She nodded. “He has, but he’s out of his depth.”
“Then it’s just as well you’re staying behind. Have him introduce you to the more talkative among them and see what you can learn. But remember, be discreet. Be indirect. We don’t want to put anyone on his or her guard.”
“I know what to do.”
“I want to move quickly. Brit and I will leave to visit Morgan tomorrow morning. If you can find the girl who was with Lancelot, or at least someone who knows definitely that he was with a girl, we will have eliminated one suspect, at least.”
“If. Do you think there is such a girl?”
“I think Lancelot is probably too dim to have invented a story like that. What would be the point?”
“Male boasting. Never underestimate the power of the male ego.”
“See if you can find out, one way or the other.”
'But Merlin… why would a girl from the kitchen…?”
“Don’t be naive, Nimue. Knights, lords and kings have their way with women of the lower ranks. Remember Anna? It is called privilege. If there is something you should never underestimate, it is the vulnerability of women.”
“Vulnerability? There might be another name for it. But I’m more grateful than ever to be disguised as Colin.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you are, too. You are the most apt pupil I could want.”
“Why, thank you, Merlin.” She blushed.
“Didn’t you know I think so?”
“You’ve never bothered to say it before. Men.”
He crossed to his table and found a sheet of paper. “Here. I want you to try and find the chemicals on this list for me. You should be able to locate them in the armory, I think. Tell the armorers they’re for me.”
She took the list and read it, puzzled. “Acids?”
“I’m no swordsman. And this is getting dangerous. We can’t count on our villain mistaking someone else for one of us a second time. I’ll be in the stables, at the blacksmith’s forge. I have some glass-blowing to do.”
Arthur wanted Merlin and Brit to take an armed escort. He told them so at dinner in the refectory. Merlin insisted that would only attract attention. “We’ll be safer traveling on our own.”
“Nonsense. You’re both ministers of the state. And you’re much too valuable to put yourselves at risk. Suppose someone comes at you with a sword? Look at what happened to Petronus. You’re an able man, Merlin, but you aren’t much good in a fight.”
Brit bristled at this. “And I, of course, am completely useless.”
“Britomart, we are dealing with a cunning villain here. Possibly a mad one. I won’t have you vulnerable when it is avoidable. You will travel by carriage, not by horse, and you will have an escort of soldiers. I’ll have Accolon lead them. This is not debatable.” He turned and walked away from them.
And so the next morning a carriage and driver were provided, along with a detachment of six men on horse-back, including Accolon. Brit and Merlin stepped inside their conveyance unhappily, and with a lurch it began to move. The horses’ hooves clattered loudly on the courtyard stones.
Brit felt her skill as a knight was in question. “I’ve beaten most of the knights here in single combat.” She sulked. “Including Arthur himself. He knows I can take care of myself.”
“You mustn’t take this personally, Brit. He’s underestimating me, too. But it is a matter of public policy. If we bring Mark down, you will be the country’s top military officer. If I were advising the king, I’d tell him to do exactly as he’s doing.”
“How, exactly, is he underestimating you?” She asked the question with a sneer in her voice.
“He is assuming the only way to defend oneself is though main force.”
“Isn’t it? Merlin, you’re well into middle age. And you’ve never been an athlete. How could you possibly defend yourself from an attacker?”
He smiled, reached into his pocket and produced a handful of small glass globes. Each of them contained some clear fluid. “With these.”
“With marbles? Merlin, you’re not serious.”
“These are made from very thin, very fragile glass. And inside each of them is a quantity of aqua regia.”
“Acid? You mean to fight off an insane killer with marbles full of acid?”
“Aqua regia is not simply acid-it is the strongest acid known to science. It can dissolve gold. If someone comes at me with sword drawn, it will stop him, believe me.”
“You’re making a fairly big assumption. Suppose he attacks from a distance? With spears or arrows?”
“No defense is perfect, Brit.”
“I’ll say.” She smirked. “Why don’t you leave your safety in my hands?”
“Yours, or the soldiers accompanying us?”
“Be quiet.”
Their party moved through the moors, not far from the hamlet where Anna had lived. The sky turned dark, and streamers of mist snaked through the air. Trees were stunted and twisted. One of the soldiers in their escort produced a flute and began playing mournful melodies. For a time, the soldiers talked among themselves; then they grew more subdued. At one point an enormous owl swooped down at the carriage as if it might be prey for the bird. One of the soldiers swiped at it with his sword, but it was too quick and too agile.
“I don’t like this,” Brit complained. “This is like a landscape out of a nightmare.”
“Yet you’re certain your sword will be effective here.”
“Stop bickering, Merlin. I’m serious.”
“Have you never traveled through this part of England before?”
“No, of course not. I’m a military commander, and Morgan doesn’t have much of an army.”
“What kind of landscape did you expect?” he asked in a mock-serious tone. “We are visiting the realm of the witches.”
The flutist’s music echoed eerily through the fog. When the party stopped to rest Brit asked him about his instrument. “It has the strangest sound, like nothing I’ve ever heard.”
The man held his flute out to her. “Here you are, my lady. There aren’t many like it left.”
She took it. It was the color of faded ivory, and it had unusual heft. “What is this made of?”
“Bone, my lady. This was carved from the thighbone of some ancient enemy defeated in battle. My father willed it to me.”
“Human bone?”
He nodded. “That is why it sounds so mournful. It has felt everything human.”
Gingerly, she gave it back to him. “Try and play something livelier, will you?”
“The instrument dictates the music, not the musician.”
“Nevertheless, try and play something that might lift our spirits out of this terrible place.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The party traveled on. In time the swamps gave way to little lakes, then to larger ones. But the sky remained dark and the fog never lifted, not even momentarily. They came to a small village that actually had an inn, and Merlin decided they would spend the night there.
Accolon disagreed with this. “I think we should try and make it to Morgan’s castle tonight. We’re being followed.”
Merlin looked down the road behind them. There was no one in sight. “Are you certain?”
“Quite certain. They’ve been there since just after we left Camelot.”
Merlin let out a long, deep sigh. “I’m so weary of this. But we need rest, Accolon. We’ll stop here tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
The innkeeper, happy to have nine paying guests, went out of his way to make them feel comfortable. Supper was surprisingly large; wine flowed freely; beds were ample and soft and warm, and there were cheerful fires in each room.
Brit was not happy as she ate her meal. “This tastes like fog.”
Merlin was amused by her discomfort. “You have eaten fog, then?”
“We’ve been eating it all day. This meat has the same foul taste as the air we’ve been breathing. It has polluted everything.”
“And Morgan has breathed it all her life. Perhaps that accounts for her personality and behavior.”
“Do you really think there’s a chance she’s behind the murders? I thought you had decided someone else was the culprit.”
“Don’t underestimate Morgan, Brit. She has a notorious chest of poisons, and she uses them as instruments of policy in her little queendom. She sits in that hideous castle of hers and casts her spells and charms, and chants her invocations to all her imaginary gods. Then when they fail she resorts to poison or a knife in the dark. And people wonder why I prefer reason and logic to superstition and belief.”
“You’re no one to talk, Merlin. Everyone knows you rigged some kind of trick with that sword of Arthur’s-”
“Excalibur.”
“Yes. Everyone knows you set up some sort of ruse with it to convince people he was destined to be king. So much for logic and reason.”
“What could be more reasonable than using people’s gullibility to one’s own advantage? Or to the advantage of one’s king?”
“Then why convict Morgan of these crimes? Political murder is one thing. Rulers have been doing that since the first people crawled out of caves. But viciously hacking two boys to death-that’s another thing entirely. From what you say, it doesn’t sound like her style at all.”
“Morgan is as murderous as any queen in history. She takes handsome young men as lovers, and-”
“A queen’s right.”
“And she keeps dogs. Large, evil things, white with red ears. When she is finished with her lovers, she kills them and feeds them to the dogs.”
“That’s horrible.” Brit’s eyes widened. “And Arthur wanted to bring civilization to England. He hasn’t been able to civilize his own sister. But…”
“Yes?”
“If she wanted to murder at Camelot, wouldn’t she have used poison, then? That seems more in character, from what you’ve said. A broadsword is not subtle enough.”
“That is what I keep thinking. And hoping.”
“You want Mark to be guilty, then?”
“No, of course not. Don’t be glib. If I’ve ever been wrong about anything, I wish it were this. But I’m afraid I’m not.”
They slept and had a good, hearty breakfast the next morning. Then they set off through the dark, fog-shrouded world as they had the previous day. The mist was even thicker; at times it was
