“It would seem that you’ve been having some trouble,” said Lianor to Tertius.
“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “Especially lately. I don’t have to tell you that Merlin’s incredible. And while he’s difficult at times, I’ve learned a great deal from him. There are some things—things that have to do with people—that I can do well enough now to satisfy even him.”
“What do you mean by things that have to do with people?” asked Brian.
“Oh, making them do things or not do them. But there are other things that I’ve been having difficulties with.”
“Like the weather?” said Lianor.
“Yes. It’s all very simple to Merlin. If you want to hold off a storm because you’re concerned about your friends, you just use the proper formula and that’s it—you saw him just now. But even though I know it, while I’m saying it, I’m thinking of weather patterns, isotherms and isobars, high and low pressure systems. And since I know that there’s no scientific reason why the spell should work, very often it doesn’t.”
“In other words, you know too much,” said Brian.
“Too much about the wrong things,” said Merlin, coming down the stairs. “I’m sometimes tempted to wipe all that nonsense out of his head and start him over again. But then I think—even though it was my fault—perhaps what he knows has some purpose that even I’m not aware of yet. So I put up with it. And with him.”
“I said I was sorry,” said Tertius.
“I know, I know,” said Merlin. “Now let me have that message.”
Brian took the small piece of parchment out of his pouch and gave it to him. Stepping closer to the fire, Merlin read it quickly. When he put it down again his face was grave.
“This is serious,” he said. “More than serious.”
“Is it from Blaise?” asked Tertius.
“Yes. And it’s about Urlik. Did you ever hear of him?” he asked Brian and Lianor. “Urlik the Black, sometimes called the Deathless?”
They shook their heads.
“We’ve known about him for a long time, Blaise and I,” said Merlin. “It’s one of the reasons Blaise took me as his pupil and taught me all he knew. And it’s why I’ve been trying to do the same thing with Tertius.”
“Is he a magician too—this Urlik?” asked Brian.
“Not a magician, a wizard—a black wizard—and perhaps more than that. He could well be one of the Dark Powers or even the present manifestation of the Dark Power.”
“Is he here, in England?” asked Lianor.
“If he were, you would have known it,” said Merlin grimly. “Everyone would have known it save Blaise and me, for we would have been the first he would have destroyed. No, we think he is still somewhere in the East. That is where he came from, the great plains beyond the Urals. Then, many years ago, he began moving westward with his hordes of horsemen. For a while, the Russians held him at the Don. Then, while I was—shall we say in seclusion?—there were reports that he had defeated the Russians and was moving again.”
“Reports from whom?” asked Brian.
“If there were only Blaise and I to oppose him, the world would be in a parlous state,” said Merlin. “For while his army is huge, savage and well trained, Urlik himself is far more dangerous than it is. We had friends, white magicians like ourselves, in many parts of Europe who were just as concerned about him as we were. But, one by one, we stopped hearing from them. That is why Blaise himself went to France. For we both felt it was very important to learn what we could of Urlik’s movements and, if possible, something about his plans.”
“And have you heard from him since?” asked Lianor.
“Yes, but not in several weeks,” said Merlin. “This message says that Blaise now knows exactly what Urlik is up to and asks me to get in touch with him immediately.”
“And how will you do that?” asked Brian.
“You shall see,” said Merlin. “This way.” And he led them up the stairs, past sleeping quarters and storerooms, to a room at the top of the tower. It was round like the one below, taking up the whole of the top of the tower. But unlike the lower room, it was set about with windows so that there was no point on the wide horizon that could not be seen from it. There were many books in the room, old, heavy volumes—most of them with clasps and locks on them. There was a table against one wall with curious instruments on it whose purpose Brian could not guess. And in the center of the room was a stand with a large, oval looking-glass on it.
Going to it, Merlin consulted the parchment Brian had given him and turned the mirror toward the southeast, for it was mounted on a pivot, with a pointer set on a brass plate, that gave the direction it was facing.
Adjusting the angle of the mirror carefully, Merlin stepped in front of it. He looked past it, out through the window, which overlooked the high cliffs on which the tower stood, the sea pounding and roaring far below them. Then he whispered something under his breath, passing first his right and then his left hand over the glass.
The mirror had been cloudy at first, so cloudy that Merlin was reflected in it only dimly. But when he passed his hand over it, his face vanished and another image appeared: that of a tower very much like the one they were in except that it was the keep of a formidable castle, which stood, like Merlin’s tower, on a cliff at the edge of the sea. This image was so sharp and clear that they could see the ivy on the gray stone walls. Then they seemed to move in through a narrow window to a room which again was very much like the one they were in, and now, in the center of the mirror, they saw the face of another elderly man, even older than Merlin.
He too wore a dark robe and a small round cap. And though his beard was longer and whiter than Merlin’s, the chief difference between them lay in their eyes. For while Merlin’s were gray, sharp and penetrating, those of the man in the mirror were blue, lackluster and even somewhat vacant.
“Blaise?” said Merlin.
The white-haired man was sitting in a chair, looking down. Now he slowly raised his head until he was looking directly at Merlin.
“Is anything wrong, Blaise?” asked Merlin. “You look strange. As if.…”
He broke off, for suddenly another figure appeared behind Blaise, then stepped in front of him so that his face filled the whole mirror—and it was a face that Brian knew he would never forget: a face such as we see only in nightmares.
This man’s hair was black and cropped close. And though his beard was short and cut square, it was so thick that it did not seem to be a beard at all but rather a dark emanation—as if his body could not contain either his blackness or his strength. But what was most terrifying about him were his eyes: oblique, greenish and feral. They blazed out of the mirror like evil stars on a night of disaster.
He thrust out a hand at Merlin, two fingers forked like a snake’s tongue, and Merlin staggered back, threw up his hands and fell to the floor as if he had been poleaxed.
3
For a moment, they all stood there, frozen. Brian was so shocked and incredulous that he was not even conscious of the fear he had felt when he first saw that dark, bearded face. Then he turned back to the mirror. The face was still there, and now, the greenish eyes were on him. As his own eyes met them he felt himself gripped, held, and a strange weakness came over him as if something deep within him—something vital—was being drained out of him. His knees began to give way and he swayed—and as he did, Tertius moved. His face pale and set, he stepped in front of the mirror and passed first his left and then his right hand over it as Merlin had done. The dark face disappeared, and the mirror became dim and cloudy again.
Lianor was beside Brian now, holding him up.
“Brian.…”
“I’m all right,” he said, straightening up. “What about Merlin?”
Lianor looked at him searchingly, then released him, and all three of them bent over the elderly enchanter. He lay on his back, rigid, but with his eyes open, staring up at the low, beamed ceiling.
“There’s a pallet
over there,” said Tertius. “Help me carry him over to it.”
They picked him up, carried him to the straw-filled pallet near the wall and laid him gently down on it. Then Lianor knelt down beside him and put her ear to his chest while Tertius picked up one of his wrists, feeling for his pulse, and at the same time examining his eyes.
“Is he dead?” asked Brian.
“No,” said Lianor. “His heart is still beating, but very weakly, slowly. I’ve never heard a heart beat so slowly.”
Tertius got to his feet, went to the door and called, “Stokely!”
There were footsteps on the stairs and the gray-haired steward came into the room. His eyes widened when he saw Merlin lying on the pallet. He hurried to him, examined him and then looked at Tertius.
“It was Urlik,” said Tertius. “The message from Blaise was a trap; Urlik already has him in his power. When Merlin tried to reach Blaise with the mirror, Urlik put a spell on him.”
“That’s impossible!” said Stokely.
Brian knew how he felt. Merlin’s wisdom and powers were legendary, but they also were very real. For years, he had been the king’s adviser and as much Britain’s guardian as the seas and cliffs that surrounded it. It was incredible that anything could happen to him—incredible and frightening.
“Can you break the spell?” asked Stokely.
“No,” said Tertius. “At least not now.”
“Where is Urlik? Do you know?”
“Yes, I think so,” said Tertius. He went to the mirror and studied the pointer at its base that showed which way it was facing. “He’s in a castle somewhere on the coast of France, either in Brittany or Normandy.”
“That close?”
“Yes.”
“What’s to be done?”
“If he’s the threat that Merlin said he was,” said Brian, “the king should be told at once.”
“Arthur’s not here,” said Tertius. “He’s already in France.”
“Then he knew about Urlik?”
“No,” said Tertius. “He went to help the Franks fight the Moors who are driving up from Spain. He took a hundred knights and several thousand men-at-arms with him. Merlin was uneasy about it and didn’t want him to go, but he couldn’t stop him.”
“That was probably part of Urlik’s plot too,” said Stokely. “To draw the king and his army away and leave Britain undefended.”
“Very likely.”
“Then that’s all the more reason why he should be told,” said Brian.
“Yes,” said Tertius. “He should be. But that’s not enough. Arthur can’t deal with Urlik.”
“Who can?”
“The only two who might be able to are Merlin and Blaise.”
“But they can’t. You said yourself that Blaise was in his power. And now Merlin has been struck down also.”
“That was because he was taken by surprise. I think, if he was prepared, he could stand against Urlik.”
“But he’s helpless now. And you say you can’t break the spell that’s on him.”
“That doesn’t mean it can’t be broken. If I knew more about it—exactly what kind of spell it is.…”
“If!” said Brian impatiently. “And how will you find that out? Will you ask Urlik?”
“Don’t, Brian,” said Lianor.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I feel so helpless.”
“I know,” said Tertius. “And no, I wouldn’t ask Urlik. But the spell wasn’t worked with that one gesture. It’s a difficult and complicated one. And that means it was written down somewhere.”
“But where?”
“I may be able to show you.”
Stepping in front of the mirror, Tertius passed his hands over it as Merlin had done, saying something under his breath. It brightened, cleared, and the room they had seen before appeared in it again. But this time, it was empty, and they could see why it seemed so like the room they were in. For it too had a table with strange instruments on it and several shelves of books.
“There,” said Tertius, pointing to a large and ancient book with locks and clasps that was on a stand near the table. “It might very well be in that.”
“But how could you get to it and read it?” asked Lianor.
“I don’t know. I have to find the castle first and then see.”
“Then you’re going to France?” said Brian.
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“I’d rather not go alone.”
“Ah,” said Brian, relieved. “Then the two of us will go. Any others?”
“I think we should take some others with us. Not too many, for we’ll be going to enemy country and have to move carefully, secretly.”
“There’s no one better at that than Long Hugh.”
“That’s what I thought—he and, say, two of his men. And perhaps Giles the Giant. He claims he hates violence, but I hope we will not have to do any fighting. If we do, he will be worth having along.”
“Since you seem to be thinking of old friends, what about Migbeg?” asked Lianor. “He is as good a tracker and stalker as Long Hugh and his outlaws.”
“He might be useful too,” agreed Tertius. “But that would be about all. We would take Merlin with us.”
“How can we take him?”
“I think we can manage somehow.”
“But why do you want him with us?”
“So that if I can break the spell, he can do whatever must be done to deal with Urlik at once.”
“Then I will come too,” said Stokely. “He will need someone to tend him.”
“It would be better if you stayed here,” said Tertius. “If we fail, as we may, we can’t let the tower and all it contains fall into Urlik’s hands. Someone completely trustworthy should be here to destroy it.”
“If you fail, it will not matter what happens to the tower,” said Stokely. “Merlin has been my master for many years, and where he goes, I go.”
“Very well,” said Tertius. “That is your right.”
“Now can we get to the expedition itself?” said Brian. “I gather we must move fast. How are we to let Long Hugh and the others know that we need them?”
“With the mirror,” said Tertius. “I’ll take care of that. What else?”
“We’ll need a ship to get to France.”
“Master Trask,” said Stokely.
“That was my thought,” said Tertius.
“Who’s Master Trask?” asked Lianor.
“A shipmaster for whom Merlin has done many favors. He was here to see him only yesterday. We will ask him to sail us to one of the Cinque Ports—Sandwich might be best—and have the others meet us there. Stokely, will you see him and arrange it?”
“Of course. How many will we be in all?”
“There are the three of us,” said Tertius, “Long Hugh and two of his men and Giles and Migbeg. Eight in all.”
“Nine,” said Lianor.
“Why nine?”
“Why do you think? I was in at the beginning of this and I intend to be in at the end.”
“That’s ridiculous!” said Brian. “This is no mission for a woman!”
“I was with you on your quest for the Knight with the Red Shield.”
“That was different. I did not know who you were then. I thought you were an old crone. And even then, I would not have let you come if you had not tricked me into it.”
“Were you sorry I came?”
“No. But as I said, this is different.”
“The only way in which it is different is that it is much more important.”
“And much more dangerous. I promised your father I would look out for you.”
“And how will you do that if you are in France?”
“But I will not need to if you go back to Meliot!”
“Brian, be reasonable. I was a great help to you on the quest. Tertius knew I would be even before we started out. I would be a help to you in this too.”
“I said this is no mission for a
woman! You saw Urlik in the mirror, and you must have some idea of what he’s capable of! You will go back to Meliot in the morning!”
They glared at one another, and Stokely hesitated, then looked at Tertius.
“Tell Master Trask that we’ll be eight,” said Tertius. “And Merlin.”
Stokely nodded and left.
“Now I’d better let our friends know,” said Tertius.
Unrolling a large map of Britain, he studied it for a minute, then turned the mirror to the southwest. It had become dim and cloudy again, but when he passed his hands over it, it cleared, and they were looking at a forest glade. A fire burned in its center and lounging about it were a half dozen men in deerskin jerkins. Tertius adjusted the angle of the mirror slightly, and now they could see Long Hugh sitting cross-legged in a hut on the far side of the glade and waxing a bowstring. Tertius stared at him fixedly, and Long Hugh started and sat up as if someone had called him. He looked this way and that, finally looking directly at Tertius.
“Can he see us?” asked Brian.
“No,” said Tertius. “Quiet.” He went on staring at Long Hugh, and the outlaw, looking first uneasy and then puzzled, remained still as if he were listening. Finally, shrugging, he got up. Walking to the fire, he called two of his men to him and began talking to them.
“All right,” said Tertius. “He was a little difficult, but I think I got through to him. He will meet us in Sandwich in five days. Now for Migbeg.”
He turned the mirror slightly to the east; and now, they could see the heath in it—the barren wasteland where they had first met the Pictish chieftain. Again Tertius adjusted the mirror’s angle until they saw Migbeg lying on a pile of furs in what seemed to be a cave and talking to a slim woman who was as dark-haired, strange and wild-looking as he was. Though he too looked startled at first, it seemed easier for Tertius to get his message to him than it had been to Long Hugh. After only a moment or two, he got up also, slipped the sword Brian had given him through his belt, picked up his flint-headed spear and, after saying something to the woman, left the cave.
Merlin's Mistake Page 19
