Lady of Magic

Chapter Eleven

It was nighttime when Merlin and the Culacian healers finally came across something promising. Merlin carried her own books, and between the two they actually pieced together two halves of a whole. There was indeed an infection that could cause this disease, but it needed to be in the presence of a symbiote. Together, they cause airway irritation that progressed from the lungs to the bone, where they began creating more and more cartilage in the place of connective tissue, similar to Stone Man Syndrome, but at a much faster rate. By itself, the symbiote was harmless, while the main infection merely created cold-like symptoms.

"Why do they only attack some and not others?" Selene asked.

"I have no idea. It could have more to do with the variation in hosts." Merlin rubbed her eyes. Now that they discovered what the disease was called, Duo Petrification, they could start working on the treatment, which might prove to take longer than desirable. There was a long list of ingredients, some magical and some not. The recipe involved long hours of boiling and simmering and infusing with magical spells.

Gwaine rested a hand on her shoulder. "Merlin, you should get some sleep."

"I'll sleep when this is over," Merlin snapped. It was unthinkable for her to go to sleep when a plague is taking lives like this. "I'm not tired. My eyes are, a little, because I was reading so much. The research part is over, now we have to get to the cooking. Do we have all the ingredients?"

"We're missing some," Phaedrus said with a concerned look. "Likovit leaf is running low, nowhere enough to treat everyone. We're going to have to collect more. We're out of amthas, marhyan, edetal, cretzel dust, and I have...no idea what silver squirrels are and how we are supposed to collect their droppings."

"Silver squirrels?" Merlin's stomach plummeted. She had no idea what those were either. "They are different from the normal grey squirrels somehow? Where is the encyclopedia on medical ingredients? Are the properties different in some way?"

They were, to her chagrin. 。。Silver squirrels had very mild magic, and their droppings were used to dissolve precipitated minerals; it could be used to treat kidney stones without surgery and was also, to a limited extent, used to treat gout. None of the other healers seemed to know what they were either, which Merlin concluded meant that silver squirrels probably did not exist around here, or were too rare to be found. Certainly not an option with Culacia in the throes of its plague.

"What are jujube seeds?"

"Those you have to get in a market," Merlin replied, "They come from the far east. Those things do not grow around here." She was mainly worried about the silver squirrels. "I can try to create artificial ingredients to mimic the droppings. It will be touch and go though, I have no idea what the potency is and how it should interact with the other ingredients." It would also be exhausting. Just thinking about it made Merlin want to dig a hole in the ground. It was the only option though; it was too impractical to devote resources to find the real thing if they were not even sure if these things could be found. "In the meantime, find the herbs that you can actually find around here. One of you should go to the closest trading center to Culacia to get jujubes." When the healers simply stared at her, Merlin barked, "Now. What are you all waiting for?"

"It is nighttime," Paris blinked.

"You are sorcerers right? Do you not know illumination spells? This thing takes long enough to make as it is and I already said we will have to endure some trial-and-error. Light up the whole mountain if you have to, but I did not come to Culacia to help you so that I can do all the work and you folks can sleep!"

Creating magical items was not Merlin's forte. She was always more of a direct-spell kind of person, and enchantments or the like were simply not her style. Certainly, she possessed the ability to do it, like any sorcerer, but the finesse required was not something she focused very much on. Healers also had less time to make their ingredients than they did to use them, so for the most part Merlin had simply ordered what she needed and worked with what she had in stock. It had always been sufficient, up till now. This particular plague was every physician's nightmare. All the wrong things, coming together at the wrong time.

Some spells were particularly explosive, but in this particular case, each of Merlin's attempts had so far resulted in a unimpressive nothing. She used clay and tried to infuse them with magic, but while the spells did go in, they remained inert. It was hours past midnight by this time, and frustration, more than lack of sleep, was giving her a headache.

Roskin had ridden off with Paris at full-gallop to the nearest kingdom; Camelot sold the best jujubes and had the largest collection of goods, but it was too far away. On the other side of the mountain was a kingdom called Talthorn, and they were hoping that there were jujubes there for them to buy. The two received a large sum of money from the Queen, whom Merlin had not even seen yet, before taking off. Merlin enchanted the sum of money so that if the two were ever accosted by bandits and overwhelmed, Paris merely had to utter "In the name of Queen Aldrea!" for the money to return to Culacia. It was infuriating that Merlin could enchant money and not medical ingredients, and the thought made her want to hit something.

"You need sleep," Gwaine kept insisting, something that was also not a little bit annoying. He had shadowed her closely all this time, even refusing to leave with Paris and Roskin even though he would greatly help them with any problems with bandits, but Merlin accepted that someone from Camelot needed to look after her, if only to make sure she did not fall ill herself. Still, it was grating how little non-healers understood. You are not any good if you keel over from exhaustion. You need to take care of yourself in order to take care of others. Don't be hasty. All easy things to say, when the patients were her patients and not his, and when they die he did not need to feel the heavy weight of failure because he was no supposed to help them, since he had neither the responsibility nor the capability. Gwaine did not make decisions. He followed orders, so his superiors always carried the burdens when a choice went awry. There was no way he could fully comprehend her priorities, and the man was now like a parrot, non-stop nagging about things that were completely irrelevant.

Honestly, Arthur was probably the best non-healer to understand the situation. The prat had not ceased learning the consequences of his decisions even when he was still prince and not king. He was a doer too, and would be the type to forego a week of sleep if it meant doing something...he had foregone sleep before. Sometimes for Merlin's sake, too. Kind of idiotic of her, really, to constantly be dissatisfied with how little of her he saw; he saw a boy, he saw a servant, and yet still cared enough about her to risk Uther's wrath. Not that Uther would have done much to Arthur, him being the hard-won son he had gained at the loss of his queen and the only heir Uther would ever have. Still, Arthur's most prized asset had always been his dignity, and his dignity had always been something Arthur laid down for Merlin's sake, even when he did not know what she was. Now that Merlin had emerged to the world as Healer Emrys, who else would ever care about her for herself and not her magic or prestige?

Well, maybe Gwaine.

She lost the ability to really argue with the knight when one moment she was still bending over the clay on her desk, squinting at it by the dim light of her candle, and the next moment she was stretched out on a cot and it was morning.

"See, this is the real reason why we keep women in the house so we do the work," Gwaine remarked dryly as she was washing her face to wake up, "Because once you women get going, you drive yourselves to the ground, and let's face it, you're not really made for heavy-lifting in the first place, but no amount of verbal convincing gets you to stop before you topple over like a rag doll and we carry you back home. Yes, it could be because we men don't have sharp enough tongues like you lasses, but it really does spare us the headache of having to watch you keel over if we just keep you in the house and avoid the whole matter altogether."

"Rub it in," Merlin scowled at him, though she was actually quite touched. She had endured five years without anyone caring at all about her. It was a little difficult to accept his concern graciously, but she saw it for what it was. "Besides, we all know you keep us in the house because if we were out of the house there would be nothing left for you to do. My mother raised me by herself just fine." Well, she did have the whole village to help, but still. "And through it all, did you get any sleep, Sir Nag-a-lot?"

"As a matter of fact, I did, at least as much as you. See, look at how much better you appear now with three hours of sleep under your belt! Those black circles under your eyes are now dark grey instead."

Merlin made a rude noise and went back to work with however much of her dignity she could muster. She suddenly recollected how Arthur use to check up on her after a particularly trying time, whether it was illness or exhaustion, and then try to cover it up by giving her work to do. Shine my armor, polish my boots, tidy up my room. Gwen once told Merlin that Arthur never allowed anyone else to touch his things when Merlin was there. "So, I'm the worst servant he's ever had, eh?"

Gwaine brought her breakfast in a very strange reversal of how Merlin use to bring Arthur breakfast, and she commented that it seemed like the wrong man was doing the job. "Well," Gwaine pointed out, after pushing her down to her seat by the shoulders, "I guess being a sorceress and all, you can always make yourself Queen of Camelot and force Arthur to be your manservant, but I would have to kill you in that case."

"Could be Queen-for-a-Day," Merlin dug in quickly, wanting to spend as little time eating as possible. "The first of April, say, I'll rule Camelot, and Arthur will start the day by waking me, bringing me breakfast, and setting up my apothecary and my clinic, putting on new bedsheets for the patients, and I can demonstrate clinical skills to new druid learners on him. They can feel up the King! It'll be a royal event."

Gwaine guffawed. "You'd love it too much. You wouldn't want to give up the crown by the second of April."

"I'd get tired of the paperwork really quickly."

"Ah. Good point." Gwaine's lips quirked. "You'd be the most benevolent usurper ever. Only one day, eh?"

"I would. I'm doing it more for the dresses and the jewelry, though." Merlin was wolfing down her eggs at a speed that rivaled the Knights of the Round Table. "I'll have Gwen do my hair the way she does Morgana's. I heard somewhere that men don't actually see the pretty woman, they just see what she wears. I'd never be beautiful, but let's see if I am shiny enough, I might fool some men into thinking so."

Gwaine plopped down opposite her. "Merlin," He sounded a little discomfited, "You're not ugly, and...you know what, can I be honest here?"

"What, you weren't always honest with me?"

"It's not that. You're probably going to hit me for this, but now I'm really curious how you'd look if you're decked out in a lady's regalia."

Merlin shocked him mildly, making him jump and wince.

"Oh well," She shrugged, "Not my cup of tea."

"Ow! Stupid...magic! Ack...so wait," Gwaine leaned forward, "What if I can convince Arthur to let you try on the dresses anyway?"

"What, all so that we can see how far I fall short of Morgana?"

"Merlin, at this point, no one thinks Morgana is all that pretty. You know how they say that beauty has to be on the inside?"

"That is true, I have worked on Morgana before, her insides look just like mine."

It took a moment for Gwaine to grasp the pun, and another for him to realize everything else she said. "When did you work on Morgana?"

"Couple of years ago. She came by my clinic. I patched her up."

"You patched her up?"

"I am a healer, Gwaine," Merlin reminded him, "I do not pick and choose who I am a healer to. If a patient comes seeking my help, as long as I'm not being asked to kill someone else or hurt someone else, I'm theirs."

"But it's Morgana! Her very existence hurts someone else! A lot of someone elses!"

Merlin waved. "As I told Arthur: if you don't want me to help someone, make sure they don't come near my clinic. Can you imagine what it would be like if we healers started taking such matters into our own hands? Deciding who lives and who dies?"

"I don't believe this. You healed Morgana. You let Mordred go...you know what? I do believe this. This is just like you, Merlin."

Merlin actually had no idea what Gwaine was talking about, but she had finished her breakfast and was donning an apron so she could continue working on the ingredient. Gwaine shadowed her again, grumbling about sorcerers and women too powerful for their own good, which Merlin ruefully ignored.

By mid-morning, Merlin was sporting the mother-of-all headaches, the clay remained inert and she received notice that the Queen was going to visit her in minutes. She honestly felt like crying.

"Tell the Queen what is going on, and then go take a nap, Merlin," Gwaine wore a scowl on his face, "Seriously, for a healer, you are a lousy caretaker for yourself, and that is saying something. You could blast all the druids to the abyss with just a few mumbles and that eye-glowing thing. You are going to figure this out."

"If only I could 'blast all the' illnesses out of these patients with 'just a few mumbles and that eye-glowing thing'," Merlin exclaimed while holding her pounding head.

"I take it all back," Gwaine went on as if she never interrupted him, "You have not changed at all, Merlin."

Merlin was about to retort, because that remark made no sense, but then the Queen arrived.

Aldrea was golden like her subjects, with dark black hair that gleamed like polished silk. She was lean and elegant, clad in pristine white that made her appear like she was floating as she walked. Merlin greeted her as was proper, noting that she seemed to be in her mid-forties, but her skin was as smooth as a twenty-year-old's. She was also a sorceress, and thus carried a scepter that resonated with magic, enough that Merlin's headache increased ten-fold just from the proximity.

"Emrys," The Queen inclined her head, "I have heard a great many things about you."

"Your Majesty."

"How are things?" The woman asked.

Merlin took this to mean she wanted updates. She was not sure how much Phaedrus told her, so she started with a brief summary of everything in general. "None of us know what silver squirrels are," She told the Queen, omitting the fact that they needed the droppings since that detail was not important in the grand scheme of things. "As such, I am currently attempting to conjure artificial ingredients with the same characteristics. It is, admittedly, a delicate procedure that I have not practiced much. So far, I am still working on it."

"I am very grateful that you came all the way out here," The Queen turned to Gwaine, "Once this is over, for better or worse, I would like to give the King of Camelot a gift, for allowing Emrys to come here."

"The King has no say in the healer's duties," Gwaine bowed.

"He did provide a fine escort," Aldrea returned, "To see that Emrys arrived to us safely. It gladdens my heart to see you here, Healer."

She was a mild-mannered but solid character, eyes sharp and mind focused. It turned out, the Queen had enough knowledge of medicine to follow along on the details, so Merlin also reported on her difficulties with clay. "The clay here has a unique property of absorbing toxins, which is why I really want to use it as the ingredient. If anything goes wrong at all, the clay would act as a good buffer, but the spells are not doing anything." It was like threading a needle; one slight misalignment and it becomes a total miss.

The Queen murmured some suggestions and the two women looked over the books, but there was really no easy way to do this except try, try again, try once more. The good news was, once Merlin actually enchanted the clay, modifying and fine-tuning the potency of any spell would be incredibly easy to do. The initial enchantments were the toughest part. Like giving birth.

"We will keep working on it," Merlin rubbed her temples. So far, the sorcerers had not finished collecting the other ingredients, so she was not behind, but it did not feel good to have no progress all this time.

"You have my deepest thanks, Healer," Said Queen Aldrea. "Is there anything you need at all?"

"Food," Gwaine piped up before Merlin could say otherwise, "She needs food, and I know that baths are relaxing for men so they must be relaxing for women as well, if you have any bathing oils bring them."

"Sir Gwaine!" Merlin was aghast. What has gotten into him?

"His Majesty would flay my hide if I do not do this," Gwaine shrugged at her, unconcerned.

The Queen was not quite willing to indulge in any requests that would allow Merlin to waste any time. "It is noon," She allowed, "I will have someone bring you a meal."

"Ignore Gwaine," Merlin insisted, "He does not know what he is talking about. I will take a brief break to eat, but only to ensure I have enough energy. I have no need for baths. No one here is going to appreciate me lounging about when lives are on the line. Gwaine, back. I will let you know as soon as there is something to work with."

"If there is anything we can do to help," The Queen said again, "I will ask Healer Phaedrus if there is someone who can help you with the conjuration."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

By mid-afternoon, Merlin finally succeeded in a small batch of clay, and supplies came trickling in. They were still missing jujubes, but the jujubes were to replenish blood, not stop the disease process directly, so Merlin modified the recipe to exclude it for now. All the available pots and cauldrons were brought and what ingredients they had were used to fill them. Three hours later, the sun was still above the horizon, but they were distributing the medicine to the sick. The books had no dosage instructions, so Merlin and the healers discussed loudly about what the dosages should be. In the end, Merlin actually relented to Phaedrus, because despite her relative powers, he was still the one with the most experience.

This time around, Merlin pulled an all-nighter without accidentally dozing off. With all the activity of monitoring patients and feeding medicines and supervising brewing, Gwaine had little room to remind her to rest.

By morning, two patients died despite Merlin's best efforts. She thought about them for several seconds before calling it and directing their bodies to autopsy. The families took issue with that.

"Look," Merlin said impatiently, "Normally I would say, yes, by all means you are entitled to your loved one's body and an autopsy would hardly bring them back. This is not about you anymore. I do not care what your funeral practices are. Your fellow kin are dying around you and I need to know if the medicine we brewed is working at all or if we should start looking at another method. I will not have an entire nation die out simply because you folks are a bit touchy about someone cutting into your already-dead relative." When they continued to pester her, she finally had it. "Shall I call Her Majesty here so she can order the autopsy? I will do that and I know for a fact that your Queen will not be happy about it!"

Gwaine watched the proceedings with a solemn expression. Merlin felt lousy herself, to an extent. She was not normally so pushy about procedures, or so uncompromising. Seeing Gwaine's disapproval irked her, though. She had gone for a day and a half without sleep already, her magical reserves were depleting, and the disease was unfurling before her eyes like a looming demon. She had no patience nor will to wait for an open-minded family, or for people in general to learn the occasional self-sacrifice necessary to protect a whole community. She was harsh because the families were selfish first. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and a plague was a desperate time.

Ironically, Arthur would understand. It was strange, to miss him so keenly, but she did. She wondered what he was doing now. He had not been particularly happy when she left; Merlin had bee preoccupied, but she did notice that much. She wished Culacia was Camelot, actually. The people of Camelot seemed much more pragmatic and selfless than the people of Culacia.

"Merlin," Gwaine took her elbows at some point and started guiding her to a spare cot, "Sleep, or I will knock you out. Pretty sure that is not the same thing, but it would be as close as I can get you."

"You do that, I will turn you into a newt," Merlin snapped, yanking herself away from him. "I need a pain reliever, but I'm alright."

On the fifth day, after the autopsies that grew in number and additional tinkering with the formula, they finally saw results.

"She got better," Said Selene with noticeable delight. The patient in question was Aria, the little girl who had been in the later stages of the disease. She had been unconscious for much of the time, but that morning she woke, and seemed vaguely coherent.

"Hello," Merlin took out her listening scope as she regarded the groggy eyes, "You were sleeping for a long time, Aria. My name is Emrys. I am just going to check on your lungs, alright?"

The girl did not answer. It was not clear if she even understood what was going on. Merlin lifted the child's shirt. The child had not hit puberty yet, and the chest was flat. Her breathing sounded unusually loud through the scope, which Merlin found to be the case for most of the patients past the earliest stages. The rash was still an angry red, and the ribs were still fused together in places, but she was breathing much better. Some of the extra cartilage had dissolved.

"Very good," Merlin nodded with composure, though she was actually ready to lie flat on the ground in relief. "Very...very good. I would increase the amount of amthas, but this is good. This is very good." She paused. "We have a chance here."

The mother burst into tears.

Days of single-minded focus, and it paid off. All of the sudden, her fears from the trip here and the past few days working with the Culacians seemed like something from a dream. They had hope now, and it was a strong one. Merlin was ready to fall down and kiss the earth. When the news reached the other healers, there was an audible cheer in the halls, and then activity quickened even more after that, now that they knew where everything was headed.

Queen Aldrea was immensely relieved when they gave her the update. "Thank the spirits," She exclaimed, clasping Merlin's hand tightly in her own, "We owe you a debt we can never repay."

"You can start by letting her sleep," Gwaine said wryly.

"Shut your trap, Gwaine. Ignore him. He is a silly boy. I am a healer," She insisted to the Queen, "This is my job. I am only glad that I was able to help."

Now that a cure had been found and tested, Aldrea was far more willing to acquiesce to any demands for luxury. "You have done so much for us," She declared softly, "I cannot tell you how grateful we are. Perhaps it is time for you to rest, Healer. You have accomplished the crucial portion."

First, however, Paris and Roskin arrived with a wagon filled with bushels of dried jujubes. Merlin ate a few of them herself, because the patients needed the seeds and she needed the fruit. Supper that day was date soup, once workers took out the seeds, and then Merlin spent the evening trying to enchant another batch of clay before the first batch ran out, much to Gwaine's irritation. By then, she had gone four days without sleeping, and Gwaine managed, with Roskin's help, to tuck her into a cot for "a quick nap".

"Did Gaius ever stay up for four days straight like this?"

"Gaius was old," Merlin began, but Gwaine was not finished.

"You must have lost half your weight while you were here. Rest, and first thing when you wake up is food." The knight shook his head. "What am I going to tell Arthur when we get back?"

"You tell him that it was a success. And that he's a prat." Merlin shut her eyes, and her mind went out like a light.

She woke somehow feeling more tired than before. Gwaine was wiping her face with a warm wet cloth. She tried to sit up, but felt surprisingly weak.

"Take it easy and stay quiet, alright?"

Huh?

Roskin was at the door, which was closed. He seemed to be listening intently to what was happening on the other side though.

"What happened?" She asked, her voice sounding feeble and distant even to her.

"You exhausted yourself, lass," Gwaine smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. His hand felt cool. She blinked.

Great. What was Roskin doing?

"Just relax, alright?"

Something was wrong. Even the air felt odd, tense. It was too quiet. Merlin shifted on her bed.

"Easy, easy."

"What is going on?" This felt like when Camelot was preparing for an invasion. "Where is everyone?"

"People are getting better. They are recovering. You need to rest, Merlin."

This was infuriating.

"What is going on?" she demanded again, "Something is happening. I sense it in the air, and you are acting strange."

It took a little more wrangling, but Gwaine finally gave in.

"Queen Aldrea is distracting Crestathion," He told her solemnly, "He emerged yesterday with an army of druids."

What? "How long was I out?"

"Two days. Look," He pressed her down so she could not get up, "Let the Culacians handle it. They have a lot of sorcerers. Let them help you for a change."

"Crestathion is not someone you mess around with—"

"Neither is the Queen, and you are in no shape to fight."

"He has an army of druids, Gwaine, Culacia has an army of sick people—"

"Merlin, stop. Let the Queen handle this."

"What on earth does he want?" Is it me?

"I do not know." Gwaine looked like he had a suspicion, but the knight was being truthful in the stricter sense. "Look, you'll definitely have to handle things at some point, but you might as well let other people handle things when it's their turn, alright? He might not know you're here. He might be here for something else. If you charge out there it's only going to complicate matters for Her Majesty."

Merlin swallowed, feeling dizzy and sick and frightened. Gwaine was right. She was not an asset right now.

Large fingers wrapped around hers in a reassuring grip. "Get some rest, Merlin."

Her eyes somehow fell closed, and she could not open them again. Rest...sounds like a good idea right now...