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Chapter Text

Pendragon's Folly

Chapter 1

Merlin dug in his pocket for the key his mother had given him, but he hesitated to use it. Instead, he hitched his pack on his shoulder, raised his hand to the bell and pushed the button. From inside he heard the faint electronic chime of Big Ben preparing to strike the hour.

After a while, just as he was beginning to wonder if his uncle was out and whether he should use the key after all, the faint sound of shuffling footsteps was followed by the rattle of the latch. The door swung open and his uncle gazed at him blankly for a second, before his face broke into a welcoming smile. "Merlin, my boy. Come in, come in," he exclaimed, stepping back into the darkness of the narrow hallway.

Merlin followed and after an awkward hug Gaius turned to lead the way past the front room, to the living room at the back of the house, saying over his shoulder, "I've just put the kettle on. I wasn't expecting you until Sunday."

"It is Sunday, Uncle Gaius."

"Yes, yes. I know. Well, what a wonderful surprise." Once he was in the living room he turned.

"Leave your pack by the coat rack and take a seat. I won't be a moment," he said, before going through to the tiny kitchen beyond.

Merlin shrugged himself free of his rucksack, swinging it down and laying it on the bottom three steps of the steep staircase that climbed the width of the house, to prevent it from entirely blocking the passageway.

The living room was smaller than he remembered. A square dining table that would seat four if it were pulled away from the wall occupied most of the alcove under the stairs. But the room was dominated by an easy chair set facing the cast iron fireplace, where a pile of coal smouldered sluggishly. There was no television set, although there was a very nice, old fashioned hi-fi system on top of the dark Victorian sideboard against the wall opposite the fire.

From the kitchen, Gaius called, "How long has it been since I've seen you?"

"Four years," Merlin replied. "You came for Christmas."

Gaius reappeared with a teapot cradled in both hands. "Yes, I suppose it must be." He shuffled over to put it down on the table. As he turned to go back to the kitchen, he shot Merlin a sly grin. "Although if I remember rightly, I didn't see much of you then. You were always off with your friend, Will. I think your mother was lucky you stayed in on Christmas Day."

Shamefaced, Merlin shrugged. He didn't remember, but it seemed likely. "Sorry?" he said.

Gaius reappeared with two mugs, a sugar bowl and a plastic milk bottle on a tray. "You were young," he said, putting the tray down next to the teapot. He collapsed into one of the two accessible dining chairs. "Sit down, sit down. How is Will? He was a bright lad, as I remember."

Bending his head under the slope of the ceiling under the stairs, Merlin took the second chair. "He's in London now. A journalist at the Daily News. On his way to being their top reporter, according to him."

Gaius picked up the teapot. "And you?" he asked as he began to pour. "Your mother said you got a job at Mercia Chemicals, straight out of York?"

Merlin grimaced ruefully. "I did."

"Hmm. What happened?"

"Umm…" Gaius's right eyebrow rose and Merlin sighed. "They were trying to find a way to synthesise..." He paused. "Well, it's still in development, so I probably shouldn't say. And, um, it sort of worked, but only when I was there." Off Gaius's look he sat back as far as he could without cracking his head and held up his hands defensively. "Honestly, I didn't know. I thought it was supposed to be like that. It was only when Dr Franc took me aside and started asking what I was doing that I twigged."

Gaius poured milk into his mug. "I have a book that might be of use to you," he said. "I picked it up last year and was going to send it to you for your birthday. A collection of spells and remedies." He added a teaspoon of sugar and gave it a stir. I can see what they're supposed to do, but I can't tell if they'll work." He frowned across at Merlin. "You have this talent, but you've never, as far as I know, attempted to train or harness it. Your mum talked a lot, that Christmas." Taking a sip of tea, he sighed. "I'll dig it out before supper," he said and put his mug down. "So after the incident in the lab, what happened? You left Mercia Chemicals?"

"It seemed best."

"Quite right, my boy."

"But now I'm unemployed and I don't think they'll give me a good reference."

"Hmm... Well, there are still jobs in Camelot, I suppose. But we can't have you idle." A slow smile curved Gaius's mouth. "I'll tell you what," he said. "You can come into the museum with me in the meantime. Just until you find something else. There's always plenty to do and another pair of young hands will be useful."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "I thought the museum was closed for the redevelopment."

Gaius shrugged. "Yes, well, I suppose it is. Mostly. It's all a huge disturbance. But that doesn't mean the mundane work stops. The collections still have to be cared for in storage. We had to move them out so fast, it's a wonder some of them survived the upheaval."

***

It was just after 8:30 the next morning when Gaius and Merlin walked up the wide front path of The Pendragon Memorial Museum, known locally as Pendragon’s Folly. It occupied a prominent position on the corner of Market Street and Front Street and, even to the uninitiated, it was obvious that it had originally been intended as a railway station.

From Market Street, only the end wall of the original engine shed with its wide arched roof was visible. An area of different brick marked where the access for the tracks should have been and now played host to four large advertisement hoardings.

The entrance was in Front Street. Tacked onto the side of the engine shed, the imposing doors were shaded under a portico that jutted out from a building of mellow pink brick and richly carved stone work in the Victorian Gothic style. A shallow flight of seven steps half obscured by a wooden wheelchair ramp led up to the double doors. A number of the windows were blacked out and another large hording covered at least three of them on the first floor, proclaiming, 'Greenswood Building Contractors'. Next to that, a smaller one read, 'DuLac & Lott, Architects and Designers'.

"Most of this part of the building was supposed to be the Station Hotel," Gaius explained. "But that never happened, either."

He led the way up the path, turning right in front of the steps and around to a smaller entrance. From a large key ring he extracted from his pocket he used three separate keys to unlock the door, which he pushed open. Inside, he paused. "Huh, alarm's off," he said. "Gwen must have got in early."

While Gaius was relocking the door, Merlin looked around. They were standing in a large square room with mahogany and glass display cases ranged around all the walls and a glass topped display table in the middle. The upper walls were painted in eggshell blue and there was a large damp patch in one corner where a length of the fancy plaster cornicing that circled the rest of the room at the junction of wall and ceiling was missing. A varnished oak door in the opposite corner occupied the only other clear wall space.

"I remember this," he said.

"It was supposed to be the ticket office," Gaius explained. He walked across the room and opened the door, kicking a wooden wedge into place to hold it open. "And through here is the main entrance foyer for both the station and the hotel."

From the Ticket office doorway, two large arches blocked by plywood panels filled the wall immediately on their right. One had a display case parked in front of it. The other had a small, plain door inset into the plywood. "The Great Hall's through there," Gaius said.

Directly across the marble floor was the bottom of a sweeping staircase that took a few steps then turned and climbed up the opposite wall. It was guarded by a heavy marble balustrade supported on solid, turned marble uprights which continued when the staircase became a balcony running across the room above the inner glass doors of the main entrance. "And," he pointed at another door under the stairs, "that's the Ladies' Waiting Room. The Great Hall's been cleared. I'll show you around later. The office is up here. Come on." He crossed to the staircase and unhooked a silk rope that prevented access, laying it over the banister. "Time for tea first."

At the top of the stairs he paused next to a closed door. "There's a whole warren of rooms on both sides that we've never used," he said. "Most of them are damp. The dry ones on this side are the official stores." He turned and led the way along the wide balcony and paused in front of a pair of large double doors. "Since we cleared the Great Hall, we put some of the rooms over there to use," he said, pointing at a door facing them at the end of the balcony. "But this is my workroom."

They entered a large room that spanned the entire width of the foyer. "It was supposed to be the hotel reception," Gaius explained. "Kettle's over there," he added, pointing at a short kitchen unit against the wall.

Merlin took the hint and went to make tea, filling the kettle from the four litre plastic bottle standing next to it. A large, brown, potbellied teapot and a collection of mugs which, surprisingly, were clean stood waiting with the makings of tea and instant coffee. The kettle was still warm.

"Oh, here," Gaius said. Merlin turned around and Gaius opened his briefcase to extract a plastic bottle of milk.

Taking it with a nod, Merlin set about making tea in a single mug for Gaius and coffee for himself while Gaius went over to the huge desk at the far end of the room. He put his briefcase down and began rifling through a pile of envelopes that were stacked neatly on the corner of the desk.

Merlin took Gaius's tea across and put it down next to him. Gaius nodded his thanks, but he was reading, so Merlin retreated to the chair belonging to the only other desk, under the window, and looked around.

Apart from the two desks, the imposing Victorian monstrosity and the modern office cast-off, a round mahogany table with fours chairs occupied the middle of the floor and an ancient photocopier stood in the corner. Bookshelves lined the walls on either side of the door and behind Gaius's desk. Above them the ornate plaster moulding had been painted over so many times that little detail showed through. He drank his coffee.

The phone rang and Gaius picked it up. "Pendragon Memorial Museum," he said. He listened for a few moments and his shoulders slumped slightly. "Now?" he asked. He listened again. "It can't wait? No. Okay. Yes, I suppose so. Okay, yes, I'll see you soon."

He put the phone down and looked over at Merlin. "I'm sorry," he began, breaking off as the door opened and a young woman came in. She wore jeans and a bright yellow blouse that complemented her dark complexion and highlighted her bright eyes. She was carrying a mug.

Merlin got to his feet and Gaius said, "Ah, Gwen, good morning. The kettle's boiled if you want a cup." He waved a hand in Merlin's direction. "This is my nephew, Merlin. He's going to be helping me with the collections for a few weeks, just until he finds a job." Merlin offered her a little wave and a smile in greeting.

"Thanks, but I've just had one," she said, heading across to the counter and putting her mug down. She nodded at Merlin. "Hi, I'm Gwen."

Gaius hum'd, and said, "I was planning to show him around, but it appears I've been summoned up to the Town Hall for some reason. I wonder if I could impose upon you instead? "

"Is anything wrong?" Merlin asked.

"No, no, I don't think so," Gaius said.

Gwen smiled at Merlin. "Of course," she said. "It would be a pleasure." She went over to the big desk, opened a drawer and took something out, shoving it in her pocket. Coming back to Merlin, she bounced, swinging her arms loosely at her sides while she shifting her weight from the balls of her feet to her toes and back again. "Come with me" she said in an exaggeratedly mysterious voice, "and I will show you all the wonders of Pendragon's Folly."

Merlin laughed. "Thanks," he said. "That'd be great." He looked across at Gaius, who made a shooing motion with his arms, so he followed Gwen out to the balcony where she had paused to look down over the foyer.

"Are you a curator here, too?" Merlin asked, coming to stand beside her.

Gwen shook her head with a laugh. "No, I run the Museum Club," she said.

"Oh wow! Really? I used to be in that. I loved coming here on a Saturday morning, when I was five or six. You run it?"

"Yeah, I have a couple of volunteers who help sometimes, but I'm the only paid member of staff, so I organise it." The warmth with which she spoke was very attractive and she looked up into his face with a ready smile. "If you were a member, you know what it is," she said, but continued without giving him time to say anything. "We try to keep the kids off the streets and out of their parents' hair." She laughed again, a self-deprecating sound. "And hopefully encourage some education into their heads. I do the school visits and things like that, too. And, well everyone who works here, they sort of end up doing anything to help." She glanced sideways at Merlin from under her lashes. "Although there are only two of us now, so…" She shrugged and smiled. Smiling seemed to be her default expression.

"Is that because the museum's closed?"

She blinked. "But it isn't. We still have the use of the Foyer and the Ticket Office and the Ladies' Waiting Room." She looked around. "And a couple of offices. And the store rooms above the LWR. That's where the Museum Club meets. In the Ladies' Waiting Room, I mean, not in the stores. That wouldn't be safe." She paused for breath and her tone changed. "At least we'll meet there for a few more months."

"And then what?"

"Well, then we'll have to close, I suppose. But since that's when my contract's up and the Council have withdrawn funding, I imagine it'll all be on hold until the museum opens properly again."

"Gaius didn't say anything about the Council withdrawing funding," Merlin said. "Why would they do that when they're spending all this money?" He twisted around, indicating the displays below them and the whole building beyond the blocked in arches.

"Oh, no," Gwen explained. "It isn't the Council who're paying for the redevelopment."

Merlin turned to look at her and she nodded. "Okay, look, the redevelopment is funded by a grant from the Pendragon Company. I guess Mr Pendragon thought it would be good to re-establish the family connection. The Council doesn't own the Museum. It's owned and run by a Trust. My salary comes from the Council through a special, educational support grant. But with the spending cuts..." she shrugged. "I knew last year that they wouldn't be renewing it." Merlin wrinkled his brow in sympathy and Gwen shrugged again. "Way of the modern world of work," she said.

Taking a deep breath, she slapped both hands down on the balcony rail. "But we're doing the tour. What do you know about Pendragon's Folly?"

"Not much. Bits and pieces. I assume it was built by a Pendragon?"

"Yeah, well, Pendragon's factory closed down years ago. I don't even think there are any Pendragons left in town." She braced herself against the rail. "Okay, so, the unofficial, official version." Taking on the tone of monotonous cheerfulness employed by tour guides everywhere, she said, "If you would look across to the arches opposite; above the one on the right you will see a bust of the man who built this edifice, Mr Thomas Jonas Pendragon, of Pendragon and Burnt, manufacturers of quality paintbrushes, principal citizen and employer of the market town of Camelot, circa 1850. A man of great vision who was, unfortunately for him, way ahead of his time." Merlin looked at the arch containing the temporary door into the Great Hall and on a plinth above it he could make out a marble bust.

"And that one," Gwen said, pointing at another bust above the other arch, "is Prince Albert. I think Thomas had hopes the Prince Consort would come and open the station. Didn't happen." She glanced slyly up at him from the corner of her eyes. "The Pendragon Memorial Museum opened in 1882 to display the Pendragon collection of vehicles of various sorts to a wondering public. Over the years, other worthy residents of the town added to the collections and by the seventies, the 1970s that is, it had become the charming hodgepodge of random and unconnected memorabilia you see today." She turned on the spot with her arms spread wide from her sides. "Or not," she added, "since most of it's in storage at the moment."

By unspoken agreement, they started walking towards the stairs. "Mr Pendragon had delusions of grandeur," Gwen said. "Before the iron came, as they say, as if it hadn't been there in the hills all the time, Camelot was just a small market town. Pendragon and Burnt made artists' paintbrushes. But Mr Pendragon bought into one of the first mines and made a fortune. He thought the town would become more important than it did, so he invested in a railway station fit for a king. Unfortunately, he was alone in his vision and couldn't raise the political clout to force Lord Bayard, the local landowner, to allow passage of a railway through his land. On top of that, Camelot is probably the only town in England that every other railway company ignored. Even while they were building stations for two cottage hamlets, everywhere else. And since, as you know, we have a perfectly functional and much more modest station behind the Town Hall, when the railway did arrive, it wasn't into Market Street." She scrunched up her nose and smiled up at him. "Which is just as well, since the town grew out in this direction and the railway would have got in the way."

They had reached the turn of the stairs by this time and paused. "In the 1870s the son of the family used part of it as a stable and coach house. That was when the Pendragon family still lived in the town centre. Pendragon House was burnt down during the war." She started down the last few stairs. "Anyway, when the young man was killed in the first Boer War, his distraught parents donated the entire place, with all of its contents, to be a museum and named in his memory." She paused and looked around the foyer with a fond smile. "It's a magical place," she said, "and it really deserves to be done up."

"I'm not sure Uncle Gaius agrees. He seems to dislike the whole business."

She glanced back at him. "But it was your Uncle Gaius who had the idea of applying to Pendragon's for a grant," she said. "It's true that the Board of Trustees are in charge of the project, and they mostly keep Gaius out of it. Or he keeps himself out of it." Her brow furrowed. "I don't think he's even been to the designers' place. That's Dulac and Lott. They have an office on Market Square. One of those tall, thin, brick buildings with the big bay windows." They started walking again. "But he's planning what's going to go into the new galleries. I've heard him on the phone to the Treasurer. He says The Board want to get rid of the entire mediaeval period and make the Museum interactive and relevant." She grinned. "He gets quite heated. I think he'll win, though. He loves this place."

"You agree with him? About the interactive idea?"

"I think there's room for the old stuff and the learning tools. Come on. This way." Pulling a key out of her pocket, she held it up for him to see. "Gaius says we've always had problems with the Great Hall. Half of it was blocked off years ago and rented out. The rent paid for most of the upkeep, but that's been cleared, so apart from the redevelopment grant we only have the original endowment now and that's not worth much."

She unlocked the temporary door and they stepped through.

Once inside Merlin gazed around in awe. "I don't remember it being like this," he said. "It's fantastic!"

"There used to be a false ceiling," Gwen explained. "It was put in in the sixties, because the space is just so big. We had a real rush to get the objects cleared out, then the builders came in and the false ceiling and the wall were down before we knew it." She looked around. "That was six months ago."

From where they were standing, the original intention for the building was even more obvious. Two rows of cast iron pillars supported the arched roof over a wide floor and the centre line of the roof was glazed, filling the space with natural light.

Gwen pointed out a dusty line on the floor. "You can see where the wall was." It cut across the width of the hall and would have reduced it by more than half. "Everything beyond there was rented by the Council, as a furniture and stationery store."

A door in the wall at the far end of the building opened and a man in a hard hat came in. He saw them and waved. Gwen waved back. "Hi, Leon," she called. Turning back to Merlin, she said, "That's Leon Degrance, he's the foreman on site."

Leon walked towards them. "Hello, Gwen," he said, when he was near enough to do so without shouting. "Where's your hard hat?"

"Oops, sorry." She grimaced. "We won't come in. I'm just showing Merlin around. This is Merlin. He's our new volunteer."

Leon reached them, smiled and shook Merlin's hand. "Hello," he said. "Nice to meet you."

"Hi," Merlin said. "This place is amazing. I never realised it was so big."

"It's pretty impressive, isn't it?" Leon agreed. "A lot of work, too. It's been badly neglected." He turned to Gwen. "Have you seen Lance?" he asked. "He and Gwaine were supposed to come down to inspect the most recent work."

"No, I've not seen them."

"Ah well, no doubt he'll find me when he's ready. You, however, really shouldn't be beyond that door without a hard hat and someone from my crew to accompany you. You know that."

"I do, I do. We're going. Honest. You didn't see us. Come on Merlin, let's get out of here before we cause an industrial accident." With an apologetic wave at Leon, she ducked through the door and Merlin followed.

Once back in the foyer, facing the main entrance, the grand marble staircase was to their right and opposite them were the large, glass inner doors that occupied the area under the balcony, with the outer doors visible beyond. The room was full of mismatched display cases. Some were painted in the garish colours of the seventies. Others were varnished oak or mahogany, obviously survivors from the original Victorian galleries.

"So, to the displays," Gwen said, "The foyer didn't used to have much in it. But we moved some display cases out of the Great Hall. Now it's our modern history gallery." She turned slowly on the spot, pointing at cases. "Tudor and Stuart, Georgian and finally Victorian Camelot."

"Nothing after that?"

"No room." She grinned. "We ran out of wall space. The natural history collection, Roman Camelot and some of the mining stuff are in the Ticket Office, where you came in. The High Kings period, the mediaeval excavation on North Road and the Early Modern Collection are in the Ladies Waiting Room. That's Gaius's pride and joy" She shrugged. "Well, you'll know that's his period."

"I didn't know he was still publishing."

"He's written a couple of guides to the collections and I know he has a book he's working on, but last time I asked he said all this had got in the way."

She led him across to the Ladies Waiting Room. "The only thing we moved in here," she said, her hand on the door knob, "were the Egyptian mummies." Once again her mischievous smile broke through. "The mummies were donated by the sister of Sir Frederick Compton-Blythe. He was an ex-colonial civil servant."

She tilted her head back, looked down her nose at Merlin and in a parody of a cut-glass accent explained, "He picked them up cheap from a shady sort of native chap on the banks of the Suez Canal, on his way home from twenty-five years' service to the Raj, don't ya know." Then she relaxed and in her normal voice continued, "Unfortunately, he died a month after getting home. She donated them to the museum, on condition that they remain permanently displayed, so we can't pack them away until the British Museum, or someone, can take them for conservation." She shrugged one shoulder and pushed the door open.

"Gaius used to have them stuck away in a dark corner of the Great Hall," she said pointing at a tall display case containing two vaguely human shaped bundles of rags, "But apart from them, the most valuable objects are here." She led him across the room to another glass topped table, set against the wall. "The pre-Saxon gold collection. It was found in a field near Lilebrook in the thirties." Under the glass, among a collection of pottery shards, glass beads and old coins were three gold arm bands inset with round stones and decorated with slightly tarnished enamel work, a large ring broach and the remains of two swords. The blades were pitted and almost rusted away, but the hilts were still whole. They looked like they were made of gold, too.

"Those are amazing," Merlin said, his voice soft with wonder.

"Aren't they just? There's more in the safe, but that's the cream of the collection. We can't display it all."

"Why not?"

"The insurance costs too much."

They stood in silence for a few minutes, while Merlin gazed at the intricate craftsmanship of the gold work. There was something about them that stirred him deep inside.

Eventually he became aware that Gwen was shifting from foot to foot, so he pulled himself away and turned to look at the rest of the room. A relief map of the local area covered the wall where the windows would be, with labelled dots marking the location of early settlements. Next to that was a stone cross, about four feet tall and carved with knotwork. On the other side of the room, more mahogany cases were crammed full of small domestic items.

"And that's it, really," Gwen said.

With one last look around, Merlin followed her back out into the foyer.

"There was so much more on display when we had the other galleries," she said. "The store rooms are packed. Come on, I'll show you."

When they started to climb the stairs again, Gwen resumed her tour leader role. "This was all supposed to be part of the hotel." They reached the top and she pointed to the door next to them. "The original stores," she said. "We'll come back here after you've seen the rest. Don't want to put you off."

She led him past Gaius's office and through the door at the end. Another door faced them across a wide corridor that stretched a short way to their left, before taking a right turn. "The collections we took off display are down there," she said. "That's where we're going next. This is my workroom. I'm sort of sharing it at the moment. With the architects." She might have been blushing. "I mean, I let them use the spare desk." She pushed open the door and Merlin followed her inside.

It was not a large room. Shelves along two walls were filled by cardboard boxes, plastic storage tubs, box files and a short length of ring binders. There was a desk in front of the window, which Merlin decided was Gwen's since, although it was obviously in use, it was neat and tidy. But what caught and held his eye was the other desk, which was occupied by a harassed looking young man, all long, dark hair and designer stubble.

He was talking on his mobile, but looked up and smiled when he saw them. He mouthed a 'Hello', to Gwen, before returning his attention to his conversation. "Ask Gaius? Do you really think–? Okay, okay, yes. Yes, I'll ask Gaius and I'll ask Gwen. In fact, I'll ask anyone you like." He laughed. "Yes, he's here, too. He's on site with Leon. Yes, I'll see you soon. About ten thirty, I hope. Yes. Okay," before finally adding a more decisive, "Goodbye, Morgana," although there was a fond smile on his face as he said it.

He put the phone down and grinned at them. "The very woman," he said, spreading his arms wide and standing up, as if he was about to come around the desk and embrace Gwen.

She pretended to hide behind Merlin. "You can ask your question in a minute, Gwaine," she said. "First, this is Merlin. He's going to be helping Gaius for a while."

Gwaine's attention switched to Merlin and he did walk around the edge of the desk with his hand out. "Welcome to Pendragon's Folly," he said, shaking Merlin's hand. "Although I shouldn't call it that and I'd get into trouble with Morgana if she heard me. I'm Gwaine, one half of Dulac and Lott, Architects and Interior Designers. It's good to meet you."

"And you," Merlin said, rescuing his hand and stepping back a pace. "You're busy though."

"Busy?" Gwaine asked. He sounded confused by the concept.

"You had a question," Merlin said, "From Morgana. For Gwen."

"Oh. Oh yes." He turned to Gwen. "Gwen, Gwen, most wonderful and beautiful of women…" Gwen frowned at him, but there was laughter her eyes. "Have you seen our latest invoice?" he asked. "Morgana swears she sent it to Gaius last week and she wants to check he got it, because Cedric's denying all knowledge." He looked at Merlin. "I don't know why she insists on posting it, when Lance is here almost every day. It's as if she doesn't trust us."

"She doesn't," Gwen said. "I don't know why she trusts Gaius to deal with it, either."

"She always says he ought to see them before he hands them on."

"Yeah, I know, but he doesn't look at them. And no, I haven't seen it, but I promise I'll check before lunch and make sure it's not sitting in his in-tray. Okay?"

"More than I could hope for," he assured her. He would probably have said more, but his phone rang and he pounced on it. Gwen raised her hand as she backed towards the door and he waved back.

Merlin followed Gwen, taking a deep breath once the door was safely shut with them on the outside. "Is he always–?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," Gwen said. "But it's just his way. He's madly in love with his equally crazy girlfriend."

"Morgana?" Merlin guessed.

"Goodness, no! Elaine. Morgana's the office manager at Dulac and Lott. She keeps them afloat, while Lance and Gwaine do the creative stuff. Come on, I'll show you the new stores first and then the old ones. If you're working for Gaius you'll be spending a lot of time in them."

***

"Did Gwen show you around?" Gaius asked, spooning macaroni cheese onto a plate that evening.

"Yes, she showed me the whole place. The store rooms are pretty full, aren't they? And there're more of them than I expected."

"Yes, well, with the galleries emptied… But we do need to do a proper inventory. All the big objects are off site, but everything else that came off display is in the rooms along the corridor past Gwen's workroom. They're all properly packed away, as you saw. Then there are the rooms above the Ladies Waiting Room and beyond. That corridor extends over the old hotel kitchens and the ballroom, where we used to have our domestic life displays. We can't get into those galleries at the moment. The back stairs are unsafe and the only other entrance is from the Great Hall." He reached across the table and handed Merlin the plate he had filled. "There are things in those stores that probably haven't been looked at since they were donated," he said, spooning pasta onto his own plate. "I'm pretty sure there's a lot of rubbish that we might want to dispose of, if the trustees will agree. I'm hoping that the worst was never accessioned."

"Accessioned?"

Gaius paused in his task and rested the pan on the table. "Formally entered into the collections," he explained, "with a number recorded in the register. If there are things that were never accessioned, we can get rid of them with no red tape." He frowned. "Or we can accession them properly." He started spooning again. "I've put together a disposal policy that I'd hoped to take to The Board for their next meeting."

He tipped the last of the macaroni cheese onto his plate and dumped the pan on the edge of the table out of his way. A bit too close to the edge. Merlin saw it tip and the potential for cheese sauce all over Gaius's carpet.

Then it stopped, frozen at an acute angle. Merlin reached out, took hold of the handle and put the pan back squarely on the table top.

"Does your mother let you do magic at the table?" Gaius asked.

"Um… She doesn't mind, as long as I'm careful not to be seen."

Gaius turned his head and looked towards the window with its net curtains and the faint view beyond of the bedroom windows of one of the big houses on Milton Avenue across the back alley. "Hmm," he said. "Remember that when the light is on in here and it's dark outside, those nets don't stop anyone seeing in. Probably best if you abstain, my boy."

Merlin nodded and Gaius smiled. "But you do seem to have acquired more control than I remember and thank you for saving my carpet," he added.

Merlin smiled back and started to shovelling macaroni into his mouth. "This is good," he mumbled.

"All out of a packet," Gaius admitted. "What did you do with the rest of your day, after Gwen had shown you around? I'm sorry I was called away."

"It's okay. I helped Gwen with a school group and then I went for a walk around town, just to remind myself where everything is. Then I came back here and had a look through the book you gave me. It's pretty amazing."

"Good," Gaius said, looking pleased. "I hoped it might be helpful."

"Where did you find it?"

"An antiquarian book shop in London. I'd heard of it, but it took me a few years to locate a copy."

They both concentrated on eating, but after a while Merlin looked up. "Gwen said it was your idea to apply to Pendragon's for the grant." he said.

"It was. I thought it was a long-shot. I didn't even know if Uther had ever been to the museum. But the leaks in the roof were getting worse and we couldn't cover it. If it hadn't been for that grant... Well, I choose to think of him as our saviour." He caught Merlin's eye and Merlin couldn't tell if the twist of his lips was a smile, or not. "I only asked for a few thousand," he said. "It was Uther who decided that if the job was going to be done, it might as well be done properly. The next thing I knew, The Board were talking about interactive education centres and we had to close the Great Hall." This time the smile was mildly self-mocking. "But thankfully, the Board also decided to bring in Lance and Gwaine to do the hard work. I'm much better with the collections than all that design stuff." He pushed his plate away and sat back in his chair. "Tea?" he asked.

"I'll do it," Merlin said, getting up and collecting the dirty plates.

"It's good to see Uther taking an interest, though," Gaius said. "He's been invited to become a Trustee. That's why I had to go up to the Town Hall. The Chair's called a special meeting, tomorrow evening, and he's coming up for it. She wants me there."

***

After lunch the next day, Gaius began to initiate Merlin into the proper care and recording of museum objects. Pulling a storage box down off a shelf in his office, he placed it on the round table and removed the lid. "These Roman pot shards," he said, carefully lifting out an object and peeling aside the tissue paper it was wrapped in, "were excavated from a single site and donated to the museum shortly after I started working here." The object he finally exposed was an uninspiring, curved lump of pottery. He turned it over to show Merlin a number painted in tiny, neat writing on the underside. "That's an accession number," he said. "Each object has a unique number that is listed in the Accessions Register. We paint them on so they can't get lost."

Rewrapping the pot shard, he put it back in its box and replaced the lid. "Come on," he said. "We'll go through to the new stores and I'll show you how things should be kept when they're not on display. Put this back on the shelf, would you?"

Merlin took the box and placed it back where Gaius had taken it from. As he turned to follow Gaius from the room, he glanced out of the window. A large black car was in the act of pulling up at the curb outside. "Uncle Gaius?" he asked. "Are you expecting a visit from the Queen?"

Gaius came over, just as the chauffeur got out the car and walked around the back to open the passenger door.

Gaius took one look and crossed to the door. "No, but he might be the next best thing to royalty," he said over his shoulder as he left the room.

Curiosity piqued, Merlin followed.

By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, Gaius not being particularly nimble, three men were standing just inside the glass doors, looking around appraisingly. One was older and was clearly the boss. He was not unusually tall, but he dominated his company. His grey pinstripe suit was in no way drab. It made him look distinguished and stylish at the same time, and he wore it like armour.

The other two were young. They were much of a height, but where one was black, solidly built and bald, the other was slighter and blond.

The older man's eyes swept across the upper walls first before descending to ground level and fixing on Gaius. "Ah, Gaius, my old friend," he said. "There you are."

The other two stood back in respectful attendance.

"Uther," Gaius said, going over to greet their visitor properly. Uther Pendragon met him half way with his hand out and they shook.

Merlin stayed on the turn of the stairs, leaning against the balustrade and curious to see the man who was rescuing the museum.

"It's good to see you again," Uther said flinging his arm around Gaius's shoulders.

Beside him Gaius appeared diminished in both authority and vitality. Just watching Uther from across the room made Merlin, himself, feel gangling and awkward in a way he thought he had outgrown when he left school.

Gaius's voice was quieter, calmer, almost cautious. "And you too, Uther."

"Show me what you've done with my money," Uther said, drawing back and looking around again. "I came up early so I could see the progress."

"There's not much to see, yet," Gaius said. "Your people have stripped the interior and begun the repairs, but we've hardly started on the conceptual plans. It's just a shell."

"Show me anyway. If what my foreman says is right, and I'm sure it is, the restoration work on the fabric will take some time. This entrance is wonderful. The marble, the carved stonework. A wonderful introduction to the building."

"This is the only part that's still open to the public," Gaius explained." We've concentrated our best exhibits here, as you can see. Mostly things with local significance. Let me show you this: it's an original 1825 box of Pendragon paints and artists' brushes." He started to lead the way over to one of the display cases against the wall, but Uther didn't follow.

"Maybe later," Uther said, with a small, dismissive gesture. "First show me the Main Hall and tell me about your project. I've been too busy to follow it as I would have liked." He paused and clapped his hands together, emphasising the punctuation. "But that is a thing of the past. I'm very interested in what you're doing. I haven't seen this place since I was a scrubby schoolboy, but even from the outside I could see it has great potential."

Merlin retreated up the stairs, but he paused again at the top to watch. Uther raised his hand and, without looking over his shoulder, crooked his fingers in a 'come here' gesture. One of his attendants, the blond one, stepped forward. He was, Merlin guessed, a few years older than Merlin himself and there was something intangible in his bearing that suggested he had modelled himself on his boss.

Uther said something and Gaius's face lit up. He took half a step forward, both arms rising slightly, but he hesitated and they merely shook hands.

Merlin watched the three of them talk for a few moments and then Gaius turned and led Uther and his entourage through the partition door into the Great Hall. Merlin didn't see any of them again for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

"How was the Board meeting?" Merlin asked. He was concentrating more on making Gaius's breakfast pot of tea than on conversation, but something in the quality of Gaius's silence caused him look around. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Gaius sighed and stirred the porridge. "It was," he said thoughtfully, "surprising. The Chair stood down."

Merlin blinked. "Oh," he said. "Right." He reached for a mug and spooned coffee granules into it. "So what happens now? And did he say why?"

"She," Gaius said. "And no. Or yes. She said that other commitments were making it impossible for her to give the amount of time she would wish to the project."

The kettle boiled. "Okay. So…?" Merlin asked, pouring water into both the pot and his mug.

"As her last act, she asked for nominations. Councillor Ann Hodge nominated Colin Banks, the headmaster, you know?" Merlin nodded although he hadn't known. "Cedric Griggs, the solicitor, nominated Uther Pendragon."

Squeezing around Gaius to reach the fridge, Merlin pulled out the milk. "Wow!" he said. "Uther Pendragon? Wasn't it his first meeting?" Gaius nodded. "So who got voted in?"

The twist of Gaius's lips could have been a smile. "Uther," he said.

"Wow again." Merlin frowned as he poured milk into the little breakfast jug. He carried the jug and teapot into the living room and set them on the table. "Isn't there a conflict of interest there?" he asked, coming back for his coffee cup. "What with him being the donor?"

"Apparently not," Gaius said. "Pass me two bowls, would you? I think Cedric's reasoning was that he would be more likely to insist on value for money, because it is his money."

"Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense. So… Is it a good thing? That Uther's in charge now?"

Gaius gave the porridge a last stir and poured it into the bowls Merlin set down on the counter next to him. "I don't know," he said. "I think so. He's a shrewd businessman. When he inherited Pendragon's, twenty-five years ago, it was a small and not hugely profitable provincial company. He's put it on a national footing."

Taking the bowls, while Gaius put the pan in the sink, Merlin asked, "What do they do?"

"Mostly property," Gaius said. He took a last look around the kitchen and followed Merlin through to the table. "It's not a big company. It wouldn't be in the FTSE100, even if it was listed. When he took over it was still a manufacturing business, but he purged it of its deadwood and reduced the range of its operations. Then he began to expand again." He sat down, reached for the sugar and dumped a spoonful into the middle of the porridge in his bowl. "Now it's flourishing and he runs it as his private kingdom. There's even a prince standing by to inherit." He looked up at Merlin and this time his smile was definitely genuine. "Arthur. He was the young man with Uther, yesterday. Although he didn't attend the Board Meeting."

Merlin cocked his head. "You talk like you really know them," he said. "You were friends? Only, when you met him you seemed, I don't know..." He trailed off.

"I did. Know them," Gaius said placidly. "I worked for Uther in the early years. I haven't seen Arthur since he went off to school, though. He's turned into a fine young man."

Merlin picked up his spoon and stirred the porridge in his bowl. "You worked for Pendragons? I didn't know that. How come I didn't know that?"

"There are lots of things about me you don't know," Gaius said. "And no reason why you should. I worked for his father, too."

Pausing with his spoon halfway to his mouth, Merlin asked, "Oh, um, you weren't… I mean… He didn't sack you, did he?"

Gaius raised an affronted eyebrow. "Sack me? Good heavens, no. What makes you think such a thing?"

"Um… Well, you said he'd got rid of a lot of people."

"Ha! And you thought I was one of those – a bit of deadwood?" Gaius's disapproval was more mock than real, so Merlin shrugged apologetically and began to eat.

"I don't know whether to be touched by your concern," Gaius said, "or insulted by the question."

Swallowing, Merlin grinned. "The first one," he suggested. "Definitely the first one."

"Hmm," Gaius said, dubiously. "No, I kept my job. I was actually his Personnel Manager for eighteen years. But I was never ambitious like Uther. Once I'd saved enough to live on in my modest way, I left." He ate for a while in silence, but as he spooned up the last of his porridge he said, "I wasn't sure he'd ever forgive me. For leaving. Thankfully, I was wrong."

Merlin took his bowl from him, stacked it in his own and put them aside while Gaius moved the toast nearer.

"I'm sure he'll have an invigorating effect on the Board," Gaius said, handing Merlin a plate. "He spoke of getting someone from the company to come in on a full-time basis as a proper project manager and I think he's right." Scooping butter onto his knife, he spread it on a slice of toast. "I've become slack in my comfortable existence and haven't been paying enough attention, or lobbying them for enough details. Leaving it to The Board to oversee the project was a mistake. I used to be so business-like too." He grimaced and shrugged. "But I really didn't want to get sucked back into all that wheeling and dealing. It'll be good to have someone who knows how things are done in this electronic age. I have to admit, I am a trifle concerned about the budget."

"How much do we have," Merlin asked. "I mean, how much has the project spent so far?"

"There was a report to The Board last night," Gaius said. "Prepared by Cedric Griggs. He's the Treasurer you know. It had lots of charts and graphs and coloured columns of figures and it seemed to suggest that the spend profile was following the projected curve."

"Do you have a copy?"

"Yes, here." Gaius dug around among a pile of papers on a corner of the table, pulled out a report marked with a large, red 'CONFIDENTIAL, NOT TO BE CIRCULATED FURTHER' at the top and handed it over.

Merlin looked through it while he ate his toast. When Gaius placed another slice on his plate, he smiled his thanks but continued to read while he spread butter and marmalade.

Eventually, he put the report down between them, folded open to the last page. "I don't know much about building works," he said, pointing at a table of figures, "but isn't this saying that more than 40% of the entire budget is already committed. Shouldn't there be more to show for it, if that's true?"

"I suppose, but the infrastructure was in a much poorer state than we anticipated, so the builders' contract is larger than planned. But you're right, of course. I'll have to have a word with Lance, I suppose. Make sure he's aware. Or maybe Gwaine, since he's the one who'll be working on the display designs. I haven't spoken to him for weeks."

Frowning thoughtfully, Merlin asked, "Do you have all the invoices?"

"Of course. At least, I have the ones for everything I've bought and I think I have Dulac and Lott's. Morgana always puts in two copies, so I usually keep one, in case the top copy gets lost in the internal post. I've had too many things go astray to trust the Council's postal system. The builders submit their invoices directly to The Board, which means, Cedric."

"I bet Dulac and Lott get copies, though. They're the architects for the project."

"They might. Yes, I think they do."

"Okay. Well, I have an idea. If someone's coming in to be the project manager, you need to be able to show them what's been spent to date. Something understandable, so you can talk to them."

***

When they reached the office, Merlin pulled his laptop out of his bag, put it on the spare desk in Gaius's workroom and booted it up.

With Gaius hovering behind him, he opened the Excel program he'd had since he was a student. He looked over his shoulder. "Do you have the invoices?" he asked.

Gaius left him to get a box file from the bookshelf by the door. "Here," he said, handing it over.

"These are copies of every one of your bills?" Gaius nodded. "Okay. Well, I don't think it would earn me any accountancy prizes, but the quickest way I know to find out what's been spent, is to add it all up."

Starting at the top of the box, he began a spreadsheet, recording the date of each invoice and the total amount. He inserted a sum to maintain a running total at the top of the sheet. After a while, when he saw similar items repeating, he added extra columns to categorise the spend as display materials, removals work, office consumables, collections management and conservation.

By the time he had finished, the total looked like a lot of money, but was only a small slice out of the entire project budget. "This is just what you've spent locally," he observed, "and some of it could come out of your recurrent funds, but I've put it all together. The biggest bit was relocating the displays to the foyer. Why didn't DuLac and Lott do that job?"

"It was before they were appointed."

"Right. The other big one is all the packaging materials you bought."

"Which the collections needed, to be properly stored when they came off display in such a hurry."

"Okay, what about the Dulac and Lott invoices?"

"They're not in the box?"

"No."

"Oh. So..." Gaius turned around on the spot, as if the missing invoices would declare themselves. "Where did I put them?" he asked himself. "Oh, yes, of course."

He began opening and closing drawers in his desk. "There they are," he said, pulling out a battered looking envelope file. "I knew I had them. I put them in here in case Cedric needed them, but he's never asked."

Merlin took the file from him and pulled out a bundle of papers. "This shouldn't take too long," he said.

At 11am he added the last Dulac and Lott invoice to a total that was larger, but still nowhere near being a threat to the entire budget. Gaius was digging through the papers on his desk, looking for any other invoices he might have mislaid, since there were a few gaps in the sequence, and Merlin started going through the entire pile again, adding additional notes to his spreadsheet.

"They're only copies," Gaius grumbled. "I sent the originals up to the Town Hall for Griggs to pay. I only kept the copies because Morgana sent them. There was no reason to do anything with them, other than shove them in that file. I don't know why they're not all there."

"Well, unless Gwaine and his partner haven't done any work since December, we're missing some," Merlin said as he inserted another blank column to accommodate subtotals.

There was a knock on the door and it opened. A man stuck his head around the edge. "Hi Gaius," he said. "Just to let you know I'm here."

Gaius dropped the papers he had been looking through and straightened up. "Lance! Hello," he said. "Come in, come in, we were just talking about you." He indicated Merlin, who raised a hand in greeting. "Oh, this is my nephew, Merlin. He's staying with me."

Lance came into the room and approached Merlin with a broad smile. "Hi. Gwaine said he'd met you. Is he keeping you busy?" he asked, nodding towards Gaius.

Merlin opened his mouth, but Gaius spoke first. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Lance." He must have seen something in Lance's face because he immediately elaborated. "No, no, I don't want you to give him a job. He wants to collate everything we've spent on the project and I don't seem to have all your invoices."

"I'll ask Morgana to send you copies," Lance said, "Which are you missing?"

"Apparently all of them since Christmas." Gaius shook his head. "And we wondered if you would let Merlin go through your copies of Greenswood's invoices?"

There was a momentary pause before Lance replied, "I would, but we don't get them."

"You don't?"

"No, we're not the project managers," he explained. "All their invoices go to Cedric Griggs. But if we did get copies of any of any of them, Morgana will have them." He ran a hand over his head to the back of his neck. "Actually, I'd be very relieved if someone took a proper look at the budget. I've been asking Cedric for weeks for a clear statement, but he's not given me one."

"Isn't it strange," Gaius asked, "that the invoices from the building contractor don't come through you?"

"Arrangements are different with every job," Lance said. He walked over to a chair and sat down. "We're a young firm. We're not yet in a position to dictate terms, but I've been concerned. I've worked long enough to know that expecting a committee to manage a project is a recipe for disaster. Especially a committee that only meets once a month."

Gaius's shoulders slumped at the word 'disaster' and Merlin cut in. "Do you have any financial information?" he asked.

Lance paused thoughtfully. "We have a copy of the contract," he said, "and we get copies of the QS reports."

"QS?"

"Quantity surveyors."

"Would I get anything from those?"

"You might, but probably not everything. And there are subcontractors' invoices we were instructed to send directly to Griggs."

With a sigh, Gaius said, "I suppose I'll have to go directly to Cedric then." He didn't look very happy about the idea. Turning back to Lance, he asked, "Would you mind if Merlin came up to Market Square and recorded the invoices you've sent to Cedric Griggs?" He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't want you to imagine I'm checking up on you."

Lance appeared surprised by the suggestion. "Oh, no, I didn't think that. He's more than welcome. Today?"

Gaius and Lance both looked at Merlin, who shrugged. "Sure. If that's okay. I could do that."

"Okay," Lance agreed. "I'll call Morgana on my way to my meeting with Leon." He checked his watch. "Which I am now late for. I'd better go; he wants me to inspect the work on the roof."

***

Market Square was more of a rectangle. It was a large cobbled area where the market set up each Thursday, bisected by a tarmacked road. On three sides it was lined by brick terraced houses with the bay windows Gwen had described on ground, first and second floors. Dormer windows stuck up from the tiled roofs. On the fourth side of the square stood the thoroughly modern town library, made of grey concrete and glass in the brutalist style of the 1950's. The road was not busy, but a steady stream of traffic flowed in each direction. Most of it obeyed the local 20mph limit, but the temptation to get up to 30, or even 40, appeared difficult for some drivers to resist.

It was almost three o'clock by the time Merlin pushed open the door next to the brass plaque that read 'Dulac and Lott, Architects' and went in. Inside, the small foyer was enclosed by a modern, glazed, inner door, beyond which the original entrance hall was tiled like a chessboard in alternating black and white and was dominated by a curved staircase, below which stood a reception desk.

"I've come to see Morgana," Merlin explained.

The receptionist smiled and picked up her telephone handset. "She said you were coming. Go on up. Top floor, the door on the left." Merlin nodded his thanks and went.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he was faced by three doors and he tapped lightly on the one on his left. It opened under the pressure, so he pushed it further and peeked around the edge.

The small office beyond was painted all in white with a pale brown carpet. The ceiling sloped down almost to the floor and in this awkward space, a woman sat at one of two desks that were set facing each other under the dormer window. She was talking on the phone, but beckoned him in, so he went and hovered awkwardly, trying not to appear as if he was listening to her conversation.

"No, I put it in the post yesterday," she said. "Yes, first class. You should have got it this morning. Well, I suppose if the office junior was late going to the post office. No, I'll check. Yes, certainly. No, if it doesn't arrive tomorrow... Yes, it will be. Absolutely. Yes... No, thank you. Good-bye." She put the phone down and looked up at Merlin with a sigh of exasperation. "They're so hopeless," she said. "The number of lies I tell for them. But Lance will have to sign that cheque today. We can't afford to lose McWilliams' goodwill as a supplier." She picked up a coffee mug. "You must be Merlin. Hi. Do you want a coffee?" she asked, getting to her feet. She waved at the empty desk. "Grab a seat."

She was an elegant woman, dressed in an emerald green blouse and grey trousers that looked tailored to fit. A matching jacket was slung around the back of her chair.

Merlin pulled out the chair belonging to the other desk and sat down. "Would love one," he said. "Thank you."

She took her mug over to a sink in the corner of the room and rinsed it out. "Lance warned me you'd be coming up," she said, pouring coffee from the jug of a large filter machine into her mug and into a second one.

"He said he was a bit concerned."

"He is?" she asked, laughing outright - a peal of notes that ran down the scale. "He's concerned because I told him to be." She held up one of the mugs. "Milk? Sugar?"

"No, not if it's real coffee. Black, please. Thank you."

"Much as I love them, neither Lance nor Gwaine are as interested in money as they should be," she said, "considering it's their company. They work hard. Lance is always in first in the morning. He comes in on Saturdays, too. But try to interest them in the business side?" She shook her head as she poured a dash of milk into one of the mugs. "I gave Lance an invoice to deliver once and it spent four days in his briefcase before I managed to rescue it and put it in the post." She grinned at him over her shoulder, inviting him to join her in her affectionate exasperation.

Merlin found himself smiling back. There was something about her that made it impossible not to. "I'm glad you're doing it," she said as she walked back across the room. "Working out what's been spent. I was thinking of trying to do something similar myself, but I don't have all the invoices, either." She set a mug of coffee on the desk in front of him. "I love the museum," she said, resuming her own seat. "I often pop in to eat my lunch with Gwen. And I help her with the Museum Club, most Saturdays."

"Uncle Gaius has asked me to do that too, so I'll probably see you there." Merlin smiled and hefted his bag onto the desk. "I'm not an accountant," he said, "but I know how to add up a load of numbers." He pulled out his laptop. "At least, I do if I have a computer to do the actual adding up. And if we're going to get a proper project manager, it seems like a good idea to know where we stand before he arrives."

"I cleared that desk for you when Lance rang," she said. "A proper project manager?" Merlin pulled out his mains lead and looked for a power point. "Underneath, at the side," she said.

Pushing his chair away, Merlin got down on his hands and knees, peered around until he spotted the socket set into the skirting board and forced the plug in. Crawling back out, he paused with his head above the edge of the desk. "Thanks," he said and got to his feet. "Yes, apparently Uther Pendragon has offered to send someone down to manage the project properly, instead of leaving it to the Board of Trustees."

"Has he? Well, that sounds like a good idea, I suppose. Do we know their name?"

"No, probably some poor sod who'd rather stay in London and do their real job, but with a bit of luck, they'll not make things worse."

"Let's hope not," she agreed. "All the invoices for the Museum are in the top drawer of that cabinet there, with a detailed breakdown clipped to the back of each." She waved a hand at the right most of a row of three filing cabinets. "Have at it and welcome. I'll be really interested to hear what you come up with, when you add it in with the rest."

"It's the Greenswood invoices I can't get at yet. Gaius is going to ask Cedric Griggs."

"Well, I hope you manage it. I have payroll to do today, but do ask if you can't find anything."

Merlin took a quick sip of his coffee and went to retrieve the contents of the top drawer of the filing cabinet.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in companionable silence. Merlin discovered that Morgana's copies of the DuLac and Lott invoices had a lot more detail than the copies Gaius had, so he deleted what he had already recorded for them and started that section of his spreadsheet again.

There were also new invoices from a couple of technical and shop-fitting companies that listed model construction. One mentioned thatching. "Excuse me, but do you know what this was for?" he asked, handing the invoice over the desks to Morgana.

She took it and glanced at the invoice from Lakeview Partners, and the covering one from Dulac and Lott. "Oh, that was a job Cedric had us commission," she said. "We engaged Lakeview to build a model of a mediaeval farmhouse. They're shop-fitters. There was a sample of thatching too. It was a one-off job. And we made a small commission on the deal." She shrugged. "The model was delivered to the town hall and we never heard anything else about it."

"Oh, right, thanks." Merlin took the paper back and added the cost to his spreadsheet, under the heading 'display design'.

At five, Morgana threw him out, since she was going home and he packed his laptop away.

"The office will be open from 8:30," she said as they walked down the stairs. "But whenever suits."

Laughing, Merlin shook his head. "I can promise it won't be 8:30." He opened the front door for her and bowed as she passed him. "I'll go into the museum first, Gaius wants to initiate me into the wonders of collections management," he said when he joined her on the pavement outside. "But I really want to do this, so I'll come up mid-morning, if that's okay?"

"Absolutely. I'll see you then."

He watched her walk away, before turning himself to head in the opposite direction and home.

***

Store room 131 was a mess. There was no other word for it. Merlin didn't need museum training to see that. Some wooden shelving along one wall was packed full of old cardboard boxes and there were more scattered across the floor. "This is the worst," Gaius said. "They were all like this when I arrived. Over the years I've managed to put some order into most of them. I've simply never managed to get to this one."

"So now that I'm here, you think it's a perfect place for me to start?" Merlin asked.

"Exactly, my boy. You're young and full of energy. You'll have it sorted out in no time. Come on, I'll show you what to do. Grab that one," he said, pointing at a large cardboard box near their feet. "And bring it through to the workroom."

Merlin picked up the box and carried it back to Gaius's workroom, where he set it on the round table and cautiously peeled back the flaps. Inside was what looked like a lump of dirty, old, cotton cloth.

Gingerly, he lifted it away to expose the dull gleam of brass. Mixed in with a couple of spectacles cases (containing wireframe glasses), three matchboxes (two empty), a toy car (vintage Rolls-Royce, two inches long), five nib pens (stained with black ink), half a dozen watercolour seascapes (of dubious quality) and a man's silk scarf (once white, with a short fringe) was a large brass compass. Merlin lifted it out and put it on the table next to the rest of the objects.

"That's a good haul to start with," Gaius observed. "Judging by the mixture, I doubt any of it was accessioned, but you need to be sure. The compass will be the easiest. Come over here and I'll show you where to start checking."

Three quarters of an hour later Merlin had worked his way through most of the first decade in the accessions register with no success, when a knock sounded on the door and provided a momentary break from deciphering ancient handwriting.

"Come in," Gaius called and the door opened to admit Arthur Pendragon, followed by the other young man Merlin had seen when Uther arrived.

"Dr Leech?" Arthur said, approaching Gaius. "It's good to see you again." He turned slightly to indicate his companion. "This is my colleague, Pell Arimath. I believe you are expecting us?"

"No," Gaius said cautiously. "I don't believe we were, although it's obviously a pleasure."

"Ah," Arthur said. "I'm sorry. It appears a message has gone astray. My father has asked me to act as his representative, to see if we can get this project back on track."

"On track?"

"Yes. I've read the most recent financial report and I am going to see Mr Griggs, this afternoon."

"You're the project manager?" Merlin blurted.

Arthur turned slowly to look down his nose at Merlin, although behind him his colleague appeared to be trying to smother a grin. "I am," he said. "And I believe it is an indication of the importance my father places on this project that he has asked me to manage it, at least until we have established some regular order."

Gaius rose and walked out from behind his desk to shake Arthur's hand warmly. "That's wonderful," he said.

Arthur glanced around the room again and Gaius added, "Oh, this is Merlin, he's helping me tidy up the store rooms, before we move the rest of the collections out."

Merlin got to his feet and Pell came over to shake his hand. Arthur stayed where he was, but offered Merlin a nod of acknowledgement.

"Shall we...?" Gaius asked, indicating the round table.

"Thank you. I'm very interested in your view of what still needs to be done," Arthur said as they took their seats.

Merlin turned back to his work and kept his head down, scanning the register entries while he listened to their conversation.

Arthur proved adept at drawing Gaius out. Within minutes Gaius was telling him all about the history of the redevelopment project and his vision for the museum and its collections. Arthur's questions were open ended and well placed, encouraging him to be expansive. Pell was mostly silent.

After describing his work, what the museum was like before most of it was turned into a building site and his own priorities when deciding whether to accept a donation to the collections from the occasional walk-in, Gaius said, "I'd like to make full use of the local strength in the collections. Get more of it on display. We have some wonderful objects that can really illuminate life in Camelot over a thousand years and more. Some of them are of national, even international importance."

Merlin glanced over his shoulder at them and saw that Arthur was sitting comfortably, but was watching Gaius with alert attention. Pell appeared to be taking notes.

Arthur cocked his head. "What's been preventing you?" he asked.

Gaius also looked relaxed. Merlin guessed that he was enjoying holding court on a subject he loved. He smiled ruefully. "Money, mostly. But also talent. Display is not my area of strength." Arthur made a politely disbelieving sound and Gaius shook his head. "It's true," he said. "At the moment there's a small band of loyal supporters, who love this place because it's quaint. They come because they know it, it's familiar, and they admire the Victorian display cases in the Ticket Office as much as the things they hold. I always worried that I could destroy that, without replacing it with anything better."

Arthur smiled sympathetically. "What is your area of strength?" he asked.

"I know the collections. And I know the story they could tell." Gaius's voice as firm with conviction. "Many of our older and more valuable objects are on display in the two side galleries, although many more are packed away. And we also have a fine collection of later items that have local significance, or illustrate the way the people of Camelot used to live. This compass, for example," he said, picking it up to demonstrate. "It has no number on it. It's not important in itself. It's not locally made. But it may well have belonged to someone significant. So, Merlin's looking for the donation records before we consider how it should be displayed, if it should be displayed." He put the compass down again and sat back in his chair. "Even if it were not that the building is being repaired, this money from your father will make a huge difference. We've never had enough in the budget to do more than muddle along. I've known for years that a proper inventory was needed, but it's slow going, working alone." Arthur glanced over at Merlin, who made a show of running his finger down the page to the bottom and turning to the next. "But I'm boring you," Gaius said.

Arthur's voice was polite, but Merlin could almost believe that he meant it when he said, "Not at all."

"I know I am," Gaius insisted. "Perhaps the best thing would be if you could see the things, themselves." He raised his voice slightly. "Merlin?"

Merlin had reached 1908 and still not seen the donation record of a brass compass. He looked up. "Yes?"

Turning back to Arthur and Pell, Gaius said, "I'm sure Merlin would be happy to give you the tour of the galleries that we didn't manage the other day. My legs, you understand, they're not what they were."

"Of course," Merlin said, getting to his feet.

Arthur smiled coolly. It certainly didn't reach his eyes. "If you'd be so kind," he said, pushing his chair back and standing.

"You've already seen the Great Hall?"

"Yes," Pell replied. "Leon took us through it yesterday."

Arthur thanked Gaius for his time and with a glance at Gaius, Merlin ushered them from the room.

Outside, they paused while Arthur had a short, quiet conversation with Pell. Merlin waited for them a few yards away, with his hands on the rail. When they joined him, Pell smiled. "I'm going to go and see Leon, again," he said, holding out his hand.

Merlin took it automatically and they shook. "Oh," he said. He glanced at Arthur. "Do you...?"

"No," Arthur said. "Please, if you don't mind, I'd be glad of a tour."

"Maybe you can show me around another time?" Pell suggested.

"Sure, yes, okay," Merlin agreed. He watched Pell leave, turning back to lean both hands on the balcony as Pell descended the stairs. Beside him Arthur mirrored his stance.

"Do you know the history?" Merlin asked.

"The history?"

"Of the building, how it was supposed to be the town's railway station, but the railway never reached it and it got turned into a museum?"

"With minimal alteration," Arthur said. "Yes, I know that story."

"Oh good. Because I'd need to get Gwen to do that bit. She knows it better than me and, well, tells it better too." Merlin rubbed his hands together. "So we'll just do a tour of the stores and galleries then."

He took Arthur into the new, tidy store rooms along the corridor above the Ticket Office first, before taking him to see Room 131, just to reinforce the points Gaius had made about how much work parts of the collections still needed. Arthur looked around and nodded while Merlin's repeated the things Gaius had explained to him. He seemed genuinely interested in the process of the inventory and of registering and caring for the objects.

"You like museums," Merlin observed.

Arthur appeared surprised by the comment. "I suppose I do," he said. "I like the idea that someone is looking after our history."

"I guess it must run in the family. The Museum was set up by a Pendragon and now your father's restoring it. Or did you talk him into it?"

Arthur laughed. "I didn't even know it existed until last week." They turned and left the room. As Merlin locked the door behind them, Arthur said, almost to himself, "It appears my father has at least one sentimental bone in his body."

Something in his voice made Merlin think that the idea had never occurred to him before and for some reason he felt impelled to break the mood. "Come and see the galleries," he said.

As they descended the stairs, he recounted some of what Gwen had told him about Thomas Pendragon and Arthur listened attentively.

They crossed to the Ticket Office and Arthur paused on the threshold. He looked around at the regimented display cases with their regularly spaced shelves full of fossilised shells, mineral samples, bits of mining equipment, birds' eggs and small stuffed animals. "Oh," he said, walking into the room.

Leaning over the glass topped table, he studied the tray of faded butterflies and shook his head, before moving on to consider a miner's helmet, lamp and tally token. "I suppose it does have a sort of period charm," he observed, "but it looks like someone emptied their junk box onto the shelves."

"This is good," Merlin said, pointing at a fossilised fish and a collection of Stone Age tools in the other side of the glass topped table. Arthur walked around to look. "The fossil was found in the cliffs above Rosebeck and the tools were discovered in the middle of the village green.

Arthur made a harrumphing noise and took a few steps towards the door. Taking the hint, Merlin led him out into the foyer. He appeared a little more interested in the Victorian objects and spent a good twenty seconds studying the Pendragon & Burnt Artists' Paint Box from all available angles.

"The Ladies Waiting Room is through here," Merlin said when he straightened up.

Inside the Ladies Waiting Room Arthur paused again, his expression alert, and he glanced around as if searching for something. His eyes fixed on the two mummies and he went over to look at them. "They're a long way from home," he observed.

Merlin laughed. "Yeah. They don't really fit in with the rest of the collections. Gaius says they're more trouble than they're worth."

"I'd have thought –"

"Not worth financially. Worth to the Museum. A Professor from Oxford came to see them and said they were deteriorating. Gaius had to spend a fortune on that climate controlled display case, to stop the rot, but it's not enough. Apparently they're pretty unique, as specimens. Most examples from that period were destroyed by grave robbers."

"So the museum has to look after them, but doesn't want them?"

"Yeah, not really. Gaius says they attract a few academics, but they need a lot of expensive care. He says they'd be better off as part of a bigger Egyptian collection. He has a plan about that."

Arthur nodded judiciously and continued walking around the edge of the room, but he came to a halt in front of the pre-Saxon case. He let out a soft sigh and bent to take a closer look at the gold armbands and the sword hilts. Merlin felt oddly disappointed. "Yeah, they're pretty special aren't they?" he said.

Arthur straightened. "Yes, they are," he said briskly. "The old hotel kitchens are beyond this wall?"

"Um... Oh, yeah. I think so. I haven't been through there. The domestic life displays were there, but we can't get in at the moment. The only safe access is through the Great Hall."

"Right," Arthur said. He turned on the spot. "Is that it then? Have we seen it all?"

"Yes, the carriages and the other big things from the Great Hall are stored in a warehouse on the Riverside Estate."

Arthur spun back to face him. "Owned or rented?" he asked.

"Er… rented, I think."

"I don't remember seeing anything about that in the financial report," Arthur said, more to himself than to Merlin.

Merlin decided to answer him, anyway. "No, nor do I," he agreed. Arthur shot him a sharp look. "Yes, I've read it," Merlin said. "Gaius showed it to me."

Arthur didn't pick that up. Instead he said, "I need a proper list of commitments. I'm seeing Griggs this afternoon, but so far no one seems to have any idea of the budget."

"I've, well, I've sort of started doing something on that," Merlin admitted. "I've been through Gaius's invoices and recorded it all. And I went to Dulac and Lott's office, yesterday, to see what they have. I'm going back today, to finish. But I think Cedric Griggs has most of it."

"How long have you worked here?" Arthur asked. "I suppose the Council pays your salary. I didn't see you listed in the project budget, either."

"I just started," Merlin said. He wasn't really sure why he didn't clarify his employment status.

"So did the Board give you the task of collating the expenditure, or was that Gaius?"

That brought Merlin up short. "Um… Well, I suppose it was me, really." Arthur's brows rose, so he added hurriedly, "But Gaius thought it was a good idea."

Arthur had stopped pacing and was regarding him through narrowed eyes. "You talked yourself into a job?" he asked. "I didn't have you pegged for such a go-getter."

Merlin wasn't sure if that was intended as a compliment, or not. It didn't feel like one.

***

When he arrived at DuLac & Lott's offices much later than he had intended, Morgana had gone out, but there was coffee in the pot. There was also a card propped against the kettle that read, "Merlin – help yourself to coffee. Back soon. M."

He had worked his way through another three invoices by the time she returned. Her entrance heralded by the sound of her footsteps running up the stairs and he swivelled in his chair to greet her.

He had been struck by her presence the day before, although she'd spent most of the afternoon with her head down and her glasses balanced on the end of her nose. That afternoon, as she swept into the room, she was a queen and there was no question but that everyone she met would bow before her. She paused in the doorway before she noticed him. Then, she caught his eye and the facade of regal aloofness shattered when she smiled with pleasure and Merlin found himself on his feet and walking across the room towards her. "Coffee?" he asked and veered towards the sink.

She shrugged her handbag down onto her desk and flopped into her chair, somehow still looking elegant as she did so. "Please," she replied.

Merlin squinted at her. "You look more carefree than you did yesterday."

"Yesterday I had payroll to run. Today, a cheque arrived in the post, which I have now banked, and I can relax in the knowledge that we can cover all our bills for a while."

"A cheque for the Museum?"

"No, another project we've almost finished. A country house near Blackthorn."

"I've not been out that way since I was a kid," Merlin said as he poured her coffee. "I remember climbing the Tor and having a picnic at the top."

She looked up. "I didn't know you're from around here."

"I'm not really. We lived with Uncle Gaius when I was very young. But we moved to Ealdor when I was seven."

Morgana picked up her handbag and pushed it into the bottom drawer of her desk. "Was it for work?" she asked. "What does your dad do?"

"No dad. Just my Mum." Merlin passed her her coffee, picked up his own mug and returned to the coffee machine to top it up. "She's a farmer and an agricultural consultant for DEFRA. She advises other farmers who want to switch to organic production."

Morgana laughed. "Well, that serves me right for thinking in stereotypes," she admitted. "What's your mum like?"

Sitting down again, Merlin leaned back in his chair and took a sip of coffee. "She's brilliant," he said.

There was something wistful in Morgana's expression when she observed, "And you love her."

"Of course."

Nodding, Morgana smiled. "Must be nice," she said.

Merlin put his mug down and sat up. "Oh, I'm sorry, umm...."

She shook her head. "It's okay," she said. "My mother died when I was very young. I don't really remember her." Merlin made a soft sound of sympathy, but she smiled again and sat back in her chair, propping her feet up on the corner of her desk. She waved her hand and the red stone in the ring on her left hand caught the light. In an airy, studied voice she said, "My father didn't want to know us, so I was raised by my Aunt Lucy. She lives in a cottage in the grounds of the old family estate."

Going for a lighter note, Merlin widened his eyes. "Family estate? Wow, that sounds impressive."

Morgana's grin was more natural when she replied, "Not so very impressive. And not even a family estate any more. It was sold to pay my grandfather's debts." She was twisting her ring around on her finger in a way that looked habitual. The mannerism seemed strangely out of character. "Some actor bought it ten years ago and never comes near the place. It's just outside Lilebrook."

"So, do you commute?" he asked.

"Oh, gods, no," she said. "I don't want a car. I have a flat here in town."

"It's a nice town."

"Yeah, it is. There are times I can't imagine living anywhere else." She sounded pensive again. "But, there are times when I just want to get out and go anywhere else. Just to be away."

"That's almost exactly what my friend Will said about Ealdor," Merlin agreed.

"And what did he do?"

"He's in London now."

"And you came here."

"Yeah, well. There's no work in Ealdor. I thought about going back to York. I was at university there. But I remember Camelot from being a kid. And Uncle Gaius is here, so it was easy." He laughed, slightly embarrassed, and tried to make a joke of it. "I'm all for an easy life."

Morgana allowed her feet to drop back down to the floor. "Here's to that," she agreed, pulling her chair in to her desk. "I hope it stays that way." Pushing her coffee mug away, she opened the top drawer of her desk. "I suppose I'd better get to work," she said. "Before the next crisis jumps out at me."

"Gwen said you keep this company afloat."

"I do my best. They don't always make it easy. But I suppose I enjoy the challenge." She smiled politely and asked, "How are you doing with your task?"

Merlin looked down at the invoice he was working from. "I've got to January already. I'll be out of your hair, soon."

"You're no trouble," she said, turning to her own work. She looked up again. "I'm expecting a pretty big invoice from one of the subcontractors on the display side, next week. But we send those straight through to Griggs and he pays them. I don't think you'll have a complete picture until you get his numbers added into the mix."

***

Merlin did finish going through Morgana's papers that day, so they had a total figure and far more detail about what the money had been spent on than before, but there were still big holes in their knowledge. He reported this to Gaius that evening and Gaius in turn told him about a meeting he'd had with Arthur Pendragon. Arthur was apparently not happy with Cedric Griggs and had promised that Griggs' papers would be delivered to the museum for Merlin to catalogue, within three days. In the meantime Merlin returned to museum work and spent Friday getting dirty in room 131.

***

On Saturday he met up with Gwen and Morgana to help Gwen run a Museum Club meeting for a group of fifteen children between the ages of six and ten. He didn't have to do much except sit at the back while they watched a video about geology followed by Gwen showing them the kinds of fossils that could be found in the area. After that, he wandered around admiring the pictures the kids had settled down to draw and did his best to answer their many questions.

Afterwards, he helped tidy up the mess.

"What do I do with these?" he asked, indicating a few pictures that had been left behind.

"I keep them for two weeks," Gwen said. "In case they meant to take them home, but forgot in the bid for freedom. If they're not claimed after that, they go in the bin."

"Right," he said and started to gather them together.

Gwen was carefully packing fossils away in a tray while Morgana chucked felt tip pens, pencils and crayons into two plastic toolboxes. Merlin rolled up the remains of the big roll of paper the children had been drawing on and leaned it against the wall next to the door.

Between them they dismantled the tables and stored them in the cupboard that had once been the ladies loo, along with the AV equipment.

They had just closed the door when a visitor entered the room. She was elderly, wore a tweed twinset and hat and had a string of pearls around her neck.

"Good morning, Miss Kay," Gwen said. "Isn't it a beautiful day?"

"It is very fine," the lady replied. She walked around the room, inspecting the exhibits, but not dwelling on them. It was as if she was simply checking they were all there. Pausing in front of the mummies, she studied them with more intensity, before moving on with a, "Hmm…"

Morgana picked up one of the trays of fossils. "I'll take these upstairs," she said.

Merlin was struggling to find the balance point on the roll of paper that would allow him to clamp it under his armpit, leaving his hands free for the boxes of crayons and pens. Gwen had just picked up the other tray of fossils, when the visitor spoke. "Will you introduce me to your friend, Miss Smith?"

When Gwen nodded, it almost looked like a bow. "Of course," she said. "This is Merlin. He's helping out here until something better comes along. Merlin, this is Miss Kay. She's a regular visitor."

Miss Kay's smile seemed genuinely friendly, although she had a stiff, old-fashioned manner. She was at least in her 70s and exhibited an air of gentility that carried with it a strong suggestion that she had never felt the need to question her rights or her place in society. "Finding a better thing does not necessarily require one to move," she said. Her gaze, while she studied him, was intense and slightly intimidating. "Merlin," she said, rolling the word across her tongue. "How appropriate. You are a presentable young man. I imagine they had you doing the meet and greet and the guided tour when the prince came to visit."

"Umm, sorry?" Merlin asked.

"I'll see you soon, Merlin," she said. "Destiny cannot be avoided. It has already arrived on your doorstep; you must look and you will see it."

"O-Kay," Merlin said, but he was already talking to her back.

She swept out of the room, pausing at the door to add, "It comes in its own time and it cannot be diverted."

Merlin looked back at Gwen, who smiled brightly. "Well, we'd best get these things packed away," she said.

When they reached the foyer, Miss Kay was nowhere to be seen and Merlin heaved a dramatic sigh. "She's…," he hesitated, "odd," he said.

"Odder than usual, today," Gwen agreed as they climbed the stairs. "She comes in fairly often, but she doesn't usually say much."

***

Uther did not visit again, although Gaius said he had called a few times with questions. Merlin had a couple of sightings of Arthur or Pell in the foyer. Arthur only ever spared him a brief smile and a nod of recognition, but Pell would usually pause to exchange greetings and polite observations on the weather. On one occasion they laboured through an entire five minutes discussing the performance of Camelot FC in the Championship, before they realised that neither of them really cared about professional football. On the whole Merlin had nothing to do with them and Arthur seemed to have forgotten his promise to extract Cedric Griggs' papers from him, for Merlin to collate. According to Pell he was holed up with Leon going through the structural plans and getting a picture of the work still required to bring the building up to spec.

"What's he like to work with?" Merlin asked. "And what do you do?"

Pell laughed. "The word you want is 'for'," he said. "Not 'with'." He shrugged. "He's all right. Can be a bit stiff. This job has come in on top of everything else he does, so I'm mostly running interference on the rest. As much as I can, anyway. He works hard. And he expects the same from those who work for him."

Merlin nodded. "Bit of a slave-driver, is he?" he asked, sympathetically. "He seems a bit..." he trailed off.

Pell paused to consider before he answered. "He's a good boss," he said, eventually. "I think he's probably a lot of fun, socially, but..." He shrugged again. "He's his father's son and there's a lot expected of him. Don't judge him too harshly until you get to know him." He looked at his watch and grinned. "But right now, I'm going to be late and that is not a good thing."

He hurried off and Merlin watched him disappear into the Great Hall, before he continued on his way up the stairs.

***

The Museum was open on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursday to Saturday, although Gaius explained that he usually went in on Wednesdays too. Wednesday was when the local paper published its situations vacant column, so Merlin stayed at home. During the rest of the week he became very familiar with room 131, spending hours with a clipboard and catalogue cards, going through the shelves, one after another.

Every accession number was recorded and he started keeping a list on his laptop, so he could identify which items in the collection he had located. For the first couple of days Gaius joined him, deciding how the objects should be packed for safety and preservation, and instructing Merlin in the proper procedures, but once he was confident that Merlin knew what he was doing, he left him to it.

Merlin rescued tea sets, photograph albums, horseshoes, old hand tools, glass fronted cases of stuffed birds and various obscure pieces of agricultural and mining machinery from the shelves and floor, and packed them away in clean, clearly labelled boxes, or parcelled them in bubble wrap and placed them in indexed spaces on the shelves. Most of the objects did have numbers, although some of them were almost illegible. Many did not. There was one corner where it seemed that objects had been received and unceremoniously dumped with no one ever coming back to complete the task of recording them. In some cases the original donation documents were stuffed in the boxes with the items. Merlin collected those together to file properly. Eventually the whole collection would have to be moved again, but he took pride in making sure Gaius would know what they were moving when that time came.

Gaius became quite excited about some of the things Merlin uncovered. A nineteenth century collection of coins was put aside to be valued and locked away in the safe at the town hall, as was an old box full of stamp albums. A child's hand, in pure white marble, that looked as if it had been broken from a large sculpture, was carefully examined before being sent away to the British Museum for dating, while photographs of a small Chinese vase and an ivory monkey were sent to the V&A for identification.

It was during his second week, when he was on his way to Gaius's office, that he saw Lance in the foyer below, opening the access door to the Great Hall. Merlin was still convinced that there should be more to show for the money spent. Without pausing to think of an excuse for wanting to see it, he called out, "Lance!" and when Lance looked up, he clattered down the stairs. "Can I come with you and have another look?" he asked.

Lance nodded. "Of course." He opened the plywood door and stepped through, took a couple of hard hats from a row of pegs just beyond and handed one to Merlin.

The Great Hall looked even bigger than it had the first time Merlin had seen it. "Wow!" he said, "This place is amazing. It really is."

Lance looked around. "Yes, there really is room for a whole street in here," he agreed. "This is a fantastic project, you know. The building's not in too bad a state, considering that a lot of it was out of sight and has been neglected for decades, but there's more than enough to keep it interesting. Gwaine's totally in his element, too. He's our interiors person. I tend to concentrate on the bricks and mortar." He smiled slightly. "He says the difficulty here is to break up the space without compromising the original architecture. Someone on the Board of this place suggested making a pathway, a single route through the displays."

"Like IKEA?" Merlin asked and Lance laughed.

"Yes, although I think they had something more like Jorvik in mind. He managed to talk them out of that, although it was difficult. The more recent ideas are much more imaginative." He broke off.

Merlin followed his gaze and saw Leon clambering down from a length of scaffolding against the far wall. "Ah, there's the man I need to talk to," Lance said and waved. "Leon!" he called. He turned briefly to Merlin. "Sorry, looks like duty calls."

"No problem," Merlin said, "I can let myself out." He took a last look around the walls, noting this time the areas of rust on the roof girders, the cracks in the upper walls and the broken glass in the skylight. The place where the edges of the platforms had been could be traced by a slight but significant difference in the level of the floor and the lino tiles that still covered the area of the 20th-century gallery space were dirty and peeling. But beyond that, the alternating yellow and red brick, the impressive span of the roof and the ornate cast iron pillars that supported it, were testament to the solidity and confidence of Victorian engineering and design.

He took his hard hat off and hung it back on its hook, before working the Yale lock on the door and letting himself out.

*****

In the time Merlin was not crawling around in the store rooms getting filthy, he continued to look for paid work. In spite of being a large town, compared to Ealdor, there were far fewer jobs than he had expected. Camelot suffered from being just outside comfortable commuting range to London and although it was both historic and surrounded by beautiful countryside, its economy appeared to have been badly hit by the recession.

During the afternoon of his third Wednesday in Camelot, he bought a copy of the Camelot Echo on his way back from the Job Centre and was in his room searching the situations vacant column, again, in the hope that he had missed its continuation. For all his staring there remained only four jobs that week, two of them part-time. He studied the other two; one was a receptionist at a tanning salon and the other was for a shop assistant in a shoe shop. Both would be flooded by applicants with actual experience of customer service.

He folded up the paper, turned to his laptop and began to consider the idea of moving to London. There was no question that Will would put him up until he found his feet, but he loved Camelot. It was where all his best childhood memories belonged. The place where every day stretched for ever and was filled with cowboys and Indians in the back alley, pirates across the cobbled sea and princes, knights and dragons on the patch of waste ground around the corner. It was the place where the sun shone every day, except when the snow lay deep enough to threaten the tops of his wellybobs. Coming back to the tiny house on Francis Street had been like coming home.

London was too big; he always felt smothered by its endless streets. In Camelot, he knew the Tor was only half an hour's bus ride away, even if he never went up there. Camelot gave him room to breathe, as Ealdor never really had.

He didn't hear the front door, and didn't realise the time until Gaius called up the stairs, "There's a letter here for you. It looks official."

Closing his laptop on a vacancy for a lab tech in a secondary school in Lambeth, he went to the top of the stairs. "Probably a rejection from Avalon Cosmetics," he said, as he climbed down. "That's the only one I sent off last week." Taking the envelope, he ripped it open. The first words of the first paragraph were, "Thank you for your application for the position of Assistant Technician at our Camelot site. I am sorry to inform you..." He didn't bother reading further, simply folded it and stuffed it back in its envelope. He'd look at it properly later. In the meantime, he relieved Gaius of the carrier bag of shopping he was holding and took it through to the kitchen to unpack. "At least they wrote back," he said. "I'll cook supper, if you point me at the ingredients. You want a cup of tea, before?"

"A cup of tea would be good," Gaius agreed, "but I have to go out again in an hour. There's another board meeting and I've been asked to attend. Tell you what," he said, digging in his pocket and pulling out his wallet. "I'll make the tea, if you'll run out to the chippy and get us both fish and chips?"

***

When his alarm went off the next morning, the house was quiet. Gaius had still been out when Merlin retreated to his own room to watch his season six Supernatural DVDs on his laptop and he'd fallen asleep without going back downstairs. He got up, dragged his tracksuit bottoms on, bundled up some clean clothes and made his way carefully down the steep staircase. After a wash and with the kettle on, he went back into the living room. It is only then that he noticed Gaius, asleep in his chair in front of the fireplace. A glass and a brandy bottle stood on the floor beside him.

Merlin retreated to the kitchen as quietly as he could.

With morning tea drunk and Gaius washed and changed into fresh clothes, Merlin put a large bowl of porridge in front of him and sat down with his own. "You fell asleep downstairs," he observed as an icebreaker. Gaius grunted, concentrating on his spoon and bowl. "With brandy," Merlin added.

At that Gaius looked up and scowled. "Don't sound so moralistic, boy," he said. "I'll drink if I want." He caught Merlin's eye and belatedly realised that Merlin was teasing. His scowl softened into a quirk of a smile. "I needed to think," he said. "After the meeting."

"That bad?"

Putting his spoon down, Gaius clasped his hands together across his bowl. "It would appear that over the past six months Cedric has been going off on his own, commissioning design plans from Gwaine without proper Board approval. He even commissioned some off-site construction."

Merlin stared. "How did he do that, without you knowing?"

Gaius's face fell and he suddenly looked very tired. "He says it was reported to The Board, but I might not have been there. I wasn't a member." He frowned. "And I can't imagine he told them how much such work costs."

"But that's stupid," Merlin exclaimed. "That you aren't a member of the Board, I mean."

"Maybe, but the membership was drawn up in 1882 and has never been reviewed since. The curator may attend, by invitation." He shrugged. "I wasn't always invited." He picked up his spoon but didn't start eating. "I never questioned it," he said, "because I didn't care. As long as they left me alone. I should've done something about it, as soon as I found out how much money Uther was giving us. But," he shrugged again, "I suppose I didn't think."

"Why didn't Lance or Gwaine tell you what was going on?"

"I can only presume they thought I knew. It does throw a few of their comments into a clearer light, however. And one small positive is that I am now a member of The Board. Uther pushed that one through, last night." He dug his spoon into his porridge and turned it over a few times. "But it's the only good thing."

"What else happened?"

"Uther was furious about the wasted money. Especially when I explained that we don't have enough objects of the right sort in the collections to fill such a design. Apparently, Cedric had the bright idea of a street that stretched the length of the Great Hall, with a Stone Age house at one end and the twentieth century the other."

"Did they have streets in the Stone Age?"

That elicited an almost-smile. "You wouldn't have thought so, would you?" Gaius agreed. "I think Cedric might be forced to resign. You'll get all his papers to catalogue."

"I was supposed to get them last week. But that's good."

"Uther also blames Dulac and Lott." Gaius sounded uncomfortable at the admission.

"It's not their fault if they took orders from the Treasurer," Merlin objected.

"No, but maybe they should have questioned them. I don't know. Uther wanted to bring in his own architects to do the interior design."

"He sacked Lance and Gwaine?"

"No. They have a contract, but design work has been put on hold until the work on the structure is complete. He's agreed to pay Lance and Gwaine for the work done to date."

With mounting indignation, Merlin scowled. "And I suppose he agreed to that from his innate sense of justice?" he said.

Gaius sounded even more defensive when he replied, "There was nothing in writing. There was some discussion around what was legally required and what should be considered fair and I don't think Uther had a problem with the eventual decision."

It was in a mood of mutual peevishness that they finished their breakfast and set off for the Museum. But it was a beautiful day, the shop windows were full of chicks, bunnies and chocolate eggs, the sky was dappled clear blue and white, and the air smelt of promise. By the time they got within fifty yards of the Museum, Merlin was no longer trailing behind and Gaius had slowed to a relaxed, shambling walk. "How are you getting on with room 131?" he asked.

"Finished that one. I have a whole load of things that don't have numbers, so I'll go through the registers today and see if I can find them."

"Good, good," Gaius agreed. "You can show me what you've done, first thing, if you like."

Since he recognised a peace offering when he heard one, even if he didn't need it, Merlin nodded. "Yeah, okay," he said. "It's really tidy now."

***

After Gaius had inspected his work and approved it, Merlin spent the rest of the morning with the accessions registers, trailing his finger down the entries, looking for any registered items that sounded like the orphans he had placed on the unidentified objects shelf in room 131. It was monotonous work, but not boring, since no two items were alike. And when he found and identified something, and reunited it with its number, it was very satisfying.

He was working his way through the 1910 to 1913 register, when a sheet of loose paper fluttered out from between the pages. Catching it before it fell off the desk, he turned it over and read it.

Getting up, he went across to the filing cabinet and dug out the file of correspondence relating to the donation of the mummies and looked through it. He pulled out the donation letter and studied the two papers side by side, particularly the signatures.

"Uncle Gaius?" he said. "The file for Fred and Julie…"

Gaius was carefully cleaning the big compass, but he looked up. "Fred and Julie?" he asked.

"The mummies. I gave them names; it seemed polite."

"Okay, Fred and Julie, what about them?"

"I just found this letter in the register, from when they were donated. It's dated the day after the letter in the file and it's almost exactly the same. Just the delivery date is different. It says that they're being donated on condition that they're permanently displayed."

"I know that, Merlin."

"But there is a handwritten note that says…" He squinted down at the letter. "It says that if for any reason the Museum wants to take them off display, they need the permission of the donor."

"And?" Gaius was beginning to sound exasperated.

"And that annotation is annotated with another note that says, 'Or her heirs and descendants.' And they're both signed."

A smile began to spread across Gaius's face. "My boy, you are sometimes something of a genius. You never fail to surprise me."

"So how do we trace the heirs?" Merlin asked.

"I think I might go on a field trip to the County Records Office, tomorrow," Gaius announced. "Well done, my boy. Well done."

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

The files from Cedric Griggs arrived the next morning in five large boxes. Merlin cleared the desk that had become his and the round table. He unloaded the papers into ten tall piles and began to look through them.

It was immediately apparent that there was no organisation in the archive. The boxes had been a dead-store. The bills had been paid so that was the end of it. One was duty bound to keep the records of the transactions, but they had no further purpose.

"Some bloody accountant," Merlin muttered as he retrieved a couple of packets of envelope files from the stationary cupboard and laid them out across the clear space on his desk. He began the task of sorting through the papers and putting the correspondence from each company together.

Gaius returned from talking to a visitor in the Ladies Waiting Room. After one look at the chaos, he grabbed the pile of letters received that morning from the children of Rosedale Primary and retreated again, probably to camp out in Gwen's workroom for the rest of the day. Merlin took the opportunity to spread his work onto Gaius's desk as well.

Arthur arrived shortly after lunch. "Is that all of it?" he asked. "Good. I need more than just the total amount spent and committed. I need it broken down into these headings," he passed over a scrap of paper, "before I take it anywhere."

Merlin looked at the list. It wasn't very different from the system he had already been using. "Why am I doing this?" he asked. "Why don't you get a proper accountant in? Or second one from the family firm?"

From beyond the open door, the hollow echo of children shouting indicated a visit from class five of the Lower Grange Primary School. Gwen's voice could also be heard, raised in gentle admonishment.

"Griggs was a proper accountant and look at the mess he made, "Arthur said. "But I will. I'll hand the whole lot over, once you've got it all together. But I want a few simple totals first. I need to know who we have commitments to and who we've been paying. I want to see the shape of this mess, before I get an accountant to try and find ways to fix some of it." He leafed through a handful of papers taken from one of the larger stacks, snorted and placed them back on their pile. It swayed slightly and he steadied it with both hands. "As for a company accountant… This project has nothing to do with Pendragon's. The grant is all we have if we're to get this Museum open."

"We?"

"Yes, we. The Board of Trustees –"

"Your father."

"The Board of Trustees asked for help. My father has agreed to lend me to the project and pick up the cost of my salary. But he is not willing to extend more than that, at this time."

"So, what you're really saying," Merlin suggested, "is that this is, what, your chance to prove yourself? He's given you this little kingdom, to see how you manage it?"

Arthur looked momentarily discomforted. "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. I've been working for the company for years; I have nothing to prove."

Merlin looked him up and down, and raised an eyebrow. Arthur flushed slightly. "Holidays, Mer-lin. Summer, Easter and Christmas. You might have spent your holidays as a student swanning around doing nothing, but I was at work during mine."

Letting the subject drop, Merlin picked up one of the envelope files. "You'll probably want to check this," he said, handing it over. "It's the stuff for the warehouse at Riverside. You were asking about it…"

"Oh, yes, thank you." Arthur took the file, pulled out a sheaf of papers and flipped through them. He studied a couple in detail, but glanced at them all. "The rental agreement's not here," he said, shoving the papers back in the file and holding it out to Merlin. "Have you found it?"

"Not yet." Merlin took the file from him. "But I can look for it first, if you like?"

"That would be good," Arthur agreed. "I'll be back in an hour and if you could find it by then, I'd be grateful." He picked up his briefcase, turned away and opened the door. As he left the room, he was already pulling his phone from his pocket.

Merlin made a mocking bow to the closed door. "Oh, you're welcome, Your Highness," he said. "Don't worry about me, I live to serve your every whim."

He went and made himself a mug of coffee before starting his search through the remaining loose piles of paper for anything with either Riverside Properties or Greenswood Ltd on the letterhead.

By the time Arthur returned, two hours later, Merlin had found the lease and had actually started entering data into his spreadsheet. Arthur sat and read it through in silence. Eventually he looked up. "This is extortionate," he said.

Merlin frowned. "Is it?" he asked. "Can we get out of it?" He considered that option. "Except, the collections are there now. Moving them again... Well, things get damaged in moves."

Slipping the lease into his briefcase, Arthur stood up. "Even before you finish collating these papers," he said.

Merlin interrupted. "Start, you mean."

Arthur laughed. "All right, start," he acknowledged. "But whatever, I already know this project is over-budget and has very little to show for the expenditure. How this was allowed to happen..." He trailed off and took a turn around the room. Merlin watched him pace.

Suddenly business-like again, Arthur said, "I need a printout listing all the invoices submitted by Greenswood Ltd, since they were awarded the contract.Will that take long?"

"I think I've found them all and I've already gone through some of them." Merlin picked up and waved the Greenswood folder. "Give me another twenty minutes."

Merlin went back to typing, while Arthur continued to prowl the room. He studied the books and boxes on the shelves. He wandered past Gaius's desk and picked through the assortment of small objects there. He returned to Merlin's desk and rifled through the piles of papers in a most distracting way. Rather more than twenty minutes later, it was with some relief that Merlin was able to say, "Okay, done. You want the total?"

"No, Merlin. I need an itemised printout, remember? Something to flash at Leon."

"Oh, right. I'll have to use the printer in Gwen's room. Hang on." He picked up his laptop.

"I'll come with you," Arthur said.

Feeling put upon, Merlin led the way to Gwen's workroom. "This is where Lance and Gwaine camp out when they're here," he said, mainly to make conversation.

It was an unfortunate choice of topic because Arthur looked around the room. "Maybe I should set up in here," he said. "I'll take this one." He pointed at Gwen's neatly organised desk. "You can have that one," he added, indicating the spare one Gwaine and Lance used.

"That's Gwen's," Merlin protested. "You can't throw her out of her own office."

"Oh, I'm sure she won't mind."

His irritation levels rising exponentially, Merlin snapped, "I will though. I have my own desk next door and I'm staying there. You can commandeer this one," he said, sitting down at it. "But I'm not moving."

Opening up his laptop, he plugged in the printer cable. He didn't turn to look when Arthur came to watch over his shoulder, although he was very aware of him hovering. "And we don't have broadband," he said.

"Pell's already organising that. It'll be on tomorrow," Arthur replied, unruffled. "Are you using a museum computer to download games?"

At that Merlin did look back at him and then to the icons on his desktop. "No, you… It's my computer. I'm lending a segment of my hard drive to the museum, out of the goodness of my heart."

"Your computer? And you download games? I hope you have virus protection. Is that the only copy of the database? How long did it take you to transcribe everything?"

Keeping up with Arthur's indignant questions with difficulty, Merlin replied, "Yes, yes, I do, it's not a database, yes and, so far, about a day, if I add it all up, but that was before I got all this new stuff to sort through and add. That'll take ages."

"Tell me you at least have a backup."

"Sure, on here," Merlin said, digging a flash drive out of his pocket and tossing it casually. The other back-up was stored safely away in his room in Gaius's house so, strictly speaking, he didn't actually 'have' it. And watching Arthur's mouth open and close while he decided whether to give Merlin a lecture on data security was too amusing to spoil with the truth.

***

On the following Monday Arthur marched into the office again. "Here," he said. Merlin looked up from the piles of invoices in front of him and took the brand-new laptop thrust at him by reflex. "Use that," Arthur said curtly.

Merlin turned it over, put it on the desk and opened the lid. "Wow, thanks," he said, running his hands reverently over the keyboard. "How did you get your father to approve this?"

If anybody could make a sneer look attractive, Arthur managed it. "I'm still an employee of Pendragon's, Merlin. And a new laptop is a valid business expense."

With a grin, Merlin closed the lid. "So I'm thinking I don't need to add this to the project tally?" he asked.

"That won't be necessary. I got you a Pendragon company e-mail address, too. Here." Arthur pulled a sheet of paper out of his inner pocket. "When you have it set up, let me know. Right now I want the QS report from January. Have you got that?"

Once armed with the papers he had demanded, Arthur left Merlin in peace and Merlin didn't see him again for the rest of the week.

"I think he's gone back to London," Gwen said. She had just returned from a visit to Corporation Road Middle School and was making tea.

"He reminds me a lot of his father," Gaius said, apropos of nothing, "for all that he has his mother's looks."

Merlin considered that. "Really?" he said. "Because somehow he doesn't seem as scary as Uther."

"His father when he was Arthur's age," Gaius said. "He was a very different man before he married."

"Oh? How different?" Merlin asked, exchanging a look with Gwen, but Gaius had gone suddenly deaf.

Gwen handed Gaius his tea. He set aside the clock he'd been examining and stretched his back. "Thank you, my dear," he said, sealing the change in topic with, "How was the visit?"

"It was okay. I mean, it was fine. Class 5 loved the barometer and had a lot of fun with the thermometers. I left them drawing pictures of weather." She bent over to look at the compass that was still sitting on the edge of his desk. "If it turns out that's not worth adding to the collections," she said, "I wouldn't mind having it for a year seven visit."

*****

With Arthur's descent upon them and the Board's decision to put a hold on design work, the membership of the museum had shifted. Lance had moved his base of operations on site to Leon's office in a portacabin behind the building. He only came into the museum proper as a shortcut, to meet up with Gwen for coffee at the Costa shop on Market Street at the end of the day. Gwaine had disappeared completely. Gwen said he was busy on other projects.

Pell continued to occupy the spare desk in Gwen's office as Arthur's proxy and frequently came into the workroom to make himself cups of tea, but he rarely stayed to drink it with them. He passed on messages and requests for information from Arthur and he was not unfriendly, but he seemed to be constantly on the move. "That's what the job is, when you work for Arthur," he explained. "He's trying to get his head around this project and look after three others at the same time. His proper assistant's in London."

"His proper assistant?" Gwen asked. "How many does he have?"

"One on each project, on the spot, and Owen at head office."

"And yet, he seems to stay busy," Merlin observed, shaking his head in wonder.

Pell laughed. "You have no idea," he said.

*****

Merlin was alone when Morgana dropped by at lunch time on Thursday. It was the first time she had done so since he arrived, but she collapsed into a chair and dumped her bag on the table as if she ate there every day.

"You don't look happy," he observed and she raised her head to smile at him.

"I'm not a morning person, but I had to get in early, to catch Lance and Gwaine together before Arthur Pendragon arrived," she explained. "I'm knackered. They've been locked away all morning, working out the implications of the Board's decision to suspend the exhibition design and going through the renovation programme. He swept in like he owned the place. Straight up from London and heading back there right after."

She sat up and opened her bag to remove a Tupperware box and a bottle of water. "I was in with them for the first hour, but then they got onto girders and load bearing walls, so I left." she said, pulling the lid off the box and extracting a neat half sandwich. "I don't think he cares about the museum at all. And it's not as if Lance and Gwaine have much choice but to accept whatever he says." She unscrewed the top from the bottle with some force. "But we've taken on staff; we can't just lay them off without notice."

Merlin did his best to sound confident when he suggested, "I'm sure he understands that. You made that clear?"

"I did," she agreed. "But it was like talking to empty air. Why should he be bothered by our arrangements?" She bit viciously into her sandwich, chewed and swallowed. "I thought he was going to be different." She sounded disappointed, as if Arthur's actions had been deliberately designed to upset her.

"He's not that bad." Merlin examined her shrewdly. "Or is this because he didn't agree with you?"

He had hoped to make her smile, but instead she glared at him. "For God's sake!" she snapped. "I didn't expect him to agree. But I did expect him to be polite enough to listen."

Merlin winced and glanced at the door, willing Gwen to walk in, although he knew she was out with a school trip to the stone circle near Great Lessing. He opened his mouth to say something soothing, but Morgana got in first. "Can't you see what he's doing?" she said.

It didn't sound like a question that wanted an answer, so Merlin didn't attempt one. Morgana continued, "That, that… Oh, I don't know what to call him. I thought he'd be different, but he's just the same."

"Different from what? The same as what?"

"The same as Uther."

She paused, took a deep breath and her shoulders slumped. She looked over at him and caught his eye. A small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "No," she said. "I know. I've never met Uther, so how would I know? You're right." She picked up her water bottle and took a sip. "But I've heard of him," she said. "And if half of what I've heard is true… Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be powerless and dependent upon him doing the right thing."

***

Morgana began to eat her lunch at the Folly almost every day and mostly they talked about everything except the project. Even Morgana could not rant successfully in the face of Gwen's inexhaustible reasonableness.

It took Merlin almost a week and a half to go through all of Cedric Griggs' papers, do the data entry and cross-reference payments against bank statements. He received occasional e-mails from Arthur asking about his progress, but apart from fleeting visits, Arthur spent his time elsewhere.

It was not until Merlin informed him that he had finished that Arthur came in and stayed for long enough to sit down. "Are you certain there is no discrepancy between the invoices and the bank statements?" he asked, studying the computer screen as Merlin led him through the numbers.

Merlin shook his head. "No. Sorry. Not as far as I can tell. I know that now you've seen the sums you're looking for someone to blame, but I can't help you. If you think Cedric Griggs was dipping his fingers in the pot, you need a proper accountant, not a guy with a spreadsheet."

Getting to his feet, Arthur sighed but accepted the logic. "Why the hell was no one doing this already?" he asked. "What was Dr Leech doing?"

Laying emphasis on the name, Merlin replied, "Gaius, was doing what he's always done. He was looking after the collections and keeping the museum open."

"But he's not been looking after the project."

Aware that his voice was in danger of rising, Merlin made a conscious effort to keep it calm. "Because that's not his job. It was the Board's responsibility. The collections are Gaius's and–" he was cut off by Arthur's phone ringing.

Arthur looked at the screen, held up a staying hand and answered it. "Yes?" he asked. There was a pause while he listened, then he nodded to Merlin. "I'll see you later," he said. And he was gone, phone glued to his ear.

"Prat," Merlin muttered.

***

Merlin had no more success in complaining about Arthur's attitude and manner to Gwen than Morgana did.

In spite of having her office invaded, Gwen appeared impressed by him, even slightly taken with him. If it had not been clear to everyone that she and Lance were slowly edging towards a proper first date, Merlin might have suspected her of having a crush. As it was, she simply refused to listen and when she failed in that, she tripped over herself in inventing excuses for Arthur's manners.

Morgana was a much more rewarding companion. With her own axe to grind, she built on his complaints with more serious ones of her own. It was cathartic and when Arthur swept into Gaius's office, ignoring Gaius himself and marching up to Merlin's desk to demand a printout of this, or a copy of that invoice or contract, Merlin gritted his teeth, dug out them for him and saved his muttering until he had gone.

Unfortunately, it became clear on the following Thursday morning, that Arthur had very good hearing, Merlin's timing was occasionally poor, or possibly both.

Merlin was alone in the office when Arthur entered. "I need the Riverside contract, again," he said. He was on the phone to someone and continued his conversation while Merlin got up and went to the filing cabinet were all the papers were stored, pending Arthur arranging their shipment to an accountant somewhere. He dug out the file, found the contract and handed it over. Taking it, Arthur nodded and turned to leave.

Merlin muttered, "Berk," under his breath.

Arthur paused with his hand on the door knob and swung on his heel. He pocketed his phone and came back across the room to stand next to Merlin's chair. "What did you just call me?" he asked.

It was almost a relief. "I called you a pompous oaf who's only here, lording it over the rest of us, because of who his daddy is and who doesn't care enough about anyone to even be polite."

From the doorway Gaius said, "Merlin!"

He did not look happy. Having captured Merlin's attention, he proceeded to both embarrass him and hand Arthur a shed load of ammunition. "Your mother brought you up better than that," he said as he came into the room. He addressed Arthur. "Please forgive my nephew; he was not really raised in a barn, in spite of appearances." Looking back at Merlin he added, "Have you started on room 135, yet?"

"No," Merlin said. Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Fine," Merlin sighed. He looked over at Arthur and very sweetly apologised for his outburst.

Arthur accepted, equally politely, but his slight smirk seemed to acknowledge and accept Merlin's insincerity. He took Merlin's offered hand and leaned in close. "Daddy?" he whispered. "Pot and kettle, I think."

"I don't have to justify my existence to you," Merlin whispered back furiously.

He pulled away and left the room with as much dignity as he could manage.

Arthur came after him. Merlin was already at the top of the stairs, with the door into the store room corridor ajar when Arthur's voice halted him. "Given that it is no doubt my father's money that is paying your wages, I think you do."

"It doesn't," Merlin snapped, and pushed the door open, escaping into the dark and dusty sanctuary of the corridor beyond.

But the next morning Arthur surprised him.

"The warehouse on Riverside won't be costing so much in future," he told Gaius.

He had come to the office to return the Riverside contract, now with additional paperwork attached.

"We can leave the collections there?" Gaius asked, smiling broadly.

"Yes, you can. I've renegotiated the lease. It is very unfortunate, the way in which the previous treasurer was allowed to run amok." He inclined his head to Gaius in an old-fashioned gesture of respect from a young man to his elder, that also somehow conveyed forgiveness, or at least an understanding of Gaius's position adjacent to the mess. "But we will sort this out," he promised. "All this mess." He waved his hand in a broad gesture that was probably supposed to indicate Cedric Griggs, as well as the bricks and mortar around them. "This is just a temporary problem."

He and Merlin didn't exchange any words beyond, "Here, for your files," and "Thanks," but he lingered politely to chat to Gaius, agreeing that moving the collections again would not have been ideal. "It's a good location and they have security," he said.

After he left, for whatever meeting was next on his schedule, Merlin felt reluctantly grateful for his reassurance, which seemed to have lifted a worry from Gaius's shoulders.

***

Over the course of the next week, relations between Merlin and Arthur gradually thawed further. Lunches with Morgana went a long way toward lancing Merlin's habitual annoyance, while Arthur seemed to be pretending that nothing had happened. He came and went as before, demanding numbers, printouts and files from Merlin, on a seemingly random basis. For most of the week he was holed up in Leon's site office.

***

"Have you seen Arthur?" Leon asked.

It was Monday morning and the museum had just opened, but no visitors had yet arrived. Merlin was polishing greasy finger marks off the glass cases in the foyer. He shook his head. "No. Sorry."

"He's coming over for a meeting with the QS. If you do see him, could you tell him we'll be a bit late. I want to show her the work we did last week, first. I promise him strong coffee as compensation."

"Sure. If I see him," Merlin agreed.

Leon waved and smiled as he retreated back into the Great Hall and Merlin returned to polishing glass. When he finished, he went to put away the polishing cloth in the cupboard in Gaius's workroom and had reached the bottom of the stairs when, looking up to the balcony, he saw the door leading to the corridor and Gwen's office open.

"Arthur?" he called, before realising it was Pell.

Pell had an apple, which he had apparently just taken a bite from. He shook his head and waved his hand, apple included, in a vague gesture that Merlin took to mean he would answer as soon as his mouth was empty. In the meantime he walked towards the stairs, his footsteps crisp on the marble floor.

"Leon wants to show –" Merlin began.

One moment Pell was at the top of the stairs, his mouth open to finally reply to Merlin, the next he was tumbling down towards him.

It was not like in a film. Pell's descent was inexorable, disorganised and hypnotising. Merlin felt a tingle of something across his skin, a flickering sensation, like lightning, or a kitten's claws. It felt like panic and it obscured his focus for a vital second. By then, Pell was all flailing arms and legs which failed to slow him down, as he stumbled, lurched and finally fell.

Merlin surged forward, his arms raised, but the angle was wrong and he found it hard to focus on Pell who was coming straight at him. By the time he felt the click of engagement, Pell was upon him and he was carried to the ground by Pell's weight. He didn't manage to protect Pell's head, which made a disturbingly loud thunk as it hit the hard marble floor. The apple bounced down the last few stairs and came to rest next to them.

Trapped partially under Pell's body, Merlin shouted, "Help!"

He knew enough not to move, in case Pell had sustained serious injury to his back or neck during the fall. Running a hand over Pell's face, with the vague notion that if the skin was hot, or cold and clammy, it should tell him something, he whispered, "Hey?" but got no response.

He needed someone who had a phone. "Hey! Someone!" he yelled, louder.

Morgana appeared at his side. "What happened?" she exclaimed.

Most of his attention focused on Pell, Merlin shook his head. "Phone!" he said. "999!"

"Right." Morgana dug in her bag, pulled out her phone and dialled.

While listening to her asking for an ambulance and giving instructions, Merlin found a pulse in Pell's neck and relaxed a little.

Pell groaned. "Don't move," Merlin said, stroking his back soothingly.

"They'll be here in a few minutes," Morgana said, ending the call. "I'll, I'll go and wait for them by the door and bring them straight in."

Pell seemed to have sunk back into unconsciousness, but he was alive. "Yes. Good idea. Thank you."

"No problem. I'll be right back."

When the ambulance arrived, the paramedics carefully braced Pell's neck before lifting him onto a stretcher and Merlin was finally able to get up. Pell's eyelids were fluttering, but he still appeared mostly out of it.

"Can I come with you?" Merlin asked.

The paramedic looked him up and down. "Relative?" he asked.

"No, colleague. And I sort of caught him. I can give them his details."

The paramedic sighed. "Sure, come on," he said.

When they reached the ambulance Merlin realised Morgana was still with them. "Can you tell Arthur what's happened?" he asked. He scrambled into the back of the ambulance. "And Gaius."

The door was slammed closed on her agreement and the ambulance took off.

At A&E, Pell was wheeled off and Merlin was left to sit on a hard plastic chair and twiddle his thumbs. Eventually a nurse came to take Pell's details and to send Merlin away, saying that there was nothing more he could do and he should come back later, when Pell might be fit for visitors. Merlin went back to the museum to learn that Arthur had been and gone again.

***

Visiting hours at the hospital that evening were 5:30 to 8:00 and Merlin found Pell ensconced in a proper ward with his right arm in plaster and secured across his chest inside his gown. "I don't know why they moved me," he said. "They're letting me out tomorrow, as soon as the doctor's done his rounds."

Merlin raised his eyebrows but didn't express his doubts.

Morgana arrived, bringing grapes which she put next to a bowl of bananas and apples on top of the bedside table. She asked about his release and he explained that he would be going home to his parents for a few days. "My arm's broken," he said.

"Yes, I'm sorry," Morgana replied.

"My right arm. And I've fractured my left ankle."

"Are you right-handed?" Merlin asked.

"Yes. I don't know how long it'll be before I can get back to work. Last time it was six weeks in plaster, but that was my left arm." He wriggled himself up the mattress slightly then used the switch to raise the head of the bed further, so he was more upright. He studied Morgana. "I don't really remember what happened," he said. He looked at Merlin. "You were there, at the bottom of the stairs?"

"Yes."

"And, and there was no one else there?

"No."

He closed his eyes. "I just thought..." His brows scrunched together and he opened his eyes again. He shook his head slightly. "Never mind."

"There really was no one there," Merlin said and Pell nodded.

"No. I didn't think there was. I'd remember, wouldn't I?" Merlin cast around for some new topic of conversation, but he didn't know Pell well enough. He didn't think work talk would be helpful to Pell's recovery. "I remember once," Pell said. "Playing football. A bad tackle..." His voice trailed off, but there was still a slight wrinkle in his brow, as if he was trying to remember something else. Turning back to Morgana, he said, "I don't remember you."

Merlin and Morgana exchanged a look. "I came to deliver something for Lance," she said. "I arrived just after you fell."

"Morgana called the ambulance," Merlin explained.

Morgana stood up. "You should rest," she said.

Merlin stood too and they gathered their coats. Merlin asked. "Do you need anything?"

Pell shook his head. "No, thanks. Arthur's sorting everything out. I'll be fine."

As they walked the long corridors back to the front entrance Morgana said, "Poor bastard. I've never broken anything and he's done both arms and a leg."

"Me neither," Merlin agreed. "It was weird, you know? It was like he tripped on something."

"But there was nothing there, was there? For him to stumble over?"

Merlin shrugged. "No. No, there wasn't."

"Want to go and check?" she asked.

Merlin grinned. "Bit late now."

"Yeah, I suppose it is."

*****

The financial files had finally been packed up and sent by courier to a firm of accountants and Merlin had handed over the spreadsheet to Arthur. As a result, Arthur no longer bothered him for information, but all week, every time he took a break from his work in the stores, Merlin seemed to find Arthur sharing a pot of tea and chatting with Gaius about the Museum, the collections and the history of Camelot. Demonstrating his good upbringing, Arthur would include Merlin and Gwen in the conversation and Merlin found himself enjoying his coffee breaks for more than just access to the internet.

It was during one such visit that Gaius mentioned he had finally located the last living descendant of Muriel Compton-Blythe, the donor of the mummies. "It's Miss Kay," he said. Turning to Arthur, he explained, "Miss Kay is one of our regular visitors. She lives near Lillebrook. I don't think she really likes them, so I hope she'll be agreeable to us giving them on permanent loan to the Fitzherbert Museum at the University of Caerleon. They'll do a much better job of caring for them and they have an extensive Egyptian collection which will allow them to display our examples in context." He raised his voice slightly. "Merlin?" he said.

Merlin was reading Will's facebook and had been only paying mild attention to Gaius's explanation, but he looked up. "Yeah, that's amazing," he agreed.

"Wonderful," Gaius said, slapping his hand on his knee and heaving himself to his feet. He went and fetched the telephone directory and returned with it to his desk. "I'll give her a ring and find out when you can go and see her. She was quite taken with you when she met you."

It turned out Merlin could go and see her the next day. "Best to get it done sooner rather than later," Gaius said. "So we know where we stand. And tomorrow's Friday, so... Oh, and could you take a photo of the thermometer, the hygrometer and the seals on the display cases, to help explain to Miss Kay that they have special conservation needs?"

Merlin nodded and got up to do that at once. Arthur followed him.

"If I'm coming with you," Arthur said, as they strolled down the stairs. "We are not going on the bus. We'll call a taxi."

Merlin gaped. "What? A taxi? But it must be twenty miles," he spluttered. "And what do you mean, you're coming? Why would you come?"

"Because, Merlin, Miss Kay is an elderly lady of a certain class, and whether she was taken with you, or not, if we are to get her to agree to the mummies' removal to the Fitzherbert, the personal touch might be advantageous."

Merlin snorted. "And you're curious about one of the old county families?"

Casting him a sideways glance, Arthur's lips curled into a lopsided smile. "Maybe," he admitted. "The Pendragons are also an old county family, after all, and I know very little of our illustrious history. Do you know the number of a local taxi company?"

"But we can't take a taxi. I've googled the address; it's miles from anywhere and the taxi would have to wait."

"So?"

"So, we could be more than an hour and taxis are expensive."

The concept appeared to be a new one for Arthur. "Expensive?" he asked. He shook his head. "Taxis aren't expensive."

"Yes they are. Unless…" They had reached the foyer and Merlin took a step backwards so he could look Arthur up and down. "Ah, of course. You were born to money. That would explain it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

In the most airy and casual voice he could muster, Merlin replied, "Oh, nothing, except that millionaires know how to make money, while their children know how to spend it?"

He expected a frown, but Arthur surprised him by throwing back his head and laughing. "By that logic," he said, "my father would be tight-fisted, and some might say he is, but even he would tell you that there are times when 'splashing out for a taxi' is a good investment." He studied Merlin's face and grinned. "Oh, very well," he said. "I'll drive us."

"In what?"

"I'll bring my car in. You can navigate."

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

It felt like a long time since Merlin had been out into the country. Not since he had arrived in Camelot. Every week he intended to catch the bus to the base of the Tor, one day, or in the other direction, to the cliffs above Rosebeck, but there were always things to do that got in the way. So, sitting in the comfortable leather passenger seat of Arthur's open topped MG, holding his printed out directions on top of his bag in his lap and with the wind whistling past his ears making him aware of how much he needed a haircut, he gazed around with pleasure at the hedgerows and the occasional burst of a view over neat fields and pocket handkerchief patches of woodland.

Heythorpe House was just off the back road out of Lillebrook. A pair of tall, wrought iron gates set between high pillars and a low stone wall topped by a large clipped hedge, stood open to a gravelled drive. Arthur backed in and pulled up just inside the gates, where he wasn't blocking access.

Outside, on the other side of the road, over a field hedge full of patched up holes and may blossom, the landscape opened out to rolling hills and peacefully grazing cows. Merlin hurried to clamber out of the car and catch up with Arthur, who was already walking towards the house.

The short drive led straight to the white doors of a double garage surrounded on three sides by trees, while the house itself, a solid, stone, Georgian box, was set off to the right. Opposite it, across the drive, a large lawn was bordered by flowerbeds full of hollyhocks, ornamental daisies, lupins and red hot pokers. A wrought iron table with three matching chairs stood in the centre of the lawn.

As they approached the bottom of the steps up to the front door, it opened and Miss Kay came out. She was dressed exactly as she had been when Merlin met her at the museum, complete with tweed hat. She inclined her head in Merlin's direction but concentrated her attention on Arthur as she came down the steps towards them.

"You're just in time for tea," she announced.

"Miss Kay?" Arthur asked. "Excuse me, we're -"

"Oh, I know who you are," she replied. She nodded to Arthur. "You're the prince of industry," and then to Merlin, "and you're the magician."

"Umm..." Merlin said.

She walked past them towards the table, still speaking over her shoulder. "It's such a lovely day; I put the tea things outside."

On the table stood a china tea setting, complete with a two tiered cake stand, all painted with overblown roses in red and gold. The cake stand held delicate little cakes and sandwiches. Merlin was ready to bet the sandwiches were cucumber. They had certainly had their crusts cut off.

"Tea?" she asked, sweeping an arm invitingly towards the table.

"Thank you," Arthur said. He held her chair for her as she sat down.

"How very like your mother, you look," she remarked, as if that was a normal statement to make to a total stranger.

"My mother?" Arthur asked, his voice flat.

"She was such a delightful gal. She was a great hit when she came out. Uther couldn't take his eyes off her."

"You knew my mother?"

"Not well," she replied. "But I saw her occasionally when she was a child. She was beautiful. A gentle soul. Her family, the Amlaws, held land here since before The Conquest. I would not say I knew Uther at all. He did not really move in my circles. He is not a good man. But I can see you are cut from different cloth." She poured tea as she spoke and handed them each a delicate cup on an equally delicate saucer. "Do help yourself," she said, indicating the cake stand. "You have some business with which you require my assistance?"

Reluctantly Arthur nodded and between them, over tea, cake and cucumber sandwiches, he and Merlin explained the proposal to give the mummies to the Fitzherbert Museum. Miss Kay seemed pleased by the suggestion and the business was dealt with quickly.

"Hand me the forms," she said. "I'll sign them for you. Those things don't belong in the Folly. I do not approve of them. The Fitzherbert is a better place for them to lie; it's already stuffed full of rubbish from all over the world. Let them have the expense of caring for them."

Merlin dug the forms he had brought with him from his bag and handed them over. Arthur pulled a silver pen from his inner pocket and clicked it open for her. She nodded in approval as she took it from him.

Spreading the papers out next to her untouched teacup, she signed them with a flourish, without reading them. When she handed them back to Merlin she caught and held his gaze.

Merlin blinked and Miss Kay was smiling at him like an indulgent maiden aunt, but for an instant, it had been as if something else had been looking out through her eyes. Something old and not wholly benevolent. Something dark, with the suggestion of scales. "More tea, dear?" she asked.

Merlin took the papers from her, folded them and slipped them back into his bag. He laid his hand over the rim of his cup. "No, thank you very much. I'm fine."

Miss Kay was already turning to Arthur and lifting the teapot in an unspoken question. Arthur pushed his cup and saucer forwards an inch. "Thank you," he said.

For the next half hour, Merlin kept his eyes focused on his plate while Miss Kay rewarded Arthur with more memories of his mother as a young girl. She also recounted how the various local families had married, bred and died, over hundreds of years. Merlin, who could not trace his ancestry back further than his grandparents on one side, was both fascinated and repelled by the history that suddenly appeared to crowd around Arthur, like a smothering cloak.

He continued to listen with half an ear, but he drew most of his attention back and began to concentrate on tentatively expanding his magic towards Miss Kay. It was something he had read about in the book Gaius had given him. The book was an eclectic mix of anecdotal accounts of magic, descriptions of magic beasts and a large number of spells and potions, as reported in various medieval manuscripts and gathered together by an academic historian who had obviously considered them a curiosity. He had only attempted this spell once before, sitting idly on the front steps of the museum, with no direction in mind. Totally relaxed, his magic had expanded to encompass the stone of the steps and path, the wood of the doors and the warm brick of the building behind him, the grass and young flowers in the ornamental beds and finally the few people walking past. He had felt their humanity, the living breathing lifeness of them. It was amazing, familiar and comforting, but he had stopped and pulled back. It had also felt too much like an intrusion on their privacy to do it on purpose. This time, he intended to intrude.

He concentrated on the feeling of the air moving across the skin of his hands. Slowly and carefully he expanded his awareness up his arms to the sensation of the sun on his face and around his eyes. His concentration kept slipping and on each occasion he had to begin again. It was a bit like meditating. Finally, he had it - a bubble of magic encompassed his upper body, extending an inch beyond his skin. He could smell the sunlight and taste the humidity in the air from the shower of rain that had fallen just before dawn.

Slowly, he raised his eyes to a point between Miss Kay and Arthur and lowered his lids until he was looking out through the net of his lashes. He traced a lawnmower stripe across the grass to give him direction and drew an imaginary line to take him further. He could see both Miss Kay and Arthur with his peripheral vision, but he focused on the trees visible between them. Then he began to expand the bubble.

His hold was secure and when it occasionally faltered he didn't have to re-start. He knew, with certainty, that with a little more practice this could become as easy as breathing. Arthur's voice was a gentle murmur that, like white noise, obliterated distractions. The edge of the bubble reached him first, skimming over his hand when he picked a sandwich from the cake stand. It felt like stroking angora wool and Merlin took a moment to simply enjoy the sensation. Miss Kay said something in reply and Arthur laughed. It wasn't the 'throw back his head', unrestrained laugh that Merlin had seen on occasion, it was more polite, but it sent shivery waves through Merlin.

Instinctively he pulled away and shifted his expansion towards Miss Kay.

She had laid one hand on the table next to her cup. His magic touched it.

And there was nothing. It wasn't that she felt exactly the same as the people in the street. It was as if she wasn't there. He allowed the bubble to push a little further, to her wrist. Her pulse echoed through his chest, strong, steady and calm. Across the table from her, Arthur's hand moved into the zone of Merlin's awareness and it was like liquid gold behind Merlin's eyes.

He pulled his magic back, picked one of the tiny cucumber sandwiches off the cake stand and took a bite. The spell had obviously not worked. It was Arthur, not Miss Kay, who caused Merlin's bones to shiver at their core. It was Arthur who was unsettling at a deeply personal level that Merlin didn't understand. Miss Kay was... it was strange.

Miss Kay glanced at him. Her smile could have been a polite attempt to include him in the conversation, or it could have been hiding amusement and an almost physical shiver ran up his spine. He stared at her while his heart hammered in his chest. He felt like the proverbial rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. It was not until she looked away, back to Arthur, that he was able to relax.

During the time he had been doing his illicit magic, and recovering from his illogical attack of fear, the conversation had moved on to the Pendragon family and what Arthur knew of his history. Merlin had heard Miss Kay's story of Thomas Pendragon, an itinerant peddler in the fourteenth century. He had absorbed without listening to the history of Prudence-is-a-virtue Pendragon, who had made a living as a ploughman in Devon in the seventeenth century. And he had been aware of Arthur's amusement at Miss Kay's account of the antics of Arthur Frederick Pendragon, soldier of fortune. But now he did listen and they had moved on to more recent history. "It was my great-grandfather who inherited the business from the Thomas Pendragon who bequeathed the Museum," Arthur said. "He was a nephew. But I'm afraid he was more suited to the army and his club, than to running a company. It was my father who built it up to its present strength. And since we are now so successful, we have the capacity to consider and support the family's legacy."

"The Pendragons were always warlike," Miss Kay observed. "Even those who were not soldiers were still fighters. The First World War depleted the family sadly. And the second finished off the rest." She smiled. "Apart from your grandfather, of course."

"Do you know anything about Thomas Pendragon?" Arthur asked.

"He had a profound dislike for the mayor," Miss Kay said. She chuckled. "I believe he might have wanted the job himself. You know what these parochial politics are like."

Merlin didn't know. He had never had any exposure to politics, parochial or otherwise. The closest he had come had been when he had almost put himself up for welfare officer at the students union, in his second year at university, but something had got in the way and then the deadline for nominations had passed.

Arthur laughed. "Indeed," he agreed.

"He made sure the donation was tied up very firmly," Miss Kay said. "Something about bequeathing it to the town, not to the Town Council. The Council inherited responsibility for it, but has no power to decide its fate. Except in one thing. It may decide that Camelot doesn't need a museum."

"Well, it's not going to do that," Arthur said. "And I think the councillors are more than happy to accept the cash to pay for its renovation."

"I imagine they are," Miss Kay agreed. "They are no better than their predecessors, after all."

Merlin began to wish for the refill of his cup of tea that he had turned down earlier.

***

When they eventually got up to leave, Miss Kay accompanied them back to the gravel drive and watched as they walked away.

Arthur was digging in his pocket for his keys when she called out, "Merlin."

Merlin turned around and took a few steps back towards her. "Yes?"

She smiled and on this occasion Merlin didn't doubt that she was amused. "Did I not say that destiny would come in its own time? You are two sides of the same coin. And you've felt that now, haven't you?" she said. "You will achieve great things for Albion."

Behind him Arthur started the car's engine.

Drawing herself up straight, Miss Kay said, "The bus to Staubridge stops outside the Red Dragon, just beyond those trees." She nodded towards the copse beside her garage. "There is a gate there which leads to my back door."

"Oh, um, right. Thank you," Merlin said. "I'll, um, I'll remember that. Thank you for the signatures. And the tea. Um, goodbye." He turned, hurried to the car and got in.

"There's something very odd about her," he observed as Arthur pulled out through the gates.

Arthur glanced at him before returning his attention to the road. He pulled out and turned the car towards Lillebrook. "Is that your magical intuition talking, Merlin the magician?" he asked. "Because really, she's just a harmless old lady."

"I didn't say there was any harm in her," Merlin protested, "but she is odd. Although, maybe not as odd as you."

Arthur shook his head in amusement but didn't say anything.

The road was narrow and they were caught behind a tractor through the village, so Merlin was more than happy to leave Arthur in peace while he pondered the strange sensations he had felt through his magic, but once they were out onto the main road to Camelot, Arthur spoke again. "I wanted to thank you letting me talk to Miss Kay. You were very patient, when you must have been quite bored."

"No, I wasn't," Merlin said. "I mean, I wasn't listening, but... um, well, it seemed like she was telling you stuff you didn't know."

"She was," Arthur said. He flicked on the indicator and accelerated past a Land Rover with a dog and a few bales of hay in the back. Ahead of them the road was clear and in the distance the Tor was visible through a haze. When he spoke again it was in a different tone of voice. "Pell's finally been released from hospital and has gone home," he said. "He's not going to be on his feet for a couple of weeks and even then he won't be able to write or walk properly."

Merlin nodded. "Yeah. I thought he was being optimistic about being released the same day."

Arthur snorted. "No chance. He had concussion and two broken bones." He glanced over at Merlin. "You did quite a good job with that spreadsheet of yours," he said. "And just because we started off on the wrong foot, doesn't mean I don't know how to recognise initiative."

"What, what are you saying?" Merlin asked.

The car accelerated slightly. "I want you to take his place," Arthur said. "Just until he's better."

"You want me to...?" Merlin took a breath. "What if I don't want to?" he asked.

Arthur looked across at him, his eyes wide and he frowned. "Why would you not want to?" He slowed down a little and moved back into the left lane.

Merlin shook his head. "Because you're a prat, maybe?"

"A what? You can't say things like that to people. It's highly unprofessional."

"Maybe that's because I'm not a professional."

"Nonsense. I'm sure if I speak to Gaius, he'll not mind me seconding you for a few weeks."

"Like I'm a piece of furniture."

They passed the first sign warning of their approach to the turn off for Camelot and Arthur began to decelerate. "No, like you're an employee of a museum that will be a disaster zone if we don't get it under control," he said.

"But I'm not."

"Not what? For God's sake Merlin, what are you going on about?" He flicked on the indicator and swerved smoothly onto the exit ramp.

"I'm not an employee. I'm a volunteer."

The car slowed even more and Arthur looked at him. "You lied to me? All this time you've allowed me to believe you were a paid employee?"

"Will you watch the road? No, I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you. Would you have been more polite if you'd known?"

Arthur didn't say anything.

"So if you want to," Merlin raised his hands up on either side of his head and crooked his fingers in the universal sign for 'you're being a pretentious ass', "second me," he said, "I want to know what I'll be paid and what my duties are. Also," he said, warming to his theme, "how long the contract's for. What the redundancy terms are at the end. How many days holiday I get and..." He paused, wracking his brain for anything else. "And what the hours are," he added. "Oh, and will I have to wear a suit?"

"Oh, for goodness sake," Arthur said, "just think about it, okay? Tell me on Monday. If you want to continue as a volunteer, I'm not going to beg. I can find someone else to replace Pell. Someone with more qualifications for the job."

They completed the journey in silence and when Arthur pulled up in front of the museum, Merlin got out. "Thanks for the lift," he said.

"You're welcome," Arthur replied, looking straight ahead.

Merlin stood back from the curb and Arthur drove away.

***

That evening, over their meal, Gaius asked, "You're not going to refuse?

"But he's a, a… He's such a prat."

"And you need a job." Gaius countered with a stern look "You've not had much success with your applications, so far."

Seeing Merlin's expression, he changed his tack. "Merlin, I have valued your help. It's obvious you enjoy working at the museum."

"I do. I love it."

"Exactly. But you also need to find paid employment. With this offer you have both."

That was true, although Merlin doubted that he'd be spending his time in the stores or pouring over the register if he was working for Arthur Pendragon. There was also the huge question of whether Arthur had magic and what it would mean if he did. "I suppose so," he said.

"Even after this project is done," Gaius added, "I doubt there'll be any new jobs at the museum. But working on a project for Arthur Pendragon might get you a job at another museum. One that has more resources. There are plenty of them, you know."

Merlin grimaced, but nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's only for a few months, after all." He brightened. "That's if he hasn't thought better of it by Monday."

"Well, you'd better hope that he hasn't," Gaius said.

***

Once he was in bed that night, and for the next two nights, Merlin practiced and refined his skill with the bubble of magic spell. The alley behind Francis Street was a shortcut for drinkers going home from the local working men's club and on both Friday and Saturday nights he became familiar with the signature of happy drunks, while their singing and yelling echoed off the high walls around them.

On Sunday night he allowed the bubble to expand beyond the alley, over the sleeping bodies in the houses on Milton Avenue. His instinctive recognition of what he was touching was getting clearer. The fear that he might unintentionally read their minds seemed to be unfounded and he skimmed past them with only a superficial appreciation of who they were and without intruding on their dreams.

He also became aware of other life, other signatures. A fox slinking through the gardens. A blackbird asleep on its chicks in a nest in a hedge. A cat prowling along the top of a wall.

Beyond Milton Avenue was Camelot Road, which was never completely still and he felt a night shift worker heading to work, a tired delivery driver ready for his bed and a young couple whose signature sent him to sleep with a smile for the joy of existence. None of these people caused him to shiver when he glanced through, past, over them and his concern about Arthur's nature increased.

***

Arthur didn't retract the offer, he didn't even make it difficult for Merlin to ask for the job, and Merlin didn't have to wear a suit. He moved into Gwen's office on Monday morning, his desk moved from Gaius's workroom and pushed into a corner behind the door. It made the already crowded room seem even smaller.

"Gaius's office is too much of a social space," Arthur said. "And Gwen is out on school visits much of the time. I do want you get some work done."

He acquired a company phone and took messages, attended site meetings and took notes, learnt how to maintain a risk register and put Pell on speed dial. He couldn't take over every job that Pell had done, but the tasks he did have forced him onto a steep learning curve. Leon was a great help, explaining the terminology of the building trade to him, with patience and tact. Pell, who gave the impression that he was being over-coddled at home with his parents, talked him through any number of new concepts, while complaining about his own forced inactivity. Even Gwen was able to point him in the right direction, occasionally, drawing on the things she had overheard while sharing her office with Pell for four weeks.

He also spent a lot of time pondering the enigma that was Arthur Pendragon and watching him for any signs of magic. He did learn that Arthur worked extremely hard at what he did. Merlin had never been a slacker, but working for Arthur was a whole new level of busy.

But no matter how closely he watched, he saw no evidence of magic.

***

It was on his second Tuesday in the job that he learnt how to take notes while walking. Leon was showing them where he would start drilling the floor in the Great Hall the next day, to remove the rubble that had been used to fill the space where the tracks should have been laid. It had settled over time, leaving dips and hollows in the floor. Arthur and Leon paced briskly back and forth and Merlin stumbled after them, trying to catch what they said and write it down.

"We'll start here," Leon indicated a line on the floor, spray painted in fluorescent orange." That was almost the last thing Merlin understood.

Afterwards, in Gwen's office, Arthur demonstrated a new side to his personality when, over coffee, he explained to Merlin what the discussion had been about. It was unexpected, but Merlin was grateful.

"Come on," Arthur said, putting his mug aside. "We have a meeting with Lance and Gwaine at their offices. Let's see whether you can keep up with them."

Merlin wondered if he was undergoing a series of probationary tests.

It was the first time Merlin had seen Lance and Gwaine since Uther had put a hold on any further interior design work. Gwaine was still not happy and made it obvious. Lance was resigned and engaged with Arthur in trying to find a compromise that would not cause too many financial problems to either the project or their company. Morgana was silent, glowering at Arthur who ignored her. Once she had received confirmation that the Board of Trustees' view was that design work should not restart, she left.

Merlin took notes.

They discussed progress on the repair of the roof, both internal and external. With the rotten steelwork replaced and the whole roof area re-tiled, Leon was planning to get the glazers in during the following week.

"The building is not in a poor condition, considering the neglect it's suffered from," Lance said.

Merlin looked up. "But the cracks in the walls?" he asked.

Arthur frowned but Lance answered him. "Those are superficial," he said. "There's nothing wrong with the structure."

"That's not what Cedric told the Board," Merlin explained. "Gaius told me that Cedric reported the building contract was a lot bigger than originally estimated."

"No," Lance said, shaking his head. "The original estimate is still valid." He turned to Arthur. "Obviously, there was some variation after the false ceiling came down, but I wouldn't describe the total variations as 'big'."

"Leave that with me," Arthur said. "I'll get the accountants to do some digging."

They moved on to discuss the interior design work already done, which would now have to be scrapped. Arthur was in a difficult position. He obviously recognised the implications of the delay for DuLac and Lott, but he had clear instructions. He was trying, though. Even Merlin, considering the situation from a position of ignorance, could see that.

Arthur asked if they could look at examples of Gwaine's work and after considering the last set of plans, moved on to discuss what could be done once the Board of Trustees gave the go-ahead for work to start again. Now it became clear to Merlin why Arthur had spent so much time drinking tea with Gaius. He had a very clear picture of Gaius's ideas and hopes. He explained and discussed them with Lance, gradually drawing Gwaine back into the conversation. Gwaine started sketching out rough impressions of the things they talked about, with Arthur leaning over the table to watch.

After an hour he gathered his papers together. "Can you work those up into something I can present to the Board?" he asked.

"Will we get paid for them?" Gwaine asked.

"You'll be paid," Arthur said.

***

Leaving the Dulac and Lott office, Merlin asked, "Will the Board sanction more spend on design?"

"I'll pay for it myself," Arthur said. "But that's between you and me. I don't want to hear it from anyone else, so keep your mouth shut, okay?"

"That's, that's very generous of you."

"No it isn't. I'll reclaim it when the Board gets its finger out of its arse."

Merlin blinked in surprise and looked over at Arthur. Something in Arthur's expression warned him that further questions or comments would not be welcome, so he didn't attempt any, but he continued to study Arthur surreptitiously as they crossed the cobbles towards the road.

It was as well he did, because just as they reached the curb, Arthur seemed to stumble and fall, right into the traffic. There was a screech of brakes and Merlin acted without thought. He grabbed the tail of Arthur's jacket with one hand. Arthur was too heavy for him to pull back to safety by purely physical means, but with his attention already on him, he was able to visualise a lasso that he snaked around Arthur's chest, dragging him back from the brink.

The driver of the car pulled to a stop a couple of yards beyond them and Arthur shook off Merlin's hand in order to go over to the passenger side window. Merlin followed. The man behind the wheel was looking straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He was panting.

Arthur tried the door and pulled it open. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Slowly, the man turned his head. "I, I almost hit you," he said.

"I'm sorry. I think I tripped on a cobble. But I'm all right. Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"I didn't hit you, did I?" the man asked.

"No. I'm fine. I'm really sorry to have given you such a scare. Are you okay?"

The man took a deep breath and let it out with a whooshing sound. His hand moved to the gear lever. "I'll be fine," he said. "Just, um… No, I'll be fine. Thanks." He put the car in gear. "I'll just… Could you close the door please?"

"Yeah, sure. Um, right. Well, thanks for your quick reactions and I'm sorry again." Arthur stood and gently pushed the door closed, giving it a shove with his hip to make it latch, then he stood back. The car slowly pulled away and Merlin and Arthur watched its progress, until it turned the corner into Charlotte Street and disappeared from sight.

"I think you just saved my life," Arthur said.

***

Merlin didn't have time to think about the incident further during the day, but that evening he voiced his half formed fears to Gaius. "Arthur almost got run over today," he said.

Gaius looked up from the pan of baked beans he was stirring. "Really? Is he okay?"

"Yeah. I used that spell in the book you gave me - the one with the lasso of light. No, he didn't notice. And I think the driver was more shaken than he was. He said he tripped on a cobble. It was in Market Square. But the cobbles are really flat next to the road."

"He still might have tripped."

"Or he might have been pushed."

"Not by you. Who else was there?"

"No one. But that doesn't mean he wasn't pushed."

Gaius smiled indulgently. "I agree that it was very lucky you were there, but don't you think you're allowing your imagination to run away with you? Just because he tripped and you used a bit of magic to save him, doesn't mean that there was any magic involved in causing it. Accidents happen, Merlin." His smile widened. "Should I interpret your overblown concern as proof that you're beginning to feel differently about Arthur?"

"No," Merlin retorted, with as much dignity as he could muster.

He caught Gaius's eye. Gaius gave a snort of laughter and Merlin started to laugh with him. In his case it was at least partly a reaction to the alternative image, conjured by his imagination, of what would have happened if he had not been able to draw upon his magic in time. "Okay, so he might not be as big a prat as I thought he was," he conceded.

Gaius appeared to consider the subject closed, but Merlin couldn't shake the feeling that it had not been a simple fall.

***

The following morning he would have retracted his more favourable judgement of his boss if he had been asked. He was woken half an hour before his alarm by Arthur phoning to say he was going to London. That was bad enough, but Arthur left him with a long list of tasks, including making calls to a number of local people who Cedric had apparently not paid, or had antagonised in some other way. Merlin spent most of the morning trying to pacify angry creditors with promises. He felt fully justified in telling them that Cedric was no longer involved with the museum. In the meantime, five, separate, urgent emails arrived from Arthur and had him running back and forth to Leon's site office and all over the museum in search of Gaius. That and the fact that the noise of drilling in the Great Hall was reverberating through the whole building, didn't make the Folly a restful place to be. When Gwen stuck her head around the door to invite him for lunch, he grabbed his sandwiches and jumped at the offer.

Gaius was not in his office, but Morgana was. When Gaius was there, she usually toned down her complaints about the Pendragons' sins, but with him absent she obviously felt the need for a sympathetic ear. "Can't you see what he's doing?" she asked. "Gwaine's so full of plans again and it's all going to come to nothing. It'll end up with us going bust. I just know it."

Handicapped by Arthur's injunction, Merlin left it to Gwen to make soothing noises and escaped back to the other office as soon as he could, pleading work. Morgana cast him a sympathetic look as he made his excuses. "I knew he'd be a slave driver," she said.

Just before he quit for the day, almost two hours after Gaius left the museum to go home, a final email arrived from Arthur:

 

From: Arthur Pendragon [mailto:[email protected]]
Sent: 30 April 2014 18:50
To: Merlin Emrys
Subject: Tomorrow

I'm returning tomorrow and my father is coming with me. Expect us at 9.30am.

Lance and Gwaine are meeting with us at 12. Please tell Gaius that his attendance would be appreciated, if he can make it.

Wear a suit.

Arthur

 

He shot back an acknowledgement and said he would tell Gaius as soon as he got home. Then he logged off and closed down his laptop before Arthur could reply.

***

Arthur phoned just before 9:00 to tell him they had arrived and parked next to the Greenswood site offices. He said they were going to inspect the Great Hall and the Kitchen Gallery before coming through to the front. A courier would be delivering a package from the accountants. He asked Merlin to keep an eye out for it and make sure it contained three collated copies of all the papers they were sending. Merlin went into Gaius's workroom and switched on the photocopier, just in case.

He then spent half an hour pacing the foyer, waiting for the courier, and took delivery when the package arrived. Taking it back to his desk, he checked through the papers and tried to understand what they said. It was a preliminary report. The executive summary was clear enough. There was a discrepancy in the accounts, but on first inspection it appeared to be negligence, rather than fraud. The accountants were still checking.

Merlin shuffled all three copies together, put them aside and returned to updating the risk register.

Just before noon the drilling stopped and he breathed a silent thanks for lunch breaks, even if they were not his own. Looking out of the window, he saw Lance, Gwaine and Morgana approaching. Grabbing the accountant's reports he went out onto the balcony. Below him, Arthur, Uther and Leon were standing in conversation by the temporary door to the Great Hall, so he detoured into Gaius's office.

"They're here," he said, putting the reports on the corner of Gaius's desk.

"Okay, thank you," Gaius said. "I'll put the kettle on."

Merlin went back outside and paused overlooking the foyer, watching the body language. Leon was standing with his back to Merlin, but there was something in his stance that implied deference. Arthur was in front of the open door. He stood straight and stiff and was studying his feet. Uther was turning away.

It could only have been something in the acoustics of the room that carried the grating sound across to Merlin's ears so clearly, because it wasn't loud. He looked around, trying to locate it and identified the source – the bust of Thomas Pendragon had moved on its plinth above the blocked in arch and was balanced precariously on the edge.

Uther took two steps towards the stairs and Leon said something to Arthur. The bust shifted again.

"Look out!" Merlin yelled.

Arthur started and looked up at him.

"Get back!" Merlin shouted. The bust toppled over the edge of its plinth and began to fall, too fast for him to focus on and influence. He knew Arthur though, his presence was familiar, so he used that and pushed.

Arthur stumbled backwards through the door into the Great Hall and the bust crashed to the ground directly in front of him.

Merlin ran for the stairs. Uther spun around with a cry and Leon started forwards.

As he took the stairs two at a time, Merlin saw Lance and Gwaine rushing towards the group and when he reached the turn he saw Morgana following them more slowly.

From the confusion, Arthur emerged. He appeared shocked but unharmed. He glared down at the broken bust, stepped over it and stared up at the plinth where it had stood.

Merlin clung to the carved ball on top of the newel post. With the danger past, he could feel himself shaking. The air smelt dry and brittle, like sun-baked cement when it is hit by the first drops of a summer shower. He looked around. Everybody seemed shocked, but his attention was caught by something in Morgana's expression that he couldn't interpret. Within a moment it was gone, she had joined the group and was asking if everybody was okay. Her voice was high with anxiety.

From above him Gaius called, "What was that crash? Is anyone hurt?"

Arthur turned and looked up. "No," he replied. He glanced across at Leon, who nodded. "A close call," Arthur said, "but we're all okay."

Merlin pushed himself upright but stayed near the bottom of the stairs. Uther put his hand on Arthur's shoulder and spoke quietly to him. Arthur's smile looked strained, but he was obviously trying to reassure his father. Lance, Gwaine, Morgana and Leon were standing gazing up at the plinth. Lance asked Leon a question and Leon shook his head. "I doubt it," he said, "but I suppose it's possible."

It was Uther who took control. He looked up at Gaius, who hadn't moved except that he was supporting himself against the balcony rail. "I think we should retreat to your office, Gaius," he called. Everyone else turned to him and obediently began to move towards the stairs.

"Yes, of course," Gaius said. "I have the kettle on. I think we all need a strong cup of tea. Please, do come up."

As he passed Merlin, Uther spoke to him for the first time. "Tidy that mess up, would you?" he said.

Merlin glanced at Arthur who nodded. "Of course," Merlin muttered.

As a group they walked past him and up the stairs. Merlin went into the Ladies Waiting Room and dug through the cupboard for the Museum Club broom and dustpan. They were propped up in a plastic storage box, so he took that too.

Returning to the foyer he lifted the larger lumps of bust into the box, swiftly swept up the rest and dumped the fragments on top. Leaving the broom and dustpan just inside the Great Hall, he pulled the door closed and made sure it was locked. Picking up the box, he climbed the stairs to join everyone else in Gaius's workroom.

When he entered, awkwardly manoeuvring the box in front of him until Leon held the door open for him, he saw that Uther had moved past shock to anger and was already in full flow. "-unsafe. Arthur could have been killed," he said. "Any of us could. How could this have been allowed to happen?"

Somewhat tentatively, Gaius suggested, "I suppose the vibration from the drilling might have shifted it."

"I don't care why it happened," Uther snapped. "I asked how it could have been allowed to happen."

"I don't know," Gaius admitted. He sounded tired. "That bust has been there for over a hundred and fifty years. There was no reason to believe it might fall."

Merlin looked around the room and saw that everybody else was still standing, unable to sit down while Uther stood. Uther began to pace and in spite of the fact that the room was overcrowded with so many people, everybody made space for him to do so. Leon backed right up to the door and stayed there.

Arthur was by the window with his back to everybody else, Lance and Morgana were standing in the space where Merlin's desk had been. Lance looked grave and Morgana was playing with her ring in a nervous manner, twisting it around her finger. Gwaine was beyond them, clutching a cardboard tube tightly in both hands. His brows were drawn together but Merlin couldn't read his expression. Gwen was sitting at the round mahogany table. She had a mug in front of her, held between her hands and looked like she was trying to avoid being noticed. Merlin didn't blame her.

He walked across to Lance's side and dumped the box on the floor. The sound caused everyone to look at him. "It was bad," he acknowledged. "It could have been terrible. Thankfully, it wasn't."

"It could have been terrible," Uther agreed. "It could also have been an unsuspecting member of the public."

A gasp from Gwen drew his attention and he glared at her. "What?" he barked. "Who are you?"

"I'm, I..." Gwen took a breath and sat up straight. "I'm Gwen Thomas," she said. "I run the Museum Club. We were expecting a Year Six visit this morning, but they cancelled yesterday."

"You make my point for me," Uther said. "It is obvious that the museum will have to close for the duration of the works." In a gentler tone of voice, he said, "Arthur?"

Arthur turned. "Yes, Father?"

"It's never safe to have the public anywhere near a building site. I rely on you to sort that out."

Bowing his head, Arthur murmured, "Yes, Father."

More briskly, Uther turned to the rest of the room. "I have to go. I've been invited to appear on Question Time this evening and I need to be in Camlann by 7pm. I think we are done here. I'll look at the accountant's report on the way."

Merlin hurried to fetch it and handed him one copy. Uther placed his briefcase on Gaius's desk, opened it and slipped the report inside with a nod of thanks.

"But Father-"

"Yes?"

Arthur straightened his back. "You agreed to take a look at the rough sketches Gwaine has put together." He glanced at his watch. "It's only 12:30. And it won't take more than an hour of your time. If you wouldn't mind?" He indicated Gwaine. "Gwaine Lott," he said. Turning slightly, he raised his arm in Lance and Morgana's direction. "His partner, Lance DuLac, and their Office and Accounts Manager-"

"Morgana," Morgana said, interrupting him and stepping forward. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Pendragon," she said, holding out her hand.

Leaving his briefcase on Gaius's desk, Uther shook it, studying her. He smiled tightly. "A pleasure," he replied. Looking over to Arthur his smile softened and his shoulders seemed to relax. "Very well," he said. "One hour."

Merlin felt the tension in the room decrease dramatically. Arthur smiled and indicated the round table. Uther pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. Gwen pushed her own chair back and stood. "I'll, I'll get out of your way," she mumbled.

"No, stay," Gaius said, taking the seat next to Uther. "Your views as an educator are just as valuable as everybody else's."

Gwen blushed and looked around. Lance was smiling warmly at her and Morgana nodded encouragement. She settled back nervously into her chair. "Okay, thank you," she agreed.

Lance caught Arthur's eye and indicated the last seat at the table, but Arthur shook his head so Lance sat down next to her. Leon edged away from the door, to a place where he could see the table top.

Gwaine pulled the lid off his cardboard tube, drew out a roll of paper and went to stand between Uther and Gaius.

"And we could all do with that cup of tea, I think," Gaius said. "The kettle's just boiled."

"I'll make it," Merlin said.

"I'll help you," Morgana offered. She smiled at Lance and Gwaine. "I can listen in from over there, if you need me." She got up and went over to the kettle. Merlin joined her and flicked it back on, while Morgana started assembling mugs and dumped a dozen tea bags into the big teapot. Merlin glared at the kettle, silently begging it to come quickly back to the boil.

Finally it did and he poured the water into the teapot. Morgana had found a tray and arranged the sugar bowl, milk carton and half a dozen teaspoons on it. "You take that," she said. "I'll hand out the tea." She gave the teapot a swirl and started pouring it out.

She passed the first mug to Uther, the second to Gaius and then stood behind him to watch. He looked up at her and offered her his seat, but she shook her head.

Merlin managed to fit the other mugs on the tray, but recognising the hierarchy, he went first to Uther's side to offer milk and sugar. Uther added both to his mug. Merlin then walked around the table so everybody else could take their own and do the same.

Returning to the tea area, he grabbed the last mug and re-joined the group, standing next to Arthur, where he had a clear view past Lance's head.

Gwaine talked fast, pulling one sheet after another off the top of the table and dropping them on the floor behind him, showing them different views and possibilities.

Merlin had missed much of it, but Gaius was already beaming with delight. He reached out to squeeze the back Gwen's free hand which was resting on the edge of the table. Uther did not look so impressed.

Eventually, Gwaine finished and stood up straight again.

No one said anything for a long moment. Gwaine bent to pick up his papers and walked around the table to a position from where he had a view of Uther's face.

Gaius broke the silence by clapping his hands together. "That is wonderful," he said.

"They need more work," Gwaine explained, "but from what Arthur said about the collections and your basic concept..."

"Very impressive," Uther agreed. He looked up at Arthur. "It is certainly a good basis for future work." Switching his attention to Gwaine, he added, "And as Chair of the Board of Trustees I would like to thank you for the effort you have put into producing them." He stood up. "But I can't sanction any further work on them until the Board has had a chance to see them and gives its approval. You will understand that."

Gwaine looked understandably disappointed. Morgana went over to him, once more twisting her ring around her finger. Lance frowned but nodded. "Of course," he said.

Gaius slumped slightly in his chair, but offered a consoling, "I'm sure they'll agree, though."

On his way to fetch his briefcase Uther said, "We will see at the next Board meeting." He turned. "Now I really must go; I don't want to keep the BBC waiting."

Hauling himself to his feet, Gaius said, "Thank you for coming up. I know how busy you are."

"Of course," Uther said. He left the room with Gaius, and Leon slipped out behind them.

Arthur turned to Gwaine. "They will say yes," he said. "That's a good concept design. There's no way they won't approve it."

Gwaine nodded. "Yeah, things always take longer that we'd wish, eh?" He started straightening the papers and rolled them up but didn't try to put them back into the cardboard tube. "We'd best be going then." With a grimace for Morgana, he added, "I'm sorry we dragged you down with us, Morgs. Looks like fate didn't want us discussing the accountant's report, after all."

Arthur held out his hand and Merlin put the second copy of the report into it. "Here," Arthur said. "Take it with you. At least you'll have time to read it properly before we do meet to discuss it." He handed it to Gwaine who passed it straight to Morgana. "We might even have the final report by then."

Morgana nodded. She looked tired. Merlin thought she was more disappointed than Gwaine by the reception his plans had received.

Arthur went over to the door and Lance, Gwaine and Morgana followed him. He held it for them to leave and went with them to see them out.

Merlin collapsed into a chair. "Bloody hell," he said. "What a fucking disaster."

"Yeah," Gwen agreed. "What if the school party had been there? It would have been worse than a disaster." She paused. "Not that I'm saying it would have been okay if it had hit Arthur. I mean, obviously, that would have been terrible, too."

Merlin laid his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. "I know," he said.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Arthur spent the first part of the afternoon on the phone to each member of the Board of Trustees, explaining about the accident and the resultant need to close the museum. Merlin drafted a short press statement for the Saturday edition of the Camelot Echo.

"What about the Museum Club?" Merlin asked. "You've seen what Gwen does. Those kids are learning stuff. They come every weekend."

Arthur pausing in his search through the papers spread across his desk. "They're a very visible activity," he agreed. "Yes, we don't want the bad publicity from closing them down with no notice. And Gwen's contract has another five months to run. We can hire a portacabin for them." He pulled up google on his laptop and looked down the list of links his search had produced. With a sigh, he closed the window again. "Pendragon's has clout. I'll ask someone at the company to get the best price. We can put it out front."

"I thought we couldn't call upon Pendragon's for help."

"Don't quibble, Merlin."

Arthur made a phone call, amended Merlin's press statement and sent it through to the Echo at 3 o'clock. He then sent Merlin out to fetch them a late lunch and, while they ate, they sat at Arthur's desk planning the next necessary steps.

"With the bank holiday on Monday, we need to get as much sorted today and tomorrow as we can," Arthur said. "The collections can move to the Riverside warehouse sooner than we'd allowed for. I need to see Leon about that."

"Gaius might want to set up an office there, then. He hasn't got a car, but the number 35 goes out that way, so... Why Leon?"

Studying the list of issues and tasks, Arthur said, "With the building empty, Leon can get his crew in here earlier, so the works schedule will change. It'll give him more leeway, which he'll be glad of." He caught Merlin's eye. "I know," he said. "We really wanted to keep it open as long as possible, but it was going to have to close for a while and it really isn't safe."

Merlin gathered the empty packaging from their sandwiches and threw it in the bin. "Yeah, I know," he said.

"How long will it take to move the collections?" Arthur asked.

Merlin pulled up the project plan on his laptop. "We scheduled the move of the stores to start at the end of next month and allowed three weeks."

"Alright. Move that forward to start next week. If Leon's got a couple of trustworthy people he can spare, we can probably do it quicker than that, too. But assuming three weeks, how much more flex does that put into the building contract?"

Merlin made the change and studied the result. "Four weeks. There are some things that can't shift."

"Send me that file, will you? I'll talk to Leon. You go and explain what we've decided to Gaius. See if he has anything to add."

They left the office together, but outside Gaius's workroom Arthur paused. "Are you going to watch Question Time tonight?" he asked.

Merlin smiled. "I'd quite like to," he admitted, "But Gaius doesn't have a television."

Arthur boggled. "He doesn't?"

"No. He's got a real top end stereo, but he mostly listens to the radio."

"Wow, well, uh, do you want to come and watch it? At the hotel? With me?" Arthur asked, adding, "You don't have to. It's not part of your job or anything."

Merlin's smile broadened. "Thanks. I'd really like that."

"Okay then." Arthur looked at his watch. "It starts at 10:30. There's still a lot of work to do, but we could get some supper first? "

"Thanks. Okay," Merlin said, adding cheerfully, "Do I get overtime for that?"

A smile tugging at the corner of Arthur's mouth. "No, you get supper." He shifted back to business. "This meeting will take a couple of hours. Once you've spoken to Gaius, I want you to work out a detailed schedule for moving the displays first and then the stores. We'll need specialists to remove the display cases in the Ticket Office. See if Gaius has any recommendations and if not, try google, but I want a reference. Someone Gaius can phone and talk to."

The meeting with Gaius involved Gwen too, since she was in the workroom with him. They were both resigned and a little depressed, but Gwen brightened considerably when Merlin told her that Arthur had a plan to keep the Museum Club open.

She left to go through her programme, so she could work out which items from the collections she wanted to keep close at hand. Gaius didn't know of any suitable tradesmen, but he said he had a few contacts at other museums and offered to call them, so Merlin went back to his computer to start on a removal plan and listen to Gwen's thoughts as they worked.

It was nearly 7pm when he left the Ladies Waiting Room, having completed an inventory of the items in the displays that would need to be locked away in the safe at the Town Hall, and headed up the stairs.

Above him Arthur came out onto the balcony. Their eyes met and Merlin smiled. He thought Arthur smiled back, although it was sometimes difficult to tell with Arthur, who more often smiled with his eyes than with his mouth.

"There you are," Arthur called. "I was coming to look for you." They met halfway along the balcony. "You still on for supper?"

"Sure," Merlin said. "Just let me put this in the office," he held up his notepad, "and I'm all yours."

Arthur smirked and Merlin felt his face heat up, but Arthur didn't say anything. He merely nodded and opened the door into Gaius's office, to turn off the lights.

Merlin dropped off his notepad, shoved his work laptop into his back pack and together they walked down the stairs and through the Ticket Office to the staff exit.

"It's only a few minutes' walk," Arthur said when they reached the pavement. "This way." He turned right.

"Oh, good, because I need to stop off at an off-licence on the way. I need to buy a bottle of good brandy. It's Gaius's birthday tomorrow."

"Is it?" Arthur asked. "I'd better get him something, too, then."

"Not brandy," Merlin said firmly. "That's my idea. You'll have to come up with something of your own."

"Cognac," Arthur said. "If you're looking for something good. How about a book? You can come with me to Smith's tomorrow and help me find something."

"I don't suppose I'll get overtime for that, either?"

Arthur laughed. "What is this thing you've got with overtime?" he asked. "I pay you very well, you know. Things like choosing a present are part of your normal duties."

Grinning, Merlin retorted, "Hey! Not your servant."

"No," Arthur agreed, speaking slowly and clearly. "You're my assistant, which means you assist, if you are capable of such a thing."

"Oh, I'm capable," Merlin said. "I'm very capable."

Arthur's smirk re-emerged. "I'm sure you are," he agreed.

There was an off-licence opposite Arthur's hotel and being so close to an establishment that catered largely for business clients, it had a good selection of brandies and whiskies to choose from. Arthur was going to go in with Merlin, to favour him with his advice, but his phone rang just as they reached the door, so he stayed outside to take the call and Merlin went in alone.

He spent at least five minutes studying labels and trying to remember if Gaius had ever mentioned any particular favourite brand, but in the end he decided to go with the most expensive as a safe bet and took it to the till to pay.

The young girl behind the counter smiled as she scanned the bar code. "A present?" she asked. Merlin smiled back and nodded, pushing his debit card into the reader. "We have wrapping paper, too." she said.

"Oh, no, I don't, I mean, I haven't any sellotape and anyway..."

He trailed off and she laughed. "And that would be a bit girly would it?" she asked "No worries. Here." She picked up a gift tag from a box next to the till and tied it around the neck. "On the house," she said, putting the bottle in a paper bag and handing it back to him.

When he went outside, Arthur was still on the phone and didn't notice Merlin. "Yes, father," he said. "Umm... no, I can't say I've ever really thought about it." He paused, listening, and began to walk in small circles, his eyes on the pavement. "Yes... No, I'm fine. Yes. I mean..." There was another longish pause. "No! I never... Umm... Yes. Of course I know. I, I love you too." He closed his phone and put it away in his inside jacket pocket, but he didn't move. He stood still, staring blankly down at his feet.

"Anything wrong?" Merlin asked.

Arthur gave a start. "He said he loved me," he said, sounding perplexed.

"Well, that's natural, isn't it?"

"He's never said anything like that before."

Merlin walked over to his side. "You're an only child, aren't you?" he asked. Arthur nodded. "Well, of course he loves you. You're all he's got."

"Maybe, but he's never said it."

Such reserve was totally foreign to Merlin and he struggled to come up with an appropriate response. "Delayed shock?" he suggested.

"Maybe. Yes, I suppose it must be. But..." Arthur broke off, visibly gathered himself and rubbed his hands together. It was as if he had put on a mask. "Okay!" he said briskly. "Did you find something suitable?" Merlin pulled the bottle out of its bag to show him. "Very nice. I couldn't have picked better, myself."

"The girl gave me a gift tag," Merlin said, turning the bottle so Arthur could see. "Can I borrow a pen?"

With a shake of his head, Arthur extracted a silver pen from his pocket. "Honestly, what kind of a PA are you, that you don't even carry a pen? He handed it over. "Come on. Supper," he said and stepped out onto the street.

Merlin trailed behind as he struggled to write Gaius's name on the tag while he walked. Then he shoved the bottle and the pen in his back pack and hurried to catch up.

It was a very good meal and they hardly touched on the museum, or all the work that needed to be done now that it was to close. If at first there were a couple of occasions when Arthur appeared a little pensive, as soon as he noticed Merlin looking at him, he made an effort to relax and by the time they had finished their soup he seemed to have shaken off the effect of the phone call.

It might have been Arthur being a good host, or it might have been a simple decision that they should get to know each other better, but Arthur told Merlin a little about himself. He was only a year older than Merlin. Merlin had assumed he was more. He had read economics at Cambridge before going straight into the family business, but he had also worked there every holiday from the age of sixteen. "I started in the post room, of course," he said.

He could also tell a very entertaining story, many of them about the crazy things he had been caught doing, both at Pendragon's and at university. The tale of the desk-top-to-desk-top race across a large open-plan office, which ended with him on the floor under a pile of other young men and his head in a rubbish bin, had Merlin in stitches, while the accident with the punt on the River Cam almost made Merlin choke when he unadvisedly took a sip of wine just as Arthur reached his punchline.

In exchange, Merlin talked about Ealdor and his mother, about growing up in small village and busing eighteen miles to school. "At least, it was eighteen miles once we started secondary. That was a drag and secondary school was not my best decade," he admitted.

"What kind of place was it?" Arthur asked. "You weren't bullied, were you?"

Merlin grinned. "Why would you think that?" he asked. "It was a good school. And they had a zero tolerance for that sort of thing."

Arthur pantomimed dubious consideration by cocking his head on one side, closing his left eye and screwing up his nose. Merlin laughed. "No," he said. "It's just that I was awkward and gangly and didn't really fit in. Getting out and going to university in York was brilliant." He smiled. "Anyway, if anyone had tried anything, between us, Will and I would have knocked some sense into them. He's my best friend. He's in London now."

The conversation evolved and mutated as they ate. They talked about the upcoming long weekend. "I thought I'd take the opportunity for a look around the area," Arthur said. "Climb the Tor and maybe visit the gardens at Tregor Castle." He laughed self-consciously. "I bought a guide book at the tourist office. I don't think I've ever done that before. Not in the UK, anyway."

"No, I don't see you as the natural tourist," Merlin agreed.

"There's something about this part of the country, though, it's... I don't know." Arthur shook his head. "I like it here."

Over the main course the conversation reverted to the personal. Arthur expressed some envy of Merlin for having a mother. His own had died in childbirth and his father still mourned her. From their childhoods, they somehow found themselves comparing favourite films and books and that led naturally to music, philosophy, local history and, finally, gardening. At times Merlin almost suspected Arthur of flirting, which would have been nice, but was, he decided, improbable. It was the kind of conversation Merlin's mother called 'setting the world to rights' and when, at 10 o'clock, Arthur suggested it was time to move, Merlin couldn't believe that they had been there for so long.

They detoured via the bar and Merlin bought them each a pint, which they carried with them up to Arthur's room.

Merlin had never stayed in a hotel. His childhood holidays had been mostly spent at home, or occasionally camping. Later, when he went abroad with friends, they had always stayed in hostels, or self-catered houses when there was a large enough group. But, he knew enough to know that Arthur had probably rented the Camelot Hilton's equivalent of the penthouse.

The room was big, with a king sized bed at one end, a sofa at the other and enough clear floor space in between to feel comfortable walking around.

"TV's in here," Arthur said, opening the double doors of an oak-finished cabinet. "Grab a seat."

Merlin settled at one end of the sofa, placing his glass carefully on the coffee table in front of it and his back pack on the floor to the side.

Arthur put his own glass down, slipped off his jacket and tie, opened the wardrobe and hung them up. He picked up the remote, took his place next to Merlin and clicked on the television.

Loosening his own tie, Merlin pulled it off and stuffed it in the side pocket of his backpack.

They watched the last few minutes of the news at ten and a trailer for Horizon, then the Question Time theme music started. Merlin picked up his pint and took a drink.

The programme was coming from a Church of England middle school in Camlann and the panel was the usual mix - three compulsory politicians: Vivian Olafsdottir, the Culture Secretary, a Labour guy called Karl Godwyn, who was their spokesperson for trade and industry, and a Liberal Democrat undersecretary for the environment, or possibly for energy. The important thing was that they could all be guaranteed to disagree. The fourth member of the panel was a political comedian and protest songwriter of the old school, called Trickler Alined, and the last was Uther.

Since Gaius was, in Merlin's opinion, unable to function in the morning without the Today Programme on Radio 4, Merlin also got a daily dose of current affairs with his breakfast. He was not surprised, therefore, by the first question: the possible fall-out from the latest political scandal.

David Dimbleby turned to the politicians.

It was quite entertaining to watch the LibDem squirm in his attempt to condemn his colleague's behaviour without criticising the man himself.

When Uther's turn came, he hesitated in his answer. "Anybody who sets themselves up in public life must –" He cut himself off and swallowed before starting again. "It's not easy being under the lens of tabloid attention all the time. A man's private life is his own business."

"But this was hardly private, was it?" David Dimbleby prompted. "There are accusations of mismanagement of the public purse." Arthur snorted at that diplomatic phrasing.

"It is not right-" Uther began. "I mean... We don't have the facts in this particular case and it would be wrong to –" He paused again. "Sexual scandals of any sort are abhorrent to me. The prurience of the press in this country is a scandal in itself. If they will not reform themselves, something should be done to force them to do so."

There was a smattering of applause, but only a smattering. David Dimbleby stepped in before any of the other panellists could start, but even so he had to forcibly drown out the first indignant utterings of all three politicians. Trickler sat back in his chair with a huge grin.

"That is not the specific issue under discussion here, however," David Dimbleby said. He turned to glare down Karl Godwyn. "If we could return to the question –" He went on to do a good job of acting as referee, cutting off Vivian Olafdottir when she began to make party political points, instead of addressing the issue and, once the discussion had developed enough that there was no danger it would veer back to Uther's comment, asking members of the audience for their opinions, which he then referred back to the panel. When the camera panned back to show everybody at once, Merlin thought that Uther's mouth was pinched and he seemed to be sweating.

As the debate developed during the audience participation section, the politicians all had their axes to grind and did so with gusto. Uther managed to overcome his nerves enough to make one uncontroversial point, while Trickler made a couple of serious points, but also scored a few cheap laughs with his particular brand of sarcastic wit.

Uther's obvious nervousness made him appear more human to Merlin. "I've not have guessed your dad would get stage fright," he observed.

"He doesn't," Arthur said.

Such was his tone that Merlin grimaced and dropped it. "Did you see Trickler on Live at the Apollo?" he asked, instead.

Arthur turned his head to look at him. "I thought you said Gaius didn't have a TV."

Merlin laughed. "My mum does though. He was really funny. Did this whole skit about the class system and penguins."

"Penguins?"

"Yeah." Merlin tried to remember some of the jokes, but lost his nerve. "I guess you'd have to see it," he admitted. "I'm no good at jokes."

"You do yourself an injustice. I think you're hilarious."

"Gee, thanks. Just don't put that in the reference I'm going to ask you to write for me."

Arthur turned back to the screen. "I won't," he said.

The panel had moved onto the next question. It was even meatier than the first - the latest proposals for regulation of the banks, with particular reference to the Euro crisis, tax avoidance and global competition in banking. Arthur was watching with every indication of interest and Merlin sat back against the cushions where he could divide his attention between Arthur and the television if Arthur happened to glance his way.

Since he had started working for Arthur, he had always been busy when in Arthur's company. Now, with Arthur's attention elsewhere, his own returned to the conundrum of Arthur's possible magic.

He consciously relaxed, allowing his awareness to gather in and flow down his left arm. The pads of his fingers tingled. He casually placed his hand on the cushion by his side and a tendril of feeling expanded out from his fingertips, across the space between them.

On the screen, David Dimbleby called upon the politicians to address the question first, although Trickler butted in and got a cheer for his downright condemnation of all bankers.

When the laughter died down Karl Godwyn began, "It almost makes a pleasant change to have a whole profession less popular than politicians, but in all seriousness…"

Merlin tuned him out. Directing his magic towards Arthur was easier than before, possibly because it was only a single wisp, rather than an expansion in all directions. Within moments the same contact he had felt in Miss Kay's garden clicked into place, but this time it didn't cause shock and his bones didn't vibrate.

The politicians had finished making their points and Merlin had missed them entirely. Dimbleby moved on from the Liberal Democrat, who seemed to be called Alan something, to Uther. Once again Uther seemed to be having difficulty formulating his thoughts. He started to say something about business demanding hard decisions, but stopped mid-sentence and instead made some bland statement about the difficulty of predicting the markets. His mouth twisted as he spoke and he put his hand to his throat, as if he were having to force the words out.

Merlin concentrated on the whisper of a thread of a promise that extended from his neck, shoulder, arm, hand, to Arthur.

What met it was gentle - a sense of warmth, accompanied by a sensation of familiarity, which was a little bit crazy and a lot unexpected. Having no clear idea what magic would feel like if he touched it in someone else, Merlin allowed his awareness to drift across Arthur's hand, searching for something more active. He found it. Beneath the warmth there was a discordant pattern playing through Arthur's being that jarred at Merlin. It jangled - deep, discordant bells which squirmed through his understanding, like, like embarrassment, or fear. It took him a few minutes to recognise that Arthur was suffering from the beginning of panic and was firmly stomping down on the emotion.

He allowed his magic to spread around Arthur's wrist and enfold it, like a hand clasp. In response, he felt Arthur relax and the sensation of serene warmth, with a golden glow, began to rise from under the fractured layer, until it almost drowned out the other colours.

The essence of Arthur was seductive. It drew Merlin with a gentle rhythm and a promise that felt like a warm duvet on a lazy morning in bed. It offered him a haven, a nest, a familiarity that was full to overflowing with relaxation and challenge, but he knew it wasn't magic. He didn't know what it was he felt in the texture of Arthur, but he was now certain that if Arthur did have magic, it was in hibernation - a creature curled up secure and safe in a warm burrow.

With some deliberation he avoided touching even the surface of Arthur's thoughts. That would have felt like an invasion of his privacy. The colours of him had already betrayed more than Merlin had intended to discover or that he felt Arthur would feel happy with him knowing.

The connection broke when Arthur sat forward in his seat and Merlin abruptly pulled his magic back. The shock brought him to full awareness of what had been happening on the television.

Arthur was staring at the screen. He shook his head. "Come on, Dad, get it together," he muttered.

Merlin sat up straight and picked up his pint to cover the move. "Do you think he's okay?" he asked.

"Why do you say that?"

"It's what I thought you were saying." Merlin studied Uther. "I really would never have pegged your dad for stage fright," he said again.

"I told you, he doesn't get stage fright. I've seen him stand up and speak in front of huge gatherings at business dinners."

"Maybe it's because he's on TV?" Merlin suggested. "That's pretty scary, if you think about it."

"Oh, for goodness sake! He's been interviewed a hundred times. He doesn't get nervous. He doesn't fumble."

Sitting back, Merlin rested his glass on his thigh and ran his other hand through his hair. "Well he is now," he said.

Arthur ignored him.

The camera moved away from Uther and didn't return while audience members were called upon for their views. Those who spoke were well informed and made good points, one of which had Godwyn momentarily backed up against the metaphorical ropes.

There was a brief pause before David Dimbleby called for the third question, which came from one of the teachers at the school. He asked about the Church of England's stance on gay marriage, given the huge divide between the attitudes of the Western and the African congregations.

"Oh God," said Arthur, closing his eyes and falling back against the cushions.

Dimbleby went straight to Uther, who started to speak immediately. "There is something fundamentally- No, no, that's not what I mean to say. Two men together like that is an abom-" He bit his lip, grabbed the glass on the desk in front of him, raised it to his mouth and swallowed thirstily. His hand was shaking. When he put the glass down, he took a deep breath and released it, glanced around at the rest of the panel, took another breath and, as if each word took a huge effort of will, bit out, "I have nothing to say on this matter, except that marriage is a sacred rite, the natural order of which is one man and one woman." His hand was still clenched tightly around his water glass and his eyes were wide.

Arthur opened his eyes. "Well, that was predictable," he muttered. "More absolute than usual, but on the whole depressingly familiar. At least he didn't finish that first sentence."

"You don't agree with him?" Merlin asked.

"Not very likely to, am I?" Arthur replied. "Although, personally..." He shrugged, "A Civil Partnership would have been enough for me. But it's important to some people and I don't see why they can't get married."

Merlin turned his head to stare at Arthur. "Are you gay?" he asked. "I'd never have guessed you were gay."

Looking across at him, Arthur smirked. "Then you need a new battery for your gaydar. Appearances, Merlin, almost by definition, are deceiving." The smirk broadened into a full grin. "Except in your case, of course. I knew you were gay within a day of meeting you."

"But, but you never said anything."

"Why would I?" Arthur sounded almost offended. "I didn't know you." He shrugged again and smiled, but his voice was decidedly patronising when he added, "We're not at university; there's no obligation to go around making declarations. Not in real life."

Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't think of anything that wasn't totally stupid, so he shut it again. The mildly amused, slightly irritated expression in Arthur's eyes suggested that it was a wise choice.

Merlin turned back to the screen where the politicians were all agreeing that the law made the situation very clear. The LibDem and the Conservative both claimed that they were not qualified to pass judgement on the Archbishop of Canterbury in his performance of his office. Godwyn was slightly more outspoken in support of gay rights, but it seemed to Merlin that it was mostly said for effect, because he felt such statements were expected of him. Trickler, who had been kept in check by Dimbleby while the others gave their opinions, launched a diatribe on hypocrisy, aimed at the other panellists. First he quoted their individual past voting records on the issue and then questioned the relevance of an established church in the twenty-first century. In spite of the laughs he got, Dimbleby quickly called him to order.

The camera panned away from Trickler and stopped for a few moments on Uther. He was clenching his jaw and there was a pained expression on his face. Merlin sat forward abruptly. It might have been a trick of the studio lights, but they were experts, they would take measures to prevent red-eye. If red-eye was even possible on television, where there was no flash to cause it.

"What?" Arthur asked.

Merlin sat back. "Nothing," he said. "I thought I saw something, but I was wrong."

Then came a question about the funding of heritage projects.

"You are referring to the recent case at the British Museum?" David Dimbleby asked. The questioner confirmed that that was the issue she had in mind and expanded a little on her initial question with an observation about rich donors dictating terms and the potential for organisations charged with preserving the nation's heritage being compromised. With the reason for their recent visit to Miss Kay in mind, Merlin snorted in agreement.

Dimbleby looked around the panel, hesitated on Vivian Olafsdottir, but said, "Uther Pendragon, you have made a number of large donations to some of our national galleries, I believe?"

"Heritage is a difficult word," Uther said. The camera cut to David Dimbleby nodding encouragement. Uther frowned, his brow knotting. "The cultural heritage of this country is all very well, but family heritage is what matters. I believe that should always take precedence."

The camera cut again to David Dimbleby who seemed interested but puzzled by this introduction to what should have been a straightforward comment about funding for the arts and culture from the non-politico on the panel. "Family heritage?" he asked.

"Heritage is personal," Uther said. "Family heritage is the concept that underlies the whole idea of public funding for the arts. Many of the great museum collections and all the national Trust and English Heritage properties started in private hands. And if a time comes when the public purse no longer values these treasures, then it is time to return them to the private sphere. When a man is robbed of his birth right, he is entitled to take whatever measures are required to reassert those rights."

"I don't understand," Dimbleby said.

"Then allow me to explain." Uther's voice was getting stronger with each statement and there was no hesitation in his manner now. "When public funding is withdrawn, it is a declaration that government is not interested in maintaining cultural establishments."

That resulted in a smattering of applause and Dimbleby asked, "Are you suggesting that in those cases it is up to private funding to take over and fill the gap?"

"If there are people willing to subsidise such activities," Uther agreed, "they are at liberty to throw away their money as they see fit, but in my opinion, if those with control of public monies don't prioritise museums and galleries, and they are incapable of supporting themselves by charging for entrance, then they have no place in our society."

The applause of a moment before was replaced by muttering and a single audible boo. David Dimbleby appeared torn between surprise at the nature of Uther's view and delight that the question had turned up such a controversial opinion. The other panellists all started speaking at once, contradicting Uther to greater or lesser degrees, but Dimbleby forced them to shut up. "But you, yourself, have been instrumental in saving a number of important works of art for the nation," he said.

"Of course I have," Uther agreed. "It's good PR. And that was just money. They didn't matter to me. I am dealing with a situation at the moment that is far more significant. And today I put in motion legal measures to take back ownership of a building that has been totally neglected by the public bodies that were supposed to support it. It is part of my family's heritage and I won't suffer to see its potential wasted. In my view, pride in family will always outweigh any argument about the cultural heritage of the nation."

"O-kay," Dimbleby said. "I'm not sure of the case you refer to, but I don't think that was what the questioner was asking. Vivian Olafsdottir, as culture secretary, what do you say to the charge that the Director of the British Museum was very much at fault when he said-"

Merlin turned away from the television, to Arthur. "What does he mean?" he demanded.

Arthur was still staring at the screen and he looked as bewildered as Merlin felt. He shook his head. "I don't know."

"He was talking about the Folly, wasn't he?"

"I don't know," Arthur said again. "He hasn't said anything to me." He dragged his eyes away from the television. "It could be a different building," he said. "It must be. Pendragon's is involved in scores of projects."

"How many of them would come up in reply to a question about arts funding?" Merlin asked. "How many of them would your father claim was part of your family's heritage?"

Arthur shook his head. "None that I know of," he admitted. "But it could be some project I'm not involved with. It must be."

"That's not what it sounds like."

"I don't know what he's talking about," Arthur insisted and Merlin believed him.

On the television, Karl Godwyn was speaking. He told a personal story about his own introduction to the British Museum, on a school trip, and roundly condemned the sentiments Uther had expressed. When it appeared he was about to expand his criticism, David Dimbleby called him to a halt and steered the discussion away from the Pendragons and their business, back to the original question, which proved lively enough on its own. Merlin sat back in the sofa and glared at the screen.

The other politicians co-operated with the chair and picked up on various points Godwyn had made, not responding to Uther's metaphorically tossed gauntlet. The first audience speaker did, however, and that led to Trickler doing what he had proven he did best and raising both laughter and cheers.

While they watched, David Dimbleby seamlessly drew the question to a close without calling on Uther to speak again. Merlin cast occasional glances Arthur's way, but could not read anything from him. Arthur looked calm. He was sitting with his half-drunk pint of beer in his hand and resting easily on the arm of the sofa.

Merlin's own brain was churning. He wanted to get up and pace. He turned in his seat, so he was half facing Arthur along the sofa. The movement drew Arthur's eye. "You'll ask him tomorrow though, won't you?" Merlin said.

Arthur nodded. "Yes. You can be assured of that. I'll ask Geoffrey, too." He shifted himself, turning towards Merlin. "If anybody knows anything, he will," he said. "I can't believe it's the Folly, though." He held Merlin's eyes, as if willing Merlin to agree. "Why would he send me to oversee the project, if he wasn't serious?" Merlin opened his mouth, but Arthur kept talking. "I don't believe it. I can't believe it." He smiled slightly, although it looked forced. "Besides anything else, if it was The Folly he wouldn't announce it on national television. It has to be something else. Something I don't know about." He leant sideways and put his glass down on the coffee table. "There's nothing can be done tonight, anyway. I'll call Geoffrey, and my father, first thing. Okay?"

Merlin nodded reluctantly. There was indeed nothing to be gained from arguing, when Arthur had already promised to make enquiries. Arthur had already turned back to focus on the programme again. After a moment, Merlin followed suit.

The debate had moved on to the next question and they had missed the beginning of it. "– healthy work-life balance," a woman in the audience was saying.

The camera cut back to the panel and centred on David Dimbleby. "As a business man yourself, with a large number of employees, do you have a comment on that, Uther Pendragon?" Dimbleby asked.

The camera panned across and settled on Uther. He stared straight out of the screen, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched. He began to speak, slowly at first but his words speeding up as he talked, until he was hardly drawing breath between sentences. "I married my wife for her connections and she knew it. At that point in my career I had no time or energy to spare for a work-life balance. I worked twenty hours a day, building a business, pushing the old guard out, forcing a creaking, staggering company into the 20th century. Yes, there were casualties. There were people who couldn't hack it. There were other companies that were failing, or could be made to fail, and they had to be acquired and forced into health. Work-life balance? Anyone here who has made any sort of success of their lives knows that's just a whining excuse used by the weak willed and lazy to hide behind."

At last he paused for breath. The rest of the panel was sitting in shocked silence, as was the audience. Then the comedian jeered from Uther's right, saying, "And what does Mrs Pendragon think of that attitude? If you still have a Mrs Pendragon, that is."

There was some almost nervous laughter from the audience and a couple of the other panel members started to smile.

But then it got worse when Uther began to cry. At first it was a single tear, caught by the merciless camera and the bright lights, but within a few moments his breath was hitching. "My wife was always full of dreams and stupidities. I didn't have time for her nonsense."

It was almost too painful to watch. What it would be doing to Arthur, Merlin couldn't begin to imagine. Karl Godwyn leaned forward as if to say something, but David Dimbleby held him back with a gesture. This was too good to be spoiled by advising Uther to shut up. "I was ambitious," Uther said. "So what if I cut corners? If I bent a few rules? All's fair in business. The government is constantly putting barriers in the way of entrepreneurs and wealth creators."

Now David Dimbleby did say something. "It sounds like your definition of a wealth creator is someone who only creates wealth for themselves."

"Of course," Uther said with such certainty that he made it a virtue. Although the tears continued to form and slide down his cheeks, he made no attempt to brush them away. It was as if he didn't realise they were there.

"Are you saying you broke the law in building your business empire?" Vivian Olafsdottir asked. She sounded awed and Merlin could only imagine she had asked the question so that Uther could deny it.

"Of course not," Uther said. His voice began to hitch. "But one can't conduct business in the, the environment, that this government, all the ones before it have created with, with their regulations and directives."

Trickler looked like he'd woken up on Christmas morning to find all his wishes granted. "And while you were breaking-" David Dimbleby interrupted and Trickler nodded, correcting himself, but with such emphasis on the word that it dripped with sarcasm, "-bending the law in pursuit of power, what did your wife do?"

"She died," Uther said, shocking the room into silent again. Trickler looked momentarily shamefaced and muttered, "I'm sorry," but it was overridden by Uther, who said, "She withered away like a flower starved of sunlight." He was crying steadily now. Bowing his head, he stared at his hands, clasped on the desk in front of him, but the microphone picked up his words when he murmured, "And now my son hates me."

Staring at the television screen, Arthur whispered, "I don't."

Finally, Uther began to sob. He raised his hands and covered his face.

Merlin watched in horror. Eventually, he drew a deep breath. "Oh my," he said.

Arthur's expression was one of total disbelief. When Merlin tried to speak to him, he didn't react. David Dimbleby said some words that Merlin didn't hear. There was some sporadic applause. The studio lights went down and the credits began to roll.

Arthur shook himself out of his stupor. He collapsed back into his seat. "What the fuck?" he breathed.

Merlin got up, crossed the room and fetched a glass from the dresser. He opened the mini fridge and studied the bottles of beer and small cartons of orange juice on the shelf. Closing the door again, he went to his backpack and retrieved the bottle of cognac. Pouring out a generous measure, he pressed it into Arthur's hands. Arthur took it, lifted it to his lips and drank it all down. Behind him, Merlin heard the continuity announcer making an apology for the abrupt curtailment of the previous programme.

Arthur gave a shudder and grimaced. Putting the glass on the coffee table he said, "I have to go to Camlann." He looked at Merlin and made to get up. "I have to go, now."

Merlin put his hands on Arthur's shoulders and pushed him back into his seat. "You can't drive," he said. "You've drunk too much." Arthur glared at him and glared at the empty glass. "Even before that," Merlin said. "You're over the limit and if you didn't get stopped, you could still have an accident." Seeing something in Arthur's eyes, he added, "And so have I. So I can't drive you."

Dragging up a smirk from somewhere, even if it was a half-hearted attempt, Arthur said, "As if I'd let you drive my car."

"You can't drive," Merlin repeated, moving around the coffee table and dropping into the seat next to him. He picked up the remote and turned off the television. "And even if you did, what could you do tonight? Your dad will have minders with him, won't he? They'll look after him."

"He was being driven back to London straight after," Arthur said. "Yes, Blackwell will look after him. Get him home."

"Well there's no point in you haring off to Camlann then, is there?" Merlin said. "And there's no point in getting to London before he gets there."

"I, I need to call Geoffrey," Arthur said. He looked around the room and patted at his trouser pockets. Merlin jumped up and went to the wardrobe. He opened it and dug in the pockets of Arthur's jacket until he found his mobile. When he turned around, Arthur was standing behind him and Merlin handed the phone to him. Arthur took it and Merlin went back to the sofa, to give him the illusion of privacy.

Arthur sank down onto the edge of the bed, his thumbs skimming over the screen. When he raised it to his ear he didn't have long to wait for an answer because almost immediately he said, "Yes, it's me. You saw it then?" There was a pause. "I have no idea. Did you know…?" Once again the person on the other end of the phone, Geoffrey, Merlin presumed, must have been speaking. After a moment Arthur said, "No, I can't drive tonight. I, I could call a taxi?" Another pause and he said, "No. Um. Well, in that case, I suppose he won't get home until three at the earliest. You'll be there?" There was a longer pause as he listened and nodded, interrupting occasionally with half formed objections, but Geoffrey seemed to be talking him down. Eventually he drew a deep breath and let it out again. "Thank God. Yes... Yes, thank you. A couple of hours. About four. No, I know. Thank you. Yes, I'll see you then. Good night."

His arm dropped to his lap and his entire body slumped. Merlin got up and crossed the room to stand in front of him. "What time are you leaving?" he asked.

Arthur looked up. "Geoffrey's spoken to Blackwell," he said. "Blackwell will get him out of there and into the car. I know how fast I metabolise alcohol. I'll leave at four. I'll be in London by 5:30. Geoffrey's going to be there, at the house and is arranged for our doctor to be there, too."

"Okay," Merlin agreed. "So you'd better get some sleep then. I'll, I'll stay, if you don't mind. I can sleep on the sofa. I, I..."

Dragging up a weary smile, Arthur nodded. "Yes, thank you," he said. He put his phone down on the bedside table. "I think that sofa pulls out," he said. "I saw some bedding in the cupboard over there."

"Right. Well... You get some sleep then. And I'll set my alarm for, what, 3:30?"

"Yeah," Arthur agreed. He looked ready to drop, so Merlin knelt down and pulled his shoes off for him. Arthur smiled weakly. "I'll be okay," he said. "I can get myself to bed by myself."

"Of course you can," Merlin agreed, clambering to his feet. "I'll just be over here, if you need anything. Sleep well." He went over to the door and turned off the main lights, dug out the spare duvet from the cupboard Arthur had indicated, but didn't bother trying to figure out how to turn the sofa into a bed. He simply shucked off his shoes, socks and trousers, and curled himself up under the covers.

"You too," Arthur said.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Trudging down Market Street in the predawn gloom after far too little sleep, Merlin wished Camelot was big enough to support a 24-hour coffee shop culture. There might have been an all-night caff behind the station, for the taxi drivers on the graveyard shift, but that was a longer walk than going home to Francis Street. He hugged his jacket around his chest against the chill of what promised to be a fine spring morning and soldiered on.

There had been no time for more than a few quick gulps of bitter, black Nescafé in Arthur's room before they left. Arthur was obviously impatient to be on the road and Merlin didn't want to delay him.

"Leave that," Arthur said when he saw Merlin trying to fold his bedding. "That's what room service is for."

"Won't they charge you extra, for double occupancy?"

"So what if they do? Here, drink this." He poured boiling water into two of the small cups on the tray next to the kettle and handed one to Merlin. "I'll be ready to go in ten." Leaving his own cup where it was, he disappeared into the bathroom. Merlin considered the tiny UHT milk and cream tubs and decided he wasn't that desperate. Instead, he satisfied himself with adding three sachets of sugar.

By the time Arthur reappeared, Merlin had packed away his bedding and got fully dressed, even having his backpack on his shoulder. They stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor, drinking their coffee because it needed to be done. Then Arthur picked up his briefcase and led the way out.

Twenty five minutes later there was a definite lightening in the sky to the east, although the sun had not yet risen. Merlin dug in his pocket for his keys and let himself into the house.

***

Gaius got up at 6:30. He grunted when he saw Merlin, but didn't say anything as he shuffled through to the bathroom. When he reappeared Merlin passed him a cup of tea and went through to the kitchen to make porridge. He had had the radio on since he finished his shower and he could still hear it from where he stood at the cooker.

Speculation had been running high since the station opened at 5:20. Uther's dramatic breakdown had been the second item in the news roundup after the Shipping Forecast and it appeared from what the radio said that, although it had been too late for the first editions of the newspapers, they had all picked it up for their second. It also seemed to be a slow news day, which could only make matters worse for Uther.

As he poured porridge oats and water into a pan the coverage began again and a moment later the volume of the radio abruptly increased. Merlin peered through the kitchen door to see Gaius standing in front of his hi-fi, leaning against the edge of the sideboard on braced arms.

Evan Davis introduced a clip from Question Time. A commentator summarised the rest, calling Uther 'an influential and respected businessmen'. When he described Uther's breakdown, he sounded almost embarrassed, as if it was something unsightly that had to be dealt with, but was best not dwelt on. The implicit admission of potential wrongdoing, however, was fair game and there were promises of more interviews and insights later in the programme. John Humphrys', "We did ask for a representative from the company to come on to talk to us, but no one was available," sounded like some sort of admission of guilt on Uther's behalf.

By 7:15 the company had issued a statement about things said being taken out of context. Merlin dropped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. He wondered if Arthur had spent the whole of his drive down the M1 on the phone to his father's senior staff.

The radio moved temporarily on to other things. "Who's Geoffrey?" Merlin called through to Gaius. "Was he around when you worked for Uther? Arthur phoned someone called Geoffrey, last night."

"That would be Geoffrey Monmouth," Gaius said. He came and stood in the doorway. "He's Uther's Chief Operations Officer. He's been with him for years. Yes, I knew him. He's a good man. Solid and reliable. Loves Pendragon's."

Merlin served up porridge for both of them and took it through. Gaius sat down at the table and Merlin went back to the kitchen for the toast and his coffee. "Oh, happy birthday," he said as he handed over the golden syrup and placed a plate piled with six slices of toast on the table. "I bought you a bottle of brandy, but I gave some of it to Arthur last night. I'll get you another."

"Don't worry, my boy. I can't imagine you sat up and drank it all. If there's a little bit gone, well, it went to a good cause."

"We didn't," Merlin agreed, opening his bag and retrieving the cognac. "I've never seen him like that. He was really shaken up, but he was on the road just after four." He handed the bottle over with due solemnity and Gaius took it by the neck with a smile, holding it up to the light to check the level. He examined the gift tag and then the label. "Thank you very much," he said. "I shall enjoy this."

In the background the Today programme was discussing football. "This business with Uther is very odd," Gaius said. "You saw it all? Tell me what happened."

So Merlin took his seat and alternated spoons of porridge and sips of coffee with recounting what he had seen of Question Time. "And then he said he was going to repossess a building that was part of his family heritage."

"What?"

Merlin racked his brain to remember Uther's exact words. "It was something like, ‘legal measures to take back a building that has been neglected. He said it is part of his family's heritage and its potential is being wasted."

Gaius sat back in his chair. He shook his head. "No," he said. "No. He wouldn't do something like that. He gave us money to… It must be something else."

"That's what Arthur said."

"Well there you are, then. What did Arthur say he was talking about?"

"He didn't know."

"But you said –"

"I know. He said it couldn't be the Folly, but when I asked what else it could be, he couldn't think of anything."

"But Uther was so enthusiastic about the museum. You heard him. He, he said it had such potential. He wants to repair it properly and…"

"I know Uncle Gaius."

"He promised," Gaius said. "He said to me that he'd see the Folly restored to its original greatness and a place people want to visit again. Everybody wants to visit."

"He said that?"

"Yes, he said," Gaius paused and stared up at a corner of the ceiling. "I promise, he said, I promise all of Camelot will love what we're going to do with this place."

Merlin bit his lip, a slow fear building in his stomach. "Did he actually say it would still be a museum?" he asked.

Gaius started and stared at him. "What else would it be? He must have. I'm sure, he must have."

"I don't know, Uncle Gaius, but…"

"No, Arthur got Gwaine to draw up those new plans. He wouldn't do that if…"

"Unless he didn't know better," Merlin said.

Gaius slumped. "Oh my God," he whispered. "If Arthur didn't know…"

"He didn't. That's part of why I stayed over," Merlin said. "He was... He really didn't know what was going on."

"How was he?" Gaius asked. "I mean..."

"Confused. Really, really worried about his dad."

"Oh. Oh, yes, of course. Uther had a breakdown?"

"Yeah. I didn't think he'd be stupid enough to drive, but…"

"But you decided to play guard dog, anyway. I can understand that."

Merlin nodded. "I'm not sure he was totally safe when he did go, but he swore he was legal and he'd be careful. The way they're reporting it, I wish he had been able to leave last night. Although…"

"Although there would have been nothing he could have done for Uther. I imagine he's up to his neck in meetings now, however." Gaius pushed his empty bowl aside. "Uther will reappear soon. He was never a man to hide and, embarrassing as a public breakdown may be, it's his admission of improper behaviour that will matter. He'll need to deal with that immediately."

"He didn't actually admit to that."

"That's not how it'll play, though. You heard them. They're looking for illegality."

"And his plan to repossess the Folly?"

"If that's what it was."

"Uncle Gaius, I do think that's what he was talking about."

"No," Gaius said. "I'm not going to worry about it until we know more. I might buy the paper on my way in this morning, though." He picked up his knife and moved the butter dish closer to his plate.

Merlin reached over and put the marmalade jar next to it. "What do you think happened?" he asked. "To Uther, I mean."

"I can't even begin to imagine," Gaius said. "He never struck me as the type of man to crack, but it's been a long time. I don't suppose I can claim to know him anymore."

Merlin chewed at his lower lip as he scraped at the remnants of porridge stuck to his bowl. He drew his spoon over his front teeth to clean it off. "I've been thinking," he said, putting the spoon down. He caught Gaius's eyes and, taking a deep breath, asked, "Do you think it could be magic?"

Seeing the reflex denial in Gaius's face, he kept talking. "When the bust of Thomas Pendragon fell and almost hit everyone yesterday, I don't think that was an accident."

"Of course it was."

"It was more than that."

His brows drawn together, Gaius paused. "But magic? That's a bit of a stretch."

"If I can do it, that means it's possible. There's no reason to think I'm the only one in the world."

With a slight shake of his head Gaius took a slice of cold toast from the pile. His voice was deliberate when he said, "Merlin, I've known about your magic since you were a baby." He scooped a large dab of butter onto his knife. "And I've spent years researching, as a result. If anyone in Camelot had been doing anything out of the ordinary, I'd have noticed and I wouldn't have rationalised it away as most people would."

"I know, so that means something's changed."

"Or, it means you're allowing your imagination to run away with you."

"Uncle Gaius, I know what I felt," Merlin said. "There's something, someone, out there. Someone close by."

He paused and marshalled his thoughts. "When the bust fell, I felt something strange. The air in the room tasted hot and sort of brittle." Gaius's hand paused in the act of reaching for the marmalade and he looked up. His eyes narrowed as he completed the movement. "It was weird," Merlin said. "And it hung around for ages. Even when we were upstairs." He passed Gaius a teaspoon and Gaius spooned marmalade onto the edge of his plate. "Afterwards, while I was working in the Ticket Office, I realised that when Arthur tripped and almost fell under that car, there was something, something similar. Like, like ozone... But not."

Gaius raised an encouraging eyebrow and Merlin pursed his lips as he tried to verbalise the sensation he remembered. "It's not really a taste. It's more… sort of like a colour tickling at the back of my brain." He was staring at Gaius so intently he could almost see Gaius's thoughts before he spoke them. "I'm not imagining it. And I'm not rationalising after the event. It really was there."

Gaius sat back in his chair. "Okay," he said. "You're the one with first-hand knowledge of magic, so let's say I believe you." He held up a staying hand. "I'm not accusing you of lying. Let's accept that you are not mistaken. How do we find out who it is and why they're doing it? Who would do such a cruel thing?"

"I don't know, but I think I know who to ask."

"Who?"

"Miss Kay. I think… I think she has magic, or at least knows about magic."

Gaius put his knife down on the table, smearing buttery marmalade across the cloth. "Has everybody in Camelot suddenly developed a knowledge of the arcane without telling me?" he demanded. "Miss Kay? Are you sure?" Merlin opened his mouth to answer, but Gaius held up his hand again to forestall him. "Of course you're sure," he said.

Merlin grinned with relief, poured more tea into Gaius's mug and got up to make himself another coffee. Speaking from the kitchen as the kettle boiled, he told Gaius all the things he hadn't said before about his and Arthur's visit to Miss Kay. Including the moment of terror he had felt when she looked at him, after his attempt to probe behind her mask.

"Miss Kay?" Gaius said again. Merlin could understand his incredulity. Miss Kay appeared so normal. Usually.

Gaius waited until Merlin sat down with his coffee before he spoke again and when he did, he surprised Merlin. "Is she dangerous?" he asked. "Are you sure you should go back?"

It was more of a relief than Merlin had expected that Gaius believed him so completely, but having spoken the incident out loud, he was also able to put it into context. "I think so," he said. "I don't know what she is, but I don't think she means me any harm." He looked down into his mug and watched a small patch of undissolved coffee granule circulate slowly around the rim. Looking up again, he said, "I'm not even sure she was aware of how I felt. I don't think she's totally human and I think I saw that. Or something." He shook his head. "I can't explain," he admitted, "but I don't think she intended to frighten me. I don't know how I know, but I'm sure she's safe."

Gaius still didn't look happy, so Merlin said, "I'll wait until tomorrow. Think about it some more. But I do think she's the only person I can ask who might know something."

Gaius nodded, but all he said was, "Well, as long as you promise to be careful."

***

On their way to the museum they stopped at the corner shop to buy a copy of each of the broadsheets. "Not that we'll be able to confirm magic from anything they say," Gaius complained wryly, "but at least we'll get an idea of the size of the scandal." On impulse, Merlin also picked up a copy of the Daily News.

When they got to the office, Gaius spread the papers across his desk and they went through them.

The Guardian, The Times and The Independent were all running the story on inside pages. They all quoted Uther's admissions, but it was apparent they had been taken by surprise. The coverage was diverse and Gaius and Merlin took it in turns to read passages aloud.

The Guardian's main coverage was on page three and was worked around the twin tracks of dishonesty in business and the toll that the stress of overwork can place on a person's mental health. In addition to the news story, The Independent's opinion piece used phrases like 'alleged misconduct' and called for an official enquiry into historic business practices. The Times considered the various political and cultural donations Uther had made over the years and speculated on whether the political ones would have to be paid back. It made Merlin wonder what would happen once they had all had a chance to dig a bit and check their facts.

"I'll look at the on-line versions, later," he said. "Just in case they have any updates. I should be safe, as long as I avoid the comments."

It was the tabloid Daily News that had the most uncompromising coverage. A side column story on the front page had the headline 'Scandal on Prime Time'. In short, easily digested paragraphs the article demanded to know exactly what laws Uther had bent, exactly which workers he had abused and sacked and exactly what crooked deals he had done to build his empire. The tone was accusatory and the impression it gave of Uther was of a fabulously rich man who was, in all probability, the next worst thing to a mass murderer.

It was not all empty accusation, though. Specific cases were quoted – the Docklands development in Caerleon, a shopping centre in Norwich, a paper warehouse and an industrial park in Preston and a psychiatric hospital site in Leeds, most of them dating back to the 80s and early 90s. Arthur was mentioned prominently as being Uther's heir and right-hand man. There was no clear statement that they were crooked, but the implication was there.

It was only when he had finished reading that Merlin looked up at the top of the page. The byline on the article was William Birch. He picked up his phone. When Gaius raised a questioning eyebrow, he tossed the paper across the desk to him, pointing at the name. The phone rang and clicked through to voicemail. He put it down and pulled his laptop out of his bag.

Ten minutes later he closed Firefox and picked up the phone again. This time, when he punched in the number, it only rang once. "Daily News," a bright voice announced.

"Could I speak to Will Birch, please? It's important." Opposite him, Gaius finished reading the article and pushed the paper away.

Will's voice came on the line. "Hello? William Birch."

"Will," Merlin said. "What are you doing?"

There was a momentary pause. "Merlin?" Will asked.

"Yes, it's Merlin."

"Well hello to you, too." Will sounded faintly amused and a little puzzled. "Why are you calling?" There was another pause. "It's not even nine. How did you know I'd be in?"

"Your mobile's off. Stop stalling. What the hell are you doing?"

The pause that followed that was decidedly frosty. Or possibly shocked. "What do you mean, what am I doing?" Will asked. "Are you talking about the Pendragon piece?"

"Of course I'm talking about the Pendragon piece," Merlin said. "Why did you do it? Arthur's not like that and you have no evidence to support your accusations." He glanced over at Gaius and found himself the subject of a very intense stare.

Will's response to his challenge broke their gaze. "The lawyers approved every word in that article," Will said. "Uther has a reputation in the city for being both ruthless and focused."

In spite of Gaius's continued attention, Merlin asked, "And Arthur? Has he got a reputation, too?"

Will sighed down the line. "Maybe. Maybe not," he admitted. "But he has been working for his dad for years."

"He was at university until three years ago."

"Which means he's had three years of intimate involvement in everything his father does. Plus, he worked for Pendragon's when he was a student. Merlin, he's not a beginner at this. He's been working with his father for more than six years, and taking more and more of the decisions with each one. It's a private company. Rumour is Uther inherited a lot of money from his wife and given what he said about her last night..." He stopped talking and took a breath, before continuing in a calmer voice. "Your Arthur is Uther's son and a member of the company board. What makes you think he's ignorant? Do you have reason to believe he's too stupid to see what his dad's been doing?" Merlin looked up at Gaius and smiled tightly. At the other end of the phone line Will said, "Even if he's not an active cheat himself, he's guilty by association."

Gaius smiled back encouragingly.

"Even if what you say is true," Merlin objected, "it was all years ago, Will, when Arthur was still at school."

"The cases I've dug up so far were," Will said, "but if he was doing it back then-"

Interrupting, Merlin said, "Exactly. If anyone was doing anything, it was Uther, not Arthur. Why have you tried to smear him with the same brush?"

There was a snort of sour amusement at the other end of the phone line. "Same brush? Good one Merlin."

Sitting back, Merlin glared up at the ceiling. "Oh, for goodness sake, Will."

Abruptly serious again, Will cut in. "No, Merlin. He's Director of Special Projects, but that's just to give him a title that explains why he's at the same level on the totem pole as Geoffrey Monmouth. Who knows what his real job is?"

Merlin looked across the desk at Gaius, who was still watching him, now with a frown. He grimaced and Gaius winced. "Arthur is Uther's son." he said. "Of course he's on the Board. Come on, Will. No other paper took that angle. We got them all and I've checked."

"No other newspaper's been investigating Uther Pendragon for the last four weeks," Will retorted. "It won't take them long to take hold of what I've given them and run with it. Plagiarising tossers!" Changing his tone from defence to attack, he asked, "Anyway, what's with you? You were the one complaining at me every time we talked, when he first arrived."

Merlin gasped and Gaius opened his mouth. Merlin shushed him with a gesture and looked away so he could concentrate on Will. "What?" he asked. "You cannot be claiming I set you off to write this."

"You told me what your uncle said about Uther Pendragon. You said Arthur Pendragon was a tosser. I did some digging and just when I was ready to submit my piece, Dad admits his crimes on television. Honestly, Merlin, the timing couldn't have been more perfect." He laughed. "Question Time, too. What a venue to choose."

Merlin refused to give up too easily. "What evidence do you have to support your accusation against Uther and why do you think Arthur's involved in whatever he might have done?" he asked.

Will snorted and Merlin could tell he was getting annoyed again. "So you think Arthur Pendragon's pretty," Will said. "You've got a crush. Well that doesn't make him a good guy, okay?" He paused and Merlin heard him take a deep breath and let it out. "Listen," he said more calmly. "If it's any consolation, I haven't found anything on your boyfriend. Yet. But the Pendragons have no grounds to sue. I said nothing in that article that he, or anyone else, could object to. Anyone who isn't you." He was quiet for a moment. "I've got to go," he said. "I'll speak to you later, when you're thinking more like a sane person, yeah?"

The line went dead and Merlin put the phone down. "He says he's got nothing on Arthur, but he's still digging."

"Don't blame yourself, my boy," Gaius said. "Will's a journalist. It's his job to go after rumours and expose the truth."

"Yeah. Makes me realise I need to be careful what I say to him in future though."

"And that's sad," Gaius agreed. "But this stuff –" he pointed at the copy of the Daily News, "is all old hat. It will cause the company and Uther problems, but it doesn't touch Arthur. And that's your real concern, isn't it?"

Merlin opened his mouth, decided he didn't know himself what he thought about Arthur, so closed it again. He picked up the paper and glanced down the article. The words 'Docklands', 'Caerleon' and '1983' caught his eye and he looked back at Gaius. "You worked for Pendragon's in the 80s and 90s, didn't you?" he said.

Gaius frowned, his face suddenly guarded. "Yes," he admitted. "I left in 1994."

"Did you..? Is what Will's dug up true?"

"I was never close enough to Uther's business to really know," Gaius said.

"You said you were his Personnel Manager."

"Yes, I was." Gaius looked away towards the window and blinked a couple of times, his mouth pursed.

Grasping at straws, Merlin asked, "Is that why you left? Because you found out?"

The sharp clip of heeled footsteps on the marble floor of the balcony outside caused Gaius to turn towards the door, listening, but Gwen didn't stop and the footsteps faded. Gaius settled back in his chair, his face calm. "Is that why I left?" he asked. "I wish I could say that it was. But if I'm honest with myself, I made sure that I didn't know the details of Uther's business practices. I closed my eyes to things I didn't want to see." He sighed. "It was a different time. Thatcher's Britain. And Uther was exactly the man to prosper in such an environment. I suspected that his dealings were not totally above board. I don't believe he would do anything that was actually illegal, but..." He looked down at his hands and when he looked up to meet Merlin's eyes, his face was heavy with sadness, or regret. "In the end, yes, I suppose that was one of the reasons I left. But the truth is, I stayed as long as I needed to and I didn't leave until I had enough money saved to give me a comfortable cushion. Enough so I didn't have to work, if I didn't want to.

Merlin reached across the desk and laid a hand over one of Gaius's. "It's okay," he said, but the return of the clipping footsteps, followed by the door opening to admit Gwen, prevented him from saying anything more. Instead he jumped to his feet and cried, "Coffee?" as he walked over to the kettle, drawing her with him.

They made coffee for themselves and tea for Gaius. Merlin engaged Gwen in the sort of light conversation that held her attention on him and by the time they took their mugs across to Gaius's desk, Gaius had composed himself. He smiled with genuine warmth when Gwen presented him with a card and a beautiful brass photo frame made by her father.

"I'll use it for that picture of your mother holding you back from the edge of the lake, when you were two," he said smiling at Merlin, who scowled back at him. His smile growing into an honest grin he said to Gwen, "He was determined to prove he could swim. Or possibly drown."

Inevitably the conversation turned to Question Time. Gwen had watched it and they talked it all through, with Gwen adding additional details that Merlin had missed. Gwen had also guessed that the building Uther had mentioned was the Folly and, like Gaius and Merlin, she was worried with no idea of a solution. Gaius agreed to speak informally to those board members he knew well enough, but he was almost as concerned about encouraging rumours as he was that their fears were true. Eventually they had to agree they had no idea what the next sensible move was. All they could do, immediately, was continue as they were and wait for Arthur.

At 10:30, Merlin finished going through the revised work schedule with Leon and was walking back through the Great Hall when he took a call from a clerk at Pendragon's, arranging delivery of a portacabin that afternoon. He went to give Gwen the good news.

They heard nothing from Arthur that day. The rest of Merlin's morning was spent helping Gwen to prepare for the portacabin's arrival. Once it was safely installed on the front lawn, they worked late into the evening, setting it out ready for the Museum Club to meet.

*****

The next morning Merlin woke early and popped out to the newsagents before breakfast. In Mr Kumar's tiny shop, crowded with newspapers and magazines along one wall and shelves of sugar, tinned soup and teabags along the other, he scanned the dailies. There didn't seem to be anything more about Uther. He skimmed through the first few pages of The Sun and the Daily Mail, before checking the Daily News. Nothing.

He had just put down the Mirror, when he realised Mr Kumar was frowning at him, so he guiltily bought the Saturday edition of the Camelot Echo and a copy of The Times.

Over their porridge, Gaius read through the Echo while Merlin scoured the news, business and even the cultural sections of The Times. There was a profile of Uther, but the only new information the article contained was that Uther had been admitted to a private nursing home. Other than that there was only a report on the falling share price of a company that relied heavily on Pendragon's for work.

The Echo on the other hand had dedicated most of its front page and the next two to the story, but the content was mostly a rehash of previous articles in other papers. "They say: There's no clarity as to the building Mr Pendragon referred to, but this correspondent has been assured that it is not the Camelot museum." Gaius said. "Who would have assured them, do you think? Arthur?"

"I don't know"

"Well, apart from that there's nothing new here." Gaius tossed the paper on the floor beside his chair.

"Maybe it's over," Merlin suggested.

Gaius shook his head. "I fear that is too optimistic. Geoffrey and Arthur have managed to close the lid on more revelations, which is pretty impressive. Arthur must command significant loyalty from his people, because you can be sure all his senior staff are being hounded by now. I'm almost surprised no one's tracked me down yet. But it's not a big enough story to warrant front-page speculation. After yesterday's revelations they'll be gathering more to release tomorrow, or on Monday. Although it's possible the long weekend will slow things down."

"Why do you say Arthur must command loyalty? Why not Uther?"

"Because a leader can only earn loyalty by demonstrating loyalty. Uther has always been too ruthless for that. Arthur is a different sort of man."

"I'm glad you think so."

"I'll feel a lot better when I hear what's going to happen to the museum, though," Gaius said. "Given what the Echo says, there's a chance he was not referring to the Folly."

Merlin glanced across at his backpack, resting against the sideboard. "I think you should see the programme," he said. "We can go into the office and you can watch it on the iPlayer on my laptop. The connection's faster there and Miss Kay doesn't know I'm coming, so it's not like I'll be late. I need to check the bus times anyway, I forgot yesterday, in all the rush with Gwen."

"You're still going, then?"

"Yes," Merlin said.

They watched the programme together, sitting at the round table in Gaius's workroom. But as soon as it was over, Gaius shooed him off. "Away with you," he said, "if you've got to go. I need to think and I don't need you fidgeting at me while I do so."

Merlin went. He had fifteen minutes to get to Market Square to catch the first bus to Staubridge.

Although he had no idea how he was going to broach the subject of magic with Miss Kay, he spent the journey looking out of the widow at the passing countryside and couldn't find it in himself to worry about it. It was a beautiful day. Wide feathers of white had painted themselves against a sky of such a rare blue it almost wasn't there. He might end up playing the fool and facing the scorn of a well brought up old lady, but he doubted it. Miss Kay had not said the things she had by accident. And there was nothing senile about her, whatever she turned out to be.

At ten to eleven the bus pulled up and the driver shouted, "Red Dragon."

Merlin got off and stood on the grass verge as the bus pulled away. He looked around. The pub on the opposite side of the road was a solid, stone-built building with outhouses that had obviously once been stables and a barn. The road was empty of traffic and it was the only house in sight. But a few yards along the road a gate was set into the hedge. Merlin walked over to inspect it.

It was a heavy wooden affair, well maintained and oiled, with the words 'Heythorpe House' carved deeply into its top rail. He pushed it open and went through. A flagstone path was almost hidden in a narrow stretch of long, sunlit grass, before plunging into woodland. He followed it and entered a dappled green world. Within fifteen yards, looking back he could no longer see either the road or the pub.

The path followed as even a route as possible, but as a result it didn't take a straight course through the trees. The air smelt moistly of wild garlic. After a further hundred yards a narrow stream tricked down the slope on his right and under one wide flag. After another hundred, a little daylight was visible ahead and shortly after that the prospect abruptly opened out. The flagstones ended and a yellow cinder path continued straight along the edge of a trimmed square of lawn in which were set white croquet hoops. It was bordered by narrow flowerbeds full of dwarf daffodils, crocuses and primulas. Beyond that was Heythorpe House.

The back door opened as he approached and Miss Kay stepped out. She smiled. "Welcome, young warlock," she said.

"Oh, um, hello," Merlin said. "I hope you don't mind me coming in this way, but you said-"

"I know what I said," Miss Kay replied. "You are welcome here. Come in."

She stepped back and Merlin walked past her into a large kitchen dominated by a scrubbed wood table on which stood two mugs, a sugar bowl and a small jug. "Sit," she instructed and Merlin did as he was told.

Leaving the door to the garden open, Miss Kay crossed behind him and around the end of the table. She took the seat opposite him, her back to the door leading further into the house, and placed a plate of thick cheese sandwiches between them. Indicating the mug in front of him, she said, "Coffee."

Merlin nodded helplessly. "Yes, thank you. How, how did you know?"

At that Miss Kay laughed. "There is no magic involved, young Merlin. I saw your face when I served you tea. You are a confirmed coffee drinker, I think."

"Yes, I mean, I like tea, too, but..." He stopped. "You were expecting me."

"I know when the first bus from Camelot passes the Red Dragon and after Uther's performance two night ago I thought it probable you would come." She smiled. "You might not, of course. You have free will. But since I invited you, I thought you might."

A light breeze blew across the back of Merlin's neck. "Did you know what was going to happen?" he asked.

Miss Kay sat back in her chair and regarded him levelly. There was a note in her voice when she spoke that Merlin couldn't identify, but sounded a little like satisfaction. "I felt something moving on Thursday." She picked up a teaspoon and stirred her mug, although she had added nothing to it. "Where were you when the spell climaxed?"

"Umm... I, I went with Arthur to watch TV. Why do you ask?"

"Of course you were with Arthur," Miss Kay said quietly and Merlin thought she was talking to herself, rather than to him. "That was why I couldn't see."

Merlin spooned sugar into his own mug, to cover for the bubble of nervous excitement that was building in his chest, and topped it up with a splash of milk.

Miss Kay shifted slightly in her chair. "Like calls to like, young Warlock," she said.

Merlin looked up sharply. "Like?" he asked, the bubble bursting into hope. "Are, are you saying Arthur does have magic?"

"No." Miss Kay shook her head and although it felt like a splash of cold water to the face, Merlin didn't doubt her word. "You are two sides of the same coin, you and he," she said. "But the faces of a coin are different." She placed both her hands around her mug, but didn't pick it up to drink. "You are magic," she explained. "He was created by magic."

"What?" Merlin sat forward, put his put his forearms on the table and leaned over them. "He was created...? I don't understand.... How?"

Miss Kay pushed her mug aside and mirrored his pose. "Uther wanted a son," she said. "He made his wife's life miserable with that desire. They went to doctors, but the children the doctors bred in their test tubes would not lodge in Ygraine's womb. So she went looking for other help. And she found it. The ignorant call it New Age, but it is older than the hills. In these benighted times, most is nothing more than human sentiment and half remembered myth, but Ygraine found one who was not deluded, nor a charlatan. She found real power, hiding in plain sight." Miss Kay leaned further forward and Merlin responded instinctively, sitting back in his chair. Realising what he had done, he straightened, but Miss Kay seemed not to have noticed. "Uther made a deal," she said, "however unknowingly and Ygraine died. To create a life, a life must be given. That-"

"Hang on," Merlin said. "Uther made a deal?"

A slight smile twisted one corner of Miss Kay's mouth. "He did," she confirmed. "In the presence of the witch he told Ygraine that a barren wife was worthless to him and he needed a son."

"But that's awful. How could he say- And that was enough? But Arthur said his father loved his mother. He still misses her."

"That was enough. Guilt can appear as love, to those on the outside. And when she was finally pregnant... I may perhaps be generous and imagine that, for those few months, he did indeed love her."

Which was all horribly fascinating and answered many of the questions Merlin hadn't known how to ask, while giving him much more to think about, but it was not the primary reason for his visit. "What happened on Thursday?" he asked.

"There is magic at work," said Miss Kay. "Wild magic. Untrained magic." She lowered her brows and looked across at Merlin from under them. It added even more weight to her words. "Physically changing the fabric of the world is powerful magic. It is beyond the capacity of an untrained human, unless they have an object of power to give them focus. Even then it is exhausting for the wielder of the magic. It sets off ripples that spread far beyond the influence of the spell. Ripples that can be sensed, by those who know what to look for."

She stopped speaking and watched him take that in, waiting patiently while he adjusted his world view to include the sure knowledge that there were other people in the world with magic. After a while, he said, "I'm untrained."

"Yours is not wild magic," Miss Kay said. "You are magic and with every breath of the world you take into yourself, with every exhalation, you exchange the essence of magic. You are improving your balance just by breathing."

"Is that special somehow, then?"

"That is different. It is even unique."

"And this other magic using person?"

"Is attempting to direct the storm. Untrained, she risks her mind and her soul with every spell cast. She may be lucky." Miss Kay left that hanging and the implication of the unknown's chances of being so lucky were clear.

"Her soul?" Merlin asked.

Miss Kay laughed, a deep and gravelly sound that didn't fit with her genteel appearance. "Curb your lurid imagination, young Warlock; there is no devil involved. Magic is a natural force, neither on the side of your Christian good, nor that of your concept of evil."

"Okay. But she? It's a woman then?"

"It is."

"And that's it? You can't tell me who? How am I supposed to stop them if I don't know who I'm stopping?"

"That is not your immediate concern," Miss Kay said firmly. "To save your museum and your dreams, to save Arthur, you must first discover the means by which Uther plans to achieve his ends."

Accepting the switch in conversational gears, Merlin asked, "So it's true, it is the Folly he wants?"

"Obviously," Miss Kay agreed. If she had not been such a very proper lady, Merlin might have described her expression as smug. She smiled slightly but there was no warmth in it. "He has always yearned for more than he has managed to build. He resents the profligacy of his ancestors."

"Do you know what we should do?"

"I have already told you. Search and you will find what you seek."

"But what about-?"

"Enough. I have said all I am going to say." She smiled again, more warmly, and suddenly she was just an elderly lady in a tweed twinset. "The bus comes back past the Red Dragon in ten minutes. You will have to hurry if you are to catch it." She got up and Merlin automatically stood too. With a regal nod, she turned away and disappeared into the house.

Perplexed and confused, Merlin stood where she had left him. He wanted her to explain, to tell him more, to tell him what he was looking for and where to find it, but manners dictated that he couldn't follow her. He turned on his heel, left the house and ran.

***

Where the journey out had been one of idle speculation, spiced by a mere touch of nervous anticipation, the trip back to Camelot was a jumble of chaotic thoughts and impressions. The bus had pulled up at the bus station and the driver was telling him it was going out of service before Merlin realised they were back in town. Reluctantly, he hauled himself off and wandered aimlessly around the shopping streets, until he found himself in front of the library in Market Square. On impulse, he went in.

It turned out that the lending library had very few law texts of any sort, let alone books specialising in property law. The reference section was better stocked, but that was where he hit his next problem – regardless of which book he picked up, within a page or two he was totally lost. The language would have defeated him had he been in a fit state to concentrate. As it was, every time he tried to re-read a sentence, his brain would skitter off to worry at the things Miss Kay had said.

After an hour he gave up on proper law books, pulled his laptop out of his bag and went in search of 'Property Law for Dummies' on the web. He managed to push the question of magic to the back of his mind by focusing on Google search terms. For some reason, it was always easier to read and absorb text from the screen, although there was the perennial problem of telling when pages were American and which were British. Even when he limited his search to UK hosted sites, he kept getting American content. One particularly promising site turned out to be anything but, when, after spending twenty minutes fighting his way through the terminology he noticed accreditation to The American Bar Association at the bottom. With a groan, he gave up.

It was only 2:30 and he decided to go to the Folly, to talk everything through with Gaius. Gwen would have finished for the day, but Gaius would hang around until 4:00, to lock up.

The automatic doors had opened in front of him and he was about to step out into the street, when he had a different idea and veered off to the desk.

The librarian seemed pleased to have a customer and was happy to show him where the local history collection was kept. She pointed him towards all the resources they had, demonstrated the catalogue system and would probably have stayed to help him search, except that another visitor interrupted to ask for a book that had been laid aside for him. Left alone, Merlin pulled the archive boxes labelled 'Camelot 1882' down from the shelf and took them across to one of the tables. There was a shelf of similar boxes in Gaius's workroom and his weeks at the museum had taught him about handling historical artefacts. He worked his way carefully through the first box, studying each of the letters and documents in turn, before putting them aside. Most of the contents referred to the Pendragon & Burnt factory, an industrial dispute that had apparently closed the works for two weeks and the work of the Poor Relief Society in the back streets behind the railway station. It was fascinating in its way and he found the exercise soothing, but it was not what he was looking for.

The second box contained a scrapbook full of articles cut from local newspapers. One account announced the opening of the Pendragon Memorial Museum with long sentences and dense type. But the reporter concentrated on the benevolence of Mr Thomas Pendragon and the sad loss of his son: 'a flower cut down in the promise of his youth and so prevented from growing into another tall pillar of society, but as a result of whose sad demise, a jewel of educational wonder and delight has been bequeathed to the town'. There was no mention of anything that Uther might be using as an excuse to take the Folly back into his own ownership, but given the tone of the piece that was not surprising.

The rest of the scrapbook was dedicated to announcements of births, obituaries and social events, such as the staging of the Pirates of Penzance at the Camelot Opera House and Musical Hall and the 'coming out' balls of various young ladies of the area and their later marriages. One such that caught his eye was the marriage of a Miss Gwendolyn Chapman to a Mr Charles le Fay. He wondered if they were Morgana's great-grandparents or, doing his sums, her great-great-grandparents.

After another hour he admitted that there was little chance he would find anything useful, but it was only when the library closed that he packed everything away and left.

The sun was slanting over the roof tops as he walked across the cobbles of Market Square and paused to wait for a space in the traffic, to cross the road. He was standing exactly where Arthur had almost gone under a car. Turning, he looked up at the windows of the DuLac & Lott offices. The blinds were drawn across the bay windows, only the window to Morgana's office in the attic stood bare and dark against the white paintwork.

With a shake of his head, he crossed over, left the square and headed towards the Folly. As he approached the T-junction that offered a left turn to the Folly, or a right turn for home, he checked his watch. It was a quarter past five. He turned right.

***

Gaius was waiting for him with supper on the table when he got in and over sliced ham and salad he recounted his visits to Heythorpe House and to the library. "If it was something to do with the bequest, I thought it might be in the papers at the time," he concluded, "but that was a long shot. I didn't find anything. "

"Tell me again what Miss Kay said," Gaius asked.

"After the thing about Arthur and magic?" Gaius nodded and Merlin grinned. In telling Gaius about Miss Kay, the excitement and trepidation he had felt in her presence had returned. "You know, it's sort of amazing, Uncle Gaius. It's like... I've spent my whole life thinking I was the only one who could do this stuff. I've had to hide it, so I wasn't a freak. And she just comes out and says it. Like it's no big deal. Like everyone knows about magic." He shook his head. "I still can't believe it really."

"It is certainly a shock. I've known Miss Kay, to say hello to, for years, and…" Gaius petered out.

"Yeah," Merlin agreed.

Gaius rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together over his plate. "Putting the magic aside for a moment." He caught Merlin's eye. "Yes, I know," he said, "but let's try. Uther's television appearance has caused a great deal of concern among the members of the Board. I spoke to George Simms this morning. He says Herbert Parker is quite angry."

"Who are George Simms and Herbert Parker?"

"They've been on the Board of Trustees longer than anyone. Quite vocal and influential. Not particularly popular with the other members, but until now I've always got along with them all right."

"Well, I'm not surprised they're annoyed," Merlin agreed. He caught something in Gaius's expression. "Not with you?" he asked.

Shrugging, Gaius sighed. "I got Uther involved." He picked up his fork and speared a segment of tomato. "They're searching for a scapegoat."

"That's stupid!"

"Possibly. But it's also human nature. However, James Borden at the County Records Office is a friend. I'll call him on Tuesday, to see whether he thinks he has anything. He should have the actual minutes of the meeting where the bequest was discussed. Not that I hold out much hope that they'll tell us anything. In my experience, those minutes are written to give nothing away. I imagine there's an art to it."

"And we don't even know what we're looking for."

"Then we must hope we recognise it when we see it."

***

The following day being Sunday, Gaius retreated to his office in the front room to work on the article he was writing, while Merlin searched through his magic book, looking for inspiration. All the seeking and direction spells mentioned seemed to require a focus, but they gave no hints to what a focus was, or how it was used.

Near the back of the book was an isolated quote that, if read in a certain way, appeared to describe the sensation for a practitioner of touching someone else's magic. Merlin lay on his back on top of his bed and consciously relaxed.

Within moments he felt Gaius, sitting like a warm, mossy log on the edge of his awareness. He rolled across the surface of Gaius's existence and for the first time tried to sink below it. A picture of a barrow grave formed in front of his mind's eye, along with the names Aethelbert, Wulfgar and Oswy.

Drawing away from Gaius, he inserted himself into the outside world, spreading his sense of touch like a cobweb blanket across the houses, not probing anywhere in particular, but aware of everywhere. The Tor stood like a beacon of light on the horizon of his mind and elsewhere there were bubbles and starbursts of activity disrupting the fog. But each time he focused on them they dissipated. He spread further, out of the town and into the fields and villages beyond. He lapped around the base of the Tor and swirled into the well beneath the duck pond on Rosebeck's village green, to taste the texture of history still buried there. He felt the Fox in the hedgerow behind Home Farm in Lillebrook and the badgers curled in their den in the woods below Oswald Green. And the people. So many people, all living and gloriously breathing, and laughing, and crying, and praying. And sometimes sending a spark of light up like a signal – the occasional magic of everyday folk, so similar and so different from the salty flashes of the feral cats, or the stone hard somnolence of the cattle in the fields. There were so many different flavours of magic in the world and Merlin floated above, around and through them all, cataloguing each in turn and almost bursting with the pure love of existence.

His absorption was such that he almost missed the hole in the world to the west. It was not until it prodded him with the voice of a mellow bell and coarse gravel that his focus was drawn down and in towards that spot.

"Take care, young warlock," the colours whispered - brown and green and hard edged. "You are playing with dangerous fire."

"Why? What?" Merlin wondered.

The voice danced back in stately measures, "Test yourself by all means, but do not lose yourself. This corner of this ancient land needs you to remain in your body for a few years more."

Merlin frowned and the deepness chuckled. "You are strong," it said, "but you are young. Look back over your shoulder and tell me what you see."

Merlin turned his metaphorical head and looked. The landscape of Albionshire was spread below him like the satellite view on Google maps. And across it all was Merlin, spread thin like a sheet of tissue paper.

Far, far away, at the edge of his awareness, where the salt sea crashed against the cliffs, the tissue was beginning to fray. The voice from deep below the hill whispered, "Do not lose yourself yet. You are only one side of the coin. Look to the south."

If the Tor had been bright, the blaze of Arthur was a true beacon. Even surrounded by the mass of human sparks that was London, he still flared strongly and Merlin was drawn towards him. The cold power that pulled him back was alien and it spoke with the voice of bells and stone. "No," it said, and he was rolled up like a ball and thrown back into his body.

Arms, legs and lungs came to awareness with a shock that left him winded. He lay on his back, gasping, while his phone buzzed in his pocket. Fumbling with hands that didn't yet belong to him again, he pulled it out and answered.

"Don't do that again," Miss Kay's voice ordered. "Your and Arthur's destiny will not be served by you losing yourself across the land."

"It… I felt…" Merlin stumbled in trying to find functional language.

"It is bliss," Miss Kay agreed, and Merlin was still far enough into the wonder to recognise that her voice was soft with longing and loss. "But it is not time. You will know when it is. When you and Arthur will unite to save the land." Her voice became more business-like. "You have to save Arthur first," she said.

The line clicked off against his ear and he dropped the phone while he concentrated on breathing. It was almost painful and it brought him slowly back to life.

He spent the rest of the morning talking to the next door cat stretched out on top of the backyard wall beside his bedroom window and trying to get beyond the vague sense of 'alert-protectiveness-for-here', that was all he could feel from her.

But while the cat was no conversationalist, concentrating on her had apparently allowed the rest of his mind to consider his larger problem and come up with an idea.

"I need to go to London," he said over lunch. "If Arthur doesn't get in touch and tell us it's all okay, that he's stopped Uther's plans."

The Sunday papers had all covered the Uther story, with more about his background, but no more insights into what he had meant by what he had said.

"The Echo may say more in its next edition," Gaius said.

"Yeah, but that's not until Wednesday. I can get to London, see Arthur and be back by then. With real information."

Gaius looked at him from beneath lowered brows. "And what would you do there?" he asked.

It took a moment for Merlin to formulate his answer. He cleared his throat and asked, "Do you, do you think I could do something to make Uther change his mind?"

Pausing in the act of cutting his roast chicken, Gaius stared at him. "With magic?" he asked. Merlin nodded slightly, not meeting his eye. "That would be highly unethical," Gaius said.

Merlin smiled, feeling a weight lift from his soul. "So that's a no, then?"

Frowning thoughtfully, Gaius said, "I don't know if you could or couldn't do it. The question is, would you?"

"No, I don't suppose so. It doesn't really feel right."

"Good!" Gaius said, nodding once. He looked down at the green beans on his plate and his brows drew together slightly.

Merlin passed him the butter. "But we have to do something."

"Yes, we do," Gaius agreed. He cut a lump of butter free from the block and dropped it on his beans. "What about your friend Will?" he asked. "He's covering the financial desk, isn't he?"

"Yes. I suppose I could ask him if he's heard anything. He's probably forgiven me by now."

"Well, that would be a start." Gaius agreed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Immediately after lunch, Merlin called Will, who answered eventually with a mumbled, "'Lo."

"Hi, Will," Merlin said.

"Oh, it's you. Hi," Will replied.

"You okay?"

"I just woke up." He paused. "In fact, I don't think I'm awake yet." There were noises in the background, clicks, rattles and the sound of water running. Will muttered, "Come on you bastard," and then, more clearly, "Bloody jar lid won't come off. You stopped being an arse yet?"

Merlin laughed. "Yeah," he admitted.

"Okay then. What you want?"

"To say I'm sorry I was an arse?" Merlin flopped onto his back on his bed.

"Phah! You never phone up just to apologise. Hang on." Merlin heard a loud click as the phone was put down on a hard surface. Rattling and shuffling was replaced by the clatter of crockery. The phone was picked up again. "Okay," Will said. "Apology accepted. Now, what do you want?"

Merlin laughed again. "I really am sorry I got mad at you for what you wrote about Arthur. And I'm afraid you're right about his dad. I don't really know why, or how, but it's the Folly he wants. The building, I mean."

"I know."

"You know?"

"I'd guessed, but thanks for the confirmation. I wasn't looking forward to going through all Pendragon's current deals, one by one, just to make sure," Will said, over the top of more background clatters. "As for why; it's a valuable bit of real estate,"

"I suppose."

Merlin heard a slurp and Will cleared his throat and sighed. "Ah, yes! Gods, it's too early for this! But at least I have my coffee now. Right. The Folly. Why? Converted warehouse lofts. They're all the rage down here with the young, rich and carefree. Pendragon's have done a few of them in the last five years"

"Yes, I've heard of them. Just not in Camelot."

"What do you know about the high-speed rail link?" Will asked.

"Er…"

"Thought so. Listen. It's happening and it'll put Camelot within easy commuting range of London. No one can afford to buy in London now. Do you know what my rent is for one room in a shared flat?"

"Er…" said Merlin again.

"Doesn't matter. You don't want to," Will said. The coffee was obviously working. "Point is, the Folly fits. I'm trying to get an interview with the evil overlord himself, but I doubt the bastard will accept."

A shocked laugh escaped Merlin. "What happened to the neutrality of the press?" he asked. "Not exactly the most politically correct way to phrase it, Will."

Will snorted. "How long have you known me?" he asked. "Did I ever strike you as a politically correct whinger? I work for the Daily News, for God's sake." He paused and Merlin waited while he took another drink and sighed with satisfaction. "As for how, I guess that'll take some research. Tell you what, I'll see what I can dig up and I'll let you know if I find anything useful."

Perversely, the conversation with Will made Merlin feel a little better and he began to hope that everything would work out - Will would expose Uther's plot, Arthur would reverse it and the new museum would open in the Folly as planned.

*****

The next day was spent by Merlin in a state of mild frustration. The sense of optimism that the conversation with Will had engendered proved short lived. Overnight, doubts resurfaced. The papers had nothing new to tell them, so straight after breakfast he tried calling Arthur, although he was unclear about what he would say. It was almost a relief that he was put straight through to voicemail. He didn't leave a message.

With Gaius having locked himself away in the front room, Merlin was left with nothing to do but read his book of magic, in the hope that something both practical and ethical would present itself. He lay on his back across his bed with the book propped up on his chest.

As he read, the words flowed through him and he realised that he could taste the spells and stories that were real, although he didn't always understand them. The instructions accompanying a spell for identifying hidden meanings were so dense and obscure that even after reading them three times he was still none the wiser. He could also tell that some of the spells were incomplete. A particularly promising one, intended according to the commentary for determining another spell caster's intentions, began with a rightness that was harmonic and as soft as angora wool. But at the end of the second verse it abruptly stopped, leaving an unseasoned flavour of dissatisfaction in his mouth.

At lunchtime Gaius emerged and called him down to the living room. They sat at the table and, over sausages, mash and peas, rehearsed the same arguments and points they had already gone over numerous times.

"I never thought I'd resent a bank holiday," Merlin said, "but I feel like I could be doing something if it was a normal Monday."

"What would you do?"

"I don't know. Call Arthur, I suppose. Or try. His phone's off, today."

"Well, it is a holiday."

"I know, but I hate not knowing what's going on."

"You're not the only one," Gaius agreed. "Maybe we'll hear something tomorrow."

"Yeah," Merlin said, but once Gaius had retreated back into his office, he sat down in Gaius's easy chair and pulled out his phone. In the vain hope that Pendragon's worked bank holidays, he punched in the number for their head office. But that simply led to a complex set of automated instructions culminating in the advice that he call back during office hours. He cursed.

Google didn't help, either. It seemed that Arthur's private address was ex every directory there was. In frustration he went for a walk and ended up in the Folly, searching through the stores for anything that caused a tingle in his fingertips. He had no success there, either.

A brief telephone call early the following morning threw him into a further confusion of conflicting emotions. When he scrambled across the room to grab his phone and answer it, he was greeted by the voice of a young man that he didn't recognise.

"I'm calling on behalf of Mr Arthur Pendragon," the voice said. "I'm Owen Page, his executive assistant. Mr Pendragon will not be returning to Camelot immediately. He has asked me to tell you to continue as you were, with the structural renovations and moving the collections out. You're to keep him informed of any issues that arise."

"Is he okay?" Merlin asked.

"Okay?" Owen sounded surprised by the question. "Mr Pendragon is acting on behalf of his father. The company is in good hands, so of course he's okay."

"Acting? You mean Acting Chairman, Chief Executive, whatever it's called? What about Uther?"

Mr Uther Pendragon," Owen said in a repressive tone, "is indisposed. He has been advised by his doctor to rest, but we expect him to be back at his desk within a week."

"Arthur'll be pretty busy then, right?"

"Mr Pendragon will be extremely busy, as you say, but he will be maintaining an overview of the Camelot Project, so you should direct any communications to him by e-mail." He sounded impatient now, so Merlin allowed him to finish the call without asking again how Arthur was coping.

The question stayed with him, though, as he packed his magic book into his backpack and got dressed. He communicated his disquiet to Gaius as they walked to the museum.

"If Arthur is acting for Uther," Gaius agreed, "it does suggest that Uther's breakdown is more serious than an attack of television nerves."

"If Arthur doesn't phone me today," Merlin said, "I am definitely going to London tomorrow."

At nine o'clock, Gaius took a call from Lance, asking for news and proposing a meeting that afternoon, which Gaius agreed to. He also decided to visit his friend at the council archives immediately.

Left alone, Merlin put off starting his day. He slouched in a chair with a second coffee and stared aimlessly around the room. Gwen came in, in a rush to collect a box of clocks and their various internal workings from the table. "I'm off to Rosehill Primary," she said. "Back at lunchtime," before hurrying out without waiting for a reply. Merlin drank his coffee.

On a corner of Gaius's desk, the big brass compass he had found in room 131, weeks before, caught his eye. He put his coffee mug down, stood up, crossed the room and picked it up. 'Focus', he thought. Turning it around in his hands, he confirmed that the needle moved freely and stayed true.

He put it down in the centre of the round table and picked up his coffee mug. The needle settled, pointing towards the window wall. Digging his magic book out of his bag, he sought out the seeking and finding spells he had found on Sunday. With the idea of the compass in his mind, they began to make much more sense.

Whatever it was that Miss Kay said they should be looking for, they didn't even know if it was a physical thing and they certainly didn't know where to start looking. Merlin cleared some stray papers and Gaius's tea mug off the table and fetched a handful of index cards and a marker pen from the stationary cupboard.

To test his theory, a simple yes/no choice seemed the most sensible and he carefully wrote the two words onto a couple of index cards. That made the choice of the first question easy. Placing the two cards to the north-east and north-west of the compass, he positioned himself at the south point, with his back to the door and concentrated on the question: 'Are we searching for a physical object?'

He stared at the compass needle and allowed the intangible sensation of energy beneath his skin to expand outwards. Gathering it into a single shaft, that stretched out and followed his gaze, was easy and he relaxed, allowing the question to consume the whole of him. The compass needle began to shake. He allowed the magic to build, so he was one point of a triangle of flux. The magic flowed from him to the compass, to some unknown point and back to him. The needle began to twist. He only realised he was leaning forward when he had to place his hands flat on the table top to support himself. Slowly, hesitantly, the needle moved, until it pointed at the card that read 'YES'. There it stopped.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Merlin stepped back from the table. The compass needle settled back to its natural position and the heat faded. With the heat went all his energy. He collapsed into the nearest chair and placed his forehead against the cool wood of the table top. He breathed.

Gradually, like water flowing downhill, the tension faded from his muscles and he placed his hands on the edge of the table to push himself upright. His coffee had gone cold, so he left that mug on the table and shuffled over to the kettle to make another one.

While the kettle came to the boil he considered the triangle of power he had experienced, tracing the shape, texture and colour of it, reliving the sensation of spreading and focusing and encompassing the flow.

With three sugars in his new coffee, he went back to the table and picked a handful of index cards off the pile.

The next question was a logical development of the first. He marked up cards with 'Folly', 'Town Hall', 'Library' and, as an afterthought, 'Somewhere else in Camelot' and 'Not in Camelot', placing them around the compass.

Focusing was both easier and more difficult this time. The sensation of searching was clearer and he slipped into it with ease, but the shape of the spell had changed, because of the more complex choices. Carefully and deliberately he surrendered to the spell, allowing it to dictate the form of the universe and of his being. Without intellectual thought he knew, all the way to the marrow of his bones, that his conscious will was not the key to doing what he needed. The knowledge was liberating, enlightening, and terrifying in the demands it placed upon him

There was an almost audible click at the base of his soul when the sensation of being both a single point in a circuit of power and the entire pattern grasped at him and held him tight. The needle moved confidently to point at the word 'Folly' and he blew out a breath, releasing the spell and pulling himself free of the world.

He looked at the clock, surprised to see that it was almost 11:00. Gwen would be back soon. It was surprising Gaius was not back already. As quickly as he could, before the magic of the last spell had faded, he scrawled room numbers on more cards and placed them around the compass, like a clock face.

"Where is it?" he asked, focusing on the question so that it spread across the surface of his skin and was absorbed. It flowed through his body with his blood. It roiled and gusted through his lungs with every breath. It tingled in his fingertips and on the soles of his feet. The needle shifted clockwise and hesitated on the card that said, 'This Workroom', but it didn't settle. It moved on, swung back to point at the workroom card again and then swung back towards him. It came to rest pointing almost directly at Merlin, but slightly to his right, in the space between the two cards that read, 'Great Hall' and '131'.

He stared at it and, in spite of knowing it was pointless, tried to force it to settle on a single answer. It refused to budge, no matter how fiercely he willed it to and at the back of his mind a whisper soothed the ferocity of his desire with a gentleness that was unnerving, because he knew it was his own. With a sigh he stood up straight and the needle went back to pointing north. He glanced at the clock. It was 11:30.

Disappointing as the final answer had been, the first two were helpful. Between them, Gaius and he could search the Museum. The tension in his shoulders eased and he gathered the cards together into a stack.

As he resigned himself to the idea that there was no easy answer, even with magic to assist, a thought occurred to him - there had been hesitation in the needle's movement but it had definitely paused on the word 'Workroom'. Twice. He turned slowly on the spot, scanning the room and stopped when he realised what he was looking at. He glanced behind him, at the compass, and back to the tall book case against the wall in front of him. When the needle had refused to move, it had been pointing at the bookcase. And the top two shelves of the bookcase were full of archival boxes, like the ones in the library, but older. They had a grimy appearance, of the sort that old cardboard always seems to develop. He looked back at the compass again and traced a line from its centre in the direction the needle had indicated.

Quickly clearing away the incriminating evidence by slipping the used cards into the side pocket of his bag and replacing the compass on Gaius's desk, he dragged a chair across to the bookshelf. He stepped up onto the seat, but even so he had to stand on his tiptoes and hang onto the shelf with his left hand to reach the boxes on the highest shelf and lift them down. The varnish of the shelf felt almost sticky under his fingers and when he put the first box on the floor and raised his hand to his face to scratch his nose, it smelt sour.

In all he pulled down eight boxes from each of the top two shelves, carried them across to the table and lined them up. Nearly all the labels on the ends were either blank, illegible, or missing altogether. One simply read 'R-S', another said '1931'. He pulled one that had no label closer, blinked away a sudden wave of tiredness and opened it.

By the time Gwen returned, he had searched through three boxes. One had held nothing but copies of 'the Amateur Mechanic' magazine, which were probably worth adding to a collection in their own right. The second contained pages from the Camelot Echo, dating from the days when it had been a daily publication, and another paper he'd never heard of called the Camelot Weekly Gazette. The third was half full of carbon copies of letters, on flimsy blue paper, sent by past curators, but they all dated from the 1920s and so were outside his time window. He checked through them anyway, just in case, grateful for the convention that gave each one an underlined heading after the greeting, so he didn't need to read the whole letter to know what it was about.

Seeing that the table was covered in Merlin's stuff, Gwen dumped her box of clock parts on Gaius's desk. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"You know what Uther said on Question Time?" Merlin explained. "Gaius and I were talking about it and it seemed to us that he has to have a legal way to grab the Folly."

Gwen nodded as she walked past him and plugged the kettle in. "And to say it at all, he must think it's solid."

"Yes. So we thought it has to go right back to Thomas Pendragon and his donation."

"Okay. And...?" She spooned coffee into two mugs.

"And so Gaius has gone up to the county archives to see if he can find anything there, but I saw these old boxes. I bet no one's opened them in years."

"Ah, yeah, I can see that. But one, he didn't actually say it was the Folly he was going after."

"He might as well have. What else could it be?"

She shrugged. "I guess. But two, what makes you think there's anything in there?" She waved her hand vaguely at the boxes and piles of paper on the table.

"I don't, necessarily," Merlin said, "but it's better than doing nothing." He smiled. "And besides, I don't really feel like working for Pendragon's today. I'd rather work against them."

Gwen laughed and put a mug of coffee in front of him. She took a sip from her own, considered the table in front of her and pulled out the chair opposite him. "Okay," she said. "Where do you want me to start?"

***

It was Gwen who found it, in an unlabelled box, inside a dusty folder that had nothing but the word 'Building' printed on the front. "Merlin, come here. Look!" she said.

Merlin put down the sheaf of papers he'd been reading, stood and went to stand behind her.

She held a parchment-like bundle of paper, folded and tied with pink ribbon. Under the ribbon, in faded script, were the words, 'Trust Deed of the Pendragon Memorial Museum".

"Whoa! You found it!" he exclaimed, the last traces of earlier tiredness disappearing in response to the discovery. He pulled out the chair next to her and sat down while she picked open the knot and unfolded the top of the sheet. She laid it on the table and they leaned over it together.

Gwen traced the words with her finger as she read. "This Indenture made the eleventh day of May one thousand eight hundred and eighty two Between Thomas Jonas Pendragon of Camelot House Camelot Albionshire esquire of the first part and Geoffrey Richard Greeves of The Manor House London Road Rosebeck Albionshire gentleman Thomas Edmund Eustace de Bois of Ingleford House Victoria Road Camelot Albionshire gentleman and the Reverend William Edwin Orne of 152 Tonheath Lane Camelot Albionshire clerk in holy orders hereinafter called the Trustees of the second part." She broke off when she got to the end of the exposed text.

Merlin cleared all the boxes onto the floor. Between them they unfolded the whole sheet and she continued reading.

"Whereas the aforementioned Thomas Jonas Pendragon is seised of a freehold messuage and premises at Grand Central Railway Station and Station Hotel Front Street and Market Street Camelot Albionshire and Whereas in pursuit of enlarging the minds and educating the morals of the populace resident in the town of Camelot aforesaid building and land is entrusted to a Board of Trustees to be appointed by the Town Governors and Council and their successors but to exclude any such members for the purposes of a Museum."

Beneath this, the text went on to describe the means by which members should be elected to the board of trustees and to list their duties, which were to have oversight and independent control of the accompanying financial endowment. The document detailed that the money in the endowment was to be invested and the proceeds were to be used to fund the upkeep of the museum. Finally they reached the clause that described what would happen in the event that the Council and the Board of Trustees decided that the Museum was no longer required: "Provided always that the Trustees in consultation with the Town Governors and Council do maintain the Trust Otherwise it shall be dissolved and the entrusted estate revert to the donor and his heirs and assigns of his name," she read. "That must be it. If we're reading this right, this says that if the Trustees and the Council decide that the town doesn't need a museum, Uther gets the building back for nothing."

She picked up her coffee mug, tilted it to look inside and sighed. "And by the way it's phrased I'm guessing the female line's excluded. I don't suppose there are any other descendants who would want to challenge?"

"I don't think so. I think the men of the family mostly got killed in the two world wars."

"Then it looks like he can really do it," she said.

"Yeah," Merlin agreed. Grasping at a thread of hope, he added, "But only if the Town Council agrees to close the Museum."

He was answered by Gaius, from the doorway. "I'm very much afraid that the Council will," he said, snatching the thread away. Merlin and Gwen both twisted in their seats to watch him as he came into the room and put his briefcase on his desk. "The Folly is a drain on them. If Uther was to redevelop it as something else, it might be seen as good for the town." He sounded dispirited, his voice flat. When he turned around and Merlin was able to see his face properly, he looked both old and tired.

"What's wrong?" Merlin asked.

"The Trustees have frozen the project," he replied

"The Trustees?" Gwen asked.

Gaius swayed slightly. "The Board of Trustees are a gaggle of old women. And that's an insult to womankind."

Gwen got up and somehow, through polite body language, ushered Gaius into a chair. "I bumped into the Mayor on the way back from seeing James," Gaius said. "That was profitless, by the way. We found the minutes of the meeting, but they told us nothing."

"You expected that," Merlin agreed. "But what did the mayor say?"

Running both hands over his face and back through his hair, which, Merlin noticed, was getting quite long, Gaius slumped. "He said that early on Thursday evening Uther apparently e-mailed a number of the Trustees and told them he had reconsidered his position and was no longer able to provide funds, over and above the original donation."

"Which Cedric Griggs wasted," Merlin said.

"Which, as you say, was wasted," Gaius agreed.

"So?" Merlin asked.

"So, they panicked and instead of waiting for more clarity, first thing on Friday morning they went straight to the mayor to ask for emergency funding from his contingency. I can only assume that none of them watch television." He glanced at each of them and settled on Gwen. "I don't suppose you'd be a dear and make me a cup of tea?" he asked.

"I'll do it," Merlin said, getting up. "What else?" He flicked the switch on the kettle.

"Well, the Mayor refused, but he's taking it to the next Council Budget Meeting."

Turning around and leaning back against the counter, Merlin said, "We need to talk to Arthur. He's Acting Chairman. He can reverse Uther's decision."

"When's the next budget meeting?" Gwen asked at the same time.

"Next week, I think," Gaius said. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.

Gwen shook her head. "So we only have a few days to get the money back. Do you think they know what's at stake here?"

"I rather fear that they do," Gaius said.

"Gwen found the deed," Merlin said. "So we know the exact terms." He came back over to the table, placed his hands on opposite corners of the paper and twisted it around so that Gaius could read it the right way up. While Gaius did so he went back to making tea.

When Gaius had finished reading, he looked up. "Okay," he said. "Mr Thomas Pendragon had only the one son and no daughters. He did have a brother and it was his nephew who inherited the company."

"And the heir, there, is Uther Pendragon," Merlin finished for him.

His lips twisted into a grimace, Gaius said, "I still can't believe he'd do this to me. After all the years I worked for him."

"Business," Merlin said.

"Yes," Gaius agreed. "The endowment isn't worth much, as I know to my cost; trying to run this place before we won the grant."

"But the Council haven't actually said it doesn't want the Museum," Merlin said.

"What would happen if the Trustees told the Council they want to close the Museum?" Gwen asked.

"I suspect the Council would agree," Gaius replied.

Gwen shook her head. "What I don't understand," she said, "is why he announced it on Question Time. If he hadn't said anything, no one would have known until it was too late."

The phone on Gaius's desk rang and Gwen went to pick it up, so she missed the look that passed between Gaius and Merlin.

She listened for only a moment and then said, "Right. I'll come down and let you in. Yeah, no problem." Putting the handset back in its cradle, she went to the door. "That was Morgana. She's with Lance and Gwaine and they're almost here."

She left the room and Merlin got up to gather more chairs around the table. Gaius leaned over the deed and started reading it again.

When Lance, Morgana and Gwaine arrived there was the usual flurry of greetings, but Lance quickly got to the point of their visit. "We received an email from Arthur over the weekend, telling us that we will be paid for Gwaine's designs but instructing him not do any more work until further notice. We wondered if you had heard from him. After what happened to Mr Uther Pendragon, last week, I suppose we were hoping you might know more."

Gaius shook his head. "Most of what we know we've got from the papers," he admitted. He recounted again the news he had picked up at the Town Hall and Merlin told the story of finding the deed. Then they all gathered around the table and Gaius pointed out the salient paragraphs.

"I don't believe this!" Morgana exclaimed. "I'd heard some bad things about the Pendragons, but this is almost like a novel. They really are just a pair of crooks."

"It's not Arthur's fault," Lance said. "He's only obeying his father's orders."

Morgana pushed her chair back, stood up and walked away a few paces. She gave a harsh laugh as she turned back to face them. "He's only obeying orders? Can you hear yourself?" she asked.

"Oh come on, 'Gana," Gwaine said, "you can't accuse him of being a Nazi, even by insinuation."

Morgana took a breath and seemed to force herself to relax. She clasped her hands together and her ring caught the light. She started twisting it around her finger. "Okay. So it's Uther's fault. He gave the original grant and now he's coming in with an axe to steal it. But it's Arthur who's giving the orders now."

Merlin's eye caught on the ring and he couldn't look away. There was a pressure building in the room. Something like flame licked at the part of his mind that he associated with his magic, but it sat oddly on his consciousness, a foreign sensation. It settled around his neck and shoulders like a too warm, winter scarf on a summer's day. Red, gold and green swirling patterns formed before his mind's eye. A kaleidoscope of colour that prickled and soothed, burned and irritated. It was unfair, he thought. Arthur would do exactly what Uther told him to do. He'd steal the Museum from all the people who loved it. And the design contract from Lance and Gwaine. And they had to do something.

"Merlin!" Gaius interrupted his thoughts. "Pay attention boy. Can you do anything?"

"Do what?" Merlin asked, blinking back to full attention.

"Honestly, Merlin," Gaius snapped. "Do you never listen? Lance thinks that if we can stop Arthur –"

Somehow they were all standing. Lance interrupted him. "That's not exactly what –"

"Yes it is," Gwaine said.

Magic! It was magic. Merlin looked around the room, seeing faces twisted in various stages of still mounting anger. Even Gwen's eyes were hard. Only Morgana's face was smooth and her lips were twisted into a sour smirk as she glared at the deed on the table.

Merlin managed not to look at her hands while he frantically searched his memory for a spell that would block the anger. Gaius, Gwen, Lance and Gwaine had gathered together and were almost in each other's faces, their voices rising as they talked over each other. Morgana stood a few paces back from them, next to the table.

He latched onto that and willed.

With a screech of wooden legs against the lino of the floor, the chair she had pushed away jerked forward hitting the back of Morgana's knees and she went down with a crash. Merlin started forward, reaching for her, but was unable to prevent her head hitting the edge of the table. She ended up on the floor, lying on her side.

There was an abrupt silence when the shouting stopped.

"Morgana!" Gwaine exclaimed.

Merlin reached Morgana's side and dropped to his knees beside her.

Gwen rushed over. "Are you all right?" she asked, but seeing that Morgana didn't respond, redirected her query to Merlin. "Is she all right?" She leaned over Merlin's back and reached out, but didn't touch Morgana's face.

"I, I don't know. I think so." Merlin ran his fingers gently over Morgana scalp. "There's no blood, but I think she hit her head."

Gwaine knelt next to him and placed his fingers against Morgana's neck, looking for a pulse. He obviously found one, because he was visibly relieved.

"I, I think we better not move her," Merlin said. "And we should probably call an ambulance. The paramedics said we did the right thing, not moving Pell when he cracked his skull."

"Right," Lance agreed, pulling out his phone. "Gwen, would you mind going down and guiding them in?"

"Yes, of course," Gwen went, while everyone else hovered uselessly.

"Give her some air," Gwaine said, and once they had all moved back, apart from Merlin who stripped off his jacket and laid it over her, he added, "What the hell just happened?"

For a moment Merlin thought he was talking about the magic, but he was looking down at Morgana. "She seemed to just trip," Merlin said. "I don't know how. I think she was heading towards you. I know I was. You sounded like you were about to come to blows."

Gaius, Lance and Gwaine exchanged looks and Gaius grimaced. "I don't know why I got so annoyed," he said. "I do most sincerely apologise if I said anything…"

"No, no you didn't," Lance said. He paused and sounded faintly puzzled when he said, "I don't even remember what we were arguing about."

"Something about Arthur?" Gwaine suggested. He sounded equally confused. "I was so angry. About the contract. I don't really know why. Business is always just business and given Uther's behaviour, you can't blame Arthur for wanting to establish the facts before authorising more new work."

"I know," Lance said. "And we have the Redbridge job you're busy on, it's not like we're totally dependent on this job for our survival."

"Near enough," Gwaine said. "But yes, I'll have more time to concentrate on Redbridge for a bit"

"I'm going to call Arthur," Merlin said. "He's probably trying to sort it all out, as we speak."

"Of course he is," Gwaine agreed.

"You'll let us know when you hear something?" Lance asked.

"Of course," Merlin said. "As soon as I get the good news confirmed."

Gwen came in with the paramedics. They went to work settling Morgana, who was beginning to stir.

"Don't move," one of them said. "Let us do this."

He glanced back at Gaius as they lifted the stretcher up onto its legs. "Second time this has happened, isn't it?" he observed. "You ask me, it's just as well they closed the place down." He saw their expressions and added, "She'll be fine. Don't worry. We just need to take her in as a precaution." He started walking backwards, pulling the wheeled stretcher towards the door, while his colleague took the other end. "And I'm sure the accident was just a horrible coincidence."

"Yes, indeed," Gaius replied. "Thank you."

Lance and Gwaine elected to accompany Morgana to the hospital and Gwen left with them, to see them out. "I'm taking the afternoon off," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Gaius nodded. "Yes, it's been that sort of day," he agreed.

"See you tomorrow," Merlin said.

Gaius started gathering mugs to take them away to wash and Merlin picked up the phone.

He eventually got through to Arthur's office, but was told that both Arthur and Owen were in a meeting.

When Gaius returned, he began to refold the deed to put it back in its folder. "Merlin," he said. "Come and have a look at this."

Merlin joined him at the table and looked down at the paper. "Do you remember that being there before?" Gaius asked.

The bottom of the paper was scorched. The previously square corner was now rounded and edged with char.

"No," Merlin said. "That wasn't there. I remember thinking that it was in really good condition, except for the folds. All four corners were tucked inside when it was folded up. They weren't damaged."

Gaius looked at him in dawning recognition and horror. "Oh my," he breathed, falling into a chair. "It's one of them. But, but which one?"

"It's, it's Morgana," Merlin said. "Her fall just now. Umm... That was me. I didn't mean to knock her out, but she was doing something. I don't know how, or what, really, but I felt it and you were all getting so angry with Arthur." Suddenly everything connected. "And, and she was here when the bust fell," he said. "Her office overlooks where Arthur almost got run over. And, oh bloody hell, she was here when Pell had his accident. And just now she was staring at the deed."

Carefully folding the edges of the deed inwards, Gaius studied the charred corner. "I seem to have accepted that it is magic we are dealing with," he said. "And I agree, it appears that it is Morgana. I don't think she meant to do this, though."

Merlin nodded miserably. "Miss Kay said she's using wild magic. I don't really understand what that means, but I think it means she's not really in control. But I don't understand why she's doing what she's doing. If all she'd done was influence Uther to talk, I'd say she was trying to bring his plans into the light, but the rest?"

They neither of them had an answer for that question.

"I need to go and see Miss Kay again," Merlin decided.

"Not right now, surely?" Gaius said.

"No, I'll go tomorrow. Today, I need to try and speak to Arthur."

It took three phone calls before he managed to speak to Owen, who told him that Arthur was in meetings all day and that he should email. Merlin left a message asking Arthur to call him back.

He spent the rest of the afternoon fretting, while he helped Gaius sort through his personal papers, which Gwen had agreed to deliver to Francis Street, and later working on the plan for moving the collections into storage. Gaius found a specialist cabinet maker who would come and give a quote on the display cases in the Ticket Office, later in the week and placed an order for storage materials that would be delivered the next day. When they eventually left to go home, they had a schedule for the removal of the collections, but were no nearer discovering a motive for Morgana's behaviour, let alone formulating a means to combat it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

It was not until early on Wednesday morning that Arthur finally called Merlin back, waking him from the deep sleep he had eventually fallen into at around 2:00am.

He rolled over and fumbled for his phone. Pressing the 'accept' button more by instinct than by design, he held it to his ear. "'Lo," he mumbled.

Arthur's unmistakable voice asked, "Merlin?"

Suddenly more awake, Merlin pushed his duvet aside and sat upright on the edge of his bed.

"Arthur? Are you all right?"

"Pardon?" Arthur said. "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. Of course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be?"

Merlin briefly pulled the phone away from his ear so he could check the time. "Er… Because it's five o'clock in the morning and you're phoning me?"

"I'm calling you back, you idiot. You apparently need to talk to me? Urgently?"

"Oh, oh yes. Thanks." Merlin ran his free hand over his face and rubbed at his eyes to get the sleep out of them. "I wanted to tell you that the Mayor's refused to fund the Folly, so unless you can reverse your father's decision, the museum will never open again."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked. He sounded disgustingly wide awake for such an hour.

"You know your father withdrew the extra funding he agreed to?" Arthur made an affirmative sort of noise, so Merlin continued. "Right, well, the Trustees went to the mayor, but he said 'no', so, since you're sort of in charge at the moment…" he trailed off.

There was a prolonged silence at the other end of the line. "I see," Arthur said.

"So you'll do it. Right?"

"Do you have any idea," Arthur asked, "what my father's outburst has done to this company? The investors we had lined up on half a dozen projects have got cold feet and those already committed are trying to draw back. A charitable project at this time..." The floor was chill against the soles of Merlin's feet so he dragged the edge of the duvet across his lap and legs. In his ear Arthur continued in a firmer tone. "If my father decided not to add to his donation, I'm sure he had good reason." Merlin started to protest, but Arthur cut him off. "I will need to look into it," he said, "before I can even consider reversing his decision."

Wriggling his toes into a fold of the duvet, Merlin replied, "Oh, he had a good reason all right. He wants to do a land grab on the Folly. And if the Museum closes he'll succeed."

"What?"

"Gwen and I found the deed Thomas Pendragon drew up when he created the museum. There's a clause that says the building reverts to the Pendragon family, if the Museum's ever closed for good."

This time the silence lasted longer and Merlin opened his mouth to say something more, but Arthur pre-empted him. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention," he said. His voice was cool and business-like. Merlin wanted to shake him. "I'll be in touch, once I've had a chance to check the details." Before Merlin could say anything else, he terminated the call and Merlin was left sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling shaken, but even more determined to go and talk to him, face to face.

After he had seen Miss Kay again.

***

Merlin grabbed the hand hold on the back of the seat in front of him, to steady himself as the bus drew away from the stop in Market Square and turned into Charlotte Street. The morning had seemed to promise a bright day, but the bits of sky he could see through the window, between the roofs of the houses, had taken on a heavy, slate-grey colour. As they pulled out of Camelot onto the A6152, it started to rain - an abruptly deafening clatter of ball bearings on the roof and as sudden a reduction in visibility. The bus momentarily slowed, before speeding up again with its windscreen wipers on double speed. The heavy rain didn't last long, but by the time they reached Lillebrook a steady drizzle was falling, adding a miserable chill to the air and streaking the window, transforming the normally jigsaw-pretty cottages and village green into an impressionist landscape. He had a sour taste from not enough sleep in the back of his throat, which, at odd moments threatened to climb up into his brain and cause his eyes to close. Hunching his shoulders against both the weather and his mood, he stuffed his hands as deeply into his jacket pockets as he could and slouched in his seat.

When the bus finally lurched off the roundabout and onto the Greatham road, he shook himself awake, clambered to his feet and staggered down the aisle towards the door. "Red Dragon, please," he said to the driver.

The driver drew the bus to a smooth stop opposite the pub.

With a dutiful, "Cheers, mate," Merlin climbed down onto the verge and made his way to the gate belonging to Heythorpe House.

The wind had picked up and it buffeted him, but the sky had finally begun to lighten. A watery sun broke through the low clouds as he pushed the gate open. Drops of water clung sparkling to the blades of the grass but, as he took the path across the open space, they still soaked his trousers up to his knee when they brushed against him. Once under the trees, heavy drops dripped onto his shoulders from the branches above and the flagstones were treacherous underfoot. He pulled his thin jacket tightly across his chest and picked his way along them with care.

In spite of his slower pace, the walk through the wood seemed shorter than it had the first time and he was soon striding confidently along the cinder path next to the lawn, from where the croquet hoops dripped silently at him.

Once again the kitchen door opened as he approached. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" Miss Kay asked, waving him in and closing the door against the unseasonably chill wind.

They sat in the same chairs at the table as they had on his previous visit and he wasn't surprised when Miss Kay poured coffee into a mug from a tall pot and pushed it across to him, along with a jug of milk and a sugar bowl. "What is agitating you, my young friend?" she asked.

Having spooned sugar into his mug, Merlin clasped both hands around it, warming them. Miss Kay waited patiently until he looked up at her. "It's Morgana," he said. "She's the one with the magic and I think she's behind all the accidents." He paused as an idea occurred to him. "Unless... There can't be two of them, can there?"

"There are not," Miss Kay confirmed. "Magic has a signature and there was only one voice in Camelot, until you arrived."

"So it is Morgana?"

Miss Kay inclined her head. "As you say," she agreed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"You know now."

"But..." Merlin shook his head. "I don't understand," he said. "She really did almost kill Pell? And Arthur, that time in the square? And, on Thursday morning?" Miss Kay nodded in reply to each question. "But why?" he asked. "It doesn't make sense. None of it makes sense. Why would she want Arthur dead? The Folly's closed because she of what she did on Thursday, but if she wanted to wreck the museum, why would she do… whatever she did to Uther? We'd never have known what he was planning until it was too late. She exposed him."

Miss Kay looked steadily back at him. "So many questions," she said. "All of which will have answers. But they are not your prime concern."

"I hurt her yesterday," he admitted. "I think she's still in hospital. I had to, to stop her." His tiredness hung heavily on him and he blinked. "I don't understand anything," he said. "But... If it really is her-"

"You know it is."

"Yes. I know. But I mean, If it is... Then... Well.." He shook his head again. "She's like me?"

"She is nothing like you," Miss Kay said harshly. "I told you last time we met – you are magic. You breathe it, as a dragon breathes fire."

"And she doesn't?"

With a sigh Miss Kay said, "You weary me with your repeated questions. Her magic is discordant. Unlike you, she has had no training."

At Merlin's expression of surprise, she raised an eyebrow. "Did you not have guidance throughout your young life, from your mother and uncle?"

"Not about how to do magic."

Miss Kay snorted in amusement. "You don't need to be taught how to do magic, Merlin. For that you just need to believe what is possible. But your mother and uncle taught you when to use it and, more importantly, when not." She sat back in her chair with both hands flat on the table top. "The witch has talent, but no more than that. Without an amulet to focus it, she could achieve nothing more than minor charms and curses. Magic is merely a tool to her, a means of achieving her ends. Nothing more." She tilted her head, her eyes bright. Once again, Merlin had a fleeting impression of inhuman age. "Look inside yourself and tell me what the essence of magic is," she said.

Under her steady gaze, Merlin stiffened. "Do not fear," she said. "This place is protected. No harm can reach you in this house."

"No, that's not…" He broke off because she was right; he was afraid to relax and turn his attention inward, leaving himself exposed. He searched her face, which in some subtle, undefinable way, no longer appeared entirely human, let alone that of a genteel, elderly lady. Yet it was reassuring and he nodded.

He relaxed against the chair back, clasped his hands lightly in his lap and allowed his shoulders to drop. His consciousness expanded an inch beyond his skin and he sighed contentedly, as the aura of Miss Kay's promised security was confirmed and flooded through him.

"Now turn it inwards," Miss Kay murmured and he did so, diving like a seal inside himself and allowing the ocean of his unconscious to enfold his conscious mind. It was green, and blue, and gold, and it swirled, ebbed and flowed to the rhythm of his double thumping heart and the roaring rush of air in and out of his lungs. It sang with the chaotic collision of blood cells in his veins and gurgled with the acid in his stomach. It filled the gaps between the cells in his skin and his muscles. It was curled up in every nucleus, wrapped around each strand of DNA. It soared through the marrow of his bones, zipped along the synapses of his nervous system and lay as a calm pool of tranquillity at the base of his brain.

It was complete within him and it completed him. It was the power that made him animate and he was its manifestation.

A calm voice spoke within his mind, coaxing and patient. "Now come back," it said.

He followed the voice outward and opened his eyes.

Miss Kay sat opposite him and his right arm was stretched across her kitchen table. She held his hand gently in hers. A shadow of energy zinged under the skin of his back and brow, like Alka-Seltzer to the brain. He felt like he could run a marathon and dance all night afterwards.

He drew his hand away and picked up his coffee mug. She nodded.

"It's not like that for everyone?" he asked.

"At the smallest level, yes. In the centre of each cell, in every living thing, there is magic. You've seen it; you've felt it."

"Yes," Merlin said. "It's like watching small fireworks."

"You felt the difference inside yourself."

"Yes. I think so. I felt it in my blood. I've never sensed that from the people and animals I've touched."

"Nor will you."

"But Morgana?" He shook his head to clear it of the last rainbow drops. "Okay I can believe that she's not like... that. But she still has magic. Still uses it. She's trying to use it to hurt Arthur." He lifted his mug to his lips and took a sip. "I guess I need to know why," he said, "because then maybe I could help." Miss Kay made a soft noise of protest. "I don't mean help her do it. I mean... Try and sort out whatever's wrong, so she wouldn't feel like she had to... Or, or something? I mean, whatever's wrong... If we knew what it was..."

He trailed off and Miss Kay made a 'harumphing' sound. "Your determination to see goodness in people will be your undoing," she said. "I fear that your fates are now joined. She is nothing but darkness, compared to your light. She hates and that passion now rules her."

"But why?"

"Why?" Miss Kay sounded faintly amused. "Because wild magic is dangerous to the wielder. And for jealousy, of course." Merlin stared at her. "Her brother got everything," Miss Kay explained, "and she was abandoned by her father. He didn't recognise her when she needed him, but she saw him."

"Her brother? Her father? She's never mentioned a brother and she said her father died. What do they have to do with any of this? What do they have to do with Arthur? With Uther?" Miss Kay said nothing. She sat as still as a stone. It was almost as if she wasn't breathing and something in the weight of her gaze made him gasp. "She's Uther's daughter?" he whispered. "She's Arthur's sister?"

With what could almost have been a smile of approval, Miss Kay nodded and said, "Indeed she is."

"But… how?"

"I believe you are old enough to understand the mechanics," Miss Kay said with a note of tart finality.

She nodded at the mug he still held. "Drink," she said. "The witch has served her purpose, but if she is allowed to continue, she will go too far."

"What do you mean, her purpose?" Merlin asked.

Miss Kay looked down her nose at him. "That is not your concern," she said. "It is accomplished. But you and Arthur are two sprouts on the same tree, Young Merlin. It is your destiny and you cannot escape it. It will take courage and strength, as well as magic to prevent the witch from fulfilling her desires. You must stop her, before she snuffs out Arthur's future, as she has done Uther's. Go and find your Pendragon. Talk to him. And when you need me, call. I will come."

With that, she stood and walked away into the house, once again leaving him in the kitchen wishing he had the temerity to follow her into her lair and demand more of the answers she obviously could but refused to give. Instead he sat and drank his coffee, hoping she would return, even though he knew she would not. Then he got up, let himself out of the house and went to the pub for a pint while he waited for the bus to take him back to Camelot.

*****

When Merlin got back to the museum, he found Gaius, Gwen and three men from Leon's crew dismantling the displays in the Foyer and packing the objects into crates for transport.

There was no email from Arthur, so after some hesitation he went to help them.

By the time the Greenswood staff knocked off, the display cases in both the Foyer and the Ticket Office where empty. The glass topped table in the Ticket Office had been pushed to one side and a neat stack of boxes from the stores and crates full of display objects occupied the centre of each room.

"This lot will go to the Riverside, tomorrow," Gaius said, "We'll get the Ladies Waiting Room finished tomorrow, too. The mummies are off to Caerleon on Friday and Winthrope's Cabinet Makers are arriving on Monday to dismantle the display cases in the Ticket Office."

"What about the rest of the stuff in your workroom?" Merlin asked.

"We'll do that tomorrow afternoon," Gaius said. "If Leon is willing to lend us the help for a little longer."

Merlin stretched aching muscles and looked around at the results of their labours. He had always loved being in the galleries before they opened to the public in the morning. They had seemed a secret, special place in the half gloom, before the lights were switched on. With the displays gone, the dirty paintwork on the walls and the signs of damp near the ceilings were much more obvious. The rooms looked sad and neglected. For once he was glad to leave for the day.

On the walk home he finally had an opportunity to tell Gaius about his visit to Miss Kay, about Morgana's parentage and what Miss Kay had said about her motives. With Gaius's questions, they had reached Francis Street before he managed to finish his story.

They continued to worry over it all through their evening meal. The Camelot Echo, bought at Mr Kumar's shop on the way home, contained a statement from the Council saying that the Folly had been gifted to the town and that the Council was committed to seeing it open again. It sounded like the sort of thing the board of a football club said in support of their manager, the week before they sacked him. Neither Gaius not Merlin felt particularly reassured.

When they finished their meal Merlin set his empty plate aside. "I'm going to London tomorrow," he said.

Gaius pushed his own plate away and rested his elbows on the table. "To do what?" he asked.

"Miss Kay said I should talk to Arthur. And I'd have gone today if I hadn't gone to see her."

"And you'll tell him about," Gaius waved his right hand in a vaguely inclusive gesture, "everything?"

His uncharacteristic unwillingness to voice the word made Merlin laugh. "I think I have to, don't I?"

Gaius didn't join him in his amusement. "That could be very dangerous," he said.

Abruptly sobered by the fear he heard in Gaius's voice, Merlin nodded. "I know. But this is Arthur's life. When Morgana gets out of hospital..."

"No, wait." Gaius held up his hand like a policeman directing traffic. "Think, Merlin. I like Arthur too, but what you're talking about is telling him the secret that could get you killed, or worse, if it became common knowledge. If that happened, at best you'd have to run and hide. You'd never be able to see your mother again."

It was true. Although neither his mum, nor Gaius, had ever spelt it out in such stark terms when he was young, it was the fear that had underlain his entire life, the assumption he had grown up with as an unquestioned truth. It was the fact that had always sat as a barrier between him and other people, inhibiting friendship and precluding intimacy.

But this was Arthur.

He paused, because Gaius deserved more than an instinctive reaction.

Arthur was the only person Merlin had ever met whose entire being glowed gold and caused Merlin's soul to tingle with excitement in a sympathetic resonance. He could be a wanker with his assumption of entitlement, but he had scolded Merlin into a greater understanding of responsibility and duty. Merlin had seen him throw back his head and laugh without consideration and felt he should do it more. He loved his father and the inherited memory of his mother.

Merlin suddenly realised that he thought of Arthur as more than a friend, and far more than a mere employer. He reached out and placed his hand over Gaius's. "I trust him," he said. "I don't know why, or how, maybe it's magic too, but I do."

Gaius nodded ruefully. "Yes, I see that you do," he said. He still looked worried, but he also looked resigned. "Well, if you're determined, you had better do it tomorrow, as you say. Gwen mentioned that they're letting Morgana out of hospital in the morning."

"And Miss Kay said she'll try to kill Arthur again. I'm sorry, but I have to warn him. I have to tell him everything. And to do that, I have to be there. Talk to him face-to-face."

"Yes." Gaius said. "I know. But Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Please be careful, my boy. There is no easy way to do this."

"Don't worry, Uncle Gaius, I know that."

Gaius shook his head. "I do worry." He turned his hand over and gripped Merlin's strongly. "And if it goes wrong, call me immediately, okay?"

"Sure, yes. But it won't. I feel it."

"But if it does. I have always had an escape plan for you, since you were a toddler, and I still do. So call me, okay?"

Merlin nodded, his eyes prickling. "Yes. Thank you. I will."

*****

Merlin sat staring out of the window of the coach, watching the embankments and roadside plantings intermittently obscure the long view. The gentle slopes of Albionshire gave way to miles of flat fields, yellow with rape seed flowers and green with maturing grasses. It was flat and open land, with none of the intimacy of the hills and dairy farms around Camelot, or even the moors and smallholdings of Ealdor. In the distance the cooling towers of a power station loomed over the landscape, giant sentinels, reminding nature that humans now had dominion.

The road was clear and the bus was making good time. It was also half-empty, so Merlin had no neighbour to distract him from his thoughts, or ask about the book he held open on his lap. He re-read the spell, although he knew he had it memorised, then he went back to watching the fields, clouds and occasional glimpse of the east coast mainline from the window.

All too soon the landscape closed in as the green belt gave way to Outer London. All too soon, because Merlin was still worrying about what he should do when he arrived. He went over again in his mind the various methods he had considered for approaching Arthur, trying to find an alternative to the rather chancy one he had figured out just before falling asleep the night before.

Any attempt to see Arthur at Pendragon's Head Office was discarded, because he was pretty certain he would never get through the firewall of administrative assistance. And anyway, he needed time without interruptions to tell his story. He knew the name of the nursing home where Uther was staying, but there was no certainty that Arthur would visit and Merlin didn't fancy hanging around for hours in the hope that he would. He had no idea where Arthur lived, so he couldn't wait for him there. That left tracking him with magic. Merlin reckoned that he would still spend a lot of the day hanging around, waiting, but the money saved by taking the bus instead of the train would pay for a taxi and there was something thrilling about the idea of jumping into a black cab and saying, 'follow that car'.

He looked down and read the spell again.

When the coach pulled into Victoria Bus Station, he shoved the book into his pack, stood and slung the pack onto his shoulder. He followed his fellow passengers out through the station, onto Elizabeth Street and then turned left onto Buckingham Palace Road, towards the railway station where he would be able to catch the tube.

As always, the city was thronged with people all walking at different speeds and all seemingly intent on making progress difficult for others. The pavement was edged with trees in small squares of bare soil that looked starved for water and through the leaves the bright sunshine did its best to make the city seem attractive, but the air caught in Merlin's throat, thick with exhaust fumes. It was a relief when he spotted the train station up ahead. He crossed the road and went in.

Dodging the hurrying travellers across the pale granite floor, between coffee stalls, instant photo booths and shops selling ties, socks and newspapers, he made it to the entrance of the underground and fought his way down the steps against a tide of incoming. His first twenty minutes in London had reminded him why he had chosen to go to his Uncle Gaius in Camelot, rather than accept Will's invitation of a flat share and a free bed until he found a job.

He managed to negotiate the ticket machine, unlike the luckless tourist next to him who had to be assisted by the man queuing behind him, and found his way through the barriers and the crowds to the correct platform. Finally, he squashed himself into the travelling sardine tin that was the tube train and he was on his way into the city. He allowed his pack to slide off his shoulder, hugged it to his chest, leaned back against the door and relaxed.

Half an hour later he was sitting under a wide orange awning on the pavement outside the small, independent coffee shop Streetview had promised him, opposite Mercia House where Pendragon's occupied the fourth floor. It was nearly two o'clock and a trickle of people were entering the building, no doubt returning from their lunch breaks. Merlin sat back and sipped his coffee, simply glad to be still in the bright, city sunshine.

His eye was caught by a flash of blond hair on the opposite pavement, but the man was wearing lycra and carrying a bicycle helmet. Merlin watched him as he went into the bank next to Mercia House.

Pulling his pack onto his lap, he dug out the silver pen Arthur had lent him to write the gift tag for Gaius the previous week. He examined it, studying the way the burnt sunset light from the awning reflecting off the curved barrel. Twisting it between his thumb and forefinger, the clip with its discrete engraving came into view. Latin. Merlin had no idea what it said and had forgotten to check. Taking a deep breath he held it between the flat palms of his hands and, with his elbows resting on the table top, brought his hands up to his mouth as if he was occupied in ostentatious prayer. Simultaneously relaxing his body and tightening his mind, he could taste the strengthening of the orange light around his hand. It deepened and shone with the sound of light bells in a strong wind and a sensation like gravity. With no ouija compass needle to focus on, he sank into recollection of Arthur sitting at a wrought iron table in a garden, drinking tea and glowing golden.

Awareness expanded abruptly in a purple and aniseed explosion that tasted of chocolate and threatened for a moment to spread him evenly across every dimension of the layer-cake-multiverse. Arthur was in the building opposite. Somewhere up and across and not too far, he was working, thinking, talking, reading.

Moving slowly, Merlin slipped the pen into his jacket pocket and picked up his coffee cup. He took a sip and held the link. Sitting quietly on the edge of the drop into nothingness, his spirit soared above the city and like an eagle he could see every detail. Arthur occupied the centre of his vision; an awareness too profound for images. He waited and watched how the Arthur-shaped kaleidoscope occupied existence. How it dipped and twirled and stayed as still as a limpid pool of spring water in the hollow of a tree. He waited.

By the time he felt comfortable enough to glance at his watch, it was 3:25 and his coffee was cold. No one had bothered him, though. No orange aproned worker ants had hassled him to move, or reorder, or leave, although his table was cleaned twice while he sat there. It might have been a passive-aggressive hint, but he ignored it, enjoying the wonder of the Arthur-centric world.

After an hour, when he felt confident that he wouldn't lose the connection, he ordered another coffee and a milk shake, and sat sipping at them until the cafe closed at six o'clock. Then he transferred to the pub three doors down and nursed a half of lemonade on a tall stool at the window. At eight o'clock his focus moved. It walked across, paused, floating down to street level and started to approach. Merlin stood up and went to the door.

He hovered outside the pub, like a smoker getting his fix and watched with his physical eyes the imposing entrance of Mercia House. Beyond their reach Arthur's presence loomed closer. Merlin realised he was fidgeting, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, like a boxer preparing for a fight.

Arthur stepped out onto the pavement and into view. He was with another, older man. They stood talking for a few minutes and Merlin edged along his side of the road, waiting for a gap in the traffic so he could cross. The older man clapped Arthur on the shoulder and turned away. Arthur walked to the curb and looked towards the oncoming traffic. He raised his arm. Merlin saw an opening and darted across, just as a black cab drew up and Arthur began to climb in. There was no time. Merlin reached the taxi's side, opened the other door and tumbled into its spacious passenger compartment.

"Excuse me," Arthur said, "but I think you'll find –" Merlin cut the spell, an abrupt bereavement of sensation that left him momentarily stunned. He looked up. "Merlin?" Arthur said.

"Yes. Hi. Um…"

"What the hell?" Arthur asked. "What are you doing here?"

Merlin righted himself. "I came to see you."

"That is patently obvious," Arthur replied icily. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you," Merlin said, taking the seat next to him and turning to face him.

Arthur lifted his briefcase from between them and laid it across his knees. "And you lost my number?" he suggested.

"No, but… It's complicated. And important. Really, really important," Merlin said.

The taxi driver, apparently decided that it was neither a kidnap, nor an attempted hijack, interrupted with a, "Where to, guv?"

Arthur regarded Merlin silently and Merlin tried not to squirm. "Very well," Arthur agreed. Without looking away he said, "South Kensington. Cromwell Mews East." Merlin grinned as ingratiatingly as possible and Arthur settled back in his seat. "Whatever it is, it had better wait until we get home," he said. He looked at his watch. "Will it take long?"

Merlin hesitated and Arthur sighed again. "You won't get back to Camelot tonight," he said. "Where are you staying?"

"The last bus from Victoria's at 10:30. Or I can call Will. He lives in Walthamstow."

"You came by bus?" He said it as if the very concept was foreign, but he didn't wait for an answer, picking up on the other half of Merlin's suggestion. "Will, your friend from the Daily News?"

"Yeah."

Arthur looked at his watch again. "No, you can't stay with a journalist. And especially not that one." He shook his head and ran his hand across his face. He looked tired. "Never mind. It can wait for now." Merlin wanted to say something in defence of Will, but Arthur raised one hand. "Just, wait," he said. Settling back into the seat, he laid his head against the cushion and closed his eyes.

Merlin decided to heed the instruction and spent the journey staring out of the window at the passing shop fronts and the traffic.

Eventually the taxi turned into a narrow cobbled lane and Arthur stirred himself. "Just up there," he said to the driver. "By that car." The taxi pulled up behind an SUV that was blocking the entire road, in spite of being parked as close to the front of the house as was possible, given the row of pot plants under the window. Merlin climbed out and looked around while Arthur paid.

The road was more of an alley than a street, albeit a very posh alley. The small, neat cottages had obviously once been stables and housing for the coachmen serving the four and five story townhouses that loomed above them. But that was as far as any resemblance to Francis Street and Milton Avenue went. The houses in Cromwell Mews East were now a Marie Antoinette version of working-class cottages. They had plain frontages, many with garage doors on the ground floor, but all the pointing was clean and the paintwork was fresh and bright. Even the cobbles underfoot looked as if they had been recently laid by a film company. Possibly Disney.

Arthur led the way past the SUV and stopped at a single black door with a bright, brass knocker in the shape of a unicorn rampant, next to a similarly black garage door. He pulled out a key and unlocked it. "Wait here," he said, "while I turn off the alarm." He went in and Merlin hovered on the door step. "Alright," Arthur said. "Come in," and he led the way up a flight of narrow stairs.

At the top of the stairs the building seemed to expand, TARDIS-like. Merlin found himself in a large open-plan kitchen/dining room/living area. There was a fireplace set between two small windows at the far end with a comfortable looking sofa and two chairs grouped in front of it. The floor was fashionable plain, pale wood and large rugs defined and separated the soft seating area from the glass-topped dining table, while the kitchen with its single large window occupied the near end of the space. An open staircase led up to the second floor.

Arthur put his briefcase on the dining table and turned around. "Drink?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," Merlin said and Arthur nodded. He went to the kitchen while Merlin edged cautiously into the room. "Take a seat," Arthur called. "I have a feeling this might take some time?"

He returned with two bottles of beer and handed one to Merlin. Walking past Merlin, he put the other on the mantelpiece. "I really need to get changed out of this stuff," he said, indicating his suit. "Can you give me a moment?"

"Yeah, sure," Merlin said.

"Okay." Arthur went to the stairs up to the next floor, throwing, "And for god's sake, sit down," over his shoulder as he disappeared from view.

Merlin did as he was told, perching on the edge of the sofa and clutching his bottle in both hands.

He was still there when Arthur returned ten minutes later in a pair of soft looking sweat bottoms, a t-shirt and flip-flops.

Arthur retrieved his beer and folded himself into an elegant sprawl in one of the armchairs. "You've come to plead the museum's case, I suppose," he said.

"Uh…" The assumption took Merlin by surprise, because yes, he had, but there were so many other things as well. It did, however, provide a starting point. "Sort of," he said.

Arthur saluted Merlin with his bottle and took a drink. "Let me explain," he said. "The company cannot release any more funds to the museum right now. Your suppliers have been informed that any delivery already made will be honoured, but that any future orders must be authorised by me. Your employment is secure for the next three months, so you can assist Gaius with the move. Greenswood will make the building secure. The lease on the store at Riverside has been paid for eighteen months. I authorised that this morning. You know how much of the original donation is left. I will honour that commitment." He paused, but frowned Merlin to silence when he opened his mouth. "Pendragon's has projects on eight different sites that are now in jeopardy," he said. "My father is in hospital, unlikely to be fit to return to work for weeks, and unable to respond to his detractors." He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. It looked brittle and hard. "It doesn't matter that he never broke any laws. The press represented his actions as fraud and asked why he isn't being prosecuted. It would take months for any enquiry to straighten the story out and by then it wouldn't matter; the press would call it a white-wash."

Reeling slightly under the flood of information, Merlin took a sip from his bottle to give himself a moment. "Will you go bust?" he asked and Arthur laughed.

"No," he said. "And for God's sake don't go suggesting that anywhere else." Merlin shook his head. "But it's a mess that will require some sorting out and I have to do the best I can for the company."

That sounded ominous. "But you love the museum."

Arthur nodded. "I do, but what I want and what we can afford are two different things. My father's –"

"I need to tell you something," Merlin said, cutting him off. "What your dad said. And the accidents – to Pell, to you – they weren't accidents."

"Don't talk rubbish, Merlin. Of course they were. What else could they be?"

"It was Morgana."

Arthur's eyebrows rose and he stared at Merlin. "Morgana? Your friend Morgana? Lance and Gwaine's admin, Morgana?" he asked.

"Yes. Except, obviously, if she's trying to kill you, she's not my friend," Merlin said. "She meant to hit you with the bust of Thomas Pendragon."

Arthur relaxed, seemed to sink further into his chair and finally his smile looked real. "Merlin," he said, with a slight shake of his head. "Putting aside the absolute impossibility of her engineering the fall of that bust when she wasn't even in the building, why would she do something like that?"

Now that the moment to start telling it all had arrived, Merlin realised how difficult it was to break through the habits of a lifetime. It didn't matter that he, quite illogically, trusted Arthur. It didn't matter that Arthur's life was at stake. His mouth refused to form the words. "Um… I don't know?" he said.

While he'd been struggling to shape a proper reply, Arthur had sat up again. There was a note of warning in his voice when he said, "You know something, or you think you do. What is it?"

Merlin winced. "You're not going to like it."

"I don't like it now," Arthur said. "So tell me."

"She's your sister."

"What?!"

With a certain sour satisfaction, Merlin said, "Told you, you wouldn't like it."

"Oh, no," Arthur said. "Now you've gone beyond ridiculous."

"Your father had an affair with her mother."

That made Arthur pause. "How old is she?" he asked.

"A year older than you."

"No!" Arthur said, getting to his feet and walking over to the fireplace. "My parents were married for four years before I was born."

"I know." Arthur spun and Merlin added, "I googled them."

Although he slammed his beer bottle down on the mantelpiece, Arthur didn't shout. His voice was cold and precise, but there was an audible vibration in it that betrayed his emotion. "That's enough!" he said. "This conversation is over. I don't know what you hoped to achieve by it, but it's not going to work. I think you should leave now. If you hurry you'll be in time for that last bus."

"Magic!" Merlin blurted. "She did it with magic."

Arthur, who had started to walk towards the stairs leading down to the ground floor, turned. The expression on his face had gone beyond annoyance. Merlin held up his hand to stay him. "Magic's real, Arthur," he said.

Arthur pointed at the stairs. "Out. Now!"

Merlin stood. Keeping his eyes locked with Arthur's, he turned his hand so it was flat, palm upwards. "Look," he said and a small swirl of tiny coloured lights began to form and dance above his palm. Once he had the complex orbits stabilised, he looked up. Arthur's eyes were fixed on the lights. Merlin concentrated and began to bring them closer to each other, until they coalesced into a single, blue-green ball, about the size of a large glass marble that swirled with silver and gold.

The sound of a gasp made him look up again. While he'd been manipulating his light show, Arthur had come back across the room. He was slightly bent forward, so his face was only a foot from the globe. His expression made something in Merlin's chest swell.

Arthur reached out his hand, but aborted the gesture. "You can touch it, if you like," Merlin said. "It's not hot."

Arthur looked up. "Or not," Merlin added, closing his hand. When he opened it again, the ball was gone.

Arthur abruptly straightened and collapsed into the chair behind him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

As soon as Arthur had taken a breath, Merlin had to do it again, of course.

It took three more demonstrations, with Merlin standing in different places in the room, before Arthur would believe it was not some sort of three-dimensional projection, but eventually it seemed he was convinced enough to sit down and let Merlin talk.

"It really is magic," Merlin said, for the fifth or sixth time.

"The proper word is probably telekinesis."

"Yeah, maybe. Point is, I've always been able to do it. Mum said I could fetch things across the room, from my cradle."

"That would be teleportation."

"Okay, if you want to call it that."

"What about Telepathy?"

"I've never tried. It's kind of important that no one ever finds out about any of it." Merlin explained. "I just call it magic."

"But you're telling me?"

"Yeah, because Morgana's trying to kill you and I need you to listen, so you won't, you know, get killed."

The first part of the story, the part where Merlin explained about spells and pulled his book out of his bag to demonstrate, used up the rest of Arthur's beer. He laid it all out – stories from his childhood growing up with an ability he could never allow anyone to see. Stories his mother had told him about things he had done before his earliest memories. He created a dragon from sparks of light. He fetched more beer, without leaving his seat. He even recounted his part in the history of Will and the falling tree that almost killed old Mr Simmons. Arthur's instinctive, 'How are you doing that?' turned into reluctant wonder and, eventually, into even more reluctant belief. By then it was past midnight.

When the beer was gone, Arthur decided he was still in need of liquid support. "Fetch us a bottle of wine, would you?" he said. "The Merlot."

"I can't."

"Of course you can." If Arthur still wasn't perfectly happy, he did seem to recognise that magic had its uses. "You fetched the beer and that was in the fridge. The wine's in the rack on the wall, there."

With a sigh of ostentatious patience, Merlin explained, "I can see the fridge from here and when I opened the door I could see the beer. I can't fetch the Merlot because I don't know which bottle it is. Merlot doesn't have some sort of magical signature I can latch onto and call." He brightened. "Unless you'd be satisfied with a lucky dip?"

"No, I want Merlot," Arthur said, hauling himself to his feet. "And now I think about it, I have to get the glasses, anyway. I'm not trusting them to your precarious, gravity defying tricks."

"Hey! It was one bottle and it didn't even break."

When Arthur returned with an open wine bottle in one hand and two glasses held between the fingers of the other, he paused and looked down at Merlin before retaking his seat. "How are you still alive?" he asked, shaking his head. "And not locked up in some secret government lab?"

Merlin smiled wryly. "For as long as I can remember, I mean forever, Mum drummed it into me. Not to tell anyone. To keep it secret. And I did."

"From birth?" Arthur asked. This seemed, for some reason Merlin didn't understand, to be the bit Arthur was having most difficulty with.

"Yes, from birth," he confirmed. "My mum knew how dangerous it could be if anyone found out."

Something in his voice seemed to catch Arthur's attention. "But?" he asked. "You told someone?"

"Yeah. When I was about twelve, I, I thought she was wrong. There was Will, you see. He was my friend. And I told him..."

"And?"

"And then he wasn't my friend for a while."

Arthur nodded. "But he forgave you," he said. It was a statement, not a question. "Why are you telling me?"

"I said - because you need to know what you're up against."

"No, I mean okay, but…"

"I trust you to keep my secret."

"But why do you?"

"I really don't know, because you can be a real prat. But I do."

Arthur laughed. "Thank you," he said. He sobered quickly, however, and regarded Merlin seriously. "Yes, I'll keep your secret," he said.

They sat in silence for a moment, Arthur staring at Merlin and Merlin gazing into the empty fireplace.

"Tell me more about magic," Arthur said. "What makes you think Morgana is magic?" He was pouring wine, but he paused thoughtfully. "Has magic?" he said, as if he was testing the words as he voiced them. He looked up at Merlin and smiled. "What makes you think she can do magic?" he asked and returned to his task. "Have you seen her do some?"

So Merlin started talking again. He listed the three attempts to injure, if not kill, Arthur and explained how he had tasted her magic on the air, but hadn't recognised it for what it was until Monday afternoon. "I've never felt someone else's magic before," he explained.

"But you know it's magic?" Arthur shook his head. "And I still can't believe I'm seriously saying that."

Merlin smiled in sympathy. "Yeah, I know it's magic. And she was always there – when Pell fell, when you almost went under a car, when the bust almost cracked your skull open."

"Yes, that was weird," Arthur agreed. "I fell backwards and the bust landed in front of me." He caught Merlin's eye and froze. "I didn't fall, did I?" he said.

"I might have given you a small push," Merlin admitted.

"You saved my life, you mean. It almost scraped my nose on the way past." Arthur stopped talking and looked into space. "Bloody hell," he said quietly. "Oh fuck." And then, still quietly and almost breathlessly, "Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck."

Merlin waited him out and eventually he took a large gulp of wine, emptying his glass. "So what else can she do?" he asked, picking up the bottle and tilting it towards the light to check how much it still held. "Obviously more than your pretty light shows." He looked at his glass and put the bottle down again.

"She has wild magic," Merlin said. "At least, that's what Miss Kay said."

"Miss Kay? Gods! This story keeps on growing. Miss Kay knows about magic?"

"Also Gaius."

"Does my father know?"

"I don't think so." He remembered what Miss Kay had said about Arthur's mother and amended that to, "I don't know."

Arthur looked at his watch. "It's two o'clock. I don't think I can absorb any more of this. I need to sleep on it. If I sleep at all." Having made up his mind, he stood up. "Come on, I'll show you the spare room," he said, walking towards the stairs.

Merlin got up and followed him but, with one hand on the banister and a foot on the bottom step, Arthur turned. "Show me again," he said. "Show me something, so I don't convince myself this was all some sort of hallucination, by morning."

Merlin scanned the room. The empty beer bottles, the almost empty wine bottle and the dirty glasses levitated themselves across to the kitchen counter. They hovered for a moment before settling gently. "Okay," Arthur said and turned to go up the stairs. He stopped at the sound of clinking and looked back at the kitchen to watch the glasses engage in a short, formal dance, tipping towards each other and gliding around each other in an extended figure of eight. He looked away from the glass ballet, to Merlin, who with dividing his own attention between the kitchen and Arthur. "Now you're just showing off," he said. "Come on, idiot."

Merlin grinned at him and followed him up the stairs.

*****

When he woke up the next morning, Merlin opened his eyes to a high, sloped ceiling with exposed structural beams and white walls. "Seven o'clock, Merlin," Arthur called through the door. "Get up."

Merlin groaned and rolled out of bed. "Coming," he called back.

Fifteen minutes later, after a quick shower, he staggered down to the kitchen. Arthur was sitting over a bowl of cereal and a mug of coffee at the counter. There was a slight frown between his brows. He pointed at a second mug with his spoon. "Help yourself," he said. "There's muesli or cornflakes." He indicated a box and a plastic bag next to the coffee filter machine. Merlin nodded his thanks. "Bowl on the shelf behind you," Arthur added.

Merlin went and retrieved a bowl but focused first on the offer of coffee. He poured himself a mug and sat down opposite Arthur. Holding the mug up to his face, he breathed in the steam before taking a sip.

With the edge of his awareness, he noticed Arthur shift on his stool. "What makes you think Morgana's my sister?" Arthur asked. He glanced up briefly but quickly returned his concentration to his bowl. "Not from googling."

Merlin put his mug down and reached over for the cornflakes packet and the milk carton. He poured cornflakes and milk into the bowl before he answered and Arthur didn't try to hurry him. "No," he said, eventually, "Miss Kay told me."

"Miss Kay?"

"Yeah. When I went to see her yesterday. I mean, the day before."

"And she just told you Morgana was my sister and you believed her?"

"Well, she knew your mother when she was young, before she married your father."

"She might have done, but what does that have to do with anything?" Arthur stopped, his eyes fixed on a spot beyond Merlin shoulder and his expression thoughtful. "But she knows about magic? You said that last night, right?"

Merlin nodded. "You know? You're taking this very calmly. More calmly than Will did."

"What else can I do?"

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

Arthur glanced around the kitchen. "I'm still at home eating breakfast at 7:30," he said. "So no, I didn't get much sleep last night. But that doesn't change what I now know. It wasn't a hallucination, was it?"

"No."

"So magic is real and Miss Kay knows about it."

"Yes."

"And when we went to see her, as we were leaving, you said there was something odd about her."

"Did I? Well, I was right. I don't know what she is. But she feels like something powerful."

"Something? How'd you know she's powerful?"

"Because when I try to feel her magic, I can't find anything." Arthur opened his mouth, but Merlin kept talking. "I can't even feel the spark. Everybody has that. A sort of flavour I can taste with a part of my mind that sits at the back somewhere."

"You're not making any sense."

"I know. Hang on." He stirred his cornflakes but didn't eat. "Okay," he said. "So when we went to see her, I tried to sort of check her out. I hadn't really done that before. On anyone. But people have a kind of aura? Something like that. And I can sense it. Mostly it's just there, faintly, all the time, and I don't notice it. But when I tried to suss her out, there was nothing. I could sense her heartbeat, but... At first I just thought I'd done it wrong. It was only later I realised it was her that was different."

"And that's why you said she was odd?"

"I don't know. I guess?"

"It seems to me that a lot of this magic of yours is subconscious." Arthur said, frowning, a spoon full of muesli held suspended above his bowl. "I'm trying to imagine it," he said. "If you could always do stuff –"

"Yeah," Merlin agreed, interrupting him. "That's it exactly. I never thought about it. It was only since Gaius gave me that book that I've realised I can learn to direct it."

Arthur shook his head. "Show me something again," he said. "Because this conversation we're having? It doesn't make sense."

Merlin looked around, spotted the sugar bowl and drew it across the counter until it stood between them. The lid floated off and set itself down on the countertop with a gentle click. A spoonful of sugar, without the benefit of the spoon, rose out of the bowl, sailed like a procession of flying ants across to Merlin and scattered itself over his cornflakes.

"Not moving stuff," Arthur said. "Something else."

"That's actually quite difficult," Merlin protested. "All those separate grains of sugar."

"But it didn't look impressive. Show me something else."

Merlin held out his hand between them, palm up. Slowly a small cloud of pink began to form there. It darkened to deep red and began to coalesce into a ball. As it did so, the top edge whirled and a dark green spot appeared near its underside, at the base of Merlin fingers. It drew tighter and the swirls froze in place, leaving a perfect crimson rosebud. Merlin lifted his hand higher and they could both see the short stem sticking down from between his middle and ring fingers. "Buttonhole?" he suggested.

Arthur laughed. "I think not, I am neither sixty years old, nor looking for questions I can't answer. Either put it in water, or you can wear it."

Merlin laid it on the countertop and addressed himself to his breakfast.

"Morgana," Arthur said.

Merlin looked up. "Yeah?"

"You say she's behind it all." He held up his hand when Merlin opened his mouth to protest. "It's not that I don't believe you," he said. "But I've only got your word. Ah, ah, wait. It's possible you're mistaken. I need evidence." Merlin subsided and Arthur picked up his coffee mug. "And if it turns out –"

"When," Merlin said.

"If it turns out that she's guilty, then we have to stop her somehow," Arthur said.

"We could go to the police?

"And say what? That an evil witch put a spell on my father, so he embarrassed himself on prime time television and, by the way, she's trying to kill me too? No. We have to talk to her."

"Talk to her? And say what?"

"I don't know, but I'm coming back to Camelot and we're going to sort this out. What were you planning to do next?"

"There's a bus at four o'clock," Merlin said.

"I have to go into the office to make sure Geoffrey has everything under control, but if you wait until this evening I'll drive you," Arthur said. "What were you going to do until four?"

"The British Library. Gaius told me about their arcane collection. There's a lot of magic there, he says."

"Hmm. You do remember that you work for me, don't you? It might be Friday, but that's still a working day and I'm paying for your time."

"The British Library is valid Pendragon research," Merlin protested. "I'm trying to save your life."

"Right, well, I hate to break it to you, but you have to apply for a library card before you can get in there and that takes days. You can't just walk in off the street and ask for books."

With a smug grin, Merlin said, "Magic does have practical uses you know. I've known how to charm my way past things like that since I was old enough to leave the house alone."

Arthur smiled back. "Okay," he said. "Not just pretty lights and roses, then. But you'd better take this." He took his wallet out of his jacket pocket, withdrew a business card and looked around the bench top.

Merlin dug in his own pocket, extracted the pen he had borrowed the previous week and held it out.

"You had it, did you?" Arthur said, taking it. He scrawled a number on the back of the card. "That's my private mobile," he said, handing it to Merlin. "If you get arrested, call me on that number, okay?"

*****

It didn't prove difficult for Merlin to gain entrance to the reading rooms, but he soon realised that they were not what he needed. Some careful spying on other users showed him how they were ordering books and having them delivered to their desks, but he wasn't confident that he could pull off his impersonation well enough to access that facility. Instead, he followed his nose and a member of staff into the stacks. From there it was a case of concentrating on what he was looking for until he knew which way to go.

The miles of movable book shelves in the basement didn't have any helpful signs pointing at "Magical Texts", so he walked along them until he felt a ripple of heat across his skin. There was no one else in sight so he wound the handle on the end of the shelf to open it up.

The sensation grew stronger and he walked into the space between the newly exposed shelves, running his finger along the spines until he felt something tickle at the back of his brain. Carefully pulling the book out, he squatted down in the narrow space, opened it and dug his notebook out of his bag.

*****

They met up again at Arthur's house at seven o'clock, when Arthur finally got home from work. Merlin was sitting on the doorstep reading through his photocopies when Arthur appeared in front of him, his briefcase in one hand and a bulging carrier bag in the other. "I see you didn't get arrested then," he said. "Any luck?"

Shoving his papers away in his pack, Merlin looked up and smiled. "Oh, man, you have no idea," he said. "I found this amazing book. It was dedicated to King James and it was full of the most amazing stuff. I just read and read." He got to his feet while he was talking and Arthur handed him the carrier bag.

Arthur dug his keys out of his pocket. "Sorry I'm a bit later than I planned," he said, unlocking the door. "There was a lot to tidy up."

"It's okay. I called Gaius to say we'd be back later tonight."

"Right, I just need to pick up a few things. Have you eaten?"

They went in and climbed the stairs. "Uh, yeah, I couldn't leave, but I bought a pasty and some beer on the way back."

Arthur looked over his shoulder. "A pasty and beer?" he asked.

Merlin grinned. "I ate the pasty on the tube. The beer's for later."

They had reached the kitchen and Arthur went and dug in the back of a cupboard, pulling out a large thermos. "Would you make some coffee to see us through?" he asked. "It'll be too late for the hotel restaurant by the time I drop you off, but there's bread and the making of sandwiches in the bag, if you fancy putting some together. I haven't had time to eat since breakfast."

"You had time to shop, but not to eat?" Merlin asked.

Arthur was already on his way up the stairs. He looked down at Merlin and grinned. "Well, I did the difficult bit and wrote the list," he said. He left that hanging while he continued up the stairs and out of sight.

Merlin unpacked the carrier bag.

*****

The front half of the ground floor of Arthur's house turned out to be a double garage, housing Arthur's MG and a dark blue Toyota Yaris. Merlin was slightly disappointed that Arthur elected to take the Yaris, but he had to admit it did have more space. He relaxed into the passenger seat as Arthur navigated them through the city traffic, until miles of uninterrupted motorway stretched ahead of them. They shared the coffee, passing the cup back and forth, and ate the sandwiches, while Arthur drove and the daylight faded. Once they were done, Merlin packed the rubbish away in the carrier bag.

"Tell me," Arthur said, glancing over and catching Merlin's eye "Have you ever used magic to do something illegal?"

"Um… Well, maybe when I was at school, I might have occasionally handed in invisible homework," Merlin admitted, "but, well, that didn't work out."

"Why not?"

"Because you get the marks, but you don't really learn anything."

"How old were you?"

"Fourteen."

Arthur shot him a dubious look, before turning his eyes back to the road. "That was very mature of you."

"Yeah, well," Merlin muttered. "And maybe my mum found out?"

Arthur threw back his head and laughed. "Now that I do believe," he said. "But that's it? Never forged a cheque?"

"No!"

"Or magically turned plain paper into money?"

Merlin didn't answer while he thought that one through. "I wonder if I could?" he mused.

"Don't," Arthur said. "I suspect it's like invisible homework - there's sure to be a karmic backlash. In fact, in a world that suddenly has magic in it, I'm betting instant karma exists too." He paused as he pulled out into the fast lane to overtake a Sainsbury's lorry. "And that's it?" he asked, when they were back in the left hand lane again. "Nothing else?"

"No. My mum dragged me up proper."

Arthur nodded. "Okay," he said. "I believe you. So can you use magic to save my company?"

Merlin shook his head. "What, interfere in the economy of the country? Sorry. No, I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Of course it wouldn't. It would be too easy if the magic-" He winced as he spoke the word. "And I still can't believe I'm treating this as fact. It would be too easy if the magic that caused this problem, could also fix it."

They approached a road sign that announced, 'Camelot 45 miles'. Arthur shook his head, as if he was clearing it. "We should be there by nine," he said. "I suppose we'd better think about how I'm going to get to talk to Morgana without her magic-ing me."

"We're going to Gaius first," Merlin said. "I want to talk it all over with him there." Arthur looked across at him and Merlin said, "No, listen, he already knows all about it. Who do you think I've been talking to all this time? He knows about magic and, and he's my uncle. And he's old and wise and he'll understand the stuff I found today."

"Okay," Arthur agreed. "I suppose he's at least another head on the problem. So if we're not going to make plans now, you'd better entertain me."

"I'm not doing magic in the car when you're driving. I don't want to distract you into a ditch."

"Tell me what you found out at the British Library then."

The account of Merlin's day occupied the rest of the journey and Arthur proved to be an intelligent listener, whose questions forced Merlin to puzzle through a few issues that he'd instinctively accepted and not questioned when he read them. By the time they drew up in front of Gaius's small house, he was feeling both exhausted by the interrogation and buzzed from the stimulation and challenge.

*****

It was closer to 9:30 than 9:00 by the time Gaius had made the inevitable pot of tea and mugs of coffee. Arthur and Merlin pulled out the table in Gaius's living room, so they could all sit at it, shoving some of the papers, books and other miscellaneous objects that occupied half its surface onto the sideboard to make space.

"So you believe him?" was Gaius's first question, once they were settled.

"I have to," Arthur replied. "I'd have loved it to be some sort of stage trick, but..." he paused for a moment before finishing the sentence, "it's not."

"No, it's not," Gaius agreed. "I know this is a lot to accept on short notice." Arthur waved a dismissive hand but Gaius continued, "I've known about Merlin's magic since he was a baby. And I've been researching the subject for almost as long. Between us, his mother and I, mostly his mother, have tried to help him grow with his gift."

"Hey, sitting right here," Merlin said, but Gaius paid as much heed to his protest as he had to Arthur's attempt to move him on. "We don't have magic," Gaius said, "and Merlin's father is who knows where. But ever since his mother first saw… She's an intelligent woman and she made sure she brought him up to understand the implications, as well as the possibilities. The responsibilities, as well as the potential power." Merlin was actively squirming in his seat by this point and Arthur shot him an amused look before dutifully returning his attention to Gaius.

"I've done some research while you've been away," Gaius said, glancing at Merlin. "Morgana also grew up fatherless." He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement in Arthur's direction. "But in her case, her mother died when Morgana was five. She was brought up by her aunt, who I've met on more than a few occasions at various functions. She's a good woman, but narrow. And I believe that in her devotion to her religious beliefs, she is not very flexible when faced with new ideas."

"She wouldn't respond well to Morgana's magic?" Arthur asked.

"It depends when it manifest. If Morgana is like Merlin and has channelled magic since birth, it is impossible that her mother and probably her aunt didn't know about it. However, from what I have read, in most cases magic doesn't manifest until puberty. By that time, Morgana would be old enough to decide for herself who she told."

"What are you saying?" Merlin asked.

"I am saying that Morgana did not necessarily have the clear guidance that you had, on what is right and what is wrong, in the context of magic."

"That's... very interesting," Arthur said, "but I really don't see how knowing it helps."

Gaius shrugged. "No, it probably doesn't," he agreed, "but I felt it was worth saying." He frowned, visibly putting that train of thought aside. "Where else are we?" he asked.

It was Merlin who replied. "I found some fantastic books in the British Library, Uncle Gaius. I told you when I called - there was some amazing stuff in them. Well…"

"Before we get into the detail," Gaius said, holding up a hand. Merlin reluctantly subsided. "Could we possibly consider the bigger picture?" He turned to Arthur. "What do you hope to achieve by coming back to Camelot?" he asked.

Arthur pursed his lips thoughtfully. "If Morgana has caused the problems my father and my company are suffering from, I want to make her stop and put it right."

Merlin opened his mouth, but Gaius quelled him again with a glance. "And do you have any plan for how to achieve this?" he asked.

"No. Talk to her, I suppose. I'm not sure what else I can do. We can hardly involve the authorities. And she may be a witch, literally, but she can't be locked up for it."

"In a mental hospital?" Merlin suggested.

"She's not crazy," Gaius said. "At least, not in any way that a doctor would understand. Do you think any doctor would believe in magic sufficiently to commit her? And, as you say," he added, turning back to Arthur, "other legal channels are also closed to us."

"Which really only leaves talking to her," Arthur said again. "Unless there's some magic you can do?" he asked.

Both Gaius and Arthur looked at Merlin and he shook his head. "I found out a few interesting things in the library," he said. Gaius nodded encouragingly so he was finally able to say what he had been wanting to say since they sat down. He turned to Arthur. "I think I found out how Morgana set up your father," he said.

Arthur's eyes widened and Merlin explained, "There's a potion, mostly harmless herbs, but with the right spell and a full moon, it…" He paused as the need for diplomacy occurred to him and when he continued he picked his words with care. "It draws out a person's deepest doubts and magnifies them. Twists them to give them more power and pushes them back in. Deep. If," he paused again and took a breath. Arthur was watching him intently but didn't look like he was about to interrupt. Opposite him, Gaius's gaze was similarly intent. Merlin continued, "If your father was afraid, years later, that something he'd done had been responsible for your mother's death, for example, no matter that it's not true, the spell would turn that fear into a certainty. If he knew he'd cut business corners and was worried about the... the propriety of that, the spell could convince him that he had really broken the law and was on the brink of being caught." He paused and bit at his bottom lip as they absorbed that. "Morgana made the tea that day," he said. "It would be easy for her to slip something into his cup."

"So she did it to hurt him," Gaius said. "Is that why he confessed on television?"

Merlin shrugged. "There might have been another spell on top," he said. "I don't know. I didn't find one, but I only had one day in one library. Who knows how long Morgana's been planning? He did look conflicted, but I think it might have made him want to confess. If it did, if he hadn't been on the telly that night it would have come out some other way." He looked at Arthur and reached out one hand, laying it on Arthur's forearm. "Or it might not be a spell, that bit," he said. "I think your dad has a very rigid code of... morality? He might feel that, since he'd done wrong, he should own up."

Arthur gave him a tight smile. "Thank you," he said. "But I've watched that programme, over and over, and the more I watch it, the more crazy he looks. Now, with what I know now, I would interpret his behaviour as being subject to an overpowering compulsion. And very unwilling."

Exchanging a quick glance with Gaius, Merlin shrugged again. "I don't know," he said. "But I think so. I've never tried anything like that, but some of the stuff I read…"

"It's certainly possible," Gaius said. "But it's very dark magic. To overwhelm someone's autonomy like that..."

"And Morgana can do it?" Arthur asked.

"I suppose anyone with sufficient magical ability could do it. At least to some extent. If they chose to go down that path."

"I need to be certain." Arthur said. He sounded weary. "And I need to know why she's doing this. If she's angry enough to punish my father, well, I suppose I can just about understand that, however much I deplore it. And I really, really do. I've never been blind to my father's faults. He's a hard man. But..."

He sighed, shook his head and when he spoke again it was in a brisker tone of voice. "Why is she trying to kill me? If you're right about her and she's my sister, wouldn't she be happy to know she has family?" He shrugged helplessly. "Then there's the company. She's threatening the livelihoods of all the people we employ."

"I don't know," Gaius said. "Morgana has always seemed a very nice person. I've only met her half a dozen times, but she seemed to be intelligent, friendly and, well, very well balanced."

"Miss Kay said that wild magic is dangerous to the wielder. But she loves the Museum," Merlin said.

They fell into a thoughtful but unproductive silence.

Merlin broke the mood by standing up. "I think we need more than tea and coffee for this," he said, but before going into the kitchen he added, "All we need is a plan."

He fetched beer from the fridge and when he sat down at the table again he handed them each a bottle. He looked expectantly at them. They stared back.

"I suppose we start with what we know?" Gaius suggested.

"Morgana's here. She's trying to ruin the company and kill Arthur," Merlin said.

Arthur's lips twitched. "I suppose that's it, cut down to essentials."

"But you didn't have to come back to Camelot," Merlin said. "You could have stayed in London. Why did you come?"

"Besides the fact that I need to know it's her? That she's done anything. Staying in London would not exactly make me safe. She can drive, or catch the bus, as easily as anyone else." He turned to Gaius. "Can she cast a spell over a distance?"

Merlin spoke before Gaius could. "I think the spell she used to force your father to confess his plans was set up earlier. He was fighting it, but I think the pressure had been building for a while by the time Question Time started."

Gaius was frowning and when he answered Arthur's question, it sounded as if he was thinking things out as he spoke. "Miss Kay told Merlin that she needs a charm to focus and boost her magic. From what little I've ever been able to find and read on that subject, I get the impression that charms and amulets are used for conjuring things directly in front of the sorcerer."

"You think that the fact they are used like that means they can't be used any other way?" Arthur asked.

"I'd be reluctant to say it was certain. Post hoc ergo propter hoc is a logical fallacy, after all. But the accounts of sorcerers using charms, the ones I've read, describe them as being used in an immediate way. That may mean geographically."

"But we can't know," Arthur said. "That's why I had to come back. We have to sort this out and stop it, once and for all. I have to talk to her. Try and make her see that what she's doing is wrong." He glanced over at Merlin. "I don't suppose you've ever done that," he made a vague gesture with his hand, "probing magic thing on her?"

"No, I never tried it. I don't like to do it, really; it feels a bit invasive."

"Okay, but you said she loves the museum? She may resent me and hate my father, but why would she undermine the company that's paying for the museum?"

Merlin scowled. "You've forgotten about what your father was doing, haven't you? She exposed his plan to close the museum."

"My father's plans for the museum were a perfectly legal manoeuvre and the publicity can't change that."

"I wonder how she knew," Gaius mused. "It was not as if she'd ever really met him, had she?"

"Maybe she has visions," Arthur said. "It doesn't really matter."

"It doesn't matter that it's legal," Merlin said hotly. "But the museum matters. It matters to me, and to Gwen, and to Gaius, and to the kids who come to the Museum Club every Saturday, and to the old guys who come in off the street to stay warm, and any number of other people in Camelot. The Folly's special and we want to save your life, but we want to save it too." He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, glaring at Arthur.

Arthur blinked. Then he surprised Merlin by laughing. "Well, thank you for the concern over my life," he said. "And I'm sorry. You're right. The museum is important." He turned to Gaius who offered him a thin smile in return.

Looking down at the bottle in his hand, Arthur turned it around on the table top. "Cedric was working for my father," he said.

"What?" Merlin asked.

"There was mismanagement of the project," Arthur admitted. "But some of it was deliberate mismanagement."

"When did you find that out?"

Arthur rubbed at his forehead with his fingertips. "On Wednesday. Geoffrey told me on Wednesday, when I got back from seeing my father."

"But why?"

"Think about it Merlin. If the museum was closed already, gutted and empty, and there was no money to finish refurbishing it, what would the Council do?"

"They'd jump at any offer to develop the site usefully," Gaius said. "What was Uther planning to do with it?"

"A shopping arcade and flats. Luxury apartments."

"Oh shit," Merlin said. "That was what Will said."

Arthur smiled bleakly. "Smart guy, your friend."

"Because of the high speed rail link?"

"I suppose. Yes." He frowned. "But the truth is, as a museum the Folly is totally unfit for purpose. It's far too big. Before Leon took the wall down, it was already too big." He looked across at Gaius. "If you could have paid for more display cases and put everything in the stores on display, it would still have been too big. You know that." Gaius gave a reluctant nod. "The whole scheme was unrealistic from the start. As soon as I saw it, as soon as I got a clear idea of what's in the collections, I knew that." He picked up a pen that was lying on top of a pile of bills and bank statements stacked on the edge of the table and fiddled with it as he spoke. "I looked into it, after we spoke the other morning. You're right; there's a clause in the bequest that stipulates that the building is to be a museum for as long as the Town Council wants. It could have been argued that the Council's removal of funding for the cleaner, the security guard and now for Gwen, is proof that they don't feel the town needs a museum anymore, but this was a surer bet. I suppose it still hangs on where the Council's budget meeting goes, but..." He trailed off.

"So you're not going to reverse your father's decision?" Merlin said. "The museum's going to close and you're going to save your company by selling it off? Is that what you're saying?"

"No!" Arthur said, interrupting Merlin's indignation with such force that Merlin rocked back in his chair. "No," he said again, more calmly, "that's not what I'm saying. And if you give me a chance to explain..." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Looking across at Gaius, he held his eyes and said, "I know the museum's important. I know there are people in this town who love it. And I think it could be even more generally loved. But, there's no doubt it's also a valuable piece of real estate." Merlin snorted but Arthur ignored him. Gaius was saying nothing, but he was watching Arthur through narrowed eyes. "I think we can find a middle way," Arthur said.

"And how exactly would that work?" Gaius asked.

For a moment Arthur looked almost sheepish. "I don't know yet," he admitted. He gave a half laugh. "I've not had much time to think about it. But I'll save it if I can, believe me on that. It's a big building and most of it's been empty for years. Maybe we can find a way to use part of it to generate revenue, as it did when two thirds of the floor space in the Great Hall was rented to the Council as a store."

Gaius nodded. "Yes," he agreed. "Something like that might be a solution." He glanced over at Merlin and said with a sly smile, "With your word on that, I don't mind helping to save your life." Merlin choked back the laugh that surprised out of him and Arthur's shoulders relaxed. "Because I think you'll agree," Gaius said calmly," that is really more important and more urgent, at the moment."

"Okay," Merlin said. "So how do we solve the problem named Morgana?"

"Are we absolutely certain?" Arthur asked. "I mean, I'm willing to believe in your magic; I've seen it. But are we absolutely certain that there's magic involved in the rest of this mess?"

"If you don't believe it's Morgana doing this," Merlin said.

"I didn't say I didn't believe you. But if she is my sister, well, I need proof, for my own peace of mind."

"So we trap her and make her confess."

"And how exactly would you do that?" Gaius asked.

Merlin shook his head and shrugged one shoulder. Arthur looked down at his beer bottle. Gaius placed his hands flat on the table top. "It's late," he said. "We could sit here all night, but my old bones need their bed." He hauled himself to his feet and stood, leaning on the table. Looking over at Arthur he added, "And it's too late for you to be heading out again. You should sleep here. Merlin won't mind sharing, will you, Merlin?"

"Oh, um, no, sure, yes," Merlin said. He glanced over at Arthur and encountered a tired but amused smirk. "No problem," he said, with more certainty and returned Arthur's smirk with a challenging grin of his own.

Arthur protested that he had a room waiting for him at the Hilton, but Gaius overruled him. "You'll be coming straight back here tomorrow morning. There's no point in losing another hour's sleep. And on that note," he said with an assumption of compliance that was both annoying and somehow endearing, "if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to settle yourselves," and he shuffled off to the kitchen and the bathroom beyond.

*****

They ended up topping and tailing it, Merlin trying to hide his embarrassment and Arthur apparently feeling none, if the amused glint in his eye was anything to judge by.

"At least it's a double," Arthur observed when he entered the room, having been last to use the bathroom. "If all you'd had to offer was a space on the floor, I think I'd have risked Gaius's disapproval and gone back to the Hilton, regardless."

Merlin was already under the covers, lying against the wall. He had pointedly placed a pillow at the foot of the bed on the other side and turned the duvet back. Arthur hung the jacket of his suit on the hook on the back of the door, toed off his shoes, shucked his trousers and folded them neatly on top of Merlin's desk. Merlin closed his eyes.

Arthur switched off the light. The bed dipped as he got in and for a while the room was quiet.

"Why did you come to Camelot?" Arthur asked, breaking a silence that had almost seemed to have physical weight.

Merlin shifted onto his back. He clasped his hands behind his head. "Oh, you know," he said. "Couldn't find work. Don't like London."

"Couldn't find work?" Arthur asked. "I'd have thought with your talents you'd have no trouble becoming invaluable."

Merlin grinned up at the ceiling. "My god, is that a compliment?" Arthur snorted and kicked him in the arm pit.

Merlin turned onto his side and shoved Arthur's foot away. "Fuck off," he said. "It was my so called talents that cost me my last job." He paused thoughtfully. "Although, I think I've got more control now than I had then. I could probably hide it better, or even stop it doing things without me deciding."

"It does that? How did you manage growing up, if you couldn't control it?"

"Mostly I could, can. It's just sometimes." He realised he was still holding Arthur's foot and let it go, drawing his hand back to his chest. "And I had a reputation for being lucky," he admitted. "But in the end, I guess it was just time to move on. I wanted, I wanted to see if I could find somewhere that I could really fit in.

"Had any luck?" Arthur asked.

Merlin settled into his pillow. "I'm not sure yet," he said. "I'll let you know."

Arthur chuckled softly. "You do that," he said.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

The first order of business in the morning was planning when, where and how they should approach Morgana. Arthur was determined not to delay. "I wish I could believe we weren't about to embarrass ourselves in the worst way, here," he said. "But if we are, I need to do it now. Besides anything else, I have to get back to work; I'm needed there."

Merlin, knowing that Lance was in the office for a couple of hours most Saturday mornings, phoned him to ask for her address. "I was away in London, Thursday and yesterday," he explained. "So I was thinking of going around, to check she's okay."

"That's kind of you," Lance said, making Merlin's conscience twinge. He got the address, however.

Meanwhile, Gaius was flipping through the pages Merlin had photocopied at the British Library. When he first saw them, he was horrified to think of Merlin being so cavalier as to subject rare books to the potentially damaging effects of a photocopier. But once past that, he was willing to agree to the necessity, in the present circumstances.

"I found a copier in the basement and copied every spell that looked promising," Merlin said, pocketing his phone and handing Arthur the slip of paper on which he had jotted down Morgana's address. Arthur opened the A-Z of Camelot he had retrieved from his car.

Leaning forward over the table, so he could peer down at what Gaius was reading, Merlin said, "I think there's some useful stuff there. Did you know, if I concentrate on what I want and let the book fall open, it opens in just the right place?"

Gaius grunted. "Not this one," he said, tossing the page aside. It skittered across the table top and tipped over the edge. "It's a charm to remove warts." He picked up the next sheet from the pile.

"It might have taken a few tries to get it right," Merlin admitted. He reached across and retrieved the rest of the papers. Rifling through them, he extracted one. "This," he said, handing it over, "is the spell I think Morgana used. Or one like it."

Gaius took the page. Arthur slipped Merlin's note into the A-Z, put it down and began to stack the breakfast dishes. He carried them through to the kitchen and Merlin heard him moving around, and then the sound of water filling the kettle. He hunched forward to watch Gaius read.

Eventually, after almost ten minutes, Gaius put the paper down. "Yes," he said, just as Arthur came back into the room carrying a tray with three mugs on it. "If I'm reading this correctly, that could have done it."

"And?" Arthur asked, setting the tray down. "My father's in a nursing home now. He was discharged from hospital, but he's in no state to look after himself. The doctors don't seem very hopeful, although they don't say so. Is there's any way…?"

"I don't know," Gaius said. "I'm sorry, but there's no clue to an antidote here." Arthur's shoulders slumped.

"But I wasn't looking for one," Merlin said. "I wasn't thinking about your dad, sorry. I was thinking about Morgana and what she'd done and ways to stop her killing you. I bet if I were to go back, I'd find something that would help."

Arthur picked up one of the mugs and handed it to Gaius. He looked as if he was about to say something, but instead he shook his head. "Yes. Of course," he said. "Thank you."

Gaius shot him a sympathetic look as he took his tea. "I know it's hard to believe, but..." He stopped. "Never mind. I've known your father a long time," he said, in a firmer tone. "He's overcome obstacles before; I'm sure he'll recover from this one too." He smiled encouragingly. "He is a very determined man. You remind me of him, when he was younger."

Arthur's attempt to appear unaffected by the comparison didn't fool Merlin. And it was clear that it didn't fool Gaius either because he said, "You were always resourceful, just like him, even as a child." His smile became almost conspiratorial. "And like him, you had a sometimes foolhardy degree of courage. It got you into more scrapes than you can probably remember. So what I mean is, your father will recover from this setback; he always does. Just as, I don't doubt, once we sort out this present mess, you will apply your attention and succeed in rescuing your company. And the museum."

Visibly moved by Gaius's speech, Arthur nodded. "I'll do my best," he said. "If I have to fight him every step of the way, I will."

Gaius took a drink of his tea. It was a sort of punctuation mark, signalling a shift back to more immediate matters. "But first we do have this current mess to sort out."

"Yes," Arthur said. "I need to know if she really is my sister."

Gaius didn't respond to that. He picked up the page he'd begun to read before Merlin had interrupted with Morgana's spell. "Show me what else you got from your vandalising expedition," he said and Merlin handed all the papers over.

Gaius added the single sheet to the front of the pile and tapped the bottom edge of the stack against the table top, to straighten it. Then he began to look through them again. Merlin and Arthur drank their coffee and watched him. Occasionally he would pause to read a few lines, but mostly he seemed to be scanning the pages, maybe picking out keywords. One or two pages followed the wart removing spell to the floor, but most were placed carefully down on the table. Finally, he put the last sheet on top of the new stack. "I make that thirty-seven potentially useful spells," he said. "But I'm sure there's duplication. We need to sort these out. Wart removing spells aside, some of them are protective and some, I don't know what they are."

"I was concentrating on the idea of revealing and restraining spells," Merlin said, "but after I found the fourth book, I wasn't even reading them anymore, just copying any page that opened for me. There was so much."

"All the more reason to winnow the pile down now, then," Gaius said. He picked up the top sheet again. "See this?" He put it down and looked through the rest. Pulling two other pages out, he placed them either side of the first. "These two appear to be direct copies of this one." He pointed at the one in the middle. "In fact…" He picked up the one on the left. "Actually… Well, well, well, isn't that fascinating?" Within moments he was totally absorbed.

Arthur stretched, rolling his shoulders and arching his back. He relaxed, picked up his mug again and studied the pile of photocopies. "I'm not going to be much help to you here," he said.

Gaius grunted softly without looking up and Merlin and Arthur shared a rueful grimace. "Not sure how much use I'm going to be," Merlin said.

Arthur picked up a random page, studied it and put it down again. "At least you know what you're looking at."

"But I don't. Not really. It's like you said - I've always done all this instinctively. The idea of actual spells is almost as crazy for me as it is for you." Merlin put the page Arthur had picked up back on top of the others. Picking up the whole pile, he flicked through it with his thumb. "I don't think there's really that much here," he said. "It shouldn't take too long to sort. As long as..." he turned to Gaius and completed the sentence in a louder and clearer voice, "I can stop Uncle Gaius getting caught up in the pure joys of research." Gaius looked up and Merlin turned back to Arthur. "It looks like a lot, but I think Uncle Gaius is right - some of it's duplicates. I tried to sort it out, yesterday. But I don't know. I need Uncle Gaius's help."

"Might you have something by this afternoon?"

"Maybe. Or this evening."

Arthur braced his hands on his thighs. "Okay," he said, getting to his feet. "I suppose I'll get out of your hair then. Not to sound too trivial, but I could really do with a change of clothes."

Merlin laughed. "Something less corporate, yeah," he agreed.

He saw Arthur out and handed over his own front door key. "So you don't have to knock when you get back." Arthur nodded his thanks and took it. He turned toward his car, but Merlin stopped him. "Please," Merlin said. "Please come back here, won't you?"

"Where else do you imagine I'd go?"

"Please don't go knocking on Morgana's door without me."

Arthur sighed. "I don't think I'd know what to say," he admitted. "I want to find out if she thinks she's my sister. This whole thing is crazy, but if, on top of that, I'm going to go and accuse her of doing magic, you are definitely coming too." He grinned. "If only so I have someone to blame when she laughs in our faces."

Merlin smiled. "Okay," he agreed, "I'll do that bit. And if I'm wrong, you can both laugh at me."

Returning to the living room, he resumed his seat. "He's never going to believe Morgana's dangerous," he said, "until he sees it for himself."

Gaius looked at him over his glasses. "I think he's doing pretty well, really, but part of him still doesn't believe, you know. Light shows and levitation are almost comprehensible; he has no idea what a person with ill-intent and a high degree of skill can do. You'll just have to make sure you can protect him, because if she's capable of stooping to the kind of magic that perverted Uther's free will, I'm afraid she might be capable of anything."

*****

Three hours later they had sorted all the papers into separate piles of defensive spells, restraining spells and another pile for those of dubious value. Merlin was hunched over, reading one called, according to the heading on the page, 'Shakles of Lite or The Most Unfaling of Means Wherof to Lay By & Hold An Evil-Doer'.

It tasted to Merlin like a variation on the lasso of light spell he'd used to save Arthur from being run over, only stronger. But the script was almost illegible and even with Gaius's help he was struggling with the pronunciation. However, as he managed to master each word, he felt the spell sinking in and taking root in his mind. Finally, as they reached the end of the last line, it settled and he sighed. "Got it," he said. "Thank goodness. I have a horrible feeling that if I'd got that one wrong I might have turned Arthur into a frog."

"A frog?" Arthur asked, pushing the door closed behind him.

Merlin grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Much better," he said, running his eyes over Arthur's jeans and hoodie. "It was worth the wait."

"Bugger off," Arthur replied. "I had to call Geoffrey. How's it going here?"

It was Gaius who answered. "No frogs," he said. "We don't know what Morgana will do, but I can't imagine Merlin has ever studied so hard before."

Merlin shot him a wounded look, which he ignored. Arthur came over and put a white paper bag down on the table. "She's not really going to do anything. We'll go over and we'll talk."

"Well just in case, Merlin now has a dozen possible contingencies."

"I'd already looked at three of them while I was waiting for you to get home, yesterday. But I couldn't get them right, not without the proper pronunciation." He tapped his head. "But they're in here now and I don't need the words anymore."

"I think you mean," Arthur said, twirling his forefinger next to his own head.

Merlin pushed his chair back from the table. "You can mock," he said, "but I'm deadly serious." He stood up. "Time for a coffee break."

"I'll make it," Arthur said. "You stay there." He pointed at the white paper bag. "I brought Chelsea buns."

By the time he came back with the teapot, milk, sugar and mugs, and coffee for Merlin, Gaius had gathered most of the papers back into a single pile. There were only four sheets spread out in front of him. Arthur put the tray down and remained standing while he poured tea for Gaius and himself. Merlin took the other mug and added milk and sugar to his coffee.

"I do appreciate what you're trying to do," Arthur said, "but do we really need all this?"

Gaius was uncompromisingly serious when he said, "Morgana has magic. We have to be careful. Remember, she has tried to kill, or at least injure you, twice that we know of. And she has hurt your father. So we can hope for the best, but we have to prepare for the worst."

Arthur shook his head. He caught Merlin's eye. "I know, I know," he said. "I saw it. I know there's magic in the world. I know you have it. But you have to understand that, even so, it's really difficult to believe that someone I don't know is trying to kill me."

"Your sister," Merlin said.

"But I don't even know that. An old lady told you so and you believe her?"

"She's not an old lady."

"Then what is she?"

"I don't know, but I don't think she's human."

Arthur threw his hands in the air. "Oh my god! Don't you realise how mad this sounds?"

Merlin glanced across to the window and the curtains pulled themselves closed. He stretched out his arm, hand palm up. In the crook of his elbow a miniature horse appeared out of nowhere with a knight in armour on its back. Horse and knight were about three inches tall. The horse reared and the knight levelled his lance. The horse began to gallop in slow motion down Merlin's arm, while on the tips of his fingers a creature appeared. Winged, with the body of a lion and the head of an eagle, it crouched on its hind legs and pawed at the air with its foreclaws. The knight charged towards it and the tip of his lance glowed with a clear blue light. The lance struck the creature in the chest and it screamed. The sound reverberated around Gaius's living room, although it was not loud, and the entire tableau disappeared. Merlin lowered his hand. "Magic," he said. "It's real. Believe me, Morgana has it."

He looked up at Arthur. "You're right; we don't know that she'll try to hurt you. Maybe you can talk to her and she'll be happy to hug and make up. But just in case she isn't… I know we only have Miss Kay's word that she's your sister. But I believe her. I believe she knows."

"And I suppose I believe you," Arthur said as he took his seat again. He sounded resigned rather than happy with the admission, but Merlin was glad to accept the statement for what it was – a real expression of faith, considering that Arthur had no real and logical reason to trust him.

Across the table from him, Gaius nodded, apparently satisfied. "How are you doing?" he asked Merlin.

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know. I've never used any of these before. It might be like trying to ride a bike after reading a book of instructions. But what else can we do?"

"You can wait a few days. Practice," Gaius suggested, but Arthur vetoed that.

"No," he said. "I have to be back in London tomorrow. Monday at the latest. I can't wait. And I know you're worried…" He left the end of the sentence unspoken. He had said it all before. He cupped his hands around his mug of tea and looked at them both. "I don't know why I trust you, but I do."

"Okay," Merlin said. "I guess we're ready then."

Reluctantly, Gaius let them go. Standing on his doorstep he watched Arthur get into the car. "Be careful," he said,

Merlin paused with the passenger door half open. "Bloody hell," he said. "We're really going to do this."

*****

It was just after twenty-five past two when Arthur pulled the car into a space around the corner from Morgana's street and they climbed out. "Um… How are we going to do this?" Merlin asked. "I mean, we can't just go in there and accuse her of magic, can we?"

"I thought you were confident?"

"Yes, I am. But –"

"Leave it to me," Arthur said, placing a steadying hand on Merlin's shoulder. "I only have one question to ask her."

He started walking and Merlin hurried to match step with him. When they turned the corner, they paused. The street was a respectable Victorian terrace of five-storey houses that all seemed to have been converted into flats. They were plain fronted and built from warm red brick, with curved brick arches or solid stone lintels above big windows that had once been sashed, but were now double glazed. The street ran along a gentle slope, so the houses on the near side were set high, with their 'basement' flats, the original kitchens and other service rooms, almost at ground level and ten or twelve stone steps leading up to the big front doors. Across the road, the basements were half a floor below the pavement and there were only five or six steps to the door above.

"You've been busy with your stuff," Arthur said. "I've been thinking about this." He glanced at the number on the nearest house. "31 must be along there," he said, pointing diagonally across the street. "Come on. It'll be fine."

He crossed over and again Merlin hurried to catch up with him. After about seventy-five yards, he stopped and looked up at the house in front of them.

Black wrought iron railings surrounded a narrow, sunken area that had hanging baskets full of tumbling flowers fixed to the wall on either side of a large window. The imposing, black, panelled front door had four doorbells on the jam next to it. A large brass '31' was fixed its central upright.

"Flat A," Arthur said and climbed up to inspect the labels next to the doorbells.

Merlin peered down into the area, at another door set under the front steps. "I think it's down here," he said, opening the gate and descending. "She has her own front door." Arthur clattered down the steps, turned in at the gate and followed him.

A brass letter 'A' was set into the door at eye level, above a knocker in the shape of a writhing sea serpent and a vertical letterbox. Merlin clapped the knocker against its stud and they waited.

From inside the flat, sounds of movement were followed by the door opening to reveal Morgana. "Merlin," she said, her voice rising with surprise and welcome. She looked beyond his shoulder. "And Arthur," she added more coolly. "How unexpected. I didn't know you were coming."

"We, um, we came to see how you are," Merlin said. "You know, after the other day, when you fainted and hit your head."

She smiled sweetly, "Yes, I remember," she said, but Arthur interrupted. "We came to talk to you. Can we come in?"

She stepped wordlessly back into the dark entrance and turned to lead the way into the flat. They followed. Merlin pushed the door to behind them, but on some instinct left it off the latch.

The dark foyer under the front steps of the house above opened into a single long room with the window at the front looking out into the area and French doors at the back, next to another door that led further into the flat. The French Doors stood open and beyond them Merlin could see a narrow, but real garden, with grass, flowerbeds and an old apple tree.

"Nice place," Arthur said.

Morgana ignored the politeness. She walked between a small, two-seater settee and two chairs in front of a large cast iron fireplace and turned. "I didn't know you were coming," she said again. "Why didn't I know that?" She didn't invite them to sit.

"Because we didn't call?" Merlin suggested. "Sorry, I guess we took a chance you'd be in. Lance said you were still feeling a bit poorly."

Arthur walked past Merlin into the room and faced Morgana. She didn't look happy. Her voice was cold and abrupt when she said, "You wanted to talk?"

Merlin edged behind Arthur to take up position near the French windows, so the three of them formed a narrow triangle with Morgana at its apex.

In spite of having stated that he knew what he was doing and announcing his intention so clearly to Morgana, Arthur seemed uncertain. "I need to ask…" He stopped and started again, more firmly. "Did you see Question Time last week?"

A slow smile touched Morgana's lips. "Yes," she said. "It was," she paused for a moment, as if savouring the memory before adding, "very entertaining."

Arthur balked.

Morgana raised an interrogatory eyebrow and Arthur took a breath. "Since it happened, I've discovered things that I never suspected."

"And? For some reason this concerns me?"

Merlin followed the exchange, his attention switching from one to the other, but concentrating mostly on Morgana.

"I've been told," Arthur continued, "that, that you're my sister. That my father is also yours. And, if that's the case, as brother and sister –"

He was interrupted by Morgana's loud and angry denial. "No!" She pointed at a photograph on the mantelpiece, next to an ornate clock. A man in uniform, framed in heavy silver, stood to attention in front of a tall gate. "That's my father!" she said. "He was a hero. Your father," she almost spat the last words, "is nothing to me."

Holding up his hands in a placating manner, Arthur said, "Alright, I'm sorry. Maybe I was misinformed." He smiled. "We certainly don't look alike."

"If Uther's nothing to you," Merlin asked, "why did you do what you did to him?"

Abruptly calm and cordial again, Morgana asked, "And what exactly did I do?"

Merlin glanced at Arthur and saw the uncertainty in his eyes. He edged closer to him, wanting to present Morgana with a united front when he said, "You cast a spell on him, to make him break down in public and embarrass himself. You ruined him and did your best to ruin his company." Morgana's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't say anything. "But worst of all," Merlin said, "you used magic to try and kill Arthur."

Morgana didn't move, didn't blink, her eyes fixed on his face. Then she threw back her head and laughed. "Magic?" she exclaimed. "Oh Merlin, can you hear yourself?" She glanced across at Arthur. "You're raving as much as Uther," she said and returned her attention to Merlin. "I don't know where this fantasy of yours has come from, but you'll get locked up too, if you go around talking about magic in this day and age."

"And yet, we know you have it, whatever you choose to call it," Merlin said.

Morgana's smile grew smug. She straightened her shoulders and once again she was the beautiful queen, de facto ruler of DuLac and Lott who Merlin had met when he first arrived in Camelot. "I choose to call it power," she said.

"You think you have power?" Merlin shook his head and stepped a little closer. "You remember Miss Kay?"

"What has she to do with anything?"

"She has real magic and she doesn't like you, because she can taste yours on the air and she says you can't control it."

"Then she knows nothing!" There was a momentary glint of gold in her eyes which made Merlin tense, readying himself, but instead she laughed again. He remembered how he had thought of her laugh as musical. Now it was cracked and harsh. This, more than anything else made him feel he was facing a different woman from the one who had gaily pointed him at the files full of invoices in her attic office.

But Arthur had only met her once or twice. He was apparently still labouring under the impression that she could be reasoned with, because he stepped forward. "Morgana," he said. "I can understand that you're angry –"

He didn't get a chance to finish because she raised her right hand, her eyes flashed gold and he flew backwards across the room. Merlin turned to follow his flight, powerless to do anything except watch him hit the wall halfway up. He didn't fall. Hanging in mid-air, pinned, his face was twisted with shock and an unsuccessful attempt to speak, or possibly yell.

This Merlin could do something about. He moved in front of Arthur, raised his arm and allowed the arcane words Gaius had taught him to pronounce, to form in his mind.

Morgana's eyes widened, but she was fast. "You!" she spat, pointing her hand at him, palm forward and deflected the coils of magic he threw to entangle her. Behind him, Merlin heard Arthur slide to the floor, but he couldn't spare any of his attention from the battle that had begun so abruptly. Morgana slashed downwards with her left arm and sliced through his magical ropes. They dissipated. "You have magic," she said. It was almost a question, but not quite and Merlin didn't answer. He was fully occupied in anticipating her next move. He rifled through the spells he had memorised earlier, trying to find an effective protection that would win him back a moment to think and check on Arthur.

"It wasn't my magic failing," Morgana said. "You stopped it."

Merlin found what he was looking for, "You can't kill people," he said. "It's not right."

He could feel the focus of her attention, almost like a physical force. "Accidents," she said. "I didn't try to kill anyone." She edged sideways between the end of the settee and the wall and Merlin moved with her, keeping himself between her and Arthur. As he did so, he formed the spell in his mind and allowed it to expand, creating a wall between them. Behind him he heard Arthur groan and begin to get up.

Morgana faced him across the back of the settee. She hunched forward. It looked as if she was drawing her magic up from her diaphragm. A ball of fire began to form in her left hand and, focussed on Merlin as she was, she appeared not to hear a woman's startled voice ask, "What, what's going on?"

Merlin did hear and, distracted, he looked over to the doorway. Gwen and Lance were standing there, with Gwaine crowding behind Gwen's right shoulder. "Why is your front door open?" Gwen asked. "Morgana?"

At the sound of her name, Morgana whirled and threw the ball of bright fire.

Taken completely by surprise, Merlin did his best to redirect his efforts. He tried to deflect it, to push it towards the window, but it was too fast. It veered slightly from its path, but not enough. It burst between Lance and Gwen, sending Lance staggering and clipping Gwen's left shoulder, spinning her around. She cried out in surprise and pain.

Morgana froze. "Gwen!" she cried.

Arthur lurched past Merlin to Lance, saying, "Get her out of here."

Lance looked from Arthur, to Morgana, to Gwen, who was in the act of collapsing to her knees. He appeared a little dazed, but he caught her before she hit the ground and clasped her to his chest. "Go!" Arthur said.

Gwaine shoved Lance's shoulder. "Do as he says, Man." And Lance did. Shifting his hold on Gwen, he half carried her from the room.

Morgana watched the scene with an almost forlorn expression, but as Gwen and Lance disappeared, her attention snapped back to Merlin. "You made me do that!"

In the chaos Merlin's protective wall had fallen and he began to build it up again.

Another ball of flame was forming in Morgana's hand, but this time he was ready. When she threw it, it hit his invisible defences creating a cobweb of clear blue sparks in the air between them. Morgana screamed with frustration and began to gather her energies again.

Merlin's mind skittered from one possible spell to another, seeking something that would both protect him and restrain her. She was so much stronger than he had expected.

The spell that he privately called The Blanket of Silence popped into his head and he began to draw it up from the pit of his stomach and the far back reaches of his brain.

Morgana was almost ready to cast.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, hoping to buy himself a couple of seconds.

Morgana laughed again, a harsh and brittle sound. "Why?" she echoed. "Why not? Because I can." And in a harder, almost vicious voice, "Because they deserve it."

"Did Gwen deserve it?"

"There's always collateral damage in a war."

"And is that what this is, a war?"

"It is to me."

She raised her arm and Merlin gathered his own energies, ready for the attack and ready with a follow-up of his own.

It didn't come.

Disregarded by both the main combatants, Arthur and Gwaine charged past Merlin on either side, crashed into Morgana and brought her to the floor.

Arthur, lying across her chest with Gwaine on top of him, was holding her left hand flat against the carpet. He turned his head and looked up at Merlin. "Little bit of help here?" he suggested.

Morgana groaned under their combined weight, and the ball of fire on her hand faded and died.

Merlin pulled himself together and insinuated a coil of magic between the writhing bodies, to loop itself around Morgana's chest. It coalesced into a visible rope, glowing golden with flecks of silver and green. Morgana's face was contorted with effort, but without the use of her hands it seemed she was unable to build any effective defence against it.

"Bring her arms down," Merlin instructed and Arthur and Gwaine pushed themselves free, forcing Morgana's arms to her sides. Merlin's magic wound its way around her to hold them in place. Arthur and Gwaine got to their feet.

The final loops of magic spiralled down Morgana's legs and wrapped themselves around her ankles. She fought physically against her bonds, but was unable to cut them. They held firm. Eventually she gave up and stilled. Trussed up like a parcel, she glared at Merlin. "Who the hell are you?" she snarled. "What have you done to me?"

Arthur and Gwaine exchanged a look and together they bent down, hoisted her up and carried her around the end of the settee. They deposited her on it and she sat, held by Merlin's magical ropes, so upright and rigid that if her hair had not been so wild she would have looked like a prim young mother at a coffee morning.

Walking around the settee, so that he was facing her, Merlin said, "I'm Merlin. Same as I always was."

Her face was a picture of frustrated anger. "And now you've trapped me here like this, what are you going to do?" she asked.

"That's actually a good question," Gwaine said. "And while I'm at it, what the hell just happened?"

Arthur replied before Merlin could. "Morgana has magic," he said. "So does Merlin. Morgana was trying to kill me. We stopped her. Thanks for that."

Gwaine glanced at Merlin and back to Arthur. "What about him? Shouldn't we restrain him too?"

Merlin opened his mouth to protest but Arthur got in first. "You believe me?"

"Not sure. I came to see Morgana and walked in on a magical pissing contest." He regarded Merlin warily. "However, you don't look like you're about to do anything dangerous, so –"

Arthur interrupted. "You believe in magic?"

"What? Oh, yes. My aunt's a witch and healer. I don't need to believe; I can see they've got magic. But what I don't know, is what the fuck is going on."

He directed the question more towards Morgana than either Arthur or Merlin. "What did I just see?" he asked. "Where did that fire come from? And why did you hurt Gwen?"

Morgana looked up at him and her expression softened. "I didn't mean to?" She sounding more like a child than the proud, confident woman they knew. She looked back at Merlin and Arthur and her voice hardened. "It was supposed to hit them," she said. Concentrating her glare on Arthur she added, "Him."

Gwaine started back, obviously shocked by her admission, almost disbelieving.

"Oh my goodness, Lance and Gwen!" Merlin exclaimed. "Where are they? Is she okay?"

Gwaine turned and ran, away from Morgana and out of the door. Through the lace curtains at the window, Merlin could make out his shape as he scrambed up the steps to the street.

Coming to stand at Merlin's shoulder, Arthur asked, "Can you hold her?"

"Yeah, it doesn't take any concentration to maintain this spell."

"Good." He swayed and bumped his shoulder with Merlin's. "I suppose it was just as well you did all that studying then."

"Is that you admitting you were wrong?"

"No." Arthur stepped around Merlin so he was standing almost in front of him, although he didn't block Merlin's view of his prisoner. "But it might be me saying 'thank you'," he said and he smiled.

The bubble of happiness that abruptly exploded inside Merlin in response to that smile surprised him. He grinned in return. For a moment he thought Arthur was going to kiss him, but he didn't. He stepped back.

"You're welcome," Merlin said.

Any possibility for further conversation was prevented by Gwaine's return, followed by Lance with his arm around Gwen's good shoulder. Gwaine took a deep breath and walked over to the settee. He perched himself on the seat next to Morgana, but Lance and Gwen hovered just inside the door, clearly uncertain of what to do next.

"It's okay; it's over," Merlin said. "You'd, you'd better come in. We need to talk."

"You didn't call the police, did you?" Arthur asked.

"I didn't have time," Lance said. "I hardly got Gwen up to the pavement before Gwaine was telling us to come back."

Merlin glanced over at the clock on the mantelpiece, amazed to see that it was only ten past three.

"Come and sit down," Arthur said and set an example by walking around the end of the settee and taking a place on the arm of the chair opposite Morgana.

Lance and Gwen came cautiously into the room, Lance still holding Gwen close. They paused just past the end of the settee and Lance asked, "What is that?" He was staring Morgana and her golden bindings.

"It's a restraining spell," Merlin said. He walked past them and chose the seat of the chair that Arthur had claimed, where he could keep an eye on Morgana.

Lance watched him. "Spell?" he asked. "What the fuck?"

Superficially, it appeared that the only person untouched by the events of the past few minutes was Gwaine, whose voice was typically flippant when he said, "Fuck knows, but I agree it's swear-worthy." But his eyes didn't hold their usual mischief, whatever his words said.

"You'd better take a seat," Arthur said.

Lance helped Gwen into the other chair and perched himself on its arm. He spoke quietly to her and she carefully pulled her ruined blouse and cardigan away from her left shoulder, exposing a small but ugly looking burn.

Gwaine got up and crossed the room to the door leading into the back of the flat. He returned a few minutes later with a green first aid box, which he placed on the floor and opened. The next few minutes were occupied by Lance tending to Gwen's shoulder.

Arthur and Gwaine both winced occasionally when Lance's gentle dabbing of the wound with antiseptic caused Gwen to take a sharp breath. Morgana's expression was calm. She watched the operation with an air of detachment and mild curiosity that was at odds with her earlier remorse.

When Lance had finished and the dressings, scissors and antiseptic were packed away in their box, she finally spoke. "You can take a top from my wardrobe, to replace that one," she said.

Gwen looked at her and nodded, but Lance was scowling. "What just happened?" he asked, the task of caring for Gwen having apparently restored his normal, polite vocabulary.

Arthur took a deep breath. "It's like Merlin said," he explained. "It's magic." Lance and Gwen stared at him blankly and he sighed. "I know," he said. "I didn't believe it either, not until Merlin showed me."

"And not even then, at first," Merlin interjected.

"You just saw it," Arthur said. "You saw the fire Morgana threw and you can see the, the mystical rope Merlin is holding her by, now." He turned to Morgana. "That's magic, isn't it Morgana?"

"If you say so," Morgana replied. "But I'd like to see you try to convince the police of it."

"The police?" Gwen asked. "Why would you need the police?"

Arthur indicating her shoulder. "Grievous bodily harm?" he suggested.

Gwen just shook her head, not in contradiction, but as if it was all too much to take in.

"She tried to kill me three times, she injured Pell, she drove my father temporarily insane and she tried to ruin Pendragon's."

Morgana sniffed. "Temporarily?" she asked. "Are you sure?"

Arthur's mouth tightened but otherwise he did not react to her taunt.

"No, I don't believe it," Lance objected. "Morgana's no murderer." He appealed to Morgana, herself. "You're not."

Morgana looked back at him in stony silence and he blanched. Placing a steadying hand against the back of Gwen's neck, he focused on Arthur and gamely continued, "Besides anything else, if she ruined Pendragon's, it would ruin us." He sounded like a man trying to find logic in a nightmare. "We've tied our fate to your star with this project and she's worked with us from the beginning." He turned back to Morgana. "You wouldn't do anything to hurt us?"

She still said nothing and Lance looked over at Gwaine, his expression appalled. Gwen put her hand on his thigh and stroked. Gwaine stared back at Lance, equally confounded.

Into the silence Merlin said, "In fairness, I don't think she meant to hurt you." He looked at Morgana. "But I think maybe you lost sight of the consequences?"

Morgana made a small dismissive sound, but her voice was firm when she said, "I knew what I was doing. I lost sight of nothing. My sight was never as clear as it's been in these past weeks." She looked around at them all and Merlin followed her gaze. Their expressions clearly showed their incomprehension.

"I meant to have my revenge," she said. "Uther had to suffer for what he did – betraying my father while he was away serving his Queen and Country. He was his friend. And he betrayed him. And you." She turned on Arthur. "You took what was mine."

"I did?" Arthur asked. "Where in your twisted brain does that make any sense?"

"Uther robbed my father of his wife. He was supposed to pay for his betrayal with his son."

"But he wasn't your father," Arthur said.

"Nor was Uther," she spat. "We were alone. And he walked away from us. He didn't want a daughter. And he didn't want my mother, either. Not when he thought he was finally going to get a son from his wife."

Merlin laid a hand on Arthur's arm. "So this was all about revenge?" he asked. "It wasn't even a little bit about saving the Folly?"

"The museum!" Morgana said. "Yes, I would have saved the museum, once-" She cut herself off and instead finished with, "I still will."

"You intended to be my father's heir," Arthur said.

"I will be," she snarled. "And the LeFay memorial museum will open. I'll make sure it does!"

Lance and Gwen were staring at Morgana in horror. Gwaine looked both appalled and very sad. Arthur's expression was a complex mix of revulsion, regret and curiosity.

"How, how could you feel like this and never talk to us?" Lance asked and Merlin felt a stirring of admiration for his humanity in the face of such incomprehensible events.

Gwen took Lance's hand and held it between both of her own. "Why didn't you talk to any of us?" she asked.

Morgana said nothing, her expression mutinous.

The silence stretched, until Gwaine broke it. "I think it's more to the point," he said, taking a seat on the arm of the settee, as far from Morgana as possible, "to ask what we are going to do now?" He refused to look at Morgana again as he continued, "You can't call the police. You can't keep her imprisoned with your," he waved his hand vaguely, "magical ropes forever. And you aren't going to kill her."

"No," Merlin agreed. "We can't do that."

Morgana smiled.

"Oh, I don't know," said a voice from the doorway. Their heads all whipped up and around to see Miss Kay standing on the threshold. "That was a powerful battle, Young Warlock," she said approvingly. "And now you have a problem. I told you to call on me when the time came."

"Miss Kay?" Gwen exclaimed.

"Sorry," Merlin said. "But I, I don't know your number."

Miss Kay walked over to stand where she could see everyone and they could all see her. "It is just as well you didn't need one, then, isn't it?" she said. She nodded at Arthur, "The courageous young Pendragon," she said. Arthur nodded back. His face registered both surprise and some amusement at her description of him. Her eyes passed over Lance and Gwen, "The Pure Knight and his lady," she said. She halted on Gwaine. "And strength," she added.

Gwaine got to his feet. With a bow, he offering her the chair, but she shook her head. He sat back down.

Finally turning to Morgana, Miss Kay said, "And the witch. You have caused a great deal of trouble, young lady, and unless you are dealt with you will cause more."

"You can't kill her," Merlin objected. "I won't let you."

Miss Kay smiled, although her eyes were hard. "Don't be foolish, boy," she said. "This is the 21st century. Even my magic hesitates in the face of forensic science. No, we don't need to kill her." She looked down at him. "Pass me her ring," she said.

Finally Morgana reacted, "No!" she screamed and twisted in her seat, trying to break herself free of her bonds. Merlin went down on one knee in front of her and reached for her hand. She closed her fingers tightly into her palm, but with Arthur's help Merlin forced them open and pulled her ring off. As it left her finger, she stopped fighting and collapsed in her chair. She glared up at Miss Kay from behind her hair.

Merlin handed Miss Kay the ring and she held it up. It seemed to catch a stray beam of light from the French windows. For a moment the stone glowed a deep red that flooded the room and outlined Miss Kay in flames. Then the effect faded, leaving an elderly lady holding a very ordinary garnet ring. She folded her hand around it. "If either Arthur or Merlin come to any harm through your agency," she said, "I will break this ring."

Morgana paled and Miss Kay nodded. "And that would not be good for you, my dear, would it?"

Not waiting for an answer, she slipped the ring into her pocket and stepped forward. Merlin knee walked to the side, out of her way and stopped in front of Arthur, who smirked down at him, although the expression was gone within a moment. He returned his attention to Miss Kay and, with some relief Merlin hitched himself back into the chair. He was conscious of feeling tired.

When Miss Kay reached forward Morgana shrank away from her, but she remained defiant. "Stay away from me, you old hag," she said. "And give me back my ring."

"You have learned nothing from your defeat?" Miss Kay asked.

There was something about her presence that kept the rest of them silent, but it didn't seem to affect Morgana. "I'm not defeated yet."

Miss Kay made ostentatious play of staring at Merlin's ropes and Morgana sneered. "They can't hold me forever. And when I get free-"

"When you get free you will do precisely nothing," Miss Kay said. "You will leave Camelot. You will leave this country. You will find that Australia is ready to issue a residency visa, as soon as you apply. You will go there and you will not return. If you do, I will know and I will take whatever measures I see fit."

Bending forward she reached out, laid her left hand on Morgana's head and Morgana could not escape.

For a moment nothing happened. Then Morgana's entire body shook. Her back arched away from the seat and she froze in that position. Her eyes went wide and she opened her mouth in a silent scream. Miss Kay didn't move. She continued to look down into Morgana's face with her hand resting on her hair. After about twenty seconds she drew back and Morgana collapsed, her eyes closed. She looked like she was asleep, or maybe unconscious.

The silence that had held as Miss Kay's aura kept them all frozen, broke. Gwen gasped in alarm and Lance got to his feet. "She is not dead," Miss Kay said. "She may spend the rest of her life trying to break down the wall I have built, but my magic is more powerful than any human magic. She will never succeed."

"Human," Arthur said flatly.

Ignoring the implicit question, Miss Kay continued, "It will give her a purpose in life that will hurt no one. Send her away, young Pendragon."

"Send her...?"

"Will she be all right?" Gwen asked.

Miss Kay turned and looked down at her. "If she does as she's told and goes to Australia, she will be well. The soil of that land responds to a different song. If she comes back here, the disharmony will be detrimental. You will explain that to her, when she wakes."

"Me?"

"You have no stake in this battle. As the only truly neutral person here, it is your task to advocate for her best good."

"So we just let her go?" Arthur said. "That's, that's almost like rewarding her for what she's done."

"What would you do instead?" Miss Kay asked and Arthur was clearly stumped for an answer.

Miss Kay stepped past Gwaine, Lance and Gwen, into the open space near the door. "She acted only from a need for revenge," she said, addressing Arthur primarily, but sweeping her gaze around the room to include them all. "And believe me, this is no reward. Her aim was to punish the elder Pendragon, by killing you who took her place from her. She has already had her vengeance. Let her go."

She tilted her head slightly and studied Arthur. "The Pendragons have always served their people before themselves," she said. "In times of war, heroics are easy to find – your great-great-great-grandfather was part of the Light Brigade's mad charge towards the guns at Balaclava. Another of your kin died, dragging wounded men out of No Man's Land in Flanders. All the way back to the peddler and ploughman, your family has gone to war when called. But in times of peace, it is the actions of the philanthrope that mark his or her quiet passing."

She paused and her voice was harder when she continued. "Your grandfather did not fail, he simply had different priorities from those of your father. He used his company for the means to do good in his corner of the world. There is more than one school owes its playing field to his careful manipulation of local planning regulations, or its music room to his generosity. His father was instrumental in building the town's hospital, in the days before the State took on the cost, when the poor died for the lack of a guinea to pay the doctor's fee."

"In pursuit of enlarging the minds and educating the morals of the residents of Camelot," Merlin said and Miss Kay nodded her head in regal ascent.

"It is your father who reneged on his responsibilities, his duty. Traditionally, the folly of the Pendragons has always been the grand gesture."

"You're not describing folly," Arthur objected.

Miss Kay smiled. "That rather depends on who is making the judgement. As you must decide what type of Pendragon you are going to be."

Arthur shrugged awkwardly and Miss Kay smiled again. "It is your time of choosing, young Pendragon," she said.

With a final sweeping glance at each of them, she went to the door.

"I'll come and see you tomorrow?" Merlin said.

Miss Kay paused. "Why?" she asked. "We have nothing more to say at this point. We will meet again soon, but this battle is over. Now you need to restore your strength and build your future."

"I feel fine"

"Soon you will not."

Then she left, leaving Merlin staring helplessly at the door. He turned back to the others, to find his own confused emotions mirrored on their faces.

It was Gwaine who pulled himself together first. He leaned over and laid a couple of gentle fingers against the side of Morgana's neck.

"Is she all right?" Gwen asked.

"Well, she has a pulse and it's steady, so I think perhaps she will be."

"How long? I mean, she's unconscious. We should take her to the hospital. She had a concussion."

Gwaine looked across at Merlin, who shrugged. "I don't know," he said. He was struggling to follow the conversation because, quite abruptly, a dark cloud of exhaustion was threatening to smother him. "I don't know what she did."

"But?"

Merlin sat up straight in an attempt to will himself alert and sharp. "But Miss Kay said she'd be okay, so I think she will. I mean, I don't think Miss Kay lies and I do think she knows what she's doing."

"So we wait," Gwaine said.

Lance shook his head. "I don't think we all do. If I've put it all together correctly, Morgana might not be best pleased to see you two, when she wakes up."

"But…" Merlin protested, before seeing his point and shutting up.

"She's apparently my sister," Arthur said. "And I feel sort of responsible…" He trailed off.

"You're not," Lance said. "Any more than you're responsible for being born."

"My father is."

"Which is not your sin. I didn't understand half of what Miss Kay said, but I got the gist – you are only responsible for your own choices."

"I think Lance is right," Gwen said. "And I think it will be easier to talk to her if you're not here."

Arthur frowned, but after a moment he nodded. "Okay." He looked over at Gwaine. "You don't seem as surprised as the rest of us were by all this. You'll explain it to them?" He nodded towards Gwen and Lance

Gwaine shrugged. "As much as I can. I think I've understood." He shook his head. "Bloody hell, what a fucking mess."

"Thank you." Arthur said. He grabbing Merlin's hand and pulled him to his feet.

"I need a drink," Gwaine declared. "There's an offie on the corner of Devonshire Road." He got to his feet and turned to Gwen. "Beer or wine? Or do you fancy something stronger?"

Still looking slightly dazed, Gwen shook her head affectionately and ruled for beer.

Lance and Gwen stayed with Morgana. Merlin, Arthur and Gwaine left together and, once outside on the pavement, lingered for a few minutes.

"She will be okay, won't she?" Gwaine asked.

By this point, Merlin was swaying with exhaustion. "I think so. Yes. Yes, she will," he said. "And I don't think she'll be a danger to anyone, anymore."

Gwaine nodded. "Good," he said. "Good that she'll be okay. Because in spite of everything I've heard, in spite of seeing her throw fire at my friend and in spite of having to tackle her to the ground, in a totally platonic way, I still sort of love her."

"I know," Merlin agreed.

Arthur was watching Gwaine with a sympathetic expression and when Gwaine intercepted it he grinned. "Give over, Princess," he said. "Don't be mistaking me for some delicate flower. I'll see you soon, yeah? I'm sure Gwen will text you when Morgana wakes up." And he turned on his heel and strode away.

Merlin and Arthur watched him until he reached the corner. Then they exchanged a glance and turned away themselves. After a few yards, Arthur threw his arm around Merlin's shoulders and Merlin didn't shrug him off. It was nearly four o'clock and he was exhausted. Arthur ended up supporting his steps as they walked back to the car.

*****

Saturday evening was a bit of a blur. Merlin had a vague memory of Arthur driving them back to Francis Street. He didn't remember the stop at the off-licence, where Arthur bought a bottle of whiskey, but it obviously happened because nor did he remember anything other than fragmented snatches of conversation with Gaius around his dining table. Not after the first glass was placed in front of him. He had no memory at all of getting to bed.

He awoke to the comfort of his duvet on top of him, Arthur's warm length down his back and Arthur's right arm curled around his chest. He rolled over and discovered that Arthur was already awake, with a ruefully apologetic smile on his lips.

Merlin blinked and rubbed sleep from the corners of his eyes. He swallowed to loosen his throat. "Did we?" he asked.

Arthur's smile broadened into something both amused and fond. "No. I'm an honourable man. And you're a total lightweight. I didn't take advantage."

"Prat," Merlin retorted. He smiled in return. "Good," he added. "Because that would have been a waste."

He rolled very slightly on his shoulder and Arthur leaned forward to meet him. Like most first kisses, it wasn't perfect. But they didn't bang noses or teeth, mainly because Arthur lifted himself on his elbow a little to get the angle right. And like most first kisses, it was followed by a second, that was even better.

After that Arthur laid his head on Merlin's shoulder and Merlin curled his arm around Arthur's back. "You ever seen the movie, Speed?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Remember at the end, when Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves kiss? Sandra Bullock says something about how relationships that start in the aftermath of danger have a high chance of not working out."

Arthur snorted a laugh. "But they didn't know each other before hand."

"True," Merlin agreed. He bent his head and rubbed the tip of his nose over Arthur's hair.

*****

It was lunchtime before they got out of bed and then only because Gaius called upstairs to say that dinner was almost on the table. "Gods, yes, I'm starving," Merlin said.

Over roast chicken, potatoes, peas and gravy, Gaius told them that Lance and Gwen had stopped by earlier. "Gwaine and his girlfriend are staying with Morgana," he explained. "They were on their way home so they didn't come in. They still looked a little shell-shocked."

"But they said how she was?" Arthur asked.

"I think the words were, headachy and frustrated."

Merlin looked across at Arthur and back to Gaius. "I don't remember; I was a bit out of it last night. Did Arthur explain what Miss Kay did?"

"He described it, yes. She said she'd blocked Morgana away from her magic?"

"Yes. No. More like she's blocked Morgana's magic from its source. She said something about Morgana going to Australia and something about the, the song the land has there. Something like that?" He paused a moment, staring blankly at the wall behind Gaius's head. "I think if she had blocked Morgana from her magic, it would have killed her. She once said there's magic in the centre of every cell, in every living thing. But Morgana drew her power from her ring, her focus. But, but I think that was just a channel, gathering the magic from the land."

Gaius frowned. "It's an interesting theory," he allowed.

Merlin put down his knife and fork and Arthur reached over and took his hand, giving it a small squeeze. Merlin felt himself flush, but although he watched the gesture, Gaius's expression remained neutral.

"It feels right," Merlin said. He turned his hand and returned Arthur's squeeze.

Gaius's mouth turned up very slightly and his gaze softened. "I'm not disputing that," he said. "If it feels right to you, it probably is." He laughed out right and changed the subject. "Do I have to ask you both if your intentions are honourable?"

Arthur smiled. "It's a bit early for deciding that," he said. "We have a year or more to drive each other away, first."

Distracted, Gaius's eyebrow rose. "Ah," he said. "You've made a decision?"

"More like conceived a plan. It'll need to be worked out in detail, but yes, I think I know how to save your museum and even secure its future. And hopefully also get my father's approval for it."

His meal totally forgotten, Gaius sat forward in his chair. Merlin divided his attention unevenly between the conversation and his plate, struggling to eat one-handed, but unwilling to let go of Arthur's hand.

"I'm going to repossess the building," Arthur said.

Merlin looked up. "What?"

Arthur's hold on his hand tightened reassuringly. "Don't worry. It's too big and you know it. But if half of it is turned to profit and a proper space is turned into a proper museum, then part of the profitable part can be dedicated to paying for its maintenance."

Gaius opened his mouth, closed it again and ended up smiling widely.

Merlin grinned. "That's brilliant!" he said.

With a modest and slightly embarrassed smile, Arthur said, "It does mean I have to take the building back and dissolve the trust."

"No huge loss," Gaius observed.

"It will have to be managed carefully. If any of my father's previous dealings become public, it would do huge damage to our reputation and, worst case, could result in an enquiry that would kybosh it totally." He looked at Merlin. "So your friend, Will..."

"I'll talk to him," Merlin promised.

"It also means the refurbishment will take longer. We need to start again with the plans. Luckily, the only work done so far is structural repair."

"How long?" Merlin asked.

"Maybe two years? Maybe less."

Gaius pulled himself together. "The details can be worked out later, as you say." He picked up his cutlery and attacked his dinner with renewed vigour. Merlin gave Arthur's hand a last squeeze and reclaimed his own, so he could eat properly.

When the plates were cleared away, they settled back around the table with coffee. "And what happens to Morgana?" Gaius asked. "Will she go to Australia?"

Merlin frowned. "I think she'll have to. I felt the pressure of Miss Kay's magic. Even sort of side on, it was powerful."

"She might resist."

"She might last a couple of days. But I don't think anyone could resist for longer. Eventually she'll go."

Arthur broke into the exchange. "I have to go to London, but I'll come back and take her to the consulate." He caught Merlin's expression and placed his hand over Merlin's free one. "I sort of feel I owe it to her." He paused. "Maybe not that. But I do believe she's my sister and as such I feel sort of responsible."

"You're not."

"Maybe not. But I think I need to do this. Responsibility, duty…" He shrugged. "It's sort of –"

"It's sort of what you do," Merlin said. "But I doubt she'll accept your help. Are you going back today?"

"Tonight, yes. Want to come?"

Merlin smiled. "I don't know. I have this boss who's a bit of a slave driver."

"Yes, about that," Arthur said. He lifted their clasped hands. "And this. I'm thinking you might need to resign."

"What? But-"

"But," Arthur interrupted, "if Morgana leaves, and you think she has to, then Lance and Gwaine will have a vacancy that I think you could fill admirably."

"But..."

"And I'm thinking," Arthur continued airily, "that if you worked for them part time, you could spend half your week in London, at the British Library."

Gaius looked at them from under a raised eyebrow before turning his attention to his coffee with a satisfied smile.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11 - Epilogue

Merlin watched Gaius as he accompanied Princess Mithian along the reception line towards the door into the Ladies Waiting Room and the ceremonial ribbon strung across it. Seeing the pride on the faces of Gwen, Lance, Gwaine and Leon as they shook her hand, he shared in their delight that, somehow, Arthur had managed to arrange for a royal princess to come and open a small museum in an insignificant provincial town.

Gaius had been in a tizz all morning, but as he introduced Princess Mithian to the mayor there was no sign of nerves, only polite deference. The mayor had tried to angle his way into the role of chief host, but a letter from the palace, delivered by hand during a planning visit by an officer from the Lord Lieutenant’s Office, had itemised the entire ceremony, including the fact that the Princess wished to be shown around by the curator of the museum and introduced to his staff. Merlin suspected Arthur's hand in that, too.

The Princess moved along the line and Gwen gave the curtsy she had been practising for the past four months, since Arthur had hinted in confidence that he expected the opening of the new Pendragon Memorial Museum to be a right royal affair.

Arthur was last in the line and he bowed with grace when Princess Mithian shook his hand. Merlin had a great view because, as the lowly office manager of the designing architects, he was not included in the line-up himself but his position won him a front row place among the spectators.

Arthur looked across the foyer and caught his eye as Gaius and Princess Mithian moved on and Merlin beamed at him. Arthur's answering smile was properly restrained, but after two years Merlin knew how to read it and he recognised Arthur's sense of satisfaction.

A small boy was nudged forward, carrying a velvet cushion upon which a large pair of scissors rested. Princess Mithian smiled at him, thanked him and took them. She turned and paused for a moment with the blades open around the ribbon, so the photographers could all get the shot. Then she cut it through and the loose ends fluttered to the floor.

Gaius ushered her forwards and half of her security followed at a respectful distance. The rest closed in behind, to block anyone from following.

With Gaius and the princess gone, the crowd seemed to exhale a collective breath. Shoulders slumped, spines relaxed and people turned to exchange banalities. "Isn't she beautiful?" whispered the elderly lady standing next to Merlin.

Merlin spared her a smile of agreement, before crossing the room to where Arthur stood with Lance, Gwen and Gwaine. Lance already had Gwen's hand in his and as soon as he reached them, Arthur threw his arm around Merlin shoulder. "I think that went very well," he said.

"She complimented me on the design of the Great Hall," Gwaine said. "When we showed her around. She noticed that we've managed to build the original architectural features into the shop frontages. And she said that the flats above the shops are very discreet and sympathetic to the overall ambience of the space."

"She's an intelligent woman with a fine distinction of mind," Arthur agreed. "And right now she will be asking Gaius all sorts of questions about security for the Lilebrook Horde, light levels and humidity control. You didn't think they walked into these situations without a thorough briefing did you?"

Lance laughed. "Congratulations," he said. "And you two; are you moving into your flat today, or at the weekend?"

"As soon as she's gone," Arthur promised, with a smile for Merlin.

"About time," Gwen agreed.

The crowd was being ushered out of the building by the police, to wait near the road where they would be able to wave and cheer when Princess Mithian was driven away. Lance, Gwen and Gwaine followed them, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone. They loitered in the empty foyer, watched only by the two royal protection officers near the door to the museum.

"We could get a coffee?" Merlin suggested, nodding towards the new coffee and bookshop that occupied the Ticket Office.

"We could go to the pub," Arthur agreed. "The Engine Shed opened last night. But we won't. The only thing worse than being absent when royalty wishes you not to be, is being present and un-presentable. Have you ever tried to look dignified, holding a cardboard cup of coffee while bowing?"

"Umm… No."

"Nor have I."

Merlin elbowed him in the ribs and turned away to look around the room again. From where they stood, the left archway into the Grand Central Arcade perfectly framed the Hotel Chocolate shop, while the right caught the divide between Harvey Nichols and L’Occitane. The Engine Shed pub occupied three end units facing Market Street while the latest Jamie Oliver Italian mirrored it at the opposite end of Gwaine's beautiful new arcade. In between were a multitude of narrow fronted but deep, boutique jewellery, fashion, food and classy gifts shops.

In the foyer, the staircase still led up to the balcony above the front doors, but the door at the top of the stairs was gone, now that all the museum's store rooms were above the galleries and the original back stairs had been repaired. At the far end of the balcony was the entrance to the flats built above the shops and the door to Gaius's old office was now just for show, the wall behind it being the wall of his and Arthur's new bedroom.

Gaius and Princess Mithian reappeared and, with the public eye removed, Princess Mithian strode across to them. "It's very nice, Arthur," she said. "If you hadn't told me, I would never have guessed that the doorway through into the kitchen and ballroom galleries was not original."

Arthur took her hand and bowed over it. "Thank you, your Highness."

"And you're moving in upstairs, I hear."

"Yes, ma'am. There are three flats that belong to the museum trust. Their rent will provide it with an income in perpetuity. Merlin and I," he reached out, took Merlin's hand and pulled him forward, "are moving into one of them."

Merlin bowed but didn't feel able to open his mouth. He had no idea what to say to a royal princess when she was being so very royal. He had met her before at various parties Arthur had taken him to, but she had been off-duty on those occasions and he had been able to forget that she was not just Arthur's friend, Mithy.

"And I hear you're moving your head office to Camelot? Does that mean we're losing you from London?"

"Not completely, I hope. The new train line is so fast; it doesn't take much longer to get to the city from Camelot, than it did from my father's house in Richmond."

"Ah yes, I was sorry to hear about Uther."

Arthur bowed again. "Thank you, ma'am. I think he knew me, just before the end."

Behind the Princess's back, Merlin caught the eye of one of the police officers. He gave Arthur a nudge. Arthur looked past the Princess and nodded. She laughed. "Very subtle," she said. "Am I late?"

"Royalty can never be late, ma'am."

"Ah, platitudes, so I am late." She turned, looked at her Protection and one of the officers came forward. "Time to go, is it, Percival?"

"Yes, ma'am, if you wish to reach Camlann in time to see the children in class."

"Very well." She turned back to Arthur and Merlin. "I'm going to visit a primary school and then a hospital and after that it's supper with the Spanish ambassador." She looked around and leaned forward slightly, to whisper, "Such a glamorous life I lead."

"We are more than grateful that you could spare the time to visit us today," Arthur said.

The Princess cast another glance around the room, relaxed her stance and smacked him on the shoulder. "Okay, okay, I'm going. We'll see you at Andy's next month?"

"Of course you will. And really, Mithy, thank you for coming. I think your visit has been the biggest excitement this town has seen, since Camelot FC won the FA Cup in 1912.

*****

On a rare Sunday afternoon of relaxation, with the window half open so they could enjoy the weekend calm of Front Street, Merlin said, "Gwen popped into the office with Galahad on Friday."

They were lying side by side on their bed and Arthur rolled his head to look at him. He smiled. "And how is your young godson?" he asked.

Merlin grinned. "Huge. I think he's grown another inch. And he's full of excitement about starting at 'big school' after the summer."

Rolling over onto his front, Arthur rested on his elbows. "To a boy his age, that's a lifetime away. I hope it lasts."

"I think it will. He has more than a little of Lance's serious nature, for all that he's so, so lively."

"That's one word for it." Arthur flopped onto his stomach and threw his right arm over Merlin's chest.

Merlin picked up his hand and threaded their fingers together. "She's going to apply for the job Gaius has advertised."

"Back at the museum?"

"Yes. Since she's running the Museum Club in her spare time, anyway, she said she might as well get paid for it. And Gaius needs the help."

"She'll not miss teaching?"

"I don't think so. She said the Museum Club is just a different kind of teaching and she'll enjoy not being so bound by the National Curriculum. I think she's looking forward to it."

"Well, good for her. I can't imagine there'll be a stronger candidate."

Merlin played with Arthur's fingers as he weighed his next words. "She also said she'd had a letter from Morgana."

"Ah," Arthur said. "And how is Morgana?"

"Gwen said she's living in a place called Byron Bay, on the Pacific Coast. She said she's turning into a hippy, or something. Making cosmetics from natural ingredients. She sent Gwen some samples and asked her to see if any of the shops here would be interested in an exclusive supply deal."

Pulling his fingers free, Arthur propped himself up on one elbow. He took Merlin's hand in a calm, firm clasp. "Is that something we should worry about?"

"No. There's no magic involved. I checked them out. And anyway..."

"Anyway?"

"I used some hand cream to focus a scrying spell. She's doing really well for herself." He rolled over, so Arthur could see his face and smiled to show he was teasing when he added, "I think she's put your guilt money to good use."

"Not guilt," Arthur said, but he was smiling too.

"I know."

"Miss Kay's shield is holding, then?" Arthur said. "She still can't reach the magic in the earth?"

"Yes, it is. And no, she can't. But even if she could, Australia would be no use to her. She'd have to come back here. And I'd know immediately if she started to plan that."

"Why?" Arthur asked. "Why would Australia be no good?"

Merlin paused while he tried to find the words to explain something that was so much a part of himself that he had never attempted to vocalise it. "Magic has an ecology," he said eventually. "Or is an ecology. And people are part of the ecosystem, as much as the trees, and the animals, and the insects."

"So?"

"So the magic of the land is shaped by the native people. It shapes them too. But what I'm saying is that, because of its history, the magic of Australia is as different from the magic of Britain as the ecology is different."

Arthur flopped over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling for a time, and then he nodded. "Okay, he said.

"But I'll check with Miss Kay, next time I see her," Merlin added. "Just to be sure."

*****

It was inevitable, Miss Kay said, that the growing prosperity of Camelot would attract undesirables. Just as it was inevitable that the rebirth of magic in the vicinity would ensure some of those undesirables were of a magical nature.

As usual, they were sitting in her big, comfortable kitchen while he drank coffee and Miss Kay pretended to. "You dealt with the imp," she said.

"Yes."

"What would you do differently, if another appeared?"

Merlin thought. He been feeling pretty pleased with himself over the way he dispatched the troublesome creature back to its native realm, but Miss Kay's question brought him up hard against the moment he had almost failed. As a mentor, she was always bracing.

They spent an hour exploring strategies other than the hit-and-miss, trust-to-luck-and-spur-of-the-moment-inspiration one that Merlin had relied upon. Exploring meant that Merlin explained what he'd done and why, defended his decisions, admitted his doubts and speculated on alternatives, while Miss Kay asked the pointed questions that helped him to clarify his thoughts. When he had to face down a troll wearing a human glamour four months later, the lessons he had learned from her gave him his success.

In Merlin's opinion, it was equally inevitable that Arthur would eventually get involved in some of his confrontations. Alvarr he managed to vanquish alone, but the Questing Beast almost killed Arthur. After a mad dash across the moor, Merlin reached them just as it reared above Arthur with its teeth bared. He struck it down with the spell Gaius had found, before it pounced. The incident led to one of their more serious arguments, with Merlin swearing Arthur was reckless, while Arthur insisted that Merlin needed all the help he could get. His smug 'told you so', once Merlin was fully cured from the Serket's poison didn't, in Merlin's opinion, progress his argument one jot.

*****

It seemed like half the town attended Gaius's funeral. The mayor and three of her predecessors were there, as well as any number of other town dignitaries and worthies. Hunith came up from Ealdor. They sat in a row in the family pew: Hunith, Merlin, Arthur, Gwaine, Lance, Gwen, Isolde, who had just finished her GCSEs and Galahad, home from his first year at university where he was studying ancient history. The celebrant told the stories Merlin and Hunith had given her and the music was from Gaius's favourite cycle of Bach's 48 Preludes and Fugues.

But, following Gaius's own specific instructions, the interment was private. He was laid to rest in just a shroud, in the woodland burial ground near Oswald Green.

When Hunith died peacefully in her sleep, ten months later, they brought her home and laid her next to him.

*****

Miss Kay disappeared without anybody noticing. Merlin visited Heythorpe House one summer Sunday afternoon and, for the first time ever, the door did not open at his approach.

It was unlocked and he cautiously stepped inside.

"Miss Kay?" he called. "Hello? Are you there? Are you all right?"

There was no answer and the house felt hollow, with a dusty flavour. He crossed the room and for the first time ventured beyond the kitchen.

The hallway was wide. It had a parquet floor of dark wood, with a central strip of Turkish carpet running its length and a staircase with a turned banister rail on the left. A carved oak sideboard, almost black with age stood against the right-hand wall and held an empty vase. A mirror hung on the wall above it and elsewhere were framed oil paintings. All of them landscapes. Not a single one had a human figure in it.

"Hello?" he called again, more loudly.

There was no answer and he opened doors, scanning the rooms beyond. They were all furnished in a similar style – comfortable, established, old money and quality. Miss Kay was not in any of them. With some trepidation, he edged up the stairs.

When he reached the top, he stopped. The upstairs hallway was empty - totally unfurnished and undecorated. After a moment, he pulled himself together and searched the floor. Every room was the same – no carpet, no furniture, no Miss Kay.

Slowly, he walked back down the stairs and out through the front door. He stood on the step and gazed across the gravel drive to the lawn with its white cast iron table and chairs. After half an hour of contemplation, he turned, re-entered the house, locked the front door behind him and walked out through the kitchen, the back garden and the woods, to where he had left his car in the pub car park.

*****

"I've already ordered Chinese from the place round the corner," Merlin called, as Arthur walked through to their shared office to drop his briefcase on his desk.

"The first one, or the second?"

"I'm not stupid."

"Just checking." He reappeared. "I'll go and get changed, then," he said.

Merlin watched him walk down the short hall to their bedroom. He was still slim and fit. He still went to the gym at least twice a week and he still ran most mornings without seeming to damage his knees. Merlin was also still slim. Still weedy, Arthur said, but he was beginning to notice a stiffness in his joints when he stood up after sitting for too long.

The doorbell rang and he went out into the entrance foyer to take the delivery and pay. As he had expected, it was Bran Braithwaite, so he gave him an extra tip for his good timing.

Taking the food back into the flat, he served it out onto plates and dug their chopsticks out of the cutlery drawer. "Dinner's served," he yelled as he carried it through to the dining table.

Arthur appeared a few moments later, in his comfortable lounging-around-the-house clothes and they sat down to eat.

"What's the occasion?" Arthur asked.

Merlin grinned. "We're celebrating how I couldn't be arsed to cook," he said.

"That's a good enough reason as any. How was your day?"

"Not bad. I shouted at a few suppliers, until they promised to deliver."

"You mean you spoke to them nicely and charmed them into doing what you want."

"I bullied Gwaine into agreeing that the conceptual design for the Market Square project was done."

"Is it good?"

"It's brilliant. How about you?"

"I had a meeting with Owen."

"Oh yeah? How's he shaping up?"

"Merlin, he's been my Chief Operations Officer for six years. He's fine. But I do want to talk to you about that."

Alerted by Arthur's tone, Merlin looked up. Arthur put down his chopsticks. "I'm thinking of converting the company into a co-operative," he said.

"What?"

"I'm the last of the Pendragons and if Galahad or Isolde had been interested, I might have thought about handing the company on to them, but they're not."

"Not sure Lance would have wanted that for them, anyway."

"Exactly. So, I think the best thing to do is to share it with the people who work for it."

"And you?"

"I'll stay on for a while, to see it through, but... well... I'm thinking it's about time we retired. What do you think?"

Merlin smiled. "I think that's a bloody brilliant idea. After all, you couldn't leave it to Morgana."

"No, she'll get my share of our estate from the Will, but this is different. You really think it's a good idea?"

Merlin got up and walked around the table to Arthur's side. He leaned down, cupped Arthur's cheek and kissed him. "I really, really do," he said. "Now eat your supper before it goes cold. And let me eat mine."

*****

The diagnosis, when it came, shocked Merlin into immobility. The idea that the doctors couldn't do anything, after all the advances they had made in the decades since the human genome had been mapped and had revolutionised medicine, seemed impossible.

Arthur, himself, took the news courageously and when Merlin promised to use magic to find a cure, he took Merlin's hand. "No, love," he said. "No one lives forever. I wouldn't want to. And we've had a brilliant life."

His determination was such that Merlin was silenced.

They went to bed and held each other, while Merlin came to terms with Arthur's decision. He gently traced the lines of Arthur's face, Arthur kissing his fingers each time they touched his lips. And Merlin thought.

The next day, he went into their office and started pulling books down off the shelves.

It was two weeks before he felt confident enough to share his conclusions.

Arthur was behaving as if there was nothing wrong with his body, other than age. He still went to the gym, although the most he did there now was use the treadmill and the rowing machines. He still dragged Merlin out for long walks in the evening twilight. He still ate well and enjoyed his music and his television. But there was an air about him. He was already saying goodbye.

Once he was confident, Merlin sat him down and talked. It took a long time. There was a lot to explain. There were things to tell that Merlin had never thought to share before.

When he finally ran out of words and arguments, he just stopped and looked at Arthur. Arthur looked back. And then he smiled. "Yes," he said.

They made sure that they saw everybody they needed to see. They went to the now mature woodland where Gaius and Hunith were both buried and explained it all to them. "I think they would approve," Arthur said, as they walked back to their car. They had a party to which Gwaine and all of Lance and Gwen's family were invited. They all came, parents, children and grandchildren.

That night they went to bed and Merlin gathered Arthur into his arms.

"So how do we do this?" Arthur asked.

"You leave it to me," Merlin said and kissed his brow. "Relax."

He lay back with Arthur's head on his shoulder, sank into himself and let his consciousness expand.

Arthur still blazed, just as he had years before, when Merlin first sensed him amid the mass of human sparks that was London. The beacon of his brightness had not diminished with time and Merlin felt the pull. He allowed himself to flow into the fire. He swirled around the essence of Arthur, letting the winds of life pull him towards the light and slowly he drew Arthur into the cobweb of the dance.

Once the pattern had found harmony, once he and Arthur were no longer 'he and Arthur', once the dance had found its measure, they spread outwards. The Tor still stood as a guiding light on the horizon, but it was dim compared to the brightness of their existence. They soared across the fields. They dipped into the woods by Oswald Green. They touched the clouds and tasted the wild creatures in their burrows. They felt the badger emerging from its den and their minds sang with the song of the hunting cat and with the fleeing mouse. They danced the wonder of all the people of the town, the county and slowly, slowly, of the land. All gloriously laughing, and crying, and living. There were so many different flavours of magic in the world and they absorbed and were absorbed by all of them. The warm brown earth welcomed them, the worms and beetles and ants and moths whispered through them. The fox cried out in harmony with their song. The grass blew warm and green and gold around them and the trees opened up to let them in.

The landscape of Albionshire spread below them like a map. And across it all, was them, spread thin as a sheet of tissue paper, but also deep as the earth itself.

This time, no heavy voice of bells and stone dragged them back into their bodies. This time the echo of those bells rang approval and encouragement for their song. And they spread further, to the very edges of the land, where the salt sea crashed against the cliffs. And there they stopped, smooth edged and true to the land that owned them. They lay across the land, and through it, and in it, and around it. And it was bliss. Magic came alive in the world wherever they touched. And it was good.

 

The end