Chapter IX: The Physician's Apprentice

The Elanthia beetle was so small in Merlin's hand. It had to be, of course, to crawl through the human ear canal into the skull. But the ugly, twisted magic that had brought into being made it seem much larger than it actually was.

Merlin shivered and closed his hand around the bug. Its exoskeleton cracked. The foul insect dissolved into dust as life left its body.

Gaius's training took over, and Merlin returned his attention to Uther. No, don't think of him as Uther. He's just The Patient, just someone else who needs healing and isn't a sociopathic killer who should be punished for his crimes against humanity. This was just another patient, nothing more, nothing less. What did he need?

His brain had been nibbled by a bug. Gaius's training had been remarkably thorough, considering how little time they'd managed to spend on it, but they had not yet covered a situation like this. Nibbled brains were hardly a common problem in Camelot.

Gaius had tried to use rosemary and yarrow when he had thought that Morgana's brain was infected. It hadn't worked, of course, but that was because there was an insect still in her head. Probably. He thought. But rosemary would stimulate cerebral circulation, and that…. Actually, he probably shouldn't do that. If the bug had bitten through a blood vessel, the last thing he wanted was more liquid sloshing around The Patient's head. But yarrow was a good place to start. It staunched bleeding, and it could often increase the power of other herbs if it was used in conjunction with them. Chamomile, perhaps. That would help with any possible inflammation. It would also help prevent infection, if he remembered his lessons correctly. And maybe, if there was any lion's mane mushroom left, that might help. He had a vague idea that it was good for ailments of the brain. Yes, it was—it helped memory and kept elders as clever as they'd ever been. Gaius thought this might be because it helped the brain grow or at least not decay.

So he had three herbs that might help. Well, he had three herbs if they actually had any lion's mane left. He thought that they did, but he might be mistaken.

Merlin bustled through the corridors of the castle to Gaius's chambers. The physician had not taken his herbs and tools with him; everything was the way it had been just that morning, before everything went horribly wrong. Merlin set a kettle to boiling with a glance and a thought. Yarrow and chamomile flew into his waiting hands. He shredded the yarrow, dumped it into the still-hot water. If he remembered correctly, yarrow had to steep for ten or fifteen minutes. He could use that time to prepare the chamomile tea, which didn't steep that long (at least, he thought so), and to look for the lion's mane.

Gaius had a special shelf for his fungi. He didn't want them contaminating his other supplies. Merlin rummaged through that shelf as his teas steeped, discarding one mushroom after another before he found a pair of pasty, weedy fungi. Lion's mane. Great. He grabbed the mushrooms, a mortar, and a pestle. Lion's mane had to be powdered or cooked and eaten. He wasn't quite certain how to cook it, so the powder would have to do.

The teas were done. Merlin fished out the soggy, sorry-looking plant parts and threw them onto a dirty dish that he hadn't gotten around to cleaning. He could always do that later. The warlock grabbed the kettles in one hand and his mortar in the other.

Two guards, Lancelot and someone he didn't know, stood at the king's door. Merlin smiled weakly at his friend, who gave him a worried look as he opened the door. "Thanks, Lance."

"Anytime."

Arthur was sitting by his father's bedside, clutching the man's limp hand in his own. The prince started when Merlin opened the door but calmed when he saw that it was only his manservant. "What took you so long?"

"Had to steep the teas," Merlin replied. "And grind the lion's mane. Lion's mane is good for the brain, and since your father just had a bug nibbling at his—"

"Wait." Arthur had gone white. "What do you mean, there's a bug eating his brain?"

"There was a bug nibbling at his brain," Merlin corrected.

Fortunately, Arthur didn't think to ask how his servant had learned about this bug or why the bug was no longer eating his father's brain. That would have been somewhat difficult to explain. "What have you got there?"

"I'm not Gaius," Merlin told him point-blank. "I'm working off of half-remembered snippets and things that I think I know, but I got chamomile to prevent infection—you really do not want infections in your skull—and inflammation and to help him sleep, yarrow for circulation and its power against infection, and lion's mane because it's good for the brain." He poured a cup of chamomile tea. "Have The Patient drink this."

Arthur tilted the cup. The liquid within dribbled into his father's mouth. "The Patient?" he repeated.

Merlin flushed. "I'm trying very hard not to think about who it is that I'm trying to save."

He cursed himself the moment the words were out of his mouth, but Arthur apparently thought he was referring to nervousness about working on the king rather than reluctance to help a despised psychopath in any way, shape, or form. The prince didn't comment. Smiling slightly with relief, the warlock returned his attention to his healing.

The teacup was empty. Merlin filled it with yarrow tea. "Have him drink this, too."

"Right." Arthur accepted the cup. "Morgana had the bug longer than he did," he mumbled. "She woke up."

"I think that in Morgana's case, the beetle was just meant to incapacitate," Merlin replied, inspecting his mushroom powder for clumps so he didn't have to look at Arthur's face. "But Edwin wanted revenge for his dead parents. He wanted Uther's slow and painful death because his parents died slow and painful deaths by fire."

Arthur's face crumpled. In a very soft voice, the prince asked, "Will he make it?"

"I think so," Merlin sighed, trying not to sound disappointed. A large, ugly, shameful part of him hoped that he was too late, that Edwin's spell had rid the land of Uther Pendragon and that he, having done all that he was capable of, could live on without guilt. "But—but, Arthur, I don't know much about Elanthia beetles. I don't know how quickly they can work when they want to or if the remedies I'm giving will work. At the very least, I can guarantee that none of these herbs will harm him. Well, unless—he's not allergic to chamomile, is he?"

"No."

"Good."

"Shouldn't you have asked that before giving it to him?"

Merlin whirled on him. "Arthur," he snarled, "I've been living with Gaius for less than half a year, and most of that time I've been chasing after you rather than learning herb-lore. I'm doing the best I can, all right?"

The prince nodded. He wordlessly returned the empty cup to his servant.

Merlin spooned the lion's mane into The Patient's mouth. "Is there any water to wash this down with?"

"Here." Arthur handed him a half-full jug.

"Thanks." Merlin poured the liquid into the cup, then opened The Patient's mouth again and dumped the water in.

"Does he need any more tea?" Arthur asked.

Merlin slumped. "I don't know," he moaned. "I've just learned general things, like what the herbs are used for and a little bit of preparation. I don't know how to calculate dosages."

"No," Arthur mumbled. He was holding his father's hand again. "I shouldn't—of course you don't know."

"I suppose that another cup of each can't hurt him," the warlock said. "I can't think of any side effects of overdose for either of those herbs." He swallowed. Normally the prince would have snapped at him or made some sarcastic comment. He wasn't supposed to just sit there and agree with his manservant, especially not in that almost apologetic tone of voice. "Arthur… he'll get through this." He hesitated, grimaced, then laid an awkward hand on his… yes, his friend's shoulder. "It's going to be okay."

"Of course," the prince sniffed, his usual high-handedness sounding distinctly forced. "He's the king. It will take more than some foul bug to kill him."

"If you say so," Merlin muttered.

"I do say so," Arthur growled. The cords in his neck bulged. His fists were clenched and shaking slightly. He didn't shift his gaze from his father's still form. But he leaned into Merlin's touch ever-so-slightly. "Is there anything else you can do?"

"I can't think of anything," Merlin confessed. "I hadn't even heard of Elanthia beetles until now. They're not exactly common. I'm focusing on preventing an infection and stopping any possible bleeding, but I don't even know if the stupid bug bit through a blood vessel or anything, and it's not like I can just open up The Patient's head and take a look. I'm going in blind, Arthur, but I'm doing the best I can." He squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Maybe we could send for another healer? Gaius can't have been the only physician in town."

Arthur leapt to his feet with such speed that he nearly knocked Merlin over. "Guards!" he bellowed, making for the door. "I need—"

The door swung open, revealing Lancelot, what's-his-name, and Gaius.

Arthur pulled up short. "But you left," he said blankly.

The physician smiled slightly. "I came back." He took in Uther's still form. The smile vanished. "What happened?"

"Elanthia beetle," Merlin explained.

Gaius's eyes went very wide. "Those are creatures of the darkest magic!"

"I figured that out, yeah."

"Are the beetles still—?"

"No." Merlin shook his head, praying that Arthur and the not-Lancelot guard wouldn't ask any questions. "I got it out, then gave The Patient yarrow and chamomile and lion's mane."

"Chamomile?"

"For infections," Merlin explained.

"Yes, I suppose that makes sense. How much?"

"Um, two cups of yarrow tea, two cups of chamomile, and some lion's mane."

The eyebrow shot up, disappearing into Gaius's hairline. "How much lion's mane?"

"…I didn't measure." Merlin squirmed.

Gaius shook his head in amazement. "Did you measure the chamomile and yarrow, at least?"

"I told you, two cups each!"

The physician nodded. "Yes, I heard. But how much herb did you put into the teas, and how long did you steep them?"

"About ten minutes for the yarrow and six for the chamomile. I don't know how much I put in, but I can find out. I didn't throw out the herbs yet."

Gaius grimaced. Merlin cringed. He felt very small inside. But when his mentor spoke, it was not to remonstrate. "You've done well for someone with so little training. Fetch my spectacles, Merlin. I'll need to make a full examination."

"Right."

The warlock bustled off. He wasn't gone for more than five minutes, but by the time he returned, the guard who wasn't Lancelot was gone and Uther was awake.

Merlin hung back in the doorway, torn between avoiding the king's attention and giving Gaius his spectacles. Arthur, looking up, made the decision for him. He made an impatient gesture, his face settling into its usual expression of exasperation. Ducking his head, Merlin entered the room, wordlessly handed the spectacles to his mentor.

As Gaius adjusted his spectacles, Uther turned the full force of his gaze on the physician's ward. Merlin told his thundering heart to shut up. His heart didn't listen. He remained perfectly still under the king's appraisal even though he wanted to squirm or, better yet, leave. Sweat prickled the warlock's brow as Uther frowned.

"I don't bite, boy," the monarch snapped. Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden noise. Uther scowled, turned to his old friend. "Skittish little thing, isn't he?"

"Sometimes, yes," Gaius agreed. "I need to inspect your ears now, sire."

Uther obligingly tilted his head. The king returned his attention to Merlin, his expression still angry but now a touch bewildered. "I understand from my son that you saved my life."

Merlin had to swallow twice before he could speak. "Well, yes. Sort of. I think. That is, I'm not sure if I actually did because I don't know if the herbs actually did anything, but I certainly didn't kill you." He bobbed his head. "Which, you know, should be obvious, seeing as you do not seem to be dead. Um. Sire."

Gaius stopped his inspection of the king's ears to gawk at his ward. Arthur, too, goggled as though his manservant had sprouted a second head. Merlin flushed.

Uther's anger was rapidly losing ground to his confusion. "Do you have some sort of mental affliction?" he demanded.

"…Probably."

"So I owe my life to an idiot?"

"So it would seem," Gaius muttered, returning to his inspection of the king's ear.

Uther grimaced. "How humiliating," he muttered under his breath.

"Now you know how I feel," Arthur sighed.

"I believe you will make a full recovery, sire," Gaius announced. The old man was smiling, genuinely glad that the king would survive.

Merlin's stomach clenched. He thought of Edwin's spiteful words, the man's hate and anguish and the seeds of doubt he'd planted in the other sorcerer's heart.

Tell me, Merlin. Why is it that Gaius, who half the kingdom knows used to practice sorcery, survived the Purge? Why was he and he alone spared? He did nothing! He just stood there watching, still and silent and cowardly, as those around him burned! He saved his own sorry hide by betraying his own kin!

The warlock told his inner Edwin voice to shut up. Sickness bubbled in his belly, choked his throat. He was only vaguely aware of Uther talking with Gaius until the former asked, "And how shall I reward you, boy?"

"Huh?" Merlin blinked owlishly at him.

Uther winced. "A reward," he enunciated slowly and clearly. "For capturing the sorcerer and potentially saving my life."

"Oh." Bile rose. He'd saved Uther's life, betraying his kin in the process. Admittedly, Edwin had been trying to immolate him and had risked Morgana's life, but the point remained that Merlin had handed a fellow magic user over to Camelot's dungeons. "I—I don't want one." Which was true. The thought of accepting reparation for saving Uther's life nearly doubled the churning in his belly. "I don't." Not from you.

Uther inspected the servant with an unreadable expression. "Very well then. But I will remember this, Merlin."

Merlin's eyes went very, very, very wide.

Uther glared. Merlin barely stopped himself from cringing. "Is there any particular reason that you're behaving like this?"

Oh dear. Merlin's thoughts skittered, bounced off one another as he searched for an answer that wouldn't get him killed on the spot. Fortunately, he had a good and completely plausible excuse. "The mortaeus flower," he blurted. "I—I got the impression then that you didn't particularly like me or, you know, approve of my continued existence."

"The mortaeus flower?" Uther repeated.

"You didn't want Arth—the prince, I mean—you didn't want him to go to the Cave of Balor." Merlin swallowed. "And when he got back, you didn't—you didn't want the prince to get the flower to me. So I'm fairly certain that you don't want me around."

Uther was frowning, but he didn't say anything.

Merlin forced himself to grin toothily. It probably came out as more of a grimace, though, because Gaius asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Merlin replied. "Did you need anything else, Gaius?"

"Not yet, but I may need you to fetch something later."

"Right." Merlin nodded several more times than was strictly necessary.

"I assure you, sire," Gaius muttered, "he does not get it from my side of the family."

"Good," replied the bemused king.

Merlin frowned. He was right there, thank you very much.

Gaius finished his inspection. "All seems to be well," he announced. "I would recommend bed rest for the rest of the day and an easy load tomorrow, just to be safe, but you're doing quite well."

He still sounded relieved, affectionate, almost. Merlin's stomach twisted as the memory of Edwin's accusations echoed through his skull.

He didn't want to think of Gaius as a traitor. He loved Gaius. He didn't always agree with the man (usually, he realized with a sinking feeling, about whether or not he should take action to save people), but Gaius had taken him in, a country hick from Ealdor whose true nature could get them both killed. He didn't want to believe Muirden's poisonous words.

But truth does not care who does and does not believe it. If Gaius really had done as Muirden had said, the past would not change simply because Merlin didn't like what had happened all those years ago.

He watched the king and the physician more closely. Yes, there really was affection there. Gaius genuinely liked Uther. Uther the killer, Uther the genocide. Uther, who would kill Merlin the moment he discovered his magic.

How could Gaius actually like that man?

His inspection finished, Gaius began tidying the teas that Merlin had brought in. Apparently Uther was to take the tea in a few hours and then again in the morning.

"Come, Merlin."

The younger man followed. Lost in his thoughts, he was even clumsier than usual, nearly tumbling down a flight of stairs. Not one word passed his lips.

Gaius noticed, of course. The instant they were back in the court physician's chambers, he turned and asked, "Are you quite certain that you're well?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Really?" Gaius deployed his weapon of choice, the dreaded eyebrow. "You don't look it. What's on your mind, Merlin?"

"It's nothing, okay?" he snapped.

Gaius frowned, and Merlin instantly winced in guilt. Then he was angry, for why should he feel guilty when Gaius was the one who had done wrong? He hadn't betrayed magic, that was for certain.

Or had he? He'd healed Uther. He'd spelled the beetle from the mad king's brain. He'd let him live. And for what? The hope that his son, who had been raised to hate magic, would one day welcome it into the kingdom.

Thoughts of his own treachery should have made him angrier. Instead, it calmed his rage. His actions might have betrayed his kin, but his heart had not. Maybe—and he hoped this was the case—maybe, just maybe, Gaius had done the same. He hoped so.

But he didn't know.

"Merlin?"

Whatever Gaius had done all those years ago, he cared for Merlin. The warlock could see that now, hear the concern in his voice. The last of his anger drained. "It's nothing, Gaius. Just…." He chewed his lip, wondering how much to tell him. "…Like I said, it's not important."

"You're hardly acting like it's something unimportant." The concern in his voice was more pronounced than ever.

Blast. Now he had to get answers or he'd be tossing and turning all night. "It's something Muirden said. He said that you only survived the Purge by betraying magic."

"And you believe him?" Gaius's tone was neutral, but Merlin could hear the undercurrent of strain.

"What happened during the Purge?"

"Many things," Gaius sighed.

"That's not what I meant, Gaius, and you know it."

Merlin's heart hammered in his chest. He wished he'd remained silent, because he just knew he was going to regret this.

Gaius was silent for a long while. When he finally broke the silence, his words seemed louder than they actually were. "For so long, I told myself that Uther's madness would end, that I just had to keep my head down and coax him back to sanity. I saw so many die, and… in many ways, Merlin, I tried to justify it. There were many sorcerers who abused magic. So many…."

"But there were many who did not," Merlin said.

The physician sighed. Every one of his years weighed down his shoulders. "I know. And perhaps I could have saved more, could have pushed Uther more…. But you understand the fear, Merlin." He smiled sadly, eyes tired. "I know you have, for you have mastered it. You are so much braver than I have ever been, and I am so very proud of you for that."

A lump rose in Merlin's throat. He blinked rapidly.

"For such a long time, I pushed the guilt aside, told myself that I could have done nothing more than what I did. Then you came into my life, young and foolish and so very brave, and… I confess that there are times you make me ashamed, Merlin, as well I should be. But you have given me hope as well, for in you I have seen two things that make me feel there is still a purpose to my life."

Merlin leaned forward ever so slightly. "Those two things. What are they?"

Gaius's sad smile morphed into a smile of happiness. "They are two dreams that I had long since given up: redemption for myself, and freedom for our kin. You are my—all magic's—greatest hope, Merlin, and you are my truest hope as well."

I got the herbal information from herbslist . I've probably bungled the knowledge somehow, but that's my fault and not the web site's. Or maybe Merlin's, because he's only been learning medicine for a little while and isn't 100% certain of what he's doing. Yeah, let's all blame Merlin. :)

Next chapter: October 9. The conclusion of Edwin Muirden's story, seeds of doubt in Arthur's oblivious little mind, and a hunting trip where (surprise, surprise) something goes wrong. See you then!

So basically, bonding all around, and Uther now thinks that his son's servant is a lunatic.

Alternate chapter title: "Wherein Merlin Continues to Prove Himself the Great and Terrible Bane of All Invertebrates"