Chapter XV: Thoughts and Theories

Arthur Pendragon couldn't sleep.

Part of it, he knew, was the fact that he'd been unconscious for who-knows-how-long. The last thing he remembered was climbing into bed, and that had been a full day ago. For all he knew, he hadn't awakened at any time between then and his return to consciousness in the forest.

But most of the reason he could not sleep involved his whirling, tumbling thoughts. The light had come again, the same light that had saved him months ago in the Cave of Balor. It had guided him through the night, away from that oddly blurred place in the woods and back to Camelot.

Shouldn't his sorcerer (his sorcerer? Since when had the light sender been his sorcerer?) have lost himself to corruption by now? It had been months since the spiders in the cave, almost an entire season. By this point, the sorcerer shouldn't be at all interested in helping anyone else. It made no sense.

That, at least, everyone agreed on. Arthur had been mostly truthful as he gave his report to Uther. He didn't have much of a story, he'd said; he just woke up in the middle of nowhere, not knowing how he'd gotten there or how much time had passed, and made his way back home. Arthur had not mentioned the light, of course, but things were confusing enough even without the intervention of a mystery sorcerer. What on Earth had Sophia and Aulfric been up to? How and why had they abducted Arthur? What had become of them? Why had they stolen Morgana's rubies only to abandon them mere hours later? Why had they abandoned Arthur in the middle of nowhere? Uther had worried that the foreigners had placed his son under some sort of enchantment, a compulsion to do something awful but unspecified, but Gaius had examined his prince and pronounced him free of magical meddling.

Now, lying in bed, Arthur thought he had puzzled out a few answers.

He had not been abandoned in the forest because it was part of Sophia's plan, whatever that may be. He had been left there because his sorcerer had saved him.

The realization had not come quickly, but once it took up residence in Arthur's brain, he wanted to kick himself for not seeing it before. He was free from enchantment and back home. Sophia had easily defeated Lancelot, one of the best fighters in Camelot. She and Aulfric had disappeared entirely. None of the guards or knights had claimed credit for vanquishing the sorcerers and rescuing the prince.

It had to be Arthur's sorcerer. Sophia and Aulfric had stolen the prince. It didn't really matter why they'd taken him, just that they had. Arthur had no doubt that their reason, whatever it was, would have been distinctly unpleasant. But they had taken him for their unpleasant purpose and then Arthur's sorcerer had gotten wind of the plot and gone to stop them. A sorcerer would be able to defend himself against the staffs' magic, but any mundane soldier would have gone down as quickly as Lancelot.

So Arthur's sorcerer had caught up to the kidnappers and their prisoners. There had probably been a fight of some sort, as Arthur doubted that Aulfric would have handed him over willingly. His sorcerer had triumphed over the Tir-mors, possibly killing them. Then his sorcerer had waited until Arthur regained consciousness before summoning his light to guide the prince home.

A part of Arthur was annoyed. Couldn't his sorcerer have brought him back to Camelot? Except that was a very stupid thought. If the sorcerer had carried Arthur back home, he would have been found and questioned by the guards. For obvious reasons, no sorcerer would want to be detained and interrogated by men in Uther Pendragon's employ.

So his sorcerer had driven off or killed the Tir-mors, removed any and all enchantments from Arthur (if he'd been enchanted), healed his wounds (if he'd been wounded), and then guided him home. Once again, a guiding light had appeared when Arthur needed it most. He probably owed his very life to the man or woman who had conjured it.

And that didn't make a lick of sense.

This isn't how the world worked. Pendragons and sorcerers were enemies. They killed (or tried to kill) each other. They didn't go around saving each other's lives. Sorcerers were evil and the men of Camelot were good and there could be no compromise between them. Except apparently no one had thought to explain this to Arthur's sorcerer, because he seemed hell-bent on breaking every rule in the book.

He should have been corrupt and evil and foul by now. He should have been like all the others.

But he wasn't.

How long did it take for magic to ruin a soul?

Arthur realized that he didn't know how long it took for magic to rot away a man's goodness. He didn't know if it was a constant rate, the same for everyone, or if it varied according to power and skill and how often the sorcerer practiced and how good a person he was beforehand. He didn't know anything about magic.

And that, the prince determined, was a problem.

He needed to learn more about this threat to his kingdom. Gaius was Camelot's go-to man for problems of a supernatural nature, but Gaius wouldn't be around forever. Arthur had to learn more if he wanted to protect his people. And, said a tiny voice in his mind, maybe learning about magic would help him understand his sorcerer and why the man (if it even was a man) wanted Arthur safe.

His mind made up, the prince leaned into his pillows and fell fast asleep.

He woke to Merlin's worried face. The servant gave his master a quick once-over, probably searching for evidence of some horrific curse. When he didn't find any, his pale face broke out in a wide smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Well enough. Where's my breakfast?"

"I went to the kitchens to get it, I really did, but then the cook told me that your father wanted to dine with you this morning, so I ate it."

"What?"

"You're going to be eating with Uther and I hadn't had anything to eat."

"You can't just eat my food!"

"I didn't," Merlin sniffed. "It wasn't yours anymore since you are, as I have mentioned, supposed to eat with your father. Now. Or maybe five minutes ago. You might have made yourself late by lecturing me about food that isn't even yours."

"You're an idiot, Merlin," Arthur grumbled, but he hurried over to the changing screen and said nothing more on the subject. Uther was not particularly forgiving of tardiness.

Fortunately, Merlin had been exaggerating. No surprise there. Uther was just sitting down when Arthur entered the royal bedchambers, his manservant at his heels.

"Arthur. You are well?"

"Quite well, Father."

"Did you dream last night?"

"No," the prince replied, a bit surprised by the question. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought that perhaps the sorcerers could have cast some spell to affect your sleeping mind. Nightmares, perhaps, or a compulsion that first manifested as a dream."

Arthur frowned as he took his seat. "Can sorcerers do that? Compel you through your dreams, I mean."

"Some can control another's dreams, yes. I once saw a man driven to madness from his sorcerous nightmares."

"I did not know they could do that," Arthur muttered.

"Magic is capable of many things, my son."

"Yes," the prince agreed, "that it is. Actually, Father, I would like to talk with you about that." He leaned forward, ignoring the bacon and eggs on his plate. "I realized yesterday that I know very little about magic. I know that it's evil and has to be eradicated, but what can it do? What can't it do? What creatures of magic pose the most threat to Camelot, and what can I do to protect the people from them? Are there any non-magical ways to break curses? I don't know the answers to any of those questions, and that's a weakness in my education."

Uther swallowed, then placed his fork and knife onto the table. "Do you know why you have not been taught these things?"

"Well, no."

"It is because learning about magic can easily develop into learning magic itself."

Arthur jerked back, stung. "You can't seriously think I would betray you like that."

"Magic is as insidious as it is foul. I did not want a child to learn more about it than was absolutely necessary."

"But I'm almost a legal adult," Arthur pointed out. "I turn twenty-one in April, and then I'll be a man in the eyes of the law."

Uther frowned at him. "Perhaps I will permit you to learn about magic then. For now, leave that knowledge to Gaius."

Arthur had half-expected this response. "I understand why you want me to wait, but Gaius isn't getting younger. If anything happens to him, then Merlin will take over his duties."

The king's eyes went wide in abject horror.

"Excuse me?" Merlin squawked.

"You will begin your lessons this evening," Uther proclaimed.

Merlin gave Arthur a very nasty look. The prince made a mental note to expect cold food for the next fortnight.

"And perhaps I shall send for another physician," Uther speculated. "Perhaps I should even—yes, a witchfinder would be an excellent addition to the castle. Arthur, remind me to summon Aredian."

"Yes, Father," the prince replied. He had to suppress a grimace. He'd met Aredian once, many years ago, and had not liked him at all. Still, a professional witchfinder would know all about magic's limitations.

"Who's Aredian?" Merlin muttered. Arthur didn't answer.

"You. Boy." Uther turned his baleful gaze onto the servant. "What has Gaius been teaching you?"

Merlin's eyes went wide. "Um… medicine?"

"About magic," the king said impatiently.

"He's been teaching me languages, mostly," Merlin confessed. The boy was very rigid, his back ramrod straight, his limbs stiff. He obviously hadn't recovered from his fear of the king. "Latin, Greek, the Old Tongue, Irish. For his books, you see. If something goes wrong, at least I'll be able to read his books to figure out what to do about it. But it's been going slower than I'd like because I have my servant duties to attend to and then I'm also trying to learn some medicine."

"And because you're you," Arthur muttered.

Merlin arched a brow at him. "Gaius melior me quam te linguas scire dicebat."

Arthur blinked. He'd never had much use for Latin, not now that the Romans were gone. He'd much preferred to go out to the training field, reasoning that learning to swing a sword was much more useful than some language that everyone would forget soon enough. Now that he was older, he could see that he should have paid more attention to his education.

But that didn't mean he was going to relearn Latin.

Uther blinked. "Bene dicis," he said, surprised.

"Gratias tibi ago," Merlin mumbled.

Hm. Perhaps he should learn Latin again.

Or perhaps he should just learn about magic. Surely there couldn't be too many books about magic in Latin, right?

"Perhaps Camelot isn't completely doomed," Uther said, still staring thoughtfully at Merlin. The servant's ears were going red, though his frame was still tense. "Still, Arthur, you will commence with your lessons immediately after dinner. Until then, go about your duties but try not to strain yourself. If you sense anything wrong with yourself, go immediately to Gaius. I will not take the risk that you've been cursed."

Arthur bowed his head in assent.

They finished their meal in silence, then departed for the day's tasks. Arthur wanted to go down to the practice field, but the memory of his father's order stopped him. He had a feeling that training would count as straining himself.

"You could start working on that huge pile of paperwork on your desk," Merlin suggested.

Arthur shuddered. "And why would I do that?"

"Because it needs to be done," Merlin informed him.

Somehow, the prince ended up taking his servant's advice. Not because Merlin had suggested it, of course, but because it had to be done and if he did it now, he'd have more time to train when he was allowed to pick up his sword again.

Arthur finally finished his task less than an hour before dinner. He moaned with relief, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. He hated paperwork. He absolutely despised it.

"You all right?"

The prince cracked his eyes open, turned to look at Merlin. The servant had spent the day cleaning Arthur's room and polishing everything that could be polished. Arthur knew quite well that the polishing/cleaning spree was nothing more than an excuse so that Merlin could keep an eye on Arthur, just in case the prince started foaming at the mouth or something.

"I'm fine," Arthur grumbled. "Just glad to be done, that's all."

Merlin nodded. "I know the feeling."

Arthur considered making some pointed comment, but hours of paperwork had sapped his will. He didn't particularly want to argue with Merlin. He wanted to get up and move a little before supper and his first lesson about magic.

"I'm going for a walk."

"Good idea," said Merlin, setting down a brilliantly shiny helm. "I'll go with you."

"I don't recall inviting you."

Merlin's expression became innocent. "But, sire, what if you need me?"

"Don't you have stables to muck or something?"

"No."

"I don't need you, Merlin."

"This from a man who can't dress himself."

Arthur searched his desk for a projectile but saw only his quill.

"But seriously, Arthur," the boy continued, his voice losing its teasing tone, "I think I should go with you."

The prince heaved a long, exaggerated sigh and threw the quill at Merlin. As it was a quill, it fluttered to the ground less than a foot from his hand. No surprise there. Perhaps he could pry the inkwell out of his desk. That was heavy enough to hit.

"You probably shouldn't start throwing things at me," Merlin announced. He gestured to the various pieces of armor around him. "As you can see, I have more ammunition."

"I'm going for that walk now. Good-bye."

As expected, Merlin followed him. He was like a little puppy, that one, going everywhere with its master and getting in the way. At least he had enough decency to stay quiet and not chatter away.

Arthur wandered for a while, pausing for a brief conversation with Morgana and Guinevere, then meandering up to one of the towers. Camelot sprawled before him, the white stone of the keep giving way to the drab browns of peasants' roofs. The outer wall was another circle of white, with deep green forest behind it. The sun was low in the sky, only a couple of hours away from setting, occasionally slipping behind a puffy white cloud. It had been a lovely day. From the looks of things, tomorrow would be equally pleasant. He would definitely have to spend time outside tomorrow.

Smiling at the thought, Arthur let his gaze wander over the citadel. One day, this would all be his: his land, his people, his responsibility. Yet for once, the thought didn't cause him worry or strain or even pride, just a quiet happiness. He was still drained from the paperwork, but, he thought, smiling down at his city, Camelot was worth all the forms and signatures.

He was looking at the forest now. He was too far to make out details, but he could make out a few of the taller trees and he could see the long, straight gaps where his ancestors had built roads. As he looked, his thoughts drifted to his recent inexplicable kidnapping.

Arthur's smile faded.

"Say, Merlin."

The servant jumped. "Yes?"

"Did anyone go out there today?"

"Out where?"

"To the forest, you lackwit."

Merlin pouted. "In my defense, you could have been talking about the city."

Arthur glared.

His servant shrugged. "I assume that someone went out into the forest. Probably several someones. Traders, maybe a few peasants gathering wood."

Arthur closed his eyes. "I meant to follow my trail."

"Oh! No, not that I'm aware of."

The prince frowned. "So no one tried to retrace my footsteps?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Then that's what we'll be doing tomorrow."

"…it is?"

"No need to sound so nervous, Merlin. I doubt that Sophia and Aulfric are still out there, and if they are, I'll be there to protect you from the big, scary sorcerers."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I think it's the other way around, sire."

Arthur rolled his eyes right back. "You're delusional."

"So why exactly do you want to go back?"

"To look for clues, of course."

"What kinds of clues do you expect to find?"

"I don't know." Arthur shrugged. "Tracks, maybe. I can at least follow my own trail back to where I woke up. Maybe from there I could find some more tracks, learn what happened to Aulfric and Sophia."

"Okay," Merlin said. "Just as long as you don't challenge them, all right? Sophia took Lancelot down all by herself. She's with her father now."

"Yes, yes," Arthur grumbled, "I'll be careful."

He doubted there was any need to be careful. There was a high possibility that the sorcerers were dead, that Arthur's sorcerer had killed them. But finding the bodies would—oh. Oh. Perhaps he shouldn't take Merlin on any adventure which might result in the discovery of two-day-old human corpses. Except Merlin was too bloody stubborn to let himself be left behind. He'd spent all of yesterday running around the woods looking for a trace of his master. No doubt he would just follow Arthur whether Arthur wanted him to or not.

Hopefully Merlin wouldn't faint. Arthur really didn't want to lug an unconscious manservant all the way back to the citadel or wait around in the woods until he woke up, and it wasn't like he could just abandon the boy in the middle of nowhere. Merlin was completely helpless on his own and as skinny as a broom. He'd get lost and starve.

"How long do you think it's going to take?" Merlin asked.

"I don't know. A few hours, probably."

"Remind me to ask Gaius what herbs he needs," the servant continued. "I might as well pick some while we're out in the forest."

"We're going on an investigative mission, not a flower-picking expedition."

"I know that. If we were picking flowers, I'd invite Gwen. She loves flowers."

"No flowers, Merlin."

"But what if Gaius needs flowers?"

"I said no flowers."

"I can get some for you too, if you'd like. It's only fair to return the favor."

Blast it. It had been weeks since Merlin brought that up. "Just shut up, Merlin."

The boy thought it over, tapping a finger to his chin and taking an unreasonably long time to voice his decision. Arthur used that unreasonably long time to brace himself for a headache.

Finally Merlin smiled at him. "If you insist, sire."

"I do insist. Now stay quiet and follow me. It's time for dinner."

Latin translations: "Gaius... dicebat" means "Gaius says I know languages better than you." "Bene dicis" is "You speak well." "Gratias tibi ago" is "Thank you."

Alternate chapter title: "Wherein Merlin is a Shameless Breakfast Thief."

Next chapter: Christmas Eve. The magic lesson. Not a lot of action, just a lot of worldbuilding. Features Sir Leon as guest star.

-Antares