Yesterday's Magic

by Pamela F. Service

  Welly chuckled, then looked at Merlin and Heather. “I hope you two are taking notes, and when you finally get around to the marriage thing, you do something a lot simpler.”

  “Count on it,” Heather and Merlin said together. All three laughed as Welly left the room. Hand in hand, the other two were about to follow when Heather suddenly stopped and looked at one of the gift tables. “What’s that? It looks like…Earl, is that a world globe, like they had in the Llandoylan library?”

  With the precious lunch box tucked under her arm, she reached out to touch the battered ball. Examining the globe with her, Merlin shook his head. “It’s staggering to see that this world is so large and we know such a tiny part of it. When I lived back in the fifth century, all we knew of the world was Britain and the other places that had once been part of the Roman Empire. But there’s so much that not even the Romans knew. All the Americas, for instance. And now so much of it is beyond knowing again.”

  He sighed, then looked at Heather. She was staring at the globe in an unfocused way, one hand moving over its surface.

  “Heather?” he said. When she didn’t answer, he asked, “Is it voices?”

  She shook her head but kept her eyes on the globe. “I think I’m getting some sort of feeling of where they are, the people with the voices. The jaguar boy—he’s somewhere here.” Her finger traced the narrow strip of land linking North and South America.

  Then her hand slid around the globe and stopped at the green bulge of Africa. She squinted closer at the worn name printed there. “Zim…Zimba…no, Zimbabwe. The girl with the milk for the statue of the bird god. She’s there. Earl, this is so exciting! Suddenly I can feel where they all are—here and here and somewhere along here.” Her hands danced over the globe touching bits of Europe, Asia, and the Americas.

  Impulsively she hugged Merlin and he hugged her back, tears glinting in his eyes. “This is so amazing—and comforting,” he said. “To know that we in Britain are not alone. And maybe they know that they are not alone either. Heather, as soon as this wedding folderol is over, let’s work on it. Let’s see if more-regular communication is possible. That would be the best gift imaginable.”

  Heather nodded, then pulled away. “But speaking of gifts…”

  “Would you like this globe? I’m sure Margaret and Arthur would—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “No, but I have a gift for you. I’ve been saving it till Midsummer. Well, actually, I’ve only just finished it, but Midsummer is a fine day for gift-giving. Since that’s tomorrow, why don’t you meet me just after midnight? I’ll give it to you then, before we all get tied up with the wedding.”

  “Good. I’ll meet you in the old abbey ruins. That’s about as private as it gets around here. And, Heather,” he said, kissing her lightly on the forehead, “I have a gift for you as well. What do you say we take Welly up on his suggestion and make these betrothal gifts?”

  The next kiss lasted until a guard walked into the room with another load of wedding gifts. Hastily the two parted and went about their wedding-preparation duties.

  In mid-afternoon, Heather took a break from helping plan the banquet seating chart and went up to her room. Kneeling down, she looked under her bed. She’d shoved the pink lunch box in there this morning, but she didn’t touch that now. Somehow, lovely as it was, the thing made her feel a little uneasy. Maybe that was because it was a present that hadn’t really been intended for her, maybe it was because it had probably come from darkened Norfolk, or maybe it was just because the original Heather who had owned it had died hundreds of years ago. Shoving disturbing thoughts aside, she pushed past the box and pulled out a long wrapped parcel.

  The light slanting through her room’s long narrow window was pale and gray, but when it struck the carved staff she was unwrapping, the wood glowed like polished gold. She ran her fingers over the carvings and smiled. It was as long as she was tall and had taken her months to carve. She’d never thought of herself as much of an artist, but she’d felt inspired when carving this. If magic had somehow been involved, it must have been the magic of wanting to make something beautiful for someone she loved.

  Tracing one of the carvings with her finger, she thought about how much her life had changed since the day three years ago when she and Welly had played that adventure game beyond the school walls, had run into Earl and had begun an incredible real adventure. She smiled too remembering how she’d never given a thought to marriage being in her future. Many girls her age were already marrying, but she’d known she was too plain and penniless to interest any of the aristocratic boys at the school. And who would want to be tied to any of them anyway?

  And now here she was, happily admiring an intended betrothal gift. But that was just one more unexpected turning in an amazing few years—enduring a quest for a supposedly mythical king, surviving bloody battles and magic attacks, discovering her own powers, traveling to the land of Faerie and briefly into a doomed past. She shook her head, recalling the simple plans she’d once made for her future. One thing she had learned since—life could be far too surprising to follow even the simplest of plans. But she hoped that, lurking darkness aside, she could at least hold on to her immediate plans for happiness.

  With a last caress of the golden wood, she wrapped the staff in its tattered blanket and slid it back under the bed. It clunked against the lunch box, and she felt an odd jolt of power tingle up her arm. She frowned. Could the staff be invested with power already? It certainly couldn’t be the lunch box. Could it? No. That was just a pretty gewgaw to carry someone’s sandwiches.

  Heather stood up and brushed the dust from her trousers, trying not to feel uneasy. She always felt uneasy around magic she didn’t understand. Then she laughed at herself. Since she didn’t understand most magic, she’d just better get used to it. And there wasn’t a lot of magic Earl didn’t understand. That thought banished her momentary unease, and smiling again, she hurried downstairs.

  WEDDING

  In a garden of the Manor, an old twisted oak spread branches over a stone bench. It was one of Duke Basil’s favorite spots. Now he sat there with Arthur. Hand resting on his potbelly, the Duke shook his white-fringed head.

  “Like I’ve said before, Arthur, I was skeptical at first of your claim to be the King Arthur, but your actions since then have assured me that, authentic or not, you are the man to unite Britain and end the fighting between all our petty little kingdoms and dukedoms.”

  Arthur laughed. “I appreciate your confidence, Basil, even if not your belief.”

  “Oh, I believe as much as I need, but I do somewhat draw the line at your teenage wizard. If you needed someone to play that part, couldn’t you have chosen someone more…wizardly-looking? Older at least?”

  When Arthur started to respond, Basil waved him off. “I know, I know. You’re claiming he really is this old guy who took care of you when you were a child thousands of years ago. Whatever story you want to put out is fine with me. But the boy has practically accused King Douglas of still having dealings with the enemy. That suggestion based on this kid’s vague suspicions and the order that all the Norfolk party be followed have not gone over well. A couple of Douglas’s men caught some of my guards going through their personal things. I had to intervene and apologize or Douglas and his people might have walked out.”

  “Thank you for your diplomacy, Basil. That was well done. Did the guards find anything incriminating, by the way?”

  “Nothing, though what that boy wizard wanted them to look for is beyond me. Ah, and speaking of the devil, I hope not literally, here comes the young man now.”

  Merlin was just entering the garden holding several rolls of parchment, orders for Arthur to sign. Arthur waved him over to the bench. “Merlin, Basil and I were just discussing your concern about Douglas and the Norfolk contingent. Is there something specific that’s bothering you about them?”

  Merlin frowned. “No. There is something amiss with them, but I can’t pin down what. It
could be just an echo of their earlier alliance, or it could be something more immediate but very well shielded. There are so many people in the city now and so many low-level, maybe even unaware, magic workers that it’s difficult to sort out influences.”

  Basil gave a derisive grunt, and Arthur said hastily, “I’m afraid the Duke here is slightly skeptical of your wizardly powers. He was, after all, not with us at London or at the battle along the Wall or at other opportunities to see them demonstrated.”

  Merlin sighed at the not-unfamiliar situation. He nodded at Basil. “I am sorry, Your Grace, if my current appearance does not live up to my reputation. If it will set your mind at ease, I will be happy to perform some sort of demonstration.”

  Basil blushed and said, “No, no, that won’t be necessary. Arthur’s belief is enough for me. I wouldn’t demean it by asking you for parlor tricks or whatever.”

  Merlin smiled thinly. “Thank you, Your Grace. It’s embarrassing how many times I’ve had to transform something or somebody to make a point. But Arthur has asked me to do a little something at the wedding tomorrow—for public consumption primarily, but it should help.”

  After several more minutes, Duke Basil excused himself. When Arthur and Merlin were alone, the King looked at his friend. “I’m glad you restrained yourself there. I’ve heard about your giving King Nigel of Glamorganshire donkey ears. You know, that will not help my negotiations with that gentleman when the time comes.”

  Merlin hung his head. “I know—I couldn’t help myself. Nigel is such a pompous ass.” Then he looked up and grinned. “But don’t blame me, Sire. I’m just an impulsive kid, after all.”

  “Don’t give me that, old man,” Arthur said, standing up. “The only thing young about you is the love light in your eyes when you look at Heather. You are planning to marry her soon, I trust.”

  “We are discussing it.”

  “Good. As sappy as it sounds, I’m so happily in love myself, I just want to see it spread around. Now let’s get back to the others. And yes, I’ll have my people continue watching the Norfolk contingent. They’re still bothering you, I take it?”

  “Yes. Like someone rubbing fur the wrong way. A feeling like there’s something dark grating under the foundations—despite all the happiness on top. I don’t feel this darkness moving, though, or getting any stronger. But it’s there, like it’s asleep…or waiting.”

  “Well, your concerns are good enough for me. We’ll keep an eye on the Norfolk party. And we’ll see how whatever you have planned for tomorrow convinces the Duke—and others—about your abilities.”

  As they walked out of the garden, Merlin said, “You’ve got to admit, Arthur, that if someone had spun a yarn like ours to you when you were first king, you might have doubted as well. You know, hanging out in Avalon or in a mountain for a couple of millennia, then coming back young again—that’s fairy-tale stuff.”

  “Oh, I might have believed it, after all the training I had as a boy from that cranky old codger, that wizard what’s his name. Merlin, was it?”

  Laughing, the two returned to the bustle of royal wedding preparations.

  That night, with the manor finally quieted down, Merlin and Heather met as planned in the ruins of the abbey, ruins that had been ancient long before the Devastation. Empty arches and broken walls traced dark shapes against the sky. A few of the brightest stars showed hazily through the high atmospheric dust. The night wind carried a chill hint of Scottish glaciers, but the two didn’t notice.

  Heather couldn’t embrace or kiss him very easily since she was clutching a long loosely wrapped bundle behind her back, so she brought it out. “I made this for you.”

  Taking the bundle in both hands, Merlin peeled away the blanket. The hazy moonlight caught and silvered the long wooden staff, seeming to make the carvings move along its length.

  Before he could say anything, Heather explained, “I know that after the Battle of London, you said you needed to try working with the new magic and stop using things like a staff to focus your power.” She smiled. “But I’ve seen how twitchy that makes you. You always seem to be reaching for something that isn’t there. So I thought if I made you a staff, working into it carvings of living things…and my own feelings, then maybe it would combine both the old and new magics for you.”

  Merlin traced his fingers over the carvings from the hawk head at the top blending through deer, squirrels, snakes, and horses. Below those came faces he quickly recognized—Heather’s, Welly’s, Troll’s, Margaret’s, and Arthur’s. Twining vines wove between them all.

  He struggled to break his speechlessness. “How…how…Heather, this is beautiful. I never knew…. There is so much life and power in this. Thank you doesn’t begin to say it.”

  “I wasn’t sure about the wood,” she said, blushing happily. “But the time we all camped in that little oak grove near Oxford, I found this sapling that a storm had uprooted. It seemed right.”

  “Yes, oak has deep roots of power—as, it seems, do you.” Gently he kissed her, then pulled back. “And if I accept this gift, are we officially engaged?”

  She smiled teasingly. “Only halfway.”

  He laughed and pulled out a small cloth-wrapped package. “Then please do me the honor of completing the process and accepting this gift.”

  Even in the faint cold moonlight, the bracelet she unwrapped glowed warmly. The red-gold band showed a delicate procession of running deer—antlers, backs, and legs blending and interweaving with each other in an intricate endless knot.

  “This was my mother’s,” he said quietly. “Remember how at Glastonbury we found that hoard of treasure that the monks had hidden long ago after the fall of Arthur? All I saw at first was my Bowl of Seeing, but after our skirmish with Morgan, I dug up some of the rest to return to Arthur, and this was there. It must have been with my things when…when I left Camelot.”

  “It had been your mother’s?”

  He nodded. “She gave it to me when I went off as a young man to join King Uther. She told me my father had given it to her.”

  “Your father. You’ve never mentioned him.”

  “I never knew him. But he was Eldritch—as is the bracelet.”

  Reverently Heather slipped the bracelet onto her wrist.

  Merlin smiled. “It fits as if it were meant for you. And perhaps it was. The Eldritch see very far indeed.”

  They spent a while longer warmly entwined in each other’s arms. When reluctantly they parted, it was with mutual vows that their own wedding would be a great deal simpler than what they were expecting tomorrow.

  The pink of dawn gave way to a rare blue sky, taken as a good omen by people who usually saw blue skies only in ancient paintings. There were many people up to see that dawn. Word had been spreading for weeks about the Royal Wedding. Crowds from within the city and from the countryside gathered early along the royal procession route between the Manor and York’s ancient cathedral. Vendors hawked roasted potatoes and small souvenir stone carvings of Arthur’s Dragon emblem and Margaret’s Scottish Lion. Street musicians played fiddles, pipes, and drums while jugglers and puppeteers entertained the growing crowd.

  At the Manor, all seemed loosely controlled chaos. Everyone was scurrying to put on their best, most impressive attire, groom their horses, and make a thousand final touches to decorations. Heather chose to wear a simple blue wool dress that one of Margaret’s ladies had made for her. The only jewelry she wore was her purple glass ring and the entwining deer bracelet. Gretha, one of the York girls she was rooming with, offered eagerly to do her hair. Heather wasn’t sure whether the end result, a swirled mound with one long lock cascading down her back, made her look elegant or ridiculous. But she admitted it made her look older.

  The procession finally got under way around noon. Drums, trumpets, and bagpipes were followed by banner carriers. Then came troops of soldiers, including Welly, each proudly wearing Arthur’s Dragon surcoat. When Arthur and Margaret appeared on their white and r
ed warhorses, the crowd cheered wildly. Margaret, with her flaming red hair, golden crown, and green tartan gown, seemed like a figure from ancient stories. Beside her, a figure truly from those stories, rode King Arthur Pendragon, his golden beard and hair only slightly less bright than his crown, and his burnished armor and sword splendid in the pale sunlight.

  Behind the couple rode Duke Basil of York and various dignitaries from around Britain plus members of their courts. Merlin could have ridden closer to Arthur, but he directed his black mare to walk beside Heather’s gray. Heather thought he looked splendid in his simple purple robe, but she also thought he looked very nervous.

  When the level of cheering waned slightly, she leaned over and whispered, “What’s the trouble? This isn’t your wedding.”

  “Thank the gods,” he muttered back. “But Arthur’s asked me to do something at the ceremony, something that involves singing. At least my voice has finally broken, but singing in front of hundreds of people is not my favorite thing.”

  “You’ll do fine,” she practically had to yell back as the procession entered the plaza in front of the cathedral and the cheering swelled.

  When the wedding party finally dismounted and entered the cathedral, the crowd quieted. Those processing inside were awed into silence. Heather had visited ancient monuments before in her travels with Merlin and Arthur, but the vastness of this space with its great arches, pillars, and vaulted ceiling defied words.

  When she squeezed Merlin’s hand as he left her to go forward, it was clammy with nervousness. She smiled encouragement. Then she stood with the rest of the dignitaries and tried to shut out their whisperings and jostlings and just concentrate on the beauty and enormousness of the space. With pleasure she watched sunlight slant through the high windows and pool on the floor around her. Some of the ancient colored glass remained, tingeing the light with reds and blues.

  Despite the number of people, the air smelled faintly sweet, and she was impressed by the lavish arrangement of flowers on the altar. She imagined that prior to the Devastation, an event such as this might have been laden with flowers, but their rarity now made this one display a real gift, a gift from the people of York. Looking beyond the altar, she caught sight of Merlin standing among the clergy of various religions who had been called to participate. She tried to look encouraging again but knew she was too far away.