“Much, thank you, Great-Aunt,” gasped Merlin. “Susan, what did you say, what was the second reason?”
Evangeline moved her hand to his right leg, muttering, “You still won’t be able to walk for a week or so, but I think this will spare you a plaster cast. Two casts.”
“It was what you said,” said Susan, smiling at him. “You said total immersion in the cauldron would break it and kill whoever went in. So I grabbed the rim as I fell and kept my hand out. That’s how I broke my collarbone.”
“What was it like?” asked Vivien. “I can’t really remember when I put my hands in our grail.”
Susan shrugged, forgetting her broken collarbone, and yowled with the sudden pain.
“Ow! Ow! I can’t really remember, either. I was only in it for a second or two, I pulled myself out as quickly as I could. It was full of light. Glorious light. It felt like . . . it felt like being at home. You know, when you get in after a bad day, and it’s warm and well-lit and safe. . . .”
“Stay still,” instructed Evangeline, moving on to Susan. “I can knit the bone, and take some of the pain away, but you will need a sling for a few days and it will hurt. You’ll need to take some aspirin.”
“Thank you,” said Susan as Evangeline rested her right hand very lightly on her clavicle. “Could you . . . can you also tell if . . . if the cauldron has . . . has done anything to me?”
Evangeline took a breath and held it for several long seconds, the glow from her hand painting Susan’s anxious face silver. When she exhaled, the old bookseller smiled gently.
“You are what you have always been, child of Ancient Sovereign and mortal,” she said. “The cauldron has made you no more, and no less. But you have a rare heritage. I do not think anyone can tell you all the ins and outs of it. Our Grail-Keeper, perhaps, or your father. Though as I think you already know, though they may take human shape, they do not necessarily think or act as we do, and communication with them is rarely easy.”
“I will have to take the cauldron back to Dad,” said Susan. She moved her arm a little. It hurt far less, but it still hurt. “I hope you’ll allow me to do that?”
“We will help you,” said Evangeline. “Your father kept it hidden for close to two thousand years, after all, and short of breaking it—which we would not do save in direst need, for fear of unintended consequences—it is far better in his hands than any others. But for the time being, if you do not object, we shall store it with our other treasures in the New Bookshop. I suspect Grandmother will like to see it again, for one thing. And as your father has retired, I believe, until the end of the year, there is no point returning it any sooner to Coniston. But right now, both of you young people need to be taken to hospital—”
“Actually, Great-Aunt,” interrupted Merlin, talking swiftly and exerting all his charm. “I was wondering if we could put Susan up at the Northumberland because she can’t go back to Greene’s safe house anyway. You know those adjoining suites on the top floor, perhaps I could have one as well, temporarily of course, while I recuperate—”
“Merlin,” interrupted Susan. She looked at him fondly, then over to Inspector Greene and Una, who had come over to scowl down at them both, as if they expected to see them mortally wounded, and together would have to do the paperwork to explain this fact to sundry secular powers. Though there had already been a discussion along the lines of the vicar’s serendipitous comment, that maybe it could all be explained as a big budget film shoot that had gotten out of control.
“Merlin,” repeated Susan. “I’m going to take the advice I was given when I first got here, and go home to my mum.”
Merlin’s face fell, his expression equally disbelieving that his charms had been so comprehensively rebuffed, and shattered because he truly did care for her.
Susan enjoyed this for a very brief moment before she added, “Only for a week or two, until I’ve recovered. And I’d like you to come with me.”
“She got you good, brother,” said Vivien admiringly, as Susan and Merlin kissed.
Epilogue
THE BROOK BURBLED LOUDER AS THE TAXI DROVE UP AND SWUNG around in the graveled parking area in front of the farmhouse. It was a black cab, a London one at that, which was highly unusual here, close to Bath. The crows on the chimney of the barn Jassmine used as a studio eyed the vehicle askance, and several small stones rolled down the hill where the earth shivered, as if it was about to move more weightily.
But the entities of water, air, and earth settled back with a collective sigh of relief as Susan got out of the back of the cab, away from the mass of shielding iron. It was not a sigh that could be heard or seen by ordinary mortals, but Susan felt it, and looked to the brook and the ravens and up the hill, and waved to each in turn, before leaning back in to get Merlin’s crutches out of the car. He edged out gingerly after them, and took the crutches from her, got himself up and balanced, and slowly moved from the graveled car park to the flagstoned path leading to the front door.
Susan was wearing a new blue boiler suit, another one exactly her size being found easily, much to Merlin’s surprise. He had adopted a dashing ensemble he was sure would impress Susan’s mother, a pale blue long-sleeved shirt with ruffled cuffs, a Black Watch kilt, and despite Susan’s frowns he’d cross-gartered dark green ribbons over the bandages that ran from ankle to knee, above carpet slippers, also in tartan. The ubiquitous tie-dyed yak-hair bag was over his shoulder, where
