The Shadow Companion by Laura Anne Gilman Page A

Morgain had been able to sneak her way in—that had caused him to yank up all his protections by the roots, checking each one for flaws, and then regrounding them more firmly inside the castle walls—a time consuming and energy-draining process.
    Merlin was also bound to the task of finding the identity of the shadowy figure the children had reported seeing in Morgain’s keep. Arthur and he were in agreement on the fact that Morgain was a threat, but a known one. This new player in the game was disturbing. Anything that shifted the balance of the game they played was to be taken seriously.
    Those three things alone were enough to stress even an enchanter such as himself to near breaking. And Merlin also had to protect the knights on their holy Quest for the Grail, without them noticing thatthey were protected by that dubious figure of an enchanter, naturally.
    It was necessary. He had not exaggerated when speaking to the girl-child Ailis: It was essential that the Grail come to Arthur, and that the knight who brought it was to keep his eye on the greater glory, not his own enrichment. To do that, Merlin needed to know where they were, and what they were doing at every moment of every day. But he also had to sleep at some point.
    “Merlin, do this. Merlin, accomplish that. Merlin, since you’re not doing anything, can you balance a sword on the tip of your nose as well?”
    Balancing the sword would be easier at this point than trying to keep track of every single knight in each group.
    “The things I do for you, Arthur, and your kingdom…”
    He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the strain between his eyes. There were potions he could make for it, of course, but adding that might distract him from something else he had to do. If only he had a proper student to do it for him…
    “Seafeathers,” he cursed. The girl-child . She had been trying to reach him again. Was it a day ago? Anhour ago? His sense of time, never accurate to begin with, had entirely slipped away since the Quest had begun. No, he had no time to spare for students now. Not if he was to do any of the half-dozen impossible things his king asked of him. But that was no excuse for turning her away if she were in need.
    Still. She had reached out, and then gone away. So either the distress had been unimportant, in which case he was not needed, or she had resolved the situation on her own, in which case he was not needed. Or if it was too late now, he was not needed.
    There were priorities. And, as dear as the girl-child and her two friends might have become to Merlin the person, Merlin the enchanter had other things he had to attend to first.
    “She’s a smart girl, Ailis is,” he said to the owl. “And the boys with her—they’ve done well, very well. Toss them into water, they swim. Toss them into the air, they fly. If they need me, they will reach out again.”
    The owl swiveled its head and looked at him, but did not respond.
    “And now for my other problem child,” Merlin muttered, turning to a mirror that was propped against a nearby wall.
    “Show me my king,” he commanded it.
     
    Arthur was not accustomed to riding out alone anymore. The boy he had been—Wart the orphan boy—had gone everywhere alone, or with just a hound to accompany him. But the High King of Britain went nowhere without a full retinue, a mini-court to watch his every move.
    This evening, he had slipped out, using the secret passages of Camelot they all thought he didn’t know about, the small tunnels and hidden doors.
    He rarely used the secret ways, preferring to keep them for times of great need like tonight.
    A decent distance from the walls and the guards stationed therein, Arthur slid down off the nondescript mount he’d taken from the stables and let the beast chomp at the short grass.
    “I know you’re there,” he said calmly.
    She did him the courtesy of not dragging things out, respectfully not making a splashy entrance. Morgain merely