"No, Sir," said Smithers, jumping to his feet.
"No, Sir," replied Ross keeping his face obedient but wondering what kind of fool did the Director think he was. Ross felt a small kernel of disappointment with the Director and his need to state the obvious and point it out as if to a young kid right out of school.
Staff Learns Tech
Sitting in the living room of his Cambridge home, the blue velvet drapes drawn, Merlin slumped down in his chair, closed his eyes and shook his head gently. He reviewed the conversations he'd overheard while investigating the security building and the CCTV systems. A wry smile appeared to somewhat soften his face, invisibility does have some advantages, he thought. The bastards have my picture plastered across their network and that includes every cell phone and video monitor in the damnable country.
He stood, leaned his staff against the side of the chair and started pacing back and forth across the room.
The thoughts tumbled down like a leaves on a rushing stream. I can probably leave this house because the first camera won't be until we hit the first traffic light. But then, they'll have my face and that will identify the car. The car is highly visible and nobody is going to forget that old girl rolling down any highway or country back road. So the car is out. I could fly or take the train, and that would work if I disguised myself. And I'd have to disguise myself to get there. That's a lot of disguises, he grumbled to himself. But perhaps, and he hesitated…
Why am I thinking like a human. I can teleport, I can fly, I'm not human. But I need to appear human when I get to Scotland. Lord knows that's a shock to my system, he thought. He shook his head in disgust at himself. Just because the Lady of the damnable Lake is originally from the Highlands is no reason to tar them all with the same brush.
Merlin closed his eyes and then opened them again. A second series of thoughts caused him to look deep within himself and he wasn't pleased with the results. I'm not strong enough to get myself up there? What? I've been too long away from my power, the flipping back and forth I've done recently has tired this damned human body so it needs some recovery time? Since when?
His staff shot an image of the Lady straight through his mind.
"Bitch," he said aloud.
His thoughts rushed on. I'll need to disguise myself anyway because without a doubt I can't appear anywhere looking like this. A string of curses flowed smoothly and swiftly out of his mouth to bounce off the walls and create echoes that rumbled through the fae world.
Merlin quieted himself. Stray thoughts entered his mind and he faced them as he had faced other major battles in his life. Why am I hesitating with this? Why is this taking so much of my time? The answers echoed and bounced around in his mind and he wasn't pleased. Am I getting old, he wondered? I'm taking far too long to think about and act on this. Or is it because if I fail, it will be for the last time?
He straightened. Stood up. Reached out his hand, and his staff snapped into it from across the room. He hesitated again.
He turned back to his chair, sat, bowed his head, pulled the staff against his forehead, and went deep inside himself.
An hour later by human time and an un-determined amount of time by fae standards, Merlin opened his eyes. A smile played around one side of his mouth but it was hidden from the casual viewer by his moustache and beard.
Finally resigned to accepting this version of his geas, he stood. He drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders as he'd been taught in the British army a century ago in one of his life experiments.
Aloud, in his deepest, most commanding voice, he said, "In the old language my name is Myrddin. And this is my island."
He struck the floor with the staff and instead of the thud of a wooden staff on a wooden floor, a deep, bass bell tolled once across the width and breadth of fae.
Things returned to normal around his house shortly afterwards. The dryads returned, and the smaller fae played in the trees. Across the land, every being who'd heard the bell knew the message and challenge of the Sixth Council had been fully accepted and the work was now in progress.
The decision irrevocably made, Merlin looked at his staff, and in a familiar tone of kindliness asked "How are you with coming along with speaking to or controlling computers?"
"That bad?" He hesitated for two seconds.
"How fast do you think you'll learn?"
"Well… Do your best. And keep me updated regularly."
Merlin felt the staff's wild energy directed outward to connect with the myriad of highly-structured, electronic signals passing through and around the small house. As he watched the energy from the staff intercept and begin the effort of decoding the signals, he sent a kind, loving thought. You, my friend, will be a hell of a hacker.
Merlin laughed aloud, laid the staff on the rich oriental rug, kicked off his shoes and socks, and stepped onto it. He balanced with his toes, closed his eyes, stretched out his arms and disappeared.
No one noticed the goshawk holding a short stick fly away from the house.
Merlin returns to Scotland
At 6:45 that evening, a middle-aged man wearing a crisp white shirt, regimental striped tie, and grey suit walked through the station to board the train for Edinburgh and then onwards to Aberdeen, his final destination. Nobody noted his passing as the trimmed, grey beard and sparkling green eyes were obscured by an inconspicuous glamour. And no one could possibly see the coal-black, unsharpened pencil tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket.
Having passed through Security without a problem, Merlin took a comfortable seat in the bar car. He ordered a pint of Dun Hogs Head and then watched as the lights of Cambridge streamed by faster and faster as the train picked up speed and then faded off into the distance behind the train.
Merlin nursed his beer and reviewed the memories of his previous attempts with Arthur. He allowed the images to flow through his mind unedited and unimpeded and he felt once again all of the joys of success. But as with many things he shared with humans, he felt the sharp piercing pains of failure even more.
His reverie was only interrupted by the steward who, passing by, stopped and silently pointed at his empty glass. Merlin nodded and a full pint quickly replaced the empty.
Accompanied by his never-empty pint, Merlin passed the night staring at the scenery streaking by. Through the small towns and cities and out into the countryside he watched the lights in the windows decrease as night settled in and the countryside fell asleep.
It took three changes of train to travel from Cambridge up to Aberdeen and three different stewards learned to keep his glass filled and enjoyed the tip that came from doing so.
While Merlin wasn't pleased with traveling by train, it was his best option. On principle, he refused to take airplanes. And he justified it by saying if the world had meant men to fly, the world would have given them wings. Birds and angels flew. Men needed their feet on the ground. The fact he was no longer truly a man escaped his normal penetrating mind.
12 hours and 9 pints later, Merlin arrived at the Aberdeen train station.
As Merlin pushed open the double brass-edged glass doors of the train station to walk into what passed for morning sunshine in Aberdeen, he heard the throaty call of a Raven. He looked at the building opposite and there, perched on the metal clad roof, was a single, large, coal-black bird.
The bird's small yellow eyes blinked twice, and then it cocked its head slightly sideways as if squinting down at Merlin. It then bobbed its head twice in welcome. Merlin nodded back acknowledging the raven and its task.
The local fae were soon alerted to the presence of the Lord Merlin.
Some, old competitors, took refuge wherever they could find a bolthole. Others, younger and brash, thought it would interesting to meet him and perhaps test themselves against him. Merlin felt the vibrations of both. To the former, he sent reassurances with a small warning. To the latter he sent a stern warning that rattled deep within whatever soul they possessed. All would give him a wide
berth from that moment on and would do their best to stay out of his way unless invited.
Now, thought Merlin, it's time to find a hotel, a hot shower and breakfast, and preferably in that order he said with a wry grin. Today was for walking the town and tomorrow would be time enough to find the lad.
Introducing Arthur
After spending the previous day exploring Aberdeen as a tourist, Merlin slipped out of bed to luxuriate in a very long and hot shower in this most modern of hotels. He took the time in the small hotel restaurant to pour several cups of tea down his throat to combat the effects of the beer he'd consumed in the small dockside pub he'd found. I must be getting old, he thought. In the old days that amount of beer would only have been a tuneup.
Returning to his room, Merlin sat on the end of his bed, pulled his staff to his forehead and leaned into it. How are you coming with the tech lessons? he asked the staff in a silent thought. To the reply he added, Excellent, that's good. Excellent. So let me ask you if you can stop a CCTV camera?
The staff paused for two seconds before it replied.
"You can't even begin to understand the computers running them but yes, they're individual machines. It takes a great deal of energy, but you can knock out the mechanical parts of the camera," said Merlin out loud. "Excellent!"
He continued aloud, "Your job then is to hack all CCTV cameras in our locations and have them dead and not taking our picture as we walk by. Can you do this?"
Merlin sat silently for 10 seconds while the staff explored the the CCTV cameras around the hotel.
"Excellent!" said Merlin. "Between the two of us, we make a heck of a team." He stopped and listened again before replying, "Yes, only stop them while we're walking by. Repair them after we've passed. We don't want to alert Security by killing all the cameras wherever we go." He listened for a second and replied, "Yes, you can take whatever energy you need from me to keep doing that."
Merlin stood. Holding the staff in his right hand, he gently tapped it with his left hand. The staff shrunk and assumed the form of a walking stick. Merlin smiled broadly, took two steps, jauntily swung the walking stick, and planted it firmly on the carpeted floor of the room. "I think we make a handsome pair," he said. The staff sent a warm rush of agreement causing Merlin smile to become even broader.
"Let's go find the young gamin," said Merlin.
After tipping the doorman who opened the front door of the hotel for him, Merlin took the eight steps necessary to stand just under the edge of the striped awning over the sidewalk. He slowly turned looking to his left and then all the way back to his right. He thought he caught a touch of the signal off to his left so he turned in that direction and began a casual stroll down the street. At the first intersection he stopped, looked all the way to his left, and then once again slowly to the right. While the light changed in front of him, Merlin looked to his left again. Even a careful inspection wouldn't have turned up anything untoward in Merlin's behaviour. Any viewer would have assumed he was simply a tourist. In fact, Merlin was triangulating to pinpoint the location of the young Arthur.
Having come to a decision about the rough direction he should walk, Merlin sauntered along the street looking in the shop windows, comparing prices between here and home, and generally acting as a tourist. He was in no rush as there was no timeframe for this quest, and if nothing else, both he and the rest of fae had learned patience when it came to dealing with the humans.
As he walked, he continued to increase the precise nature of his quarry's whereabouts. He constantly turned his head, took in the sights, and triangulated their respective positions. Within a half an hour, a park appeared directly ahead of him and he knew the young Arthur was in it somewhere. He had a sense that things might work out this time and his confidence rose the closer he came to the park's entrance.
He cut behind St. Machar's Cathedral to discover a single pathway that soon gave way to the broad walkways of Cathedral Walk. This cut across the green acres of Seaton Park and he strolled along it to the square in the middle of the park. Through the trees, Merlin saw a small group of boys playing a pickup game of football in the grass fields to the east. He stopped and watched them as they deftly kicked the ball from one to the other.
A random thought crossed his mind as he thought about his visits to North America. Why those heathens call this game soccer is beyond me. In their "football" there's only one player who touches the ball with his feet, and then for only a few kicks a game. Heathens! He laughed softly to himself at their impudence.
As he watched the boys, two energy patterns stood out. He was puzzled and couldn't understand why he recognized two patterns emerging in the same place, the same time and at the same age. These individuals should have been, had always been, separated during their formative years and only came together for the end game.
This is new, he thought. This changes everything. He didn't know whether to celebrate or to mourn. What he did know was that the rules were now totally and completely different. This meant success or failure wasn't predetermined and would not be predicted, indeed could not be predicted based solely on past events.
Merlin took a seat on the bench facing the playing field. He nodded to the young woman on the other end of the bench, and then focused his attention on the gaggle of boys.
A random thought crossed his mind. Good Lord. I recognize this energy pattern as well? Could this be Igraine?
Merlin thought about this for a second, and then turned to the young woman. She felt his gaze and turned to meet his stare.
"I didn't mean to stare, he said. "But I wondered if you were one of these boys mothers, and I didn't know how to ask that without seeming inappropriate." He screwed up his face as if an apology.
"Why? Is that important in some way," asked the young woman.
Thinking quickly, Merlin said, "Well, I do some field scouting for some local football teams, and there are two young men out there who may have potential." Merlin smiled inwardly, he had just identified the main objective of his journey. He wasn't sure which was which yet but he had his suspicions.
"Let me point them out to you, and you can tell me if one of them is yours. If one of them is, perhaps we can chat about his future. And if not, then at least you know that I'm not stalking you or them." Said Merlin.
He continued, "The two I'm looking at are on the same team. You can see the redheaded young man, he's the only ginger out there, and he's one. The second is slightly taller, has dark brown hair that seems to be sticking up all over the place, and is wearing a black T-shirt. He's the only one out there with a black T-shirt. Do either of those two belong to you?"
The young woman laughed. "Well, those two are inseparable. And if you own one, you own the other," she said. "The redhead's mine."
Merlin looked at the young man running down the field but his mind wasn't on the boy. Igraine's laugh was the same as it had always been - half amusement and half ironic - and he turned back to the young woman, stuck his hand out towards her and said, "Mervin Ambrosius." He watched the young woman's eyes open a bit wider as she stifled a smile.
"Yes, I know the name is unusual and I do my best not to curse my ancestors every time I have to say it out loud," said Merlin.
The young woman stopped smirking, nodded and said, "Yes I could see that. I'm Ingrid, Ingrid Penrose," she said taking his outstretched hand.
Merlin smiled. It was the same energy that he had felt in ages past. She was known as Ingrid in this time but this was indeed his Igraine of old.
"Do you want me to call them over?" asked Ingrid.
"Only if you need to leave, or have a problem – however small – with sitting here with me while I watch the boys play," said Merlin. "I like to get a sense of how the two of them stack up against the others, and whether they are simply far better than the others or whether all of the boys deserve a tryout," said Merlin
"I'm delighted to share a bench with you, Mister Ambrosius," said Ingrid. "There's a certain sense of security,
of comfort, knowing that someone else is here who appreciates the boys, and isn't trying to take advantage of either them or me."
Her tone of voice sent warnings through Merlin and he stopped to evaluate the energy around the young woman. She carried the marks of great potential, but also of great trials and failures. Some of those failures were hers, Merlin noted, and some had been visited upon her.
This was a woman who had known pain and joy in equal measure he decided. And he would treat her with the dignity and honour her history demanded of him.
"Thank you for your honesty," said Merlin. "I have a sense that you're careful, and you need to be careful with whom you trust. I'm not here to take advantage of you or the boys. There will be no written contracts or money given nor asked, and I – quite unfortunately – am far too old for you in any romantic sense." Merlin smiled at the young woman, and sent out his best wishes and waves of comfort towards her. That sense of relaxation, and celebration filled the park and the birds, small creatures and lesser fae flocked to surround the two of them on the bench.
Ingrid smiled back at Merlin and nodded.
Merlin felt a flash of disappointment that she hadn't contradicted him about his being too old, and then laughed at himself. Damn male vanity, he thought with a slight grimace.
The two of them sat in companionable silence and watched as the ebb and flow of the game moved from one end of the playing field to the other. Each of the young men had scored several goals and there seemed to be no competition between them as they passed the ball back and forth and shared opportunities to score.
Merlin watched this happen and for the first half hour of the game, he couldn't understand how these two would ultimately have to face each other in some form of modern combat.
The Mage Returns Page 10
