Author's notes: Friday comes around, and I'm happy to have another update for you. I am hoping to keep up my once a week posting.

Again I must thank you for the lovely reviews you leave for me. It truly does my heart good, and once again a few more readers have started reading my story and following it. Thank you. You are all much appreciated.

In this chapter, I again push the plot forward, and I hope there will be a surprise for some readers here, though I'm sure some will have guessed what I had planned. However, there is also, hopefully, a heart-warming scene between our two heroes.

Once more, I don't own Merlin, but have borrowed them for a time.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A Tale of Two Taverns

While Camelot was sleeping, Gilli hurried through the night, his way lit by a wayward moon. The rain from earlier in the day made his job easier, as the muddy track clearly showed the marks of a horse's hooves... and when a stony patch of ground masked the traces, he used his magic to find the way forward. Yet his quarry was on horseback while he was on foot and he was very aware of the urgency of his task.

Fortunately, the stranger called Daman stopped and made camp a few hours before dawn, allowing Gilli to catch up, but it was a tired tracker who rolled himself in his cloak and lay down, hidden behind a tree, his objective asleep a hundred yards or so distant.

With a flaring of gold in his ring and eyes, he set his senses on alarm to any movement from the one-man camp ahead, before he too settled to sleep.

By noon the next day, Gilli found himself near Ashwick, on the borders of Camelot heading for Helva. It was a good choice of destination, for if Gilli wanted to hire someone with magic, Helva was the place he would have chosen. The city was in Odin's land and it was renowned for being a haven for sorcerers... a place where magic was tolerated. He'd sought refuge there a couple of times himself.

The only problem was that not all sorcerers residing in the city were benign. There were many there who looked only for peace, but there were also a great number who would welcome the opportunity to attack Camelot or its king, particularly if they had not heard of Arthur's intentions to legalise magic. Some would not care even for that. They only sought revenge.

The man was travelling quickly and Gilli wished he was not on foot, but there was little he could do but follow. Hopefully it would take some time for this Daman to find a person who would carry out his orders, while he knew Helva well, and knew just where to look for unscrupulous magic users.

But one thing he had decided, he would buy a horse when he reached Ashwick, if there was one to be had. Once he had discovered the identity of the hired assassin, he had to return to Camelot to warn Merlin and Arthur in time.

Back in Camelot, Lord Cedric and a few of his friends were trying to discover the mood of the lords regarding the vote on magic, while Will, Mary and Bryce were seeking to do the same amongst the franchised commoners.

The old sergeant Walter had garnered his courage and talked to Geoffrey of Monmouth, knowing he would be just the man who could inform him of the rights of the guilds to vote. Fortunately, Geoffrey had recognised the soldier as a long serving member of first Uther's, then Arthur's home guard, and being a firm supporter of Arthur and Merlin's ideas, decided to look into the archives to see if there was a ruling on the subject.

Geoffrey had discovered that the senior members of the guilds and their deputies were judged on a par with village elders and thus had actually taken part in previous Grand Councils, so were entitled to vote in the present ballot.

Not only that, but it appeared that Uther had empowered certain higher ranks of soldiers to take part in the Grand Council. No doubt, Uther had had an ulterior motive, judging that men who had fought for him and been rewarded would do his bidding without question if he ordered them to carry out unpalatable actions.

Now Geoffrey and Walter believed that calculating decision would work firmly in Arthur's favour. If Camelot's knights and soldiers had obeyed the father out of a sense of duty, edged with fear, that same army would follow the son out of sense of respect and love. Arthur genuinely cared for each of his men and they returned the favour many times over.

The number of Arthur's and Merlin's followers was growing, while Avebury was steadily alienating many who might still be wary of magic, but who preferred to support The King whom they knew to be fair and just. The balance was steadily tipping in magic's favour.

It was to reinforce this growing swell of loyalty that prompted Arthur to fetch Merlin, on the day before the ballot, to accompany him on an impromptu walk through the town.

It had come to Arthur's notice, when he checked in the vaults to discover if The Crystal of Neahtid had been found, that Merlin was looking extremely wan. The warlock's high cheekbones were etched starkly sharp beneath his skin, and he was acting very jittery in relationship to the crystal... almost as if he were afraid of using it.

Autocratically, Arthur decided that Merlin deserved a break and bore him off to enjoy a trip to the tavern. Their visit would also have the added bonus of taking stock of the state of mind of the ordinary people.

With only a couple of guards, the two friends walked through the gate of the citadel and immersed themselves in the somewhat carnival atmosphere in the town, which seemed to be a by-product of the Grand Council. Obviously, Camelot had never been so busy for a long time and the citizens were making hay while the sun shone!

Indeed, the sun was shining though the warmth was starting to fade now that autumn would soon be upon them. However, the walk was pleasant and the two men basked in the friendly attitude of Camelot's citizens, many stopping to thank them and wish them well in the coming ballot.

"See, Merlin, there's no doubt that if it were left to the common people the vote would go in our favour," Arthur said with a laugh, having had his hand shaken hard by the very large blacksmith who had expressed his pleasure at recently being informed he had a vote due to his position as head of the Blacksmiths and Metalworkers' Guild.

When they'd walked past, Merlin asked quietly, "He has a vote?"

"Yes, Merlin, and had you not buried yourself in the vaults this morning you'd know that Walter, our foremost sergeant in Camelot's guard, asked Geoffrey if the many guild leaders would be entitled to vote, seeing as village and district elders had been enfranchised. They both went off to check immediately and discovered that they most certainly did. Now Walter and his mates are informing the people on Geoffrey's list who have been deemed members of the Grand Council."

"That's amazing!" Merlin said, wide-eyed. "That must add quite a number of votes... assuming they are all on our side."

Arthur nodded, while he greeted his people with smiles. "It does. To tell the truth, I had no idea just how many guilds there were, but that shouldn't surprise me, as I had no idea there was a Polishers Guild till I had to give them a speech!"

The King and Merlin were stopped by a young boy and his mother who curtsied before him.

"Sire, my lord, forgive me for interrupting, but I wanted to thank you both for the life of my man. He's a soldier, Sire. He was hurt bad at Camlann, and he would have lost his leg for sure if it hadn't been for Iseldir... and then Lord Emrys here, who looked after him. He'll walk with a limp, but he will have both legs. I'm a simple woman, so I have no words to thank you enough..."

The woman sank into a lower curtsy while pulling her young son to his knees by her side. "Thank you, Sire, for bringing back good magic."

At once, Arthur lifted both mother and son to their feet. "It might be a little early to thank us for that because the vote is not yet cast. But have no fear for your husband." Arthur ruffled the boy's hair, thinking how thin he was. He hated seeing the results of penury within his realm, and he silently promised to open his treasure vaults to those hurt in his service. "Your husband will have the best of care. I promise he and all my injured men will be taken care of, as will their families., and I'm sure Merlin here will continue to treat him."

"Indeed I will, Evelyn," Merlin said kindly. "Be sure Gaius and I will look in to see him soon."

Walking on, Arthur gave his friend a surprised grin. "When do you find the time to do all the things you do? I take it that soldier isn't the only one you've treated. No wonder you look like something the cat dragged in!"

"Thank you, Sire!"

"Don't mention it!"

"To be honest, I haven't been able to do as much as I'd like," Merlin admitted with a gamin grin, now a little out of place with his grand clothes. "What with annoying Grand Council meetings... and some stupid prat trying to kill himself by training in the pouring rain."

"Am I ever going to hear the end of that?" Arthur rolled his eyes. "Believe me, I'm not about to repeat that mistake. I've too many responsibilities to risk my life in a fit of chagrin!"

"No! It's too good a tease for the moment,." Merlin's smile widened. "Still, it's nice to know you've learned your lesson, but I suspect you'll do something else foolish to take its place. "

"Merlin, now and then I think you forget who you're talking to," Arthur said sternly, but the twinkle in his eye betrayed his inner laughter.

They had reached the tavern and, without ceremony, they walked inside and found an empty settle in the far corner.

"As to the question of how the guilds will vote..." Arthur pondered for a second or two. "I'm sure there will be the odd members who are against magic, but judging by our reception, I think it's safe to say most wish us well."

And to prove the point, the innkeeper arrived, almost immediately, at their table. "Your Highness, Lord Merlin, I'm honoured to welcome you to my humble tavern," he said, sweeping his large hand around expansively.

Humble it certainly was, with a low-beamed ceiling and a somewhat precarious stair to the rooms above. Rustic tables and not the most comfortable of benches were crammed into the room whose only natural light came from two small windows either side of the door. Yet, because of the quality of its food and drink, it was the most popular inn in town. The knights and castle staff often spent their free time here, and even The King was known to join his men on occasion.

"What can I do for you, Sirs?" asked the landlord, smiling and wiping the table with a less than white cloth.

"Two beakers of your finest mead," Arthur answered; The Rising Sun's excellent mead being known throughout the town.

"Coming right up, Sire." The host gestured to his assistant to serve his guests. "And may I take this opportunity to thank you for giving me the vote on this magic question. I'm a chief member of the Brewers and Vintners Guild... and proud I am of it, but never more proud than I am today. Me voting in the Grand Council! And if you be wondering where my vote shall go... look around you."

The innkeeper's hand swiped at a feather and crystal ornament hanging to the side of his head, and indeed a number of similar totems decorated the room. "I looked them out as soon as I heard the reason for your Grand Council," the innkeeper said, grinning. "I'm that sure of the result."

Arthur at once recognised them as very similar to those he had seen in the cave of The Disir. Were the majority of citizens within his kingdom supporters of magic? If so, it seemed his father had totally failed in ridding Camelot of sorcery. He'd only succeeded in sending it underground.

"That's good to know..." Arthur searched his memory for a name. "Sam!"

It appeared this man once had a shock of red hair, though only a few tufts by his ear remained, which was a strange mixture of bleached red and oily grey. The man stood by smiling broadly as two beakers were placed before his important guests.

"Thank you for your support, Sam. Merlin and I appreciate it and let's hope your prediction is correct."

Bowing as he negotiated the tables backwards, Sam returned to his counter, while the rest of his customers touched their forelocks to the royal guests. Both Arthur and Merlin acknowledged the salutes.

"Please, it's not necessary. Ignore us and enjoy your drinks," Arthur instructed in his friendliest manner. Though Arthur cared and respected all of his subjects, he couldn't quite rid himself of his royal upbringing. Merlin was much better at interacting with the common man. "My father would haunt me for eternity if he could see me drinking in a lowly tavern," he said in an aside to Merlin.

Merlin took a swallow and almost choked. "True!" he replied, looking up with a moustache of creamy froth. "I can't see Uther ever frequenting a place like this, but you were never like your father."

"Are you channelling Dragoon?" Arthur pointed to Merlin's face. "You've got foam on your top lip."

Merlin wiped his face with his brand new soft kerchief, surprised to enjoy some unexpected advantages that had come with his new clothes. He took another, more careful mouthful of ale, before sitting back in his seat and voicing his enquiry. "Why are we here?"

"We're canvassing, Merlin. Testing the mood of our citizens," Arthur stated, gazing around the room. "And we're also relaxing; taking time out from our busy schedule. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Arthur, you hardly ever relax!"

"True! But I'd never died before." The King turned slightly toward Merlin. "Being dead makes you appreciate the finer things in life. Like this good ale for instance." He lifted his tankard and savoured another swallow. "Like Camelot and my wife and the people I love. But this isn't about me. I want to know what's troubling you?"

"Me?" Merlin squeaked. "What could be troubling me? Everything I strived for is about to come to fruition. I'm fine!"

"No, you're not," Arthur said, piercing Merlin with his steady blue stare. "And not everything is coming to pass... yet. Yes! You saved my life... and before you correct me, I'm aware Kilgarrah helped, but we both know he'd never have done so had you not asked."

"That's not necessarily true," Merlin protested, squirming a little under Arthur's gaze. The clot-pole was getting too observant for comfort. "Kilgarrah wanted you to reign to unite Albion, so he might have saved you anyway."

"I'm not so sure about that, but that's beside the point. We're here to talk about why you're worried about the ballot. You've already told me you think it will go in our favour... with or without the aid of your crystals."

"I haven't used the crystal!" Then there was a silence of some moments as Merlin considered his answer. Finally, he spoke, hesitantly. "I am confident..."

"But?" Arthur frowned as his eyes narrowed. "You don't sound too confident. So what's the matter? You can tell me." Again there was another silence. "Come on, Merlin, having this conversation is like pulling teeth!"

Merlin sighed, but answered, "Part of me is sure, but there is a tiny bit of me which is wondering what will happen if the vote goes against us."

"Nothing! Things will just continue as they were before, only in practice I won't be prosecuting sorcerers just for using their skills. If they keep a low profile and don't use their powers to harm anyone, I will not touch them... and I'll instruct the council and the army that catching sorcerers for the odd, innocent spell is not a high priority. Also, I made my promise to the Druids to let them live in peace and I will keep my word."

"But I'm not a Druid," Merlin said morosely. "You have made no vow to protect me."

"Merlin!" Arthur's voice rose a couple of octaves. "That's because I didn't think I had to."

"You might not have a choice but to arrest me."

Shaking his head in amazement, Arthur drawled, "Merlin, you are my friend... not just my friend. You've saved my life so many times over. Do you think I would let any harm come to you?"

"No. To be honest I didn't think you would," Merlin replied softly, his head hanging low. "But I thought you might have to send me into exile."

Turning in his seat and forcing Merlin to look at him, Arthur took a solemn oath. "Merlin, I never had a brother, though I often wished I had... and my relationship with my sister hasn't exactly worked out for the best. You are the brother I never had. I couldn't care for you more if we were of the same blood... and I will never allow you to be persecuted, or exiled from my land. As long as I am King you have a home in Camelot... and no law will ever change that."

At his friend's words, Merlin's eyes watered and he brushed them with his sleeve.

"Merlin, what did I tell you about no man being worth your tears?" Arthur asked sternly, but his own moist eyes belied his words. "And I'm certainly not..."

"No, dollophead," Merlin agreed, cracking a grin. "To tell the truth, I'm just amazed that you seem to be learning some wisdom at last."

"Is it good to know your teaching is finally paying off?" Arthur, too, smirked.

Merlin blushed and his voice was again serious when he replied, "No, not exactly. I always knew you'd get there on your own, but I was glad to help along the way."

"For the gods' sake, don't go praising me too highly, or I'll suspect you've been supplanted by a changeling." Arthur clapped Merlin's shoulder. "But joking aside, I do need you, Merlin. Between you and Guinevere, you keep me focused, so don't worry that you'll be forced to leave Camelot... not unless you want to leave, and even then I'd do my best to persuade you to stay. The duty of kingship is too heavy to bear alone, and I can think of no better people than my personal advisor and my wife to aid me."

Again Merlin's eyes began to twinkle. "Now I'm beginning to wonder who's replaced King Arthur!"

"I can do humble, Merlin... now and then!"

For moments, both men grinned, relaxing in each other's company while they drank their mead. "Do you plan on attending any of the debates this afternoon or the summing up tomorrow morning?" Merlin asked, stretching his gangly legs before him.

"No. Definitely not. I believe we've stated our case fully and I've no wish to listen to more of Avebury's arguments. Besides, Geoffrey of Monmouth offered to chair the meetings aided by Sir Newlyn and they'll alert us if we're needed."

"Gaius is keeping an eye on the proceedings as well, so unless there are any unforeseen circumstances, I think we should stay away and allow the councillors to speak freely."

"True." Arthur nodded his head, looking around at the customers. "Perhaps some of the ordinary people will be more likely to speak up without royalty being present... if Avebury lets them that is." He took another gulp of his ale. "As for the summing up, we have to attend, but I'd rather leave the actual speech to a more neutral party. I thought perhaps Lord Cedric Walton, though his wife does have magic. What do you think, Merlin?"

"He's a good choice. Hasn't spent too much time in Camelot, so can't be accused of being your close associate; he was a friend of your father's and he's a sensible, upstanding member of Albion's nobility..."

Suddenly, their private conversation was interrupted as Sir Percival strode into the tavern. "Sire, please! You are needed back at the citadel!"

Arthur immediately assumed his kingly role, rising to meet the troubled knight. "What is it? What's happened? Has the meeting in the great hall degenerated into a riot?" Arthur asked, only half in jest.

The latter question flummoxed Percival. "Not that I'm aware of, Sire. Early reports have come in from the patrols," he explained, but said no more as he noticed the interested glances of the inn's customers, whose heads had turned in curiosity at the large knight's arrival.

At once The King understood the need for privacy; the last thing Camelot required was a public panic. Laying a few coins on the table, he acknowledged his people with a calm smile, shepherded Merlin ahead of him and left the tavern in Percival's wake.

In the city of Helva, Gilli pushed the door open on another tavern, a less prosperous and more dingy inn than The Rising Sun in Camelot. This was the third watering-hole in which he'd attempted to find Daman and he was beginning to despair. He had managed to acquire a horse, though a sorry specimen it was, and he'd finally reached Helva some time behind his quarry. He'd done the only thing he could think of and checked out all the taverns which were known to harbour sorcerers. Twice he'd drawn a blank, but as his eyes strayed over the dim interior, he sighed in relief.

Near the back wall he saw Daman talking earnestly with another man. Gilli sauntered closer, trying to appear casual, and leaned against a side wall, underneath a set of rickety stairs. Surreptitiously, he raised his hand bearing his ring to his ear and with a whispered spell, his ring and eyes flashed gold, a circumstance that in this place went unmarked. Most of these customers had a modicum of magic.

At once his magically enhanced hearing detected a whispered conversation, as Daman leaned in closer to his new acquaintance. "My patron is a very rich man and is willing to pay a great deal of money to any man who will help him attain his goal. I've been told that man is you." Daman looked over his shoulder, checking that no one was interested in his conversation, and Gilli thanked his lucky stars that he'd stayed in the shadows and used his magic to snoop.

"That would depend on what his goal was," replied the stranger, a bearded man with straggly brown hair and craggy features.

"Before I tell you, I have one question which you must answer."

"And that would be?" the other man growled, giving very little of his thoughts away, and Gilli noticed a look of unease cross Daman's face.

"Do you have sorcery? I know it's highly likely because I was told this tavern was the place to find magic users."

"A question like that could get me killed!"

"But not here in Helva," Daman objected.

"True, though I suspect whatever you want me to do is to be carried out elsewhere."

"Indeed it is. I do require a sorcerer, though it is your other skills I'm interested in," Daman said persuasively, while from inside his cloak he drew a fat leather pouch and placed it on the table. "As I said, my master is willing to pay well."

"For what?" the stranger asked again.

"To kill..."

Suddenly, an unseen hand gripped Gilli's shoulder and a voice spoke loudly in his ear, causing him to jump and lose concentration. "What can I do for you?" the innkeeper enquired in a less than friendly tone. "This isn't the street you know. People who come in here usually buy a drink, or something to eat."

Hiding his frustration, Gilli quickly ordered a tankard of ale and a bowl of stew, and under the curious eye of the landlord, he slipped into the nearest seat. Whenever he was alone, he once more whispered the spell and resumed his eavesdropping.

"That's a risky undertaking." Gilli was in time to hear the stranger state, though he had clearly missed the gist of said undertaking.

"Can you do it?" Daman asked eagerly. "I have half the payment here and we will pay the rest once the job is done."

"I might be able to." The unknown male lifted the purse, weighing it in his hands and seeming satisfied. "Let's say your need happens to march with my own, but getting into Camelot is no easy task."

"My master will be able to help you with that. He's already in Camelot, being one of its most important lords. Besides, Camelot is packed to bursting right now... what with this Grand Council. I doubt another stranger will be noticed."

"Grand Council?"

"King Arthur has called a Grand Council to debate the lifting of the ban on magic," Daman answered, somewhat reluctantly.

"It's long overdue!" The stranger gave a mirthless laugh. "But your master is against magic, so he wants to kill two birds with one stone by assassinating The Pendragon and placing the blame on a sorcerer," he stated, showing he was no fool. "What surety do I have that you won't throw me to the wolves once the deed is done. Arthur's knights would show no mercy to the man who killed their king."

"My master and I have nothing against magic. It's Arthur we have a disagreement with. He is not the true king, and you can be sure that when the rightful sovereign rules over Camelot, sorcery will be legalised."

King Mark had nothing against sorcery, in principal, but he would execute anyone who had more power than he. Once this sorcerer carried out his mission he was a dead man. He just didn't know it. "If you help us," Daman lied blatantly, "you will not only be rewarded handsomely but you will be offered a home in the new Camelot." He sat back and allowed this information to sink into the sorcerer's mind.

"That takes care of the future, but I have to escape from Arthur's guards first." The man stroked his beard, thinking.

"Couldn't you use sorcery to hide your tracks?"

A slow unpleasant grin spread across the stranger's face as he nodded. "I have a few tricks I might employ. But before I accept your commission, I would know the name of the man who employees me... and not you. I know you're just a lackey."

For a few seconds, Daman looked troubled, but he quickly shrugged off his worries. After all, once Arthur was dead and Camelot invaded Avebury would no longer need to hide. "My lord is the Lord of Avebury. He holds a high position amongst Camelot's nobility."

"Then you have yourself a deal. Not just for the sake of your master, but because The Pendragon deserves to die for all he and his father have done to my people," the sorcerer said, his voice filled with loathing. He stood and stashed the money pouch into a pocket of his homespun robe. "I will meet you in an hour outside the western gate."

Daman also rose. "Wait!" He grabbed hold of the man's arm. "What are you called? I too require the name of the man I've hired."

"Alvarr!" The sorcerer stared at Daman's hand. "Take your hand off me," he ordered, speaking coldly, yet his eyes blazed fire. "Know this. I will kill Arthur Pendragon for you, but do not seek to control me. I am no man's servant."

With those final words, Alvarr swept passed Gilli, who lowered his face to his bowl, not eating the vile concoction therein but not wishing to be seen either. Behind him, Avebury's retainer sank back into his seat, clearly feeling scared of the killer he had just employed. Gilli didn't blame him. He had heard that name before. Alvarr was a sorcerer to fear.

I went for heart-warming with a touch of humour in the scene between Merlin and Arthur, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed you think I've achieved both. Please let me know your thoughts. Your interest keeps me focused on my writing and tells me what is working and what isn't.