment but just as many loved ones.

To be honest, it was actually quite nice. Camelot was a rich city, and in the years Merlin had been away, Arthur had turned it into a major trading center. On her days off, Merlin had the druids look over the supplies for her and do her paperwork, which meant she had time to head out into the marketplace to look at the variety of goods. There were many things she had never seen in her entire life, coming from places she had never heard of, including magical items from the east and south, ancient artifacts from a world long extinct, spices and fabrics and perfumes that came from another realm. On occasion, Merlin even found herself staring longingly at certain jewelry or dolls, but a healer had no use for such items, and her clinic was not so profitable that she could afford to withdraw funds from her budget to buy these sort of things instead of the precious life-saving ingredients and herbs that were for her patients.

On one such day, she met a man.

"So," He said, "You are the famous Healer Emrys."

He was a giant of a man, pale and blonde, even more so than the King. Over one shoulder he carried a large bag. She reckoned he hailed from the northeast where the sun only shone for half a year. It was said such people were remarkably buff. This man certainly was.

"And you are?" She looked up at his bearded face.

"Noret Hunter, at your service."

"Oh." She studied him. "What can I do for you?"

"I come on behalf of Crestathion."

Oh dear. "I see," Merlin folded her basket in front of her. "What does he want from me?"

"He heard that you have relocated to Camelot," Said Hunter, "Since you are clearly back in the fold, he hopes that you might be disposed to…lend a bit of your time, to a small matter of great importance."

"I see." Merlin lifted the basket. "Take a look. What do you see?"

Hunter was mildly startled. He looked in.

"I don't know. Plants. Herbs, I reckon."

"Ah," Merlin drew the basket back, "So I move to Camelot, and everyone instantly assumes that I am returning to politics. I hope you will go back to Master Crestathion with the message that this is not the case." She turned around before Hunter could protest. "I am relocating to Camelot because of the traffic here, good sir. Please relay this message to him. He is welcome to my clinic for treatment, as are you, but I will not partake in anything that will keep me from my duties."

"You are a diligent one," Hunter mused, falling into step beside her. "Crestathion is not a man to be refused lightly."

"I think you mistake me for someone else," Merlin said casually, "I once refused your esteemed friend to his face. What makes you think I would dare any less to his messenger?"

"He left you alone, because you were clearly not in Camelot, and had nothing to do with Camelot. Times are changing, Healer Emrys, and we all must adapt. Camelot plays at the center of it all, as you must know."

"Either way, it is none of my business."

"Odd, then, that you would choose to relocate here. Are you not at all interested in preserving the location of your clinic?"

Merlin drew to a halt. "Is that a threat, Hunter?"

"I consider it…advice," The big man turned to her, his grey eyes hard as steel, "If you wish to maintain your merry clinic, you will have to look out for the interests of where it is. You originally based it in Griton, a kingdom of little importance. Now that you have moved to Camelot, you will have to choose your side, and I recommend you do so wisely."

Merlin blinked. "What side is Master Crestathion on?"

"The side that benefits him the most, quite obviously," Hunter replied, "And whether that also benefits Camelot depends entirely on you."

Is he afraid I might rise against him if I do not join him?

"I am no threat to him," Merlin scoffed. "It's amazing how dense some people are. I thought I made it quite clear."

"You misunderstand," Hunter leaned close, and though Merlin was tall, this man was taller; he loomed over her, and despite all her magic, Merlin felt very small. "Either you are his friend, or you are his foe. Camelot stands at the precipice of revolution, and whether it survives it depends on your wisdom."

Merlin was silent, staring steadily at him.

"In the coming days, I expect you will receive many similar messages." The man leaned back. "I am staying at the inn in the west. You know where to find me, once you decide. Choose wisely."

It had been a long time since Merlin had been faced with a situation in which she had no idea what to do. She did not want to return to the old way of life, where she had risked life and sanity to protect Arthur and Camelot, to the point where she hardly knew who she was herself. The threat had been real, though, and it seemed like she will be facing more of those as time went on.

It was strange to realize how much she had relied on Gaius back then. She wondered if her old guardian had ever felt as conflicted as she did right now. At the time, she had felt absolved of some responsibility in decision-making. Certainly, she had made choices on her own, but there was always the sense that if she ever made the wrong one, Gaius would be there to pick up the pieces, and most of the time Gaius had.

Gaius is gone now. She is on her own. He had been gone for five years, but the pain of his death still felt as fresh as yesterday, and for a moment Merlin could hardly believe she spent the last few years running her own clinic and becoming a healer in her own right.

What do I do?

She owed it to the King, for letting her come here and building roads specifically for her—well, not specifically, Merlin was not that naïve, but if Camelot was in danger, Hunter was right in that she had an obligation to protect the place her clinic was situated in. At the very least, she ought to warn the King that Camelot might come under attack. Again.

He probably could offer nothing new…but maybe Arthur had grown, maybe he might have some insight?

"He's a coward," Merlin heard the King remark, "Show him a little attitude and he cowers, that's the lot. Write down that Camelot will not be signing any contracts for any business deals until he displays the goods. Little cheat thinks I'm born yesterday, I'm not having any of that."

"Yes, Sire."

"As for Farnsworth, write that if he does not take care of the bandits along the borders, Camelot will no longer suffer his merchants to trade here. That should get that rotten knave to behave."

"Yes, Sire."

Merlin opened the door a bit gingerly, wondering what incurred this kind of attitude from the King. The man was wearing more casual attire than his court regalia, though a crown remained on his head. Several scribes were jotting down what he said, and a few brushed past Merlin to begin writing the documents. It had taken a while for Merlin to realize that Kings did not write their own documents, but rather approved them after others wrote down a draft for them. She supposed if anyone would use power and authority to skive off paperwork, it would be kings.

Even as she mused this, His Majesty caught sight of her.

"Healer Emrys," He exclaimed, a little surprised but not unwelcoming, and his expression smoothed from an irritated expression into one that almost seemed delighted, though just as quickly it morphed into one of concern. "Is everything alright?"

She was speechless for a moment at the attention. "Um…" She glanced at the others in the office, unsure how to proceed. Once upon a time, she had been far more comfortable with Arthur, but she never was quite as comfortable with Uther, and right now the King…she supposed she was just not very comfortable with kings.

"Give us a moment," The King waved his hand at the other men, who bowed and withdrew with a polite acknowledgment at Merlin as they went past. "Is everything alright?" King Arthur asked again, gesturing for her to enter more fully into the room.

"I don't know." Merlin stared a bit despondently at him, feeling like a child. Since when was Arthur so mature? He was every inch the leader Merlin once predicted he would be, but to see him in the flesh, in his own element rather than in her clinic pretending to observe, was a bit striking.

"Come here," He gestured to a chair, "Sit down. Today is your day off, is it not?"

"Well," Merlin sat down slowly, and the King pulled up a chair to sit across from her, "Yes." She was a bit surprised that he knew that. This did not seem to be the sort of thing he would keep track of.

"You were out in the fair?"

"Yes."

"Did someone frighten you?" He asked gently.

Was she frightened? Merlin bit her lip. She was Healer Emrys. She could scare Gwaine with her powers, was she scared of Hunter?

The King's expression changed slightly, though Merlin could not say how. "Who was it? Do you know what he looked like?" He did not seem at all incredulous that someone like Emrys might be afraid of a person she met in the fair.

"It's complicated," She sighed, "I didn't want to get into this, I'm here to be a physician, I-I-I—I don't want to suddenly start doing what I was doing before, and-and—" Why can't I talk properly? What's gotten into me?

"Easy," The King reached forward and took her hand, "Take your time. Start from the beginning."

So she did.

When she finished, he was silent for a while, his thumb rubbing in slow circles over the back of her hand.

"I'm not sure I understand exactly what this Crestathion wants from you," He said quietly.

"I don't either." Merlin suddenly felt inept. "It's been a while since I've had to deal with such things."

"I know." He looked at her. "It feels like your life is in danger too, or at least he has designs on it, should you not cooperate. If this Crestathion is as powerful as you say, it might do well for Camelot if we know his intentions better. Are you willing to at least see what he wants, specifically, if I go with you?"

He did not actually want to go, Merlin could tell, but she needed to tell him that she knew this. "You should not go. If he has designs on Camelot, who better to commit foulplay on than the King of it?"

"True," He agreed readily, "An escort, then. I can send Lancelot and Gwaine, they are the two finest knights. You can also take care of yourself, I'm sure," He smiled a little at this, "And some of the druids, I think, would not mind accompanying you. Getting information is always necessary, if there is a battle to be won."

Merlin frowned. "No. Knights of Camelot with me? What would that look like? I've said again and again that I am just a healer, I will not partake in any of these…politics. Going with knights would undermine everything I had said. No, I go alone. I can take care of myself, as you said. I've gone alone plenty of times before."

"You intend to go into his territory all by yourself? You may be powerful, but you're not invincible, you know. Need I remind you what happened with Morgana?"

She scowled, but he was still holding her hand and he did not allow her to pull away.

"You cannot just waltz into his territory, where he is surrounded by his allies, all by yourself, and expect to leave without acquiescing to his demands. If the druids have ever taught me this, it's that promises in the magical world are not to be made lightly, or broken."

He's right. This time when Merlin pulled at her hand, the King let her go. She stood, feeling frustrated and lost.

"I didn't agree to any of this."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You knew this might happen," She accused. Being a King for so long, it was not possible for Arthur to not anticipate something like this.

He did not bother denying it. "It was not my priority, at the time, but yes." He frowned a little. "Perhaps you should reconsider your position of neutrality. In theory, you make no enemies, but in reality and in practice, you become everyone's enemy. That is not a good position to be in. Find one friend to ally with, and you have less enemies to contend with."

"Are you saying that if I don't align with Camelot, that Camelot will be my enemy?" She demanded.

"No," Said the King, "But there are protections Camelot can offer you if you allow us to help. We are not a weak force either, as your Crestathion must know. We have allies as well, and siding with us will shelter you from many potential threats."

She knew Arthur was likely manipulating her for his own purposes, but she could not ignore the accuracy of his claims. Still, the freedom she originally had, of forging her own identity, independent from anyone else's, was not something she wanted to give up.

"I need to think about this," She told him, daring him to challenge her.

The King had gotten too wise for that, however. He merely nodded. "Of course," He said quietly.

He's likely to send his own spies, Merlin thought. Just in case she decided not to follow along. The thought was comforting, actually, because it took some responsibility and accountability from her shoulders.

She stared at him for a moment, their gazes both steady, before she turned around and fled the office.

"Eight-year-old female, presenting with fatigue, hyperventilation, nausea and stomach pain, dry skin and mouth, breath has a fruity odor. Patient endured a severe flu within the last fortnight and appears underweight. Diagnosis: likely honey siphon disease causing high acid in the blood, due to breath odor. Treating with liquids immediately to lower acid levels in the blood. Switching patient to diet with minimal sugar or sugar derivatives. End record." Merlin rubbed her head and nodded at Caius. "Go give the patient some liquids and keep her comfortable. See if she can't keep the liquids down, make sure it's warm so it won't shock her system."

"Yes, Healer." Caius blinked at her. "Honey siphon disease…there's no cure, is there?"

Merlin shook her head. There was no cure, even with magic. "She'll have to live on a low-sugar diet for however long she lives." The prognosis was grim. "The acidosis is the main concern at the moment. We'll…worry about the rest later."

She hated when people came in and she could not really help. Even with all her magic, there were certain things she could not accomplish, such as regulating a person's blood for them. Children with this disease rarely lived long. She steeled herself to prepare to give this news to the girl's parents.

There were days when it seemed bad news just kept coming and coming and coming. There was one child she saw earlier that day, a baby, who had very pale coloring and a bizarre musty odor. Merlin knew it had something to do with her metabolism, but there was nothing she could do to fix it. The child was a year old already, with a severely delayed mental development and was incredibly weak and underweight. It was a miracle it had survived this long, but Merlin knew the child would not survive past the end of the month. Then there was another case, a young man who had fallen and hit his head two days prior. He had been dead when his family brought him in; apparently he looked and acted fine after the fall, but suddenly dropped in the middle of the morning, expired. Merlin's magic could not bring back the dead, and so there was nothing she could do for him. Another man had died on her operating table; he had a strangulated hernia, one of those hernias that required immediate attention because it could kill him, but he went into a lethal shock during surgery since there had been no time to prepare him properly, and had died within minutes of her making the first incision. Very likely, he was meant to die anyway, but it still felt awful to have him die while under her blade.

Merlin's first thought had been whether it was a curse, from Crestathion, but if it had been, she would not have seen such a huge variety of cases. Curses tend to manifest as plagues, with everyone having the same symptoms and coming for the same reasons. This just appeared to be a bad day with bad news all around. Merlin had been through enough of those before, but part of her almost wished it had been Crestathion.

The day dragged on in a dismal vein, to the point where Merlin was almost afraid of who would come in next. When the doors did open again, she was actually caught off-guard by the sight of a healthy, tall, unfamiliar man in robes, followed by a woman who looked like him, also looking healthy and unhurt, though she looked like she could use a little more iron in her diet. They both looked a little bit odd, golden skin and Moorish features.

"Healer Emrys?" The man called, at first glancing straight over her. He spoke with an accent that Merlin had never heard before. One of the druid assistants went up to them at first, and Merlin left them to it as she called out to the potions room for some vials.

The assistant soon came to her side.

"There's a brother and sister, sorcerers," He told her, "Paris and Selene. They wish to speak only with you."

"What do they want?"

"They did not say."

"Very well," Merlin moved out, hoping that these two were not from Crestathion. The brother looked down at her, looking faintly annoyed. "I am Healer Emrys. What can I do for you?"

Paris blinked with surprise, and he seemed to appraise her briefly before he answered, "My name is Paris, this is my sister Selene. We come from Culacia. There was a great plague that swept our nation, we heard of you and were wondering if you might find it in yourself to come with us."

Merlin frowned. "I heard of no such plague. When did it start?"

"About three months ago," Selene replied, "My brother and I, along with the other healers in Culacia, tried to find a cure, but it remains beyond us. When we left, the Queen had taken ill as well."

"When did you leave?"

"Twelve days ago."

Merlin calculated in her head. Twelve days journey, by the time they returned, it would have been three weeks since the Queen had taken ill, assuming she was even real. Merlin had never heard of this Culacia, and she had no way of knowing, beyond what these two were telling her, that there was any plague.

"You say you are healers," She said, "Can you describe the symptoms to me?"

"The first symptom resembles a cold," Said Paris, "Followed by rashes along specific dermatomes, different in every patient but always localized somehow."

"Shingles?"

"Similar, though the rashes are not painful or itchy. They are always followed by replacement of the tissue within the rash with bony and cartilaginous tissue within four days. This then continues to replace other parts of the body until it reaches the vital organs."

Merlin's eyebrows raised. "I've never heard of such a thing. You say this is a plague? It is contagious, then? Have you determined how it spreads?"

"We are not sure. We are treating it as an airborne contagion." Selene lowered her head. "Some of the healers have fallen to the illness as well."

"And the mortality rate?"

"So far, no survivors. We tried removing the bony tissue surgically, but it only seems to make it worse. The longest lasting was eight days. It spread very quickly, our clinics were soon overwhelmed." Selene looked at her imploringly. "Please, you must help us. You took an oath as a healer, just like us. Our people need your help."

The crisis sounded magical in nature, if there was a crisis at all. Merlin knew she had to confirm their credibility before agreeing to anything.

"Wait here," She ordered, "I will be with you in a moment."

"They just came by your clinic?" The King was very displeased."A crisis of this nature, and they didn't think to see Camelot's King before bursting into your clinic?"

"This is no time to go nursing your ego, Arthur," Merlin said dryly, unimpressed.

"This isn't about ego," He glared a little at her, "You never did understand the purpose of customs and protocols, I suppose, but one does not enter another country and demand its resources without going through the proper process."

"I'm not Camelot's resource," Merlin scowled, "And this sounds like enough of an emergency that bypassing a process is allowed."

"Yes, and sounds fantastical enough that you needed to come to me to confirm that this Culacia even exists, let alone that there's a plague inflicting their people. These processes exist for a reason."

He has a point there. "Well, is there a Culacia?" Being a healer's apprentice, and a sorceress besides, meant that there were parts of her education that were considerably lacking.

"There is," Arthur glowered a little, "It is remote, sequestered in the mountains. We know only that it exists, not of its people. Send the siblings to me and I will deal with them."

"They came for me."

"Yes, but they are in Camelot's territory, and I have the authority to order this."

Merlin fumed silently as he called for a servant to retrieve the healers.

"Look, I don't answer to you, Arthur,"

"No, but as long as these people are in my land, I have the obligation to ensure they are not a threat to my people."

"They're in my clinic. The wards wouldn't let any harm befall anyone in there."

"And that's fine. I trust that. What I don't like is how we have absolutely no proof that there is a plague, let alone that it has the characteristics of what they're describing. You were already targeted by Crestathion. What makes you think other sorcerers don't have the same idea?"

Merlin was silent at this.

"Besides," The King went on, "Even if you go, this thing apparently affects healers as well, which means you might not be immune. I told you, you weren't invincible."

"Arthur, that's besides the point, as a healer—"

"I know. Convenient, isn't it, to lure you to a site based on your healer ethics so that you can be murdered."

"Arthur, that's so convoluted—"

"I've seen worse. Do you want me to give you a list?" The King looked frighteningly grave now. "Do you want a list of things that were done against Camelot first, or the things that I've done to others?"

Merlin gaped at this.

"Someone like you," He went on, "It's all too easy to pull you from the safety of your clinic and into danger. I don't know how you managed to survive in Griton. Perhaps it's because you don't see as many people there."

Merlin scowled at this slight. "I may see more patients in Camelot, Arthur, but that does not mean—"

"What?"

She fell silent again.

"Go," Said Arthur, "I know you don't want to show any hint of being affiliated with me, or this kingdom. I'll handle those two and assess whether their claims are worth believing. Go back to your clinic."

Feeling a bit hurt, though not understanding why, Merlin nodded solemnly before turning around to leave.

"Merlin," Arthur called, making her turn around. He seemed to struggle to find words when she did look at him, though. As eloquent as he had become, Arthur was more a man of action than words. After a while, he settled with, "I'm glad you came to me with this, instead of going off by yourself. I won't betray that trust."

Understanding that the King meant that he would be as fair as possible when judging the Culacian crisis and would do nothing to harm Merlin's reputation, the young healer nodded gratefully.

It had been a long time since she felt taken care of, since there had been someone willing to look out for her without any strings attached. Despite all the problems that have started sprouting up since she moved here, and an overall bad day, this feeling of not being alone anymore was…nice.

Coming to Camelot might have been a good idea after all.