1.

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The beacon still called from deep within the rough-
walled fastness of the cave. Its message was fainter now.
Each planet year had put more strain upon this mecha-
nism, though its creators had attempted to make it ever-
lasting. They believed they had foreseen every eventuality.
They had—except the weakness within their own rule and
the nature of the world from which the beacon called.
Time had been swallowed, was gone, and still the beacon
kept to its task, while outside the cave nations had risen
and decayed, men themselves had changed and changed
again. Everything the makers of the beacon had known
was erased during those years, destroyed by the very ac-
tion of nature. Seas swept in upon the land, then retired,
the force of their waves taking whole cities and countries.
Mountains reared up, so that the shattered remains of
once-proud ports were lifted into the thin air of great
heights. Deserts crept in over green fields. A moon fell
from the sky and another took its place.

Still the beacon called and called, summoning those who
had vanished and left behind only legends, strange, time-
distorted tales. And now there was another period of cha-
otic darkness in the affairs of men. An empire had crashed
under its own unwieldy weight and the strain of years.
Barbarians ravaged, picking its carcass like vultures. Fire
and sword, death and the living death of slavery marched
across the land. And yet the beacon called.

Its heart-fires were dim now. From time to time the call
faltered, as a man in mortal danger might gasp for breath
between shouts for aid.

Then that call, so faint now, was finally heard far out in
space. A strange arrow of metal caught the impulse, and
deep in this ship's heart installations which had been silent
and unresponding for centuries were activated. The arrow
5

6                  Andre Norton

altered course, using the beam of the call as a line to draw
itself down.

There was no living thing aboard that ship. It had been
devised with desperate hope by entities close to the extinc-
tion of all they held important, more important than their
own lives. They had sent six such arrows of life into the
void, their only desire being that at least one of the search-
ers might find a goal their records said existed. Then
they were overrun by their enemies.

Relay after relay clicked into life without a quiver of
fault as the arrow sped toward earth. It represented the
fruits of a thousand years of experimentation,'the highest
triumph of a race which had once traveled the starlanes
with the ease of men walking familiar paths on brown
earth. Made for one duty alone, it was now about to go
into the action for which it was programmed.

It smoothly shifted into orbit about the planet and
prepared to descend in answer to the beacon call. As it
flashed across the sky men below watched its passage with
primitive awe. The knowledge which had once been theirs
was long since buried in myth.

Some cringed in skin tents as their shamans beat drums
and howled strange guttural chants. Others stared wide-
eyed and spoke of shooting stars which could be omens of
good or evil. It neared the mountain where the cave of
the beacon was hidden, then it broke apart.

The husk which had carried the so-precious cargo
through space opened and from it issued other objects.
They did not plunge instantly into the sea which was now
fast coming under the arrow; they spun away rather, as if
with volition of their own, winging for a mountainside.

They hovered for an instant or two in the air before
drifting easily to the ground. And if anyone in those
heights witnessed this, he did not speak of it again. These
particles were protected by a distortion of the fields of vis-
ibility. The makers had taken all precautions they could
foresee to protect their project.

Once on earth the jumble of objects produced append-
ages of their own and crawled steadily, with a mindless
need to unite with the failing power of the beacon. They
made their way into the cave.

In some places it was necessary to enlarge the passage-
way and that, too, had been foreplanned. But at length
they were all sheltered in the depths about the beacon,

MERLIN'S MIRROR           7

where they proceeded to go to work. Some of them cut
bases in the rock, settling themselves in with cable roots
from which they could never be' torn. Others rose from
the surface of the cave, hovering back and forth like great
mindless insects, except that they trailed coils of communi-
cating wire from one based installation to the next.

Within a space of time which they had no reason to
measure the net was complete; they were ready to begin
the work for which they had been programmed. If this
world had not been receptive there would have been no
beacon. Therefore, in the memory banks of the largest of
the based machines lay information that a systematic sam-
pling would bring into use.

One of the hovering fliers swung to the entrance of the
cave, sped outside. There was no moon that night; clouds
hung heavy in the sky. The flying thing was not much
larger than an eagle, and its distort had gone into action
when it had emerged in the open. Now it began to scout
in ever-widening circles, the photoeye it carried sending a
stream of reports back to the cave.

There was a dusting of snow on the heights and the
winds were sharp and cold, though the flying thing noted
temperature only as another fact to be transmitted.

The fire in the center of the clan house was high. From
the balcony which circled the sleeping family rooms, Brig-
itta could look down at the men gathered below on bench-
es. The mingled smell of stable, cow byre, woodsmoke,
food and drink was as thick as the smoke. Yet there was a
solid, secure feeling when the clan house was closed at
night against the outer dark, when the hum of voices
flowed from chamber to chamber on the upper floor.

Brigitta shivered and drew her cloak closer about her
shoulders. This was Samain, the time between one year
and the next. Now the doors between this world and the
Dark could open, and demons could caper through or
crawl malevolently to attack man. There was safety here
by the cheer of fire, in the voices she could hear, the snort
of one of the horses stabled in the outermost circle of
stalls below. She picked up the tankard she had set on the
bench beside her and sipped at the barley ale it contained,
making a little face at its bitter taste but relishing the
warmth within her when she swallowed.

There were other women on the balcony benches, but

8                 Andre Norton

none shared hers. Brigitta was the chief's daughter and so
took honor here. When the flames flickered they caught
the gold bracelet on her arm, the wide plaque necklace of
amber and bronze lying on her breast. Her red-brown hair
flowed free, nearly touching the floor behind her as she
sat, its color contrasting pleasantly with the strong blue of
her cloak, the embroidered length of the saffron yellow
robe beneath.

She was arrayed for a feast, yet this was no true. feast.
She bitterly resented the news which had drawn the men to
council and left the women to watch and yawn, gossip a
little. It was even stale gossip, for they had been together
for so long now that there was nothing new to say about
each other or events.

Brigitta moved restlessly. War—war with the Winged
Hats—that was all a man could think about. There was
little betrothing or marrying nowadays. And she was
growing older with every moon. Yet her father had not
singled out any lord for her. There was gossip behind
hands about that also, as. well she knew. If they had not
already, in time they would give her some flaw of tongue
or mind which would turn possible suitors from the door.

War. Brigitta gritted her teeth and the look with which
she regarded the company below had little kindness in it.
Man thought of fighting first and always. What^did it mat-
ter if the invaders crept along valleys miles away? What
difference should it make to the people of Nyren, safe in
their upland fortress? And now this babbling about the
evils wrought by the High King. She drank again.

So he had put aside his wife to wed the daughter of the
Saxon overlord.... Brigitta wondered what the new queen
looked like. Vortigen was old; he had grown sons who
would be quick to raise sword for their shamed mother. A
messenger had brought the news that they were summon-
ing near and far kin to that very effort now. But the Sax-
ons would form a shield wall for the new queen, too. It
was all war! She could not remember back to a time when
there was not the clang of weapons about the clan house.
She need only raise her head a little to see the line of
weather-cleaned skulls set along the roof eaves above, the
spoils of wars and past raids.

She did not think that Nyren would have much sympa-
thy for the High King. Ten days ago another messengei
had ridden in to be received with a far warmer welcome: a

MERLIN'S MIRROR           9

lean, dark man with cleanly shaved face, wearing the
breastplate and helmet of the Emperor's men. The Em-
peror was long gone, though it was said that emperors still
ruled overseas. But the Imperial Eagles had been lost
from this land since her father was young,

It seemed that at least one leader still believed in the
Emperor. The dark man had come from him to ask Ny-
ren's men for his war banner, just as the messenger who
had spoiled the feast tonight. That one had had a strange,
tongue-twisting name, after the style of the Romans. Brig-
itta said it aloud now, proud that she knew enough of the
old speech to say it properly.

"Ambrosius Aurelianus." She added the equally strange
title he held, for he did not claim any kingdom, Dux Bri-
tanniae. Lugaid had said it meant Leader of Britain in the
other tongue. It was a lot for a man to claim when half
the land was filled with Vortigen's new kin, the Winged
Hats from overseas.

Her father had been schooled at Aquae Sulis in the old
days when the Emperor Maximus had ruled not only Brit-
ain, but half the lands overseas. He remembered how it
was when there was peace and one only had to fear the
Scotti raids or trouble along the border. So he was one
who had inclined to the Roman, one of those Vortigen
had hunted out of the cities because the High King feared
their influence.

Thus Nyren had returned to the clanship of his fathers,
had drawn around him those of kin blood. Perhaps he had
only been waiting ... Brigitta sipped her ale again. Her
father was one who kept his own counsel, even among the
kin.

She studied him now where he sat in the high seat of
the clan house. Though he wore the dress of the hills it
was in more somber colors than that of the men around
him. His tunic of fine linen had been worked by her own
hands with a pattern copied from an old vase, a wreathing
of leaves in threads of gilt and green. His trousers were of
dark red, his cloak of the same shade. Only the wide
torque of gold about his throat, the two brand-bracelets on
his wrists and the seal ring on his forefinger, equaled in
splendor the ornaments of his fellows,

Yet he held authority among them, and no man enter-
ing the clan house and setting eyes on Nyren need ask
who was chief in this place. Brigitta felt the swell of pride

10 Andre Norton

as she watched him now, displaying not a flicker of emo-
tion as he listened with surface courtesy to the words'of
the High King's messenger, who was leaning forward,
plainly ill at ease as he tried to impress this small chief, as
the High King might rate Nyren.

But the influence of the lord of this clan reached
beyond the walls of his kin house and many among the
hills listened closely to any words of his. For his wisdom
was great and he was a wily and successful raider and war
leader. He might have called himself king, after the fash-
ion of others hereabouts, but he did not choose to do so.

Brigitta stirred again impatiently. She wished that her
father might speedily send the High King's man about his
business, that they might feast at their ease with no trou-
bling from the world outside on this night.

She could catch the roar of the wind above the sounds
of the court hall below. There was a storm, and a storm
on this night was unlucky. It might well carry the hosts of
the Dark to wreak their evil will on men.

Now she looked for Lugaid where he sat near her fa-
ther. He had the old knowledge and he had set up the
spirit protections about them this night. Though his un-
shaved beard was white, his lean body was not stooped,
nor did he have the signs of age about him. His white
robe was bright in the firelight and one thin hand stroked
his beard absentmindedly as he, too, listened to Vortigen's
man.

The Romans had striven to stamp out the old knowl-
edge and while they were in power men such as Lugaid
had moved secretly, keeping to their own silences. Now
they were honored once more among the kin and their
words were listened to. Brigitta doubted that Lugaid
would favor the High King, for he and his kind held the
ancient mysteries of this land and they liked the Winged
Hats no better than they had the Romans.

The ale was strong and made her a little dizzy. She
shoved the tankard aside, her eyes now drowsily watching
the play of the flames on the great hearth below. In and
out they danced, swifter, more gracefully, wilder than any
maid could weave her way across the grass on Beltaine
Eve. In and out. . . . Now the wind was roaring so loud
she could hardly catch more than an echo of the murmur
from below.

MERLIN'S MIRROR           11

It was dull anyway. This feast which had promised so
much in the way of excitement had been spoiled by the
stupid affairs of war. Brigitta yawned widely. She was
both bored and disappointed. Distant kin had come riding
in yesterday, and she had had a wan hope that among
them her father would find a suitor he approved.

She tried now to search out those strangers below, find
one face which was to her own liking. But they were only
a blur of flesh, reddened by the flame play; the gaudy col-
ors of their plaid and checkered clothing bewildered her.
Though there were both young men and seasoned war-
riors, none had caught her attention when they arrived. Of
course she would have gone dutifully to the one her father
named.

That he did not name any was her present grievance.
They would march to war, all those possible suitors, and
many would die, so there would be far fewer to choose
among. It was a sad waste. She shook her head, muddled
by the ale she had drunk, the half-hypnotizing play of the
flames. Suddenly she could stand it no longer.

She rose from her bench and went back into her cham-
ber. The opposite door of her room opened out on the
parapet of the wall, their outer defense. It was tightly
closed, yet through it the whistle of the wind came even
closer. A lamp burned very dimly in the far comer. She
shrugged out of her robe and, in her chemise, her cloak
still about her, she burrowed into the covers of the bed
against the wall. She shivered, not so much from the chill
of the stone against which that bed was set as from the
menace of the wind and the tales she had heard of what
might ride its gusts this night of all nights. But she was
also sleepy and her eyes soon closed as the lamp sputtered
out.

Below, in the warmth of the fire, Lugaid's hand was
suddenly stilled. His head turned so that he no longer re-
garded Nyren or the man so eloquent in his plea for the
support of the hill chief and Ais people. It was as if the
priest of the Old Ones were listening to something else.

His eyes were wide, startled. Yet there was no sentry
hom sounding, or if there was, only his ears caught it. His
hand moved from his beard to the emblem embroidered
on the breast of his robe, the spiral of gold, as if he hardly
knew what he did or why his fingers traced the lines of

12

Andre Norton

that spiral from outer edge to inner heart. He might have
been half-consciously seeking some answer of vast impor-
tance.

Now his eyes lifted to the balcony on which the women
sat, and he deliberately looked from face to half-seen face
until he came to a gap in their number. Sighting that, he
gave a small gasp. Then he glanced hastily right and left.
He might have feared that his involuntary sound had be-
trayed him in some manner, but the rest of the company
was intent on Nyren and the uninvited guest. Lugaid drew
back a little, his eyes closed, a look of deep concentration
on his bearded face.

Planet time meant nothing to the installations. The
flying things reported, memory banks sorted, classified,
worked to feed information to the more sophisticated final
judge of the project. A decision was made, twice tested.
Then the most delicate and complicated portion of the
space-carried equipment was prepared.

Once more one of the fliers spiraled out. It made a
wider swing, its distort on full. The farthest reach of that
swing carried it across another spur of rock reaching sky-
ward. The beacon which had summoned the installation
out of space and time had died. Only now, deep within
other rocks beneath, another signal woke to life. Undetect-
ed by the flier, it began to pulsate, its wavelength sweep-
ing higher and higher as its energy built and roared to
full power.

Outward into the high heavens sped a new beam., climb-
ing starward. It would take a long time, perhaps years
for that warning to be caught by those who patrolled
there. But it could not be quenched. Ancient battles might
begin, lesser in force now than of old, because both ad-
versaries were depleted to a thousandth, a millionth of
the power they once possessed. Time and exhaustion had
not, however, wearied their resolve. They were as implac-
able as ever. Though now they must face each other with
new and lesser strength, yet they would do it.

The flier wheeled, coasted through a fierce wind, flut-
tered along within its grasp as a leaf might. Yet it was not
powerless; it had a task it must do and nothing man or
nature could devise in this time could prevent it from ac-
complishing that act.

MERLIN'S MIRROR           13

Brigitta slept heavily, yet it seemed to her that in truth
she waked. The wooden wall of the kin house was no long-
er about her. She stood instead on a path she knew well,
the one which led to the spring of prophecy where the
goddess might bless with eternal good fortune someone
who flung an offering. Nor was this the dread night of Sa-
main with its dark, veiled hunters waiting to ensnare man-
kind. About her now was the green freshness of first
spring, of Beltaine when the fires would burn high and
maids and men would leap over their flames hand and
hand, united in worship of those forces which increased
rather than diminished the tribes,

There was a golden light about her that did not come
from the sun overhead. It made a spear point which
reached to her sandaled feet, though the source remained
hidden by bushes just leafing with the spring. The glow
leaped up from that triangle of light into her heart, so she
laughed joyfully and began to run through the brilliance, a
great excitement filling her. Never had she felt so free, so
alive, so entirely happy as in this moment.

Then she saw him as he moved out of the green and
stood waiting for her. This, her heart knew at once, was
the face she had so long searched for among the visitors
to the clan house, or in those few times when she had
traveled abroad. This was the one meant by the Great
Mother to give her full happiness.

He was all light, clothed with radiance and warmth. She
reached him and that warmth and light encased them both
in a private place which was theirs alone. No one else in
the world might ever find or share it. She was a part of
him and he was a part of her, and so they became one in
a way Brigitta could find no words to explain.

The world about them was golden, and it sang as if all
the true-toned birds in the woodlands raised their sweetest
notes at once to blend. She was lost in the warmth, the
song and in him until there was no Brigitta left, only an-
other one who was fulfilled as 'a field sown with grain is
fulfilled, ready to bring forth an abundant harvest.

In the clan house Lugaid edged back into the shadows.
His body swayed slightly to right and left; his features
were mask-like, without expression. He might have been
concentrating with his whole being on something he heard,

14 Andre Norton

or sensed or imagined. But with -that concentration was a
growing bewilderment. It was as if a man who each day
passed some long-ruined temple of a faceless, forgotten
god, suddenly heard from within that desolate sanctuary a
summons to a worship old beyond the memory of any
man.

Then bewilderment became exultation. The mask of
Lugaid's face broke and he was like one who, after years
of aridity from serving a lost cause, had been proved the
victor in truth. His hands folded over the spiral on his
breast, he whispered words in a tongue not of the tower
town which held him, nor of the Roman state which had
been torn into nothing, but a language far older than either.
La these latter days the words were largely meaningless
even to those very few who still learned them as part of a
discredited ancient belief.

Above, Brigitta smiled, crooned, stretched her arms to
embrace him who stood in her dreams. And over the
chief's hold the flying thing began a slow downward flight.
Swooping through the roof opening, it unerringly found the
inner door of the chamber in which the girl lay.

Within the cave the installations hummed to a high
pitch and then began to sink again, almost drowsily, as
though some beast had used its powers to the uttermost
and must now rest to recoup its strength. But in that other
distant crag there was no ceasing of outward flow. The
beam signal strengthened, searched out farther and far-
ther, a finger crooking into space to draw down aid in the
old, old war.

Lugaid's eyes were open, fixed on the door of Brigitta's
chamber. He could only guess a small portion of what had
happened there this night, and of that he would say noth-
ing until he was sure. But he drew a deep breath of won-
der that such a thing could happen in these troubled days.
The gods had long since withdrawn, yet it would seem
that they still lived. He must go as soon as possible to the
Place of Power. Surely there he would find some answer,
some assurance that this thing had meaning for his people.

He heard the drone of voices about him and knew im-
patience. They occupied themselves only with the things of

MERLIN'S MIRROR           15

this earth, with death. Yet this night he was sure the
things of the sky had touched here and brought life, not
death. Truly this was the hour that legend promised, when
the Sky Lords would come again!

2.

It was thickly hot within the upper chamber. Brigitta,
between the waves of pain, longed to lay her swollen body
in the stream which ran from the Fortunate Spring. She
was dimly aware that most of the people in the fort vil-
lage had been gone before sunup, out into the fields to cel-
ebrate the Feast of Lughnasa when the harvest fell to the
sickle. Julia, who had been her mother's nurse, sat pa-
tiently beside her, dipping a cloth into a basin of tepid
water, using that to wipe the dripping salt-sweat from the
girl's face. There was a brazier in the far comer and from
that came the scent of burning herbs, strong enough to
make Brigitta cough and gasp when some trick of the
breeze blew it in her direction. They had opened all the
doors within the house, untied all knots, done what they
might to make this birth an easy one. But, Brigitta
thought dully, it was not easy. How could it be easy for a
mortal woman to bear the son of a god?

The past months—how strangely they had eyed her. It
was only Lugaid's prophecy which had kept the kin from
laying black shame on her and so on the House of Nyren.
There had been times when she would have willingly taken
her own sharp dagger and cut from her living body this
thing some strange force had, bred in her. It was very hard
now to remember the golden happiness of her dream,
though Lugaid had assured her that it had actually been
no dream, but that one of the Sky Sons had come to claim

her.

Now she knew nothing but the pain, and between the
onset of that, the fear that the next would be worse and
worse. Yet she set her teeth and would not cry out. If one
bore a god's son one did not wail him into the world.

Her body heaved again and Julia was quick beside her.
Then Lugaid somehow was there also, his dark eyes hold-
16

MERLIN'S MIRROR           17

ing hers. And from that meeting of their gaze came a
strangeness which removed her from the pain, sent her
spinning far out among sparks of light which might be
stars....

"A son." Julia placed the baby on the fair piece of linen
ready to receive it.

"A son." Lugaid nodded as if he had had no doubts
from the first that this would be so. "His name is Myrd-
din."

Julia looked at him with hostility. "It is the father who
names the son."

"His name is Myrddin." The Druid dipped a finger into
the bowl of water and touched the baby's breast. "His fa-
ther would have it so."

Julia hunched a shoulder. "You talk of Sky Lords," she
sniffed. "I am not denying that you saved my lady from
shame with such, when there were those who believed. But
there is not one even under this roof who believed wholly,
or will ever do so. They will say 'son of no man' and talk
tattle afar."

"Not long." Lugaid shook his head. "This will be the
first of his kind and through him the old days will return.
Those tales of the past are not only fhe words of bards
meant to amuse. Within them lies a core of truth. Look to
the babe, and your mistress." He glanced at Brigitta with
less interest, as if, having served her purpose, she was of
lesser account now.

Julia made a sound close to a snort. She bustled about
caring for the child, who did not cry, but lay looking
about him. In those few moments after his entrance into
the world, he seemed far more aware of his surroundings
than any infant should rightfully be. And the nurse, noting
that odd awareness, made a certain sign before she
gathered him up. Brigitta slept heavily.

It would seem that in Myrddin's early childhood Julia
had the right measurement of the feeling within the kin
house. He was indeed "son of-no man," but since the chief
accepted—outwardly at any rate—Lugaid's assurance that
his daughter had been impregnated by a Sky Lord, the
boy was not openly shamed. Neither did he find any ready
acceptance among those of his own generation, however.

In the first place he was oddly slow to leam. The
women of the house looked on his backwardness as a fit-

18 Andre Norton

ting answer to the mystery of his conception. Nor was he
forward in walking either. Had it not been for the fierce
championship of Julia he might have been neglected, al-
lowed to fade away into early death. For within six
months of his birth Brigitta had been given in marriage to
a widowed clan leader old enough to have fathered her.
She left Nyren's fortress and her son behind.

She had made no protest over his separation for, from
the hour of his birth, after she had awakened from the
swoon into which she was always sure Lugaid had sent
her, she had had no feeling of tenderness toward the baby.
Rather the Druid appeared to have taken her place, with
Julia to supply those comforts of physical existence
Myrddin needed most at his age. And it was Julia who be-
came most fiercely maternal when comments about the
child's slowness were voiced aloud. It was to Lugaid that
Julia appealed when her own faith in Myrddin's intelli-
gence wavered.

"Leave him be." Lugaid had taken the child on his
knee, was locking eyes with eyes. "He lives by another
time, this one. You shall see. When he talks it will be
clearly and with purpose; when he walks it will be
straightaway walking, not crawling about after the manner
of the animals. His heritage is not ours, so we cannot
judge him by the actions of those wholly of this world."

Julia sat quiet for a "moment, glancing from Druid to
child and back again.

"I have thought sometimes," she confessed, "that the
tale you told was to save my young lady from shame. But
that is not so. What you say you believe. Why?"

Now he looked from the child to her. "Why, woman?
Because on the night he was conceived I felt the coming
of the Power which was to bring him into being. We have
lost so much." He shook his head regretfully. "So very
much of the knowledge which made men great enough to
challenge the stars themselves. We gabble odd tags of leg-
end and are not sure which is truth, which the embroidery
of some later man. But there is enough remaining that he
who is trained can sense the Power when it is at work.

"This 'son of no man' shall be great enough to make
and unmake kings. Yet I believe that was not what
he was sent to do. No, he is an opener of gates. And
when he comes to his full strength he will speak the High
Language and we shall see the beginning of a new world."

MERLIN'S MIRROR           19

The passion in his voice awed Julia and she took the
child back from Lugaid's hold, regarding the boy
strangely. For she knew that the Druid believed what he
had said. And from that moment she watched for any sign
of coming greatness in Myrddin, not knowing how that
might first manifest itself.

Myrddin walked when he was four and, as Lugaid had
said, he stepped out strongly from the first moment he
found his feet, not wavering or crawling as was normal. A
month later he spoke, and his words were as well pro-
nounced as those of a grown man.

But he made no attempt to join the other children at
their games. Nor did he ever show interest in sword play,
or hang about listening to the lounging warriors telling
their battle tales. Instead he tailed Lugaid whenever the
Druid was in sight. And it became accepted that Myrddin
would become a bard, or one of those learned in the law
and the descent of houses. Nyren agreed to this on one of
the rare intervals when he was at home.

For the chief had made his choice. He and his men
rode with Ambrosius, harrying both the High King who
had betrayed them and the Saxons he had brought in as
allies and who were now nearly his masters. The war band
was often gone from the mountain-hidden kin house, leav-
ing only a token force of defenders, with women and
slaves to work their few fields and herd the sheep which
. were their small wealth.

In Myrddin's fifth year, when he was pressed into aid as
a shepherd, the clan being nearly bereft of men, he found
the cave. He had gone higher among the lichen-tinted
rocks of the uplands than he had ever ventured before,
mainly because the older lads had left him to scramble up
the roughest way. But as he rounded one pinnacle he for-
got the sheep he sought and those waiting below.

Like a sleepwalker he veered to the right where there
was a small opening, hardly large enough for his small,
wiry body to wedge into. The fall of rock which had half
sealed the cave had occurred not too long ago, but it was
an effective screen and Myrddin might not have discov-
ered the crevice at all if that sudden compulsion had not
taken charge of his mind, drawn his body toward it.

He wriggled through the hole to find himself in a much
larger passage whose outer limits were dim, because the
only light came from the crack through which he had

20 Andre Norton

squirmed. No sense of fear touched him; he was filled in-
stead with a strange and growing excitement, as if some-
thing wonderful lay fust beyond, meant only for him.

So he marched on into the dark unafraid, only impatient
to find what he knew must lie there. But, as he drew away
from the entrance, he was surprised to discover that
there was a pale sort of radiance around him, stretching
three or four of his short strides ahead, as if he were
wearing a giant cloak of light. Nor did that discovery
seem in the least strange. Something deep in his mind wel-
comed it as a nearly forgotten bit of knowledge.

He knew the tale about him, that his father was of the
Sky People. And from Lugaid he had learned more, that
far, far back in time men had often come from the sky
and the women of earth had borne sons and daughters to
them. Those sons and daughters had had certain gifts and
knowledge which men had never had and which had been
forgotten when the Sky People came no more and their
blood thinned through earth interbreeding. Few men be-
lieved in them anymore, and Lugaid had cautioned
Myrddin that this was a story which he must keep to him-
self, until by his deeds he could indeed prove his heritage.
Lugaid also said that unless the boy could leam by himself
what the Old Ones knew he would be helpless, for
nowhere on earth was there now any teacher of more
than vague shadows of this forgotten lore.

There remained a part of Myrddin that was of Brigitta's
giving and that shrank within him, lonely and lost, unable
to make contact with those about him. He thought a lot
about what would happen to him if he could never dis-
cover what he must know. For here even Lugaid failed
him, saying that those who might once have taught him
were long dead, and only small fragments, probably much
distorted, remained in the trained memories of such as the
Druid himself. But the priest promised that when the time
was ripe, he would give what he could to this one who was
truly like a fosterling of his own.

The grayish light which accompanied the boy grew
stronger. Now he believed that it was given off by the
walls, rather than gathered around his own person. And,
when he rubbed an investigating finger along the stone, he
discovered something else: a vibration within the rock.
Quickly he put his ear flat against that wall to listen, but it

MERLIN'S MIRROR           21

was a feeling rather than a sound, a beat like from a crea-
ture's own heart.

All the tales of monsters lairing within caves swirled
into his mind then and he hesitated. But the excited feeling
drew him and he went on. So he came through an opening
into a larger area where a light winked into flaring bril-
liance. Myrddin shrank back, his hands over his eyes,
blinded by that glare. The vibration was a steady hum
which he could hear now as well as feel.

"There is no need of fear."

Myrddin was suddenly aware that a voice spoke, had
been speaking while he crouched, eyes covered, struck
dumb for the first time in his life by real terror.

He strove to fight his fear, though he did not yet drop
his hands to see who spoke. But the very fact that he
heard lessened his first terror, for surely no firedrake nor
ghoul would use'the tongue of man!

"There is no need of fear," the same words repeated.
The boy drew a deep breath and, summoning the full
force of his courage, he dropped his hands.

There was so much to be seen, and the objects were so
alien to all his experience, that wonder overcame the last
of his fear. For here was no scaled monster, no evil crea-
ture. Instead, under the light stood burnished squares and
cylinders for which his native language had no names.
There was also a kind of life which he could sense, though

it was not the life of fleshed creatures, but of another spe-
cies altogether.

The cavern seemed very large to him, and it was very
full of the objects. Some flashed small colored lights along
the surfaces facing him. Others were blank, yet they all
possessed that alien life.

Myrddin still could not see who had spoken to him and
he was too cautious to venture far into the crowded cham-
ber. Now he moistened his lips with tongue tip and an-
swered with all the boldness he could summon, his voice
sounding shrill in that chamber.

"I am not afraid!" Which was in part a lie, but in part
only, for the fascination of this place was far outweighing,
with every moment he lingered, his first wariness.

He expected to see someone step into view around the
bulk of those huge square or round pillars. But, as
the moments passed, no one came. Again he spoke, now a
little displeased that there had been no real answer.

22                Andre Norton

"I am Myrddin, of the clan of Nyren." He took two
more steps into the rock-walled place. "Who are you?"

The lights spun in broken patterns, the things about him
never ceased their humming. But no voice replied to his

demand.

Now he saw that facing him, near the far end of the

aisle formed by the ranks of the blocks and cylinders,
there was a kind of shimmer uniting two of the blocks and
forming a glistening wall. As his eyes centered on that, the
shimmer died away and he could see some sort of form,
one no bigger than himself, in it.

Determined to meet the stranger, Myrddin moved for-
ward quickly, paying no heed now to the blocks flanking
his way, intent only on what grew ever stronger in the
mirror-like surface. He had never seen his own reflection
so bright and sharply clear, for the mirrors of the clan house
were either of polished bronze in a size so small one held
them in the hand, reflecting perhaps only one's face, or the
distorting surface of a well polished shield. But this was
entirely different and he had to stretch forth his hand, see
the reflected boy do likewise, before he was convinced
(hat it was only a mirror. The novelty of seeing the whole

of himself interested him at first.

His dark hair, so neatly parted and combed by Julia
that morning, was now in a tangled dark mass about his
shoulders, with bits of stick and leaf caught in it, left when
he had battered his way through the bushes. His small
face was very brown and he had dark brows which met in a
bar across his nose. Beneath them his eyes were startling

green.

The tunic which Julia had enlivened with a chaining of
red thread about neck and cuffs was torn and mud-bespat-
tered, and his long breeches of green and white checked
woolen stuff were tucked into ankle-high laced boots.
Down the breast of his tunic dangled his one ornament,
the claw of an eagle fastened to a red cord, and there was
a streak of dried mud on his chin, a briar scratch on his
cheek. Though his clothing was warm and of good quality
of cloth, Julia's own weaving, he did not go as splendid as
a chief's grandson might. In fact only the good knife
sheathed at his leather thong of a belt suggested that he
was more than huntsman or spearman's son.

Myrrdin raised his hands now, brushing back his tumble
of hair. This, he decided, was a place where one should

MERLIN'S MIRROR           23

come with some pride. Perhaps whoever had spoken
thought him, at second glance, to be a person of such little
account that there was no need to answer-—

"You are"—startling him once more, that voice rang
out without warning—"awaited. Merlin."

Merlin? They—he—it who stayed here wanted someone
called Merlin. Myrddin's fear woke up again. What would
happen when they—he—it found there was a mistake?
Again he drew a deep breath and faced the mirror stoutly,
mainly because somehow seeing himself on its surface
gave him a small measure of confidence.

"You, you are wrong," he forced his voice out loudly.
"I am Myrddin of the House of Nyren."

Stiffly he awaited some reprisal. He fully expected to be
hurled out on the mountainside again, at the least. And
somehow he longed deeply to remain where he was, to
leam what this place might be and most of all who spoke
to him, calling him by that strange name.

"You are Merlin," the voice replied firmly. "You are he
for whom all has been prepared. Rest your body, son, and
see what you are and leam."

From one of the squares—that to his right—there
swung out a solid bar. Myrddin felt it gingerly. It was
wide enough to accommodate his small bottom and
seemed solid enough to support his weight. Also, he
thought there was no use arguing with the voice. It was
far too authoritative in its statement

Warily he seated himself on the bar facing the mirror.
Oddly enough, though its surface appeared so solid, it
seemed to yield a little under his slight weight, accom-
modating itself to form the most comfortable seat he had
ever known. The reflection of Myrddin in the mirror
flashed intp nothingness. Before he had time to feel any
alarm at this seeming erasure of himself there was another
image there. And Myrddin's education began.

At first there was an odd inhibition placed on Myrddin
so that he could not share his very strange adventure with
anyone, even Lugaid, whom of all the clan he thought
might understand. But there was no barrier on his
thoughts or memories. And sometimes he was so excited
by what he had learned from the mirror that back at the
clan house he went about in a kind of daze.

Lugaid, who might have suspected a little, was at that

24

Andre Norton

time absent, acting as messenger between Nyren and cer-
tain other chiefs and petty kings, trying to hammer into
being an alliance which would hold, even among heredi-
tary enemies, until after this season's raids on the Saxon
encroachers. For Ambrosius did not often have the forces
to take the field boldly against the Winged Hats and Vor-
tigen's traitorous followers; he had, rather, to employ
other means of whittling down their strength, mainly swift
punitive raids across the unrecognized border lands.

Thus Myrddin was enabled, during the years which fol-
lowed, to slip away to the cave often and there lose him-
self for long hours with the mirror. He did not at first
grasp much of what he was shown. He was too young, too
limited in experience. But the mirror's succession of
scenes, while not repetitious in detail, did repeat over
and over certain facts until they became as much a part of
the boy's memory as incidents of his daily life had always

been.

Myrddin tentatively began to put into practice what he
learned. He discovered that the information imparted
through and by the mirror had practical use. And young
as he was, for short times he was able to influence the
boys nearly old enough to take weapons in the war bands.
He learned early that apparently no one else could see the
crevice in the mountainside through which he was able to
enter the place of the mirror, though he had no knowledge
of distorters in action.

In addition to the fact that he could thus vanish without
a trace, he could also implant in the minds of any com-
panions he might have on the hillside during hunts, or herd-
ing, the idea that he had fceen with them throughout the
day, even though he had been spending those same hours
in the chamber of the mirror.

As eager as he might have been to use this talent for his
own end, however, there had been planted with the knowl-
edge of how to use it a kind of safeguard blockage which,
when he tried twice to make Julia see what was not there,
prevented him from achieving his goal. Thus he learned
that his new weapon-tool was not to be used for any light
purpose, but mainly to cover his time of schooling.

News trickled in very slowly to the mountain fastness.
Lugaid did not return. They learned instead that he had
gone on a journey of even greater length to some myster-
ious Place of Power, inspired by some desire of his own.

MERLIN'S MIRROR

25

And Myrddin took this ill, for he had hoped to share with
the Druid some of the wonder of his own discoveries, feel-
ing that he could only communicate them to the one man
of Nyren's people who already held some bits and pieces of
the ancient knowledge.

Shortly after the message concerning Lugaid, a deeper
and more tragic word came with a handful of broken and
beaten men, some only keeping in the saddles of their wiry
mountain-bred ponies by strong will or their comrades'
ropes. For Nyren's force had met with betrayal during a
foray and their chieftain and more than half of their peo-
ple were cut down. The harried survivors made their way
home through the heavy mists and torrential rains of late
autumn, and they brought such ill tidings with them that
all in the clan house cowered, waiting for the blow to
strike them down.

When there was no swift pursuit they brightened a little,
but the house was a place of mourning and dread. Gwyn
the One-Handed, younger brother of Nyren, took com-
mand of the house, since Nyren had left no son. Gwyn
could not truly be named chief because of his maiming,
though he had a clever arrangement of bronze which he
could strap to his left wrist to serve him as a mighty war
club.

Had Myrddin been older he might have claimed kin
right, but this was no time for a child lord, and the men
accepted Gwyn by acclamation. This was a season when
men garnered in the harvest—what remained in their
small fields—looking over their shoulders constantly, spear
or sword to hand. And the watchmen in the heights kept
vigil near beacons piled ready for the torch.

Myrddin found little chance now to slip away to the
mirror cave and sometimes he chafed with impatience, but
he did not realize how much of the teaching he had ab-
sorbed. One afternoon he was finally able to edge through
the slit to face once more that magic mirror. Perhaps it
was chance alone, perhaps it was something more, which
kept him overlong°at his lesson that day. But when he
edged out through the slit he found that twilight was al-
ready gathering.

Afraid that the outer gate would already be barred, he
scrambled down the slopes, dodging in and out among the
stone spurs of the mountain's ribs, intent only on reaching
the clan house as soon as possible. Thus he went unheed-

26

Andre Norton

ing of certain shadows which slipped from place to place,
unheeding until a hand shot out and closed about his an-
kle. He took a hard fall, which nearly jarred all the breath

from his body.

There was a heavy arm across him, pinning him easily
to the ground in spite of all his vain struggles. Then a
hand twisted painfully in his hair, jerking up his head so

that his face could be seen.

"By the Grace of the Three," someone said explosively,
"this is the very brat! He's come to our hand as easily as a
cockerel follows a trail of grain."

Myrddin had no time to assess his captors. Now over
him dropped a cloak which smelled sourly of human and
horse sweat mingled. And that was speedily tied about
him, making him into as helpless a bundle as any pack
trader could fling across a horse. And like such a bundle
he was hoisted to lie at a painful angle, bent over a horse
which moved at a bone-shaking trot.

3.

At first the boy thought he must have fallen into the
hands of a Saxon war band. But why had they not slain
him out of hand? Then, as he tried to order his wits, the
words he had heard spoken in his own tongue came
clearly to mind. He was "the brat" of whom they bad
plainly been in search. But why was he of any importance
to strangers?

Myrddin fought for breath in the stifling folds of the
cloak and struggled within himself for courage. Obviously
he was of value ... as a slave? No, there were slaves in
plenty. Because he was who he was, the close kin of Ny-
ren? But Gwyn was the lord of the clan....

His head hanging against the horse's flank throbbed
from the awkwardness of his position and he began to feel
queasy. Besides, it was very hard to hold to any defense
against fear.

How long his ordeal lasted Myrddin did not know. He
was only half conscious when he was lifted from the horse
and thrown without ceremony and with bruising force to
the ground.

"Mind yourself!" ordered another voice. "They would
have this one living, not dead, remember."

"Devil's brat, ill luck rides with such," growled a second.

Someone clawed off the cloak, but Myrddin was too
spent to move. And he had no chance for freedom as
hands closed brutally about his thin wrists, wrapping a
length of hide into bonds he could not hope to loosen. The
man who handled him so roughly was only a dark shape in
the night. When his captor gave a last jerk to make sure
of the strength of his ties, the boy roused enough to try to
see more of the company about him.

Shapes came and went so that he was not sure of the
count, and he could hear horses stamping. The night was

27

28

Andre Norton

very cold, with the chill of the ground on which he lay
bringing on a fit of shivering he could not control. But his
captors were all remarkably quiet and he was no wiser as
to the identity of this group, except that he was now sure
they were not Saxons.

Another one came riding into the small hollow where
they had halted. One of the squatting shadows rose to his
feet, went to stand beside the newcomer.
"We have him, lord."

The answer to that was a grunt but the mounted man
added: "Ride, then. This is no time to sit idle on your
haunches. After all he is of Nyren's blood in part, and
clan pride will bring out trackers. Get you going. There
will be fresh mounts waiting at the Giant's Tooth."

Having given his orders, the newcomer vanished back
into the blackness of the night. Around him Myrddin
heard the grumbling of men who were not pleased, but
who seemed bound by obedience to a strong commander.

Once more the boy was hoisted up on a horse. Only this
time he was fastened in the saddle, a rope beneath the
mount's belly linking ankle to ankle, then the cloak was
thrown over him. His head ached savagely and he fought
against swaying, lest he crash to the ground and be
dragged to his death before his captors could rein in his
horse.

They rode throughout the night, halting once at a tall
finger of rock which might indeed have been the fang
pried out of some huge and fearsome mouth, to change to
other mounts picketed out to wait for them. Myrddin had
long since lapsed into a daze of fear, pain and bewilder-
ment. None of them ever addressed him, or seemed to
care about his welfare, except when they had to change
him from one horse to a fresh one. His whole body be-
came one sore bruise, so that every step the horse under
him took jarred him into a new torment. He set his teeth
firmly, determined even in that far-off place into which his
consciousness seemed to retreat that he would not give
voice to any cry of pain.

They came down out of the hills. Dawn found them
trotting along the smoother surface of one of those roads
which the Romans had built. Myrddin could see more of
the company now. They were men very like those he had
always known, only their faces were those of strangers. Of

MERLIN'S MIRROR

29

the party of ten, all but two were spearmen such as might
serve any clan chief as a levy, and those strung behind.

But the reins of Myrddin's mount were held by one who
wore a crimson cloak cunningly worked, if now sadly
soiled and frayed, with wide bands of needlework. His
hair, the color of polished bronze, swept well below his
shoulders in the old way of the tribes. His thick-lipped
mouth was bracketed by a heavy moustache and the first
stubble of days without touching a razor bristled on his
full cheeks.

He was a young man, beefy of shoulder, with bands of
worked bronze on his thick arms. A sword of the Roman
pattern slapped against his thigh and a small wooden
shield with boss and rim of metal was slung between his
shoulder blades. His eyes were puffy, as if he bad been too
long without sleep, and he yawned with jaw-cracking
openness from time to time.

Myrddin's companion to his left was in contrast to the
other. He was a lean lath of a man, his chest covered by
a dented, poorly mended cuirass. A helmet that had lost
its crest was jammed well down on his narrow head, for it
had been originally fashioned for a much larger man. His
weapons were also a sword and a spear with a wickedly
barbed point. And he did not ride lumpily, half asleep as
did the tribesman, but rather sat stiffly upright in the sad-
dle and kept glancing from side to side, as if he expected
some force to burst upon them out of ambush at any mo-
ment.

Myrddin was so weary that he weaved back and forth
in the saddle, but neither of his captors appeared to take
notice of him. Nothing he had learned in his cave retreat
told him what to expect now, except that the future these
men intended for him held nothing good. And he no long-
er tried to imagine what that future might be. Nor did he
attempt to take any interest for the moment either in his
escort or his surroundings. This land, to one born and
bred in the mountains, with no personal knowledge of the
countryside below, was' strange enough.

By noon they no longer traveled a deserted road. Par-
ties of armed clansmen and three bands of Saxons
grudgingly gave way to allow them quicker passage. Be-
fore them now rose buildings of stone, dressed and set af-
ter another fashion than that of a clan house wall.

Myrddin was both hungry and thirsty but he would not

30

Andre Norton

beg from those he rode among. When they stopped at a
spring to drink and then water their mounts, however, one
of the lesser clansmen filled a small wooden cup and held
it to the boy's lips. Myrddin drank thirstily and his wits
somewhat recovered. He studied this man who seemed less
hardened than his companions.

He was much younger than the rest, a fair down on his
chin in patches. And the eyes he raised to Myrddin's were
a pale, washed blue; his expression, sullen and heavy.

Myrddin swallowed and swallowed again. His throat felt
swollen and sore. When he tried to speak his voice came
as a croak.

"My thanks—" he got out before the man in the helmet
swung around.

"Hold your tongue. Devil's brat, or we'll clip a wood
splint on it." He edged his horse closer, crowding against
Myrddin's weary mount. "Aye, your magics we do not
need either." He reached over and jerked up the hood of
the cloak, dragging that down to form a loose blindfold.
"You fool"—he must be speaking now to the clansman who
had brought the water—"do you want to be demon-haunt-
ed! This one, they say, young as he is, can well call up all
ghosts!"

Myrddin heard a gasp, probably from his late benefac-
tor, and was only glad that he had taken those mouthfuls
of water before the second leader of the band had inter-
fered. That bounty, small as it had been, had served to
rouse him somewhat from the trance of pain and fear in
which he had ridden for most of this night. He could hope
for no more aid within this party, yet he was beginning to
think again. It was as if the shock of his capture after his
long visit to the cave had shut off in some strange fashion
his ability to reason clearly, until the small gesture of feel-
ing on the part of the hulking boy had roused him out of
that daze.

What could he draw to his aid now? The bedazzlement
which he had been able to use with the clan boys in order
to conceal his visits to the cave? Young as he was,
Myrddin's knowledge now far outran his years. And there
was something beginning to loom in his mind—no, rather
in a part of him which did not truly think, but rather
sensed that this adventure was part of the future which he
was destined to face.

They had called him "Devil's brat", a name he had

MERLIN'S MIRROR           31

heard before, though it had never been said to his face.
Nyren's blood had certain rights no clansman—or
woman—could deny. But that his father was not one of
the fabled Sky Men, but rather a demon, that was an old
accusation. Was it not true that he had been conceived on
Samain Eve when all manner of evil spirits roamed free?
If he had not found the cave of the mirror, he might even
have accepted that reasoning himself, it fitted so well the
facts which most knew. But the cave was surely of the
vanished Sky People, and he had already learned there
that he had been bom to a certain task; he must dedicate
his lifetime to its accomplishment.

Still, he had no enemies he knew about. Gwyn ruled the
clan and he himself would never protest that for he was
pledged to a different life than a battle leader. And it was
already accepted among his kin that he would go to
Lugaid's kind when the time came, to be taught such of
the mysteries as survived.

To what other man could he possibly be a threat? His
mind played with that puzzle as they came into the town
which claimed Vortigen as ruler. For, as they rode, his
captors now talked a little, and the boy speedily discov-
ered that this was their goal. Was he then to be hostage
for his people? But with Nyren gone Myrddin's kin were
not of such account as to make a hostage worth maintain-
ing.

He roused from his thoughts to look around him,
though the hood was drawn down so far on his head that
what he could see was limited mainly to the road under-
foot, with here or there an edge of stone wall. Though
half blind, he could listen. At first his ears, in the past only
attuned to the noises of what was a very small clan settle-
ment, were almost deafened. He found it hard to separate
one noise from the other.

At last their lagging mounts came to a stop and the
rope which held Myrddin's feet twitched, fell away. A
heavy hand swept him out of the saddle, shoving him
roughly ahead as his feet nearly buckled under him. So he
entered a confined place of vile smells where the cloak
was whipped away. He could see that he stood in a
stone-walled cubby of a room which had only a length of
pitted stone against one wall for a bench or bed, and only
a slit high in that same wall for a window.

The bonds fell in turn from his wrists, but his arms

32

Andre Norton

were leaden, his hands numb from the hours of their lash-
ing. It was the man in the helm who had cut him free;

now he gave the boy a last shove toward the bench.

"You wait on the High King's pleasure," he grunted.
And he was gone, slamming the door behind him, immedi-
ately plunging Myrddin into a gloom as deep as the twi-
light in which he had first been taken.

The King. Myrddin shaped those words but did not
say them aloud. There was only one king here, though his
rule rested mainly on the will of those Saxons he had in-
vited overseas to bolster his armies, first against the raid-
ing Scotti, and then against those of his own blood who
might be rivals. Vortigen, Myrddin had been taught from
the time he could understand, was a traitor, a nothing
man who now listened to the orders of the Winged Hats
and cut down his close kin at their pleasure.

And what did Vortigen want of him, Myrddin?

Thinking made his headache worse. He sat on the stone
of the bench, rubbing one hand against the other, striving
to keep from whimpering as the pain of the returning cir-
culation in his puffed hands was almost more than he
could silently bear.

He tried now to call to mind all he had lately heard
concerning the High King. The last rumor to reach as far
into the mountains as the House of Nyren had been that
Vortigen was planning a great fortress tower, one which
would rival anything the Romans had built in their day.

But the drifting one-armed trader who had brought the
story had also said that there were difficulties in that
building, that what was carefully laid stone upon stone on
one day was discovered the next morning to be broken
away, or set awry enough to be useless. It was said that
magic overcame all the efforts of man in constructing the
fortress.

Myrddin leaned his head back against the wall. He was
so tired that, uncomfortable as he was, sleep pressed upon
him until finally be could answer no more to the searching
of his thoughts, but rather subsided into a darkness
heavier than that of the cell which imprisoned him.

When he woke it was to find a flickering of light about
him and for a moment or two he thought he was back in
the place of the mirror and those colored squares of radi-
ance which snapped on and off across the squares now
faced him. When he opened his eyes fully and pulled him-

MERLIN'S MIRROR          33

self up on the bench, however, he saw that a pine knot
had been thrust into a ring high on the wall. A man stood
under that torch, eyes resting directly on Myrddin.

And the boy knew a sudden lift of heart. Such a robe
of white he had never seen worn except by Lugaid on high
feast days, though this lacked that spiral of gold on the
breast which Lugaid's had borne. Yet if he was of the
bardic brotherhood, then indeed he could be hailed as
friend. And Myrddin knew the words which could claim
protection. He was about to repeat the sentence Lugaid

had long ago—or so it seemed to the boy—drilled into
him, when the other spoke:

"Son of a demon,. son of no man living, I order that
you use not any devilish wiles. Be warned that there has
been laid upon you the greater and the lesser obedience,
those bonds of spirit which you cannot break."

As he spoke, his words following a kind of chant, he
pointed to Myrddin with a staff, white in part, the rest a
rusty red as if it had been dyed with blood.

It was as if the boy's nose was suddenly filled with a
vile scent. Myrddin shook his head to try to escape the un-
seen cloud which surrounded this man who was certainly
not of Lugaid's kind. At the same time he realized that all
the fear he had felt before was nothing to what he experi-
enced now. For this was not only a threat to his body, but
rather also to what he was. And he began to repeat, not
the words of greeting which had been on his lips, but
rather others which Lugaid had also taught him.

He saw the strange Druid's eyes widen. The staff lashed
across the air between them as the other might beat a
man down; the wind of its passing touched Myrddin's
dust-grimed face. Yet the gesture was only empty menace,
as well he realized. And with that realization the boy's
control began to regain command over his fear.

"What do you want of me?" Myrddin purposefully did
not add any address of courtesy to that demand. This
stranger might wear a robe like Lugaid's, but Myrddin's
inner sense denied that he was of the breed of Lugaid.

The other had stilled his wand, though its reddened tip
pointed straight at the boy as if it were a spear set for the
final death thrust.

"You are the one of the foretelling, being born of no
father, thus ordained for the High King's purpose. For we
who speak with the Powers have learned that never shall

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Andre Norton

his fortress stand until its mortar be slaked with the
blood of a youth who has no father kin."

Deep within Myrddin there was a stir, a half memory.
There was something—perhaps he had learned it from the
mirror and then forgotten. He could not always remember
everything he had been shown in the hidden cave once he
had left. Instead, some parts of his knowledge seemed to
sink so deeply into his mind that they lay hidden there un-
til a chance word, some glimpse of a familiar object
brought them to the surface.

This was shown! Not his death, of that he was sure, and
his conviction on that point gave him confidence. But he
had been brought here, not only by the will of the High
King, but for another reason also, one which marched
with the tasks he still only dimly suspected lay before him.

If the Druid expected him to cringe, to show fear, then
his was the disappointment. For Myrddin, secure in his in-
ner knowledge, faced him chin up and unshaken.

"What Powers do you speak for?" Again he deliberately
omitted any title of respect. "Perhaps in these days your
voices come not from the Sky Ones, but rather from the
desires of men."

The other's breath rasped; his eyes strove to catch and
hold Myrddin's in one of those compelling strokes of com-
mand such as would make the boy will-less, ready to obey
any order laid on him. And Myrddin, summoning all he
had learned for the protection of his own secrets, gazed as
steadily back.

"What do you know of the Sky Ones?" this stranger
asked in a voice which had lost something of its arrogance
and now held a note of unease.

"What do you?" Myrddin countered.

"That this is forbidden for any not of the Mysteries to
speak of." The stranger's face flushed with anger. "What
have you spied upon, demon-bred?"

"Could I be a spy and yet know this?" Deliberately
Myrddin spoke the words of recognition Lugaid had
taught him so long ago.

But to his surprise the other laughed with harsh relief.

"Those are worthless now. We listen to a new Power.
You cannot claim kin, being what you are and already
meat for the High King's use. Better you be truly dead so
you cannot corrupt any foolish ones with your prattling of
forgotten things. Enter." He tamed his head a fraction,

MERLIN'S MIRROR

35

though not enough to take his eyes from Myrddin, as if he
feared that the boy might indeed be more of an equal op-
ponent than he now seemed. "Enter and take him!"

The man wearing the old armor pushed past the Druid,
giving him a respectfully wide berth. And Myrddin made
no struggle as his hands were once more lashed behind
him, as he was pushed toward the door.

The Druid had turned and gone out, but he awaited
them bathed in a sunlight which made Myrddin blink, un-
able as he was to raise a hand to shield his eyes from the
glare. More of the guard closed about them, and beyond
that row of armed men the boy saw clanspeople and Sax-
ons watching him with a kind of avid greediness which
made him sick inside.

The same evil which had flowed like a stench from the
Druid hung about this whole company. It was meant to
feed on a man's fears, overwhelm his courage, so he would
go without struggle to whatever death waited for him.

Yet, much as the boy inwardly shrank from that assault
of emotion, he walked firmly, without any wavering, his
head up and his control unbreached.

The road they followed climbed a hill toward the piles
of stones Vortigen had commanded his fortress be fash-
ioned from. As they went, Myrddin looked from right to
left, not now searching the faces of those gathered to see
the sacrifice, but rather because he was aware, as if his
sight could indeed pierce through the earth, of what lay
underground.

They came to a halt before a leveled stone which had
been draped with a covering of elaborately embroidered
cloaks. And on that improvised throne sat the High
King—claiming a title no mountain man would grant him.

Myrddin saw a man he thought close to his grandfa-
ther's age, but there was no nobility, no pride, in these
features, puffed as they were by too much drink. Vord-
gen's eyes were never still, but flitted ever from face to
face as if he expected treachery with each breath be drew.
And his hands played with the hilt of his sword, though by
the soft appearance of his body, the swelling paunch about
which the belt of that sword had trouble meeting, he was
no warrior now.

Behind him stood a woman, graceful, much younger,
with the red-gold crown of a queen in a band about her
head, resting on hair as yellow as ripe grain. Her robe of

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Andre Norton

red was so overlaid with stitchery of gold that she glit-
tered as hard as any metal figure in the sun. And in spite
of her beauty of face there was in her the hardness of
worked gold, not the softness of flesh.

There was no timidity nor unease in her, but she looked
with boldness where she would, a faint smile carved on
her lips, never warming her arrogant eyes. And when
those eyes rested on the boy they glinted with what he
correctly read as cruel anticipation.

"This is the boy?" Vortigen demanded. "It is proved, he
is the son of no man?"

"Lord King," the Druid answered, "it has been so
proved, out of the mouth of she who bore him. For one of
the Power questioned her and she could not lie. On Sa-
main Night he was conceived through the power of some
wandering ghost or demon—"

"Lord King!" Myrddin raised his voice and found that
at this moment it was not shrill; rather it sounded assured
and steady even in his own ears. "Why have your men of
Power lied to you?"

The Druid swung halfway around, his staff moving up.
But at that moment Myrddin's deep-planted memory came
fully awake. His eyes caught those of the furious priest
and held them for a long moment. The flush faded from
the man's countenance, his features slackened oddly. He
looked dull, drained.

Vortigen watched that transformation with something
approaching awe.

"What have you done, demon-born?" He raised his fin-
gers in the sign to ward off bad fortune.

"Nothing, Lord King, except gain for myself a space in
which to tell you how ill-served you are."

The King licked his lips. His fingers tightened on the
sword hilt, half drawing the blade from its sheath.

"In what manner am I ill-served?"

"In the manner of this tower you would build."
Myrddin pointed with his chin toward the piled stones.
"Dig beneath and you shall see. For below lies a spring of
water which flows to soften the earth, so it cannot hold
the weight of the stones you would set on the surface.
And within that water you shall find the fate of this land.
For there crouches the white dragon from overseas." He
glanced beyond the King's shoulder to that upstart Queen,
whose gaze was as intent on him now as if she, toe, would

MERLIN'S MIRROR           37

use her will. as a weapon. Faintly he could feel the push of
that will. But the force was feeble against what the mirror
had built within him.

"Beyond the other edge of the pool is the red dragon of
the Old Ones. And these strive ever to win an endless bat-
tle. Now the white dragon waxes in strength, and he shall
nigh overcome his enemy. But the day lies close, closer
than you know. Lord King, when the Red shall prevail.
Set your men to spades and let them seek. You shall find
it as I have said."

The hand of the golden Queen reached forward as if to
touch Vortigen's shoulder. And in that moment Myrddin,
carried out of himself, filled with understanding from the
mirror, knew her for the enemy. She was more than just
the Saxon wench who had seduced the High King, she
was—

He frowned, sensing a new menace he did not under-
stand and the nature of which he had not fronted before.
Alarmed, he centered his concentration on the High King,
instinctively knowing that this was the moment in which
his own trained will was at its height

"Let them dig. Lord King!"

Vortigen, leaning forward on the stone slab so that his
shoulder was now well beyond the Queen's reach, nodded
heavily and echoed:

"Let them dig."

So they brought spades and cut into the earth, laboring
hard and as fast as they might under the King's eyes until
there was a swift gush of water from the side of the hill.
Then they hurried to lay bare a small cave in which there
was a pool.

Myrddin drew on his powers. This was no small cloud-
ing of memory so that he would not be seen by his peers,
their young minds lying well open to such bewilderments.
No, he must create an illusion those here would not for-
get.

There was a flash of red on one side of the water, a
spear of white flame on the other. The tips of those fires
inclined toward each other, inclined and wavered. For as
long as he might, Myrddin held the illusion and then,
drained of energy, allowed the flames to sniff into noth-
ingness. But there was awe on the faces of those about
him. Someone hastily cut through his bonds.

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Andre Norton

The High King turned a blanched, strained face in his

direction.

"It is the truth—the truth," he repeated, his voice loud
in the silence that had fallen on the hilltop.

"And I will give you another truth." Out of nowhere
Myrddin found the words which he knew he must say.
"Your day comes to sunset, High King. Know that Am-
brosius advances with the evening starl"

4.

"They speak of you as a prophet, boy."

The commander wore his red cloak flung back to dis-
play a breastplate of the old Roman style, one bearing the
design of a laurel wreath encircling a god clutching thun-
derbolts in either hand. He was stocky, with a closed face,
as if he never allowed emotion to uncover what he might
consider a weakness. He was of the Roman pattern in
more than his dress: his weathered, swarthy skin, his hair
clipped close to his skull, his jaw shaved clean, though his
beard was so heavy that it seemed only momentarily re-
strained by such measures.

Myrddin sensed this man's strength of purpose like an-
other kind of armor or weapon. This was truly a leader of
men. All they had said of Ambrosius Aurelianus was the
truth: he was the last of the Romans, with all their virtues
and firmness of purpose—and perhaps their faults as well.
This was a captain one could follow, but he was not the
man Myrddin sought, not one to weld the broken factions
of Britain into one nation again. He was too much of a
Roman to be anything to the tribesmen but a worthy war
chief, looking toward the past and a life which the years
of disunion had wiped forever away.

"Lord." The boy chose his words carefully. This was
one to whom he could not tell the entire truth, for Am-
brosius would not believe it. "Lord, I am of the mountains
and I knew this land. I only said what the High King's
men should have known, that there can be no firm
foundation where a spring eats under the crown of a hill."

"And these dragons—white and red—which our prison-
ers swear they saw at war?" countered Ambrosius swiftly.
"Where did they come from, also out of your spring?"

"Lord, men see what they expect. The water lay as I
said, therefore they were prepared to see what else I had

39

40 Andre Norton

pictured for them. The dragons were in their minds, for
that much was the truth as they knew it. The white
dragon of the Saxons sat in honor in Vortigen's hold and
and the red which is of our land was in defeat."

He met the other's piercing gaze squarely.

"I will not," Ambrosius said with an emphasis which no
one could mistake, "have any practice of sorcery. Such is
both an abomination before the gods and a beguiling of
fools. Remember that, my young prophet! Though a man
may seize any weapon to save his life, he would do well
(hereafter not to try it again. I and my men fight openly,
with these." He touched the sword which lay on the table
in front of him. "That magic of the night, the evil of
witchery, is not ours. Let that thrice-damned Saxon witch,
who has so beguiled Vortigen to his undoing, try such
methods."

Myrddin had heard the tale, that it was the Queen who
had produced the poison used in the murder of Vortigen's
eldest son, starting the revolt of the King's own followers
against him.

"Lord," he answered, "I am no sorcerer. And I ask no
more of you than to be allowed to depart to my own
place."

He thought he detected a trace of curiosity in the
other's glance.

"You are of the blood of Nyren, a worthy fighter and a
loyal man. And you are of an age for the taking of arms.
If you wish, I can place you among my troops. Only no
more prophecies or the addling of men by words."

"Lord, you offer me a great honor." Myrddin bowed
his head for a moment to acknowledge the courtesy the
other had extended. "But I am not a man of the sword.
My service to you will lie in other ways."

"What other ways? Do you claim to be a bard with the
power of words? Boy, you lack the long years for the
learning a bard must have. And I am no king to send a
talker rather than a troop against my enemies. I will not
name you coward, for it seems by all accounts that you
stood in mortal danger and came forth unharmed, by the
use of your wits alone. But in this hour it is weapon
against weapon, and the Saxons do not understand the
power of words such as some of our people will listen to."

"Lord, you say sorcery, but there is in me sometimes

MERLIN'S MIRROR          41

the gift of foretelling. Do you also claim that to be wholly
evil?"

Ambrosius was quiet for a long moment, then he re-
plied in a lower, more meditative tone.

"No, I do not deny the truth which lies in foretelling.
But it is an evil in this manner: should a man know that
victory lies before him, then he shall be less desperate in
battle; if he knows defeat faces him, then already his heart
is that much gone out of him and he will be the quicker to
cry off from attack. Therefore I do not wish to know
what lies beyond this moment, nor do I wish to consult
any augury, even those the Legions did in their day. So I
think you are right, Myrddin of the House of Nyren. If
that is the service you would offer me, I must refuse it,
and it would be better that you do go to your own place.

"What you have done, laid the prophecy upon the
forces of Vortigen in our favor, for that our thanks. And
we shall strive mightily that the red dragon wins his battle,
without sorcery. Call upon our people for a horse, for sup-
plies, but get you from us and soon."

Thus Myrddin, who had gone out of the mountains a
captive and a bewildered, frightened boy, returned into
those fastnesses still a boy in body, but in spirit and mind
another. For he who has called upon such Powers leaps in
that single moment from youth to manhood, and is never
afterward the same. He carried enough provisions in his
saddlebag to be able to avoid the dan house, riding
straight to the cave instead.

He loosed his mount in the small valley beneath the
slope on which the cave lay and climbed to edge through
the crack and come down into the place of the mirror.
When he reached that point, he was aware at once that
something about the cave had altered, though at first
sighting all was the same—the lines of light still flickered
across the installations, the mirror faced him as it ever
had.

That strength of will which had sustained him through
his journey—from the town where Vortigen had been
driven into flight and where the forces of Ambrosius were
now camped—deserted him. He sank down on the seat
before the mirror, deeply burdened with the fatigue of his
journey, empty-minded and spent

Yet uneasiness pricked at him. Even in this secret place

42 Andre Norton

all was not well. He fumbled with his saddlebags, found
dry bread and a small leather bottle of sour wine. Drib-
bling the wine on the bread, he ate only because he knew
that his body needed the food. It was not the hearty fare
he had shared with the soldiers, but it was all he had now.

As Myrddin chewed he looked at the mirror, seeing his
own reflection once again: small, dark, with tumbled hair,
a face in which, now that he looked more carefully, the
planes differed from those of his fellows. Had that differ-
ence come from his Sky father? He had never seen,
among the wealth of pictures the mirror had shown during
the years of his instruction, any other person.

Wearily the boy chewed and swallowed, but now and
again he glanced around him. For, though he could see
the cave plainly, more than half of it also being reflected
in the mirror, the feeling that he was not alone persisted.
It was like a trace of some scent on the air. So he found
himself sniffing as if, like one of the great hunting hounds,
he might uncover the intruder.

Once his hunger was satisfied, Myrddin rose to begin a
thorough search between the squares and cylinders, tracing
each possible opening between them back to the stone of
the walls. There was nothing, no one.

But if the intruder was not here now, had there been
someone earlier? Though how he could sense that he did
not understand. Back once more on the bench before the
mirror, he subsided, his head in his hands. For the time
being he had lost that sense of purpose which had drawn
him on, and he shrank dully from any thought of the fu-
ture.

There was a sharp, ringing sound, as a piece of bronze
might sing when struck by another bit of metal. Myrddin
raised his head. The mirror was awakening—his reflection
had vanished from its surface. In place there was the
familiar swirl of mist. That deepened, thickened ...

He was staring at a girl. Her body was held tensely and
she had the attitude of one listening for a sound she
dreaded. Behind her lay a countryside he knew well, the
slope which reached to the cave entrance.

But this was no maid from the clan house! Her body
was very slight and thin, not yet showing the curves of
womanhood. Her skin was pale, the color of sea-bleached
ivory, against which her hair was a cloud of dark, but a

MERLIN'S MIRROR           43

dark in which queer red lights played as if the sun sought
out its match in it.

Her face was nearly triangular, the cheekbones wide
apart, the chin almost pointed. Myrddin realized suddenly
that the planes of that other countenance were similar to
his own.

She wore a single simple garment fashioned as if a
square of green had had a hole cut in its center, through
which she had thrust her head, and then she had drawn in
the folds about her middle with a wide belt which was
formed of chains of a silvery metal braided together. An-
kle boots latched with the same metal covered her feet.
But she had no bracelets or necklaces.

Now she raised long-fingered hands to push the wind-
tossed hair away from her eyes and at that moment she
no longer gazed about her but stared straight from the
mirror at Myrddin. He was startled, half expecting her to
see him. But there was no flash of recognition in her eyes.

Simple as was her garment, young as she appeared to
be and odd as she looked in the wilderness of this moun-
tain place, yet there was about her an air of authority
such as the daughter of a chieftain might have. Myrddin
pushed forward on his bench, intent on conning her fea-
tures, for she interested him strangely, more than any girl
or woman he had seen. He wondered who she was and
how she had come to be on the mountain. Was she some
visitor at the clan house? Yet never did the girls wander
far from that haven of safety, not in these days when the
land might well hold war bands on the prowl.

It was then that the voice which was so familiar to him
but whose source he had never discovered, unless it issued
in some manner from the mirror itself, spoke;

"This is Nimue and she is Merlin's bane, for she is of
the Others."

"What others?" Myrddin was jolted into demanding.
The mirror voice still called him by that strange name. He
had come to accept it, but to himself he was always
Myrddin.

"Those who would not raise man again," returned the
voice flatly. And after a moment's silence it began anew:

"Listen well. Merlin, for the evil approaches and you
must be armed against it. In the ancient days when our
people came freely to this world there arose a mighty na-
tion, great beyond the dreams of men living now. That

44 Andre Norton

knowledge which was of our gathering we offered freely
to your people, those who could open their minds to it.
And men prospered. Their daughters wived with the Sky
Born. Children bom from such unions were mighty heroes
and people of Power. Nor did we then realize that within
your species lay a flaw.

"But there were others like us who also took ships be-
tween the stars. And it was not to their minds that those
of your kind should rise to greatness and knowledge. Thus
they came secretly into your world and there they found
the flaw, that your kind were prone to violence. They then
used this flaw to their own purposes. And there followed
such wars as your breed now has no knowledge of. For
such were fought with lightning drawn from the skies and
forces which overturned mountains, making land into sea
and sea into land.

"Many of us died in those battles and those we had
taught died also. Then the Dark Ones withdrew to the
skies once more, exulting that man would not rise now to
threaten their own rule, but would remain a brutish thing,
unlearned and unlearning. Some of our children survived,
and they attempted to keep alive the knowledge. But ev-
erything they had depended upon, such machines as you
see about you now, had been swept away in the disasters
of the earth. Metal could not be fashioned and man once
more turned to stone and the bones of his prey for tools
and weapons. Those who had begun their lives in great
cities ended them in rude caves, with nothing but their
hands and such knowledge as they could remember locked
within their heads.

"Those of us who would have come again could not, for
the lovers of the Dark controlled the roads between the
stars. And if we ventured forth we were harried and de-
stroyed. So passed ages beyond counting by your species.
To all things comes a time of decay, however, and our en-
emies began to dwindle, though we, too, had lost very
much. But we had not forgotten those of our own left
helpless on this world and, gathering all that we had left,
we fashioned certain ships which could cross the void.
These had to be small and so could not transport us, but
they could carry certain elements of life within them. And
if any reached its goal, what it carried could start the
renewal of our race. We launched these seed ships with

MERLIN'S MIRROR           45

hope, for the ships of the Dark Ones had not been seen in
our heavens for a long time.

"At last one of our ships came to earth. But the beacon
which drew it here was very old and the forces within it
so limited that it was by happy chance only that it was
still alive enough to bring the seed ship down.

"Thus were you bom. Merlin. And you are set an early
task, for we must have peace in which to grow again. To
enforce this peace you are to be our hands and our liege
man. Now the beacon which brought that first ship here is
dead. But there stands a greater beacon in this land, one
which if properly set alight once more will draw all of our
fleet to it. And to rekindle that is also your task.

"There is now this threat: even as we left beacons to
bring us once again into your world, so did those Dark
Ones station alarms and similar drawing points. And one
such has been alerted. From the seeding left within that
has come this Nimue. She seeks to keep you from your
task. Be warned, for all the cunning of the Dark Ones is
being taught her. And she will have forces which may in
the end match your own. She has already come here,
drawn by the energy of this place, though she has not
found what she seeks, for the defenses placed here still
hold high. But she will search you out and what you will
do she will try to undo, to keep man lesser than what he
can be.

'Two duties have you, one to bring full Power back into
the Great Beacon. And that is a mighty task, for a part of
what was once there has long since been taken overseas to
the Western Island. Some who had a faint remnant of the
old knowledge recognized the Power in it and wished to
try to use it though, having only a small part of learning,
they could not do so.

"Your second duty is to provide such a leader for this
land as to bring all its present quarrels to naught, and es-
tablish a time of peace in which we can come again,
meeting with man and working together.

"These are what you must do, and Nimue will prevent
you if she can. Be warned. Merlin, for you are our hope
and the time grows short wherein this may be accom-
plished. Fail and the Dark shall utterly encompass your
world and man shall be left to brutish life without the sun
of knowledge!"

The likeness of Nimue faded. In her stead was another

46 Andre Norton

picture, that of a place of great standing stones, some
capped with huge lengths from one rough pillar to the
next. And Myrddin knew this place, not from his own
seeking, but because in the years past Lugaid bad spoken
of it.

It had been built by those fabled strangers who had
held this land before Myrddin's own people had spread
across the seas and settled here. It remained a sacred
place, not only for its forgotten builders, but for those
who had come later. Here were tied certain powers of the
sun, so those with the knowledge could venture here and
learn secrets of the stars. Even now men who yearned for
enlightenment dwelt nearby, and it was here Myrddin be-
lieved Lugaid had gone after the death of Nyren.

"This is the Great Beacon," intoned the voice. Then
that picture wavered and was gone. Myrddin sensed that
he was now totally alone, his tasks having been made plain
to him, the warning given.

The boy had much to wonder over. How could he hope
to return a stone as great as those he had looked upon, by
himself, from the Western Isle? He knew it was impos-
sible. To enlist others in such action also seemed impos-
sible. Who now, in the midst of war, with this country
torn asunder, would listen to him? Nor could he tell the
whole story, for it was, he decided shrewdly, past the cre-
dence of all but those such as Lugaid.

Lugaid ...

Myrddin wondered what influence the Druid could
wage with the kings and leaders of the host. His own
memory of the man suggested that Lugaid was not one to
be regarded lightly. But whatever he was now right in that
accounting or if he had just built Lugaid up in his own
mind, he could not tell. However, it would seem that his
first step was to go to the Place of the Sun and there seek
out the Druid. Also, seeing the actual site was better than
envisioning it in the mirror.

Having thought out his plan, the boy sought an opening
between two of the boxes and, wrapped in his cloak, set-
tled himself to sleep. He slept but his dreams were trou-
bled, for it seemed that he was shut into a great box, yet
the walls of that box were as clear as a mountain stream,
and through them he could see what happened.

Nimue stood before the box and she was laughing. Her
hands moved in that sign of protection against sorcery

MERLIN'S MIRROR           47

which he had witnessed so many times in his childhood.
He knew that he was her prisoner, yet in him was a
mighty need to break forth and be about some demanding
task.

Though he beat on the unseen walls of that box until his
flesh was sore and bloody, still he could not win his free-
dom. And always he was haunted by the knowledge that
he was failing in something of great and lasting impor-
tance.

Then the dream changed and there was Lugaid before
him. The Druid lay sleeping on a bedding made of deer-
skin and dried leaves. But Myrddin stooped above him
and laid his hand on the sleeper's forehead between his
eyes. And he heard himself say: "I shall come."

At his words Lugaid's eyes opened to meet Myrddin's
gaze. There was recognition in the Druid's face. And he
spoke in turn, or at least his lips moved, but Myrddin
could catch no meaning though he strained to hear.

Between them rose a wreathing of mist. Lugaid, seeing
that, shrank away, motioning with his hand as if he would
ward off some evil. The mist twisted to form a shadow
face. Once more Myrddin saw Nimue laughing. Then he
awoke.

He had half expected to find that strange girl standing
over him as he had stood over the sleeping Lugaid. But he
was alone and only the steady hum of the squares on ei-
ther side of him broke the silence. But he knew well what
was to be done. He must go to the Place of the Sun and
make sure during the going that he was not trailed by any-
one.

First he must have supplies and a sword. Though he
was no trained warrior, he knew a little of the handling of
a weapon and he was going into debatable territory where
a lone traveler could have his throat slit for either the
mountain pony he rode or the cloak on his back.

So, leading the horse he had brought from Ambrosius'
camp, Myrddin went down the mountain ... to find deso-
lation. For fire and sword had been here, days ago by the
coldness of the ashes. Fighting nausea, he searched among
the ruins, avoiding charred bodies, the dead men who had
defended the walls. Too small a handful.... He wondered
if Vortigen's kidnappers had been part of a larger band
with orders to make very sure the clan of Nyren was
wiped from the earth. There were only one or two

48 Andre Norton

women's bodies, and he guessed that they and the children
had been taken off for sale as slaves.

But he found Julia. She had a broken spear still clasped
in her death hold. By the signs she had died quickly; of a
sword thrust, he thought Bleak-eyed, he brought together
the dead he could find into a shed still left standing. Bags
dribbling grain lay there and of those he built a bier on
which he put those of the kin, Julia at the very end.

Then he sought out a tinderbox and coaxed a spark to
fire the bier, for he did not have the strength to bury
them decently and he could not leave them for the car-
rion-eaters. As the flames rose, he gathered together some
moldy bread, a hunk of mouse-nibbled cheese and a water
bottle he would fill at the stream. He did not look again at
the flames reaching skyward. All he had known in the past
was gone. No evidence of his childhood was left him, only
the will to bring about the orders given in the cave.

So Myrddin rode away into a bitter dawning where the
storm clouds were fast gathering. He breathed deeply,
trying to drive from his lungs the smell of the clan house,
just as he endeavored to close out of his mind what he
had found there.

Even through the rain he rode forward, welcoming the
wash of the storm against his body, because this was a
thing of nature and not some ugliness of man's actions.
And he wondered about the story the mirror had told.
Had it really been true that man had known peace and
such knowledge to maintain it with his fellows? If that
was true, and he had no reason to doubt what he had
been told, then if he could do anything to help return to
that golden age, he would do it gladly.

Within him grew a deep hatred, not of those who had
wrought the destruction at the clan house, for that was the
nature of raiders. But rather his mind raged against those
others who ranged the stars and had such powers as he
could not even imagine, and yet who would withhold from
man the wisdom to make him more than brute beast

Were the Dark Ones jealous of the others, those who
had chosen the way of earth? Or was it fear that moved
them? Did they foresee that mankind was their enemy in
some manner even as the wildcat and the hound were ene-
mies from their births? If that was so, what quality could
possibly lay within man to awaken a fear so deep among
those who were his great superiors? Myrddin longed to be

MERLIN'S MIRROR          49

able to ask all this of the mirror. He would when he re-
turned.

When he returned.... ?

He must twist his thoughts away from all such specula-
tions, concentrate instead on weaving such a course
toward his goal as would throw off any hunters. Because
he was not trained in such evasions, he must make doubly
sure that he did all he could.

So he kept apart from any dwelling, unless it was one
of those ruins that men had abandoned long ago. Twice he
spent a night in one, tireless and lightless, yet marveling at
the building which still had signs of refinements of living
that had never been known in the clan house. The boy
stretched the food he had brought as far as he could and
then snared a rabbit. At least he was woodsrover enough
to do that, and bring down a duck with a slinger's good
aim.

The meat he ate raw, forcing himself to such grisly
meals because he dared light no fire. And never was he
entirely free from the fear that he might indeed be fol-
lowed. Twice he hid deep in bushes, his cloak tightly
wrapped around his mount's head to stifle any whinny,
while parties of horsemen trotted by. He thought they
were levies who followed Ambrosius, but he could never
be sure and wisdom told him to avoid any possible discov-
ery.

Then, with the ache of hunger acute in him, and the
drive of his own uncertainty heavy on him, Myrddin came
at last to the plain and saw before him, as if wrought by
some giant, the great standing stones. He had reached the
Place of the Sun.

5

Myrddin huddled in his cloak. Outside rain dripped from
the roof of the rough hut, but within was a fire and be-
tween his hands a wooden bowl of steaming rabbit soup
thickened with herbs. The door of the hut was only a cur-
tain of hide at which the wind twitched now and again.
He squatted in a daze of fatigue, still too tired to try to
eat, though the smell of the food brought saliva flooding
into his mouth.

Lugaid did not break the silence but sat cross-legged,
fingering a fold of a robe now gray instead of white, one
which was clumsily patched and much frayed. He who
had once been given the seat of honor in the clan house
was now like any beggar haunting the roads where men
passed. But there was no beggar's whine in his voice, and
the eyes which watched Myrddin were both serene and
shrewd.

"Eat and sleep," the Druid said. "There is nothing here
to threaten a man."

"How do you know that I am threatened?" Myrddin
swallowed the soup he had scooped up in a wooden spoon.

"How did I know that you would come?" countered
Lugaid. "The gods give men ways if they have the wit to
use them. Did you yourself not forecast our meeting?"

Myrddin, remembering his dream, nodded. "I dreamed

Lugaid shrugged. "Who can say what is a dream? For it
may well be a message sent or received. I think," he
added slowly, "that you have learned very much. Son of a
Stranger."

"I have learned ..." Myrddin sipped again at the soup.
He wanted to pour out all that had happened to him in
that hidden cave, yet there was still a bridle set upon his
tongue. Perhaps he would never be able to share what he
50

MERLIN'S MIRROR           51

,

had discovered with anyone on this earth. "I have learned
what has brought me to this place, for there is a task to
be done here." At least he encountered no hindrance in
saying that much.

"That I also knew. But not within this hour must you
begin it. Sleep when you have eaten, for rest is also some-
thing which must be given any man."

And the sleep Myrddin had on the pile of leaves and
hides within Lugaid's hut was dreamless, bringing no
threat to make him restless. He woke to find the rain van-
ished, the sun full on his face. The hide of the doorway
had been looped back to let in the day.

Through that door he could also see some of the stand-
ing stones of the Sky People, ring upon ring. And they
were more strange than any ancient building of man, even
those deserted ones in which he had taken shelter during
his journey here. Between two of them now moved a
figure robed in white. As it came closer he saw it was
Lugaid, his beard, now whiter than his robe, untrimmed
and growing down to his waist cord, while his mane of
hair touched his shoulders.

Yet the Druid did not move like an old man, but rather
with the firm step of one still in middle years. In his hands
he carried a bag from which protruded leafed stems of
plants. Myrddin guessed that he had been harvesting wild
herbs and growing things, as he had often done when he
had lived at the clan house.

The boy shook off the cloak which had been his cover-
ing. In place of the chill which yesterday's rain had
brought, the sun now gave a gentle warmth. He was grate-
ful as he stretched his cramped arms and got to his feet,
ducking as he went out of the doorway of the hut. The
passage was a low one, even for his slight height.

"Master," he greeted the Druid.

Lugaid shifted his bag. "You call me master, yet you
are no follower of mine. There is something you want."
The old man smiled. "Aye, you would ask something of
me, and yet you know not just how to frame the words.
But seek not for the pretty phrases. There need be no cer-
emony between us. I gave you your name on your birth-
night."

"Aye," the boy repeated. "The name you gave me,
Myrddin, I have heard it was once granted to a god of

52

Andre Norton

hills. There is another name which has also been set upon
me, that being Merlin."

"Merlin." Lugaid said it slowly, as if he was trying the
sound of it "It is no name of the clan. Yet if it was grant-
ed to you, then it was done for a reason. So, Merlin-
Myrddin, what is it you ask of me?"

"To gain me the ear of Ambrosius the Roman."
There was no astonishment to be read on the face of
the Druid. He asked quietly: "For what reason do you
seek the favor of Ambrosius? And why not speak for
yourself?"

Myrddin answered the second question first, swiftly bar-
ing his story of Vortigen, the prophecy and his interview
with Ambrosius thereafter.

"And you believe that he will not listen, thinking your
wish smacks of sorcery? Does it?"

"If the old knowledge is sorcery, yes. But for this must
I have his favor: a stone must be returned to this Place of
the Sun, a stone which raiders carried to the Western Isle.
It must be reset in its proper place."

Lugaid was nodding slowly before he had finished.
"That tale I have also heard. But Ambrosius is one who
deals with the things of this world, what can be seen, held,
heard, tasted. Legends will not move him. However ..."

"You know a way to reach his favor in this matter?"
Myrddin's voice rose a little as the Druid paused.

"Perhaps. Even the Roman emperors of old had monu-
ments raised to the triumphs of their arms in wars. And
truly this stone is rightly of Britain, stolen from us. Were
Ambrosius to win a notable victory, then, in the flush of
rejoicing, he might be approached on this matter."

"That will need time. Fortune. Chance ..." protested
the boy.

"Youth is ever impatient. I have lived long with time.
Enough to know that you must make it your servant, not
let it be master. There is no way you can do this thing
otherwise. For you cannot move a stone such as these"—
the Druid waved his hand to the rings behind him—"ex-
cept with men, a ship and warriors to clear a path for
you. Do you believe those of the Western Isle will easily
give up what they believe to be a powerful trophy?"

Myrddin strode back and forth, impatience eating at
him. He had little faith in (he Druid's suggestion. It rested
on too many strokes of fortune which might go either

MERLIN'S MIRROR           53

way. Yet for all his tutoring by the mirror, at this moment
he could see no other choice if Lugaid would not help
him. Going again himself to Ambrosius after the firm dis-
missal he had received would gain him nothing.

He came to a stop and placed his hand on a tall blue
stone set in the outer ring. Somehow through that touch
there flooded into him a sense of age so great that it awed
his spirit. Small crystals, pea-sized and cream in color,
were sprinkled over the bluish surface. And it towered so
that in the shadow of its bulk he felt dismay. He did not
know the size of the stone he must seek, but if it were like
this one, then half a hundred men, a hundred even, might
not stir it.

No, Myrddin took hold on his confidence. Men with
all their strength might not stir these from their beds. But
the beings who had built this place had their own secrets
and the mirror had given him some of them. Doubt now
made him wish to try that power.

He looked beyond the stone he touched. The next in
line had fallen and lay with tough, withered grass rising
about it. He reached for his belt knife. No staff could
serve him, not even one such as Lugaid carried cut from
wood, even though that wood might be the sacred oak.
His tool must be metal, and one which would give forth
the right ringing tone.

Unsheathing the knife, Myrddin stooped to set its tip
against the fallen stone. He began to tap, slowly, with a
certain rhythm. And, as he tapped, he voiced the guttural
sounds which the mirror's voice had made him repeat over
and over again until he could give them the right inflec-
tion.

Faster and louder grew the tapping. His throat ached
a little as he strove to utter sounds almost beyond the
range of his own vocal chords. Suddenly he was aware
that another chanting had joined his, that Lugaid was fac-
ing him across the bulk of the stone.

Tap—tap—his hand moved so fast, building up the
sound's measures—thus and thus and thus—Myrddin's
face grew shiny with sweat, his arm was weary, yet he
would not surrender to the weaknesses of his body.
Tap—chant—tap—

He was so intent on what he did that the first move-
ment of the stone caught him nearly unaware. It was stir-
ring in the furrow which its weight had caused when it

54

Andre Norton

toppled generations ago, stirring as some animal aroused
from a long sleep.
Tap—chant—

The rock was rising, he had not been deceived! Yet he
could not hold it so and, as his hand dropped, his wrist
weak with the effort, the megalith settled back into its
groove. Myrddin sank to his knees beside it, drawing his
breath in long gasps, the strength gone out of him. If he
had tried to move at that moment he would have mea-
sured his length beside that of the stone.
"Well done. Sky Son!"

His ears rang but not enough to deafen them to
Lugaid's words. The Druid also leaned against the stone
on the other side, gazing at Myrddin in astonishment.

"But," he continued, "you must have a better tool than
a knife for this work." He swung around, still resting one
hand to steady himself against the stone. "And you may
gain it, if you are strong enough in spirit."
"Where?"

"From the grasp of those gone before." The Druid
pointed to the low ring-mounds beyond the circle of
stones. "For such did they work with in their own time.
And when they died their tools were buried with them, for
they were not to be fitted to the hands of lesser men."

"To take from the dead!" That part of Myrddin which
was of his own world revolted from the suggestion. The
dead were jealous of their treasures. Men must be very
reckless, and without normal clan feeling, to break the rest
of those gone before.

"You only take what they would give you if they were
alive to put such a tool into your hand," Lugaid replied.
"There are those resting here who are of Sky Blood also.
And when a man dies, he lays aside one body for another,
as worn-out clothing is dropped and forgotten. There are
no guardians here, only methods to prevent such tools
from coming into the wrong possession."

"But—" Myrddin struggled up, wavering, needing to
cling to the stone to keep his feet. "A man could search a

lifetime among all these graves and not find the right
one."

"Like calls to like," Lugaid replied calmly. "Look." He
touched the neck of his robe and, from beneath that cov-
ering, drew out a tiny bag of linen stained with sweat as if
he had worn it a long time. He loosed the drawstring,

MERLIN'S MIRROR           55

which was also the thong to hold it suspended, and into
the palm of one hand he shook a scrap of metal which
gleamed almost with a jewel's fire. "Take it, feel it," he or-
dered. Reluctantly Myrddin held out his own hand, felt
the Druid drop that scrap into it.

Then he brought it closer to his eyes, rolled the frag-
ment across his palm with a fingertip. The thing was not
bronze, he was sure, nor had it the softness of pure gold.
With that coloring it could be neither tin nor iron nor sil-
ver ... perhaps like bronze it was a mixture of more than
one metal, but if so he could not guess which. In color the
scrap was a very light silver, yet across it, small as the
piece was, there played a rainbow of colors, changing with
the movement of the bit.

"That is of the Sky People," Lugaid told him. "We have
not handled such material since the age before the world
turned over. But if those who wrought this Place of the
Sun lie here, then this shall let us know where any of its
matter lies hidden. As those who have the gift seek for
water with a rod and their own senses, so can this be
used." He pulled up the hem of his robe and carefully un-
raveled a thread from its frayed edge. He tested the
thread's strength by jerking it between his fingers.

Next he carefully tied it to the small fragment of metal
and wound the other end of the string between two fin-
gers, then held out his hand so the metal swung freely be-
low. "Thus do we seek," he said.

Together they prospected the ring-mounds. Some were
shaped like disks and some were circles, broken at one
side or the other. They climbed each one, Lugaid's hands
outstretched, the fragment dangling from the thread.

By nightfall Myrddin's confidence was broken. He was
near to denying that there was any hope of Lugaid's
device showing them some strange other-world tool. Yet
the Druid seemed quietly content with their labors and his
spirits, when they returned to the hut, were unshaken.

"If not today," he .said as he fed bits of leaves into a
pot he hung to boil, "then tomorrow."

"And tomorrow and tomorrow ..." the boy commented
sourly.

"If necessary." Lugaid nodded. "Myrddin-Merlin, above
all else you must leam patience, for you seem lacking in
that. But so is ever the fault of youth."

"As you said before," Myrddin commented as he fed

56 Andre Norton

their small fire with another stick, "I must wait for Am-
brosius' possible favor, I must wait for searching by metal,
I must wait—perhaps too long!"

"I do not ask for the reason for your need." Lugaid
stirred the pot with vigor. "But now I do ask the need for
haste."

"There are two things I must do," the boy said, "though
why these have been laid on me, I do not know. I did not
ask to be born of a Sky Lord." He sat back on his heels,
staring moodily into the fire. "Little have I had of my her-
itage except trouble upon trouble."

"No heritage is free from that," observed Lugaid. "If
you were to lay aside your life's labor, then what would
you choose? The sword of a warrior with perhaps a quick
death, achieving nothing by your dying but the cutting
down of the life of another?"

Myrddin thought of the clan house as he had seen it
last. That was the fruit of war. That was the way of brute
man, Ae way to which his people were condemned unless
there was the promised change. He had no choice, being
who and what he was, except to carry the orders and the
burden laid on him by the voice of the mirror.

"I must do what I must do," he said heavily. "And if
this waiting is a part of it, then I must endure it. But I
have also been warned." He wondered if be could find his
tongue free to mention that other to Lugaid, since so
much of the mirror's knowledge was locked within his
silence. "There is"—he discovered that he could con-
tinue—"another abroad whose mission is to defeat what I
would do."

"One of the Dark Ones," Lugaid agreed.
Myrddin was surprised. How much did the Druid know
of that?

He saw Lugaid smile. "Ah, it is true that here"—he
tapped his forehead with one finger—"I have the lore of
old. Those who would be of our number must study the
lore for twenty years. Never can it be put in writing after
the manner of the Romans, but rather kept from one gen-
eration to the next by memory alone. Aye, there are the
Dark Ones who in the Sky times brought full measure of
trouble upon our world. That they, too, have their ser-
vants—what could be more believable? So there is a Dark
One sent to defeat you. Do you know the manner of the
enemy so you can be warned?"

MERLIN'S MIRROR           57

"She is a girl." Without closing his eyes Myrddin had a
sudden vision of Nimue standing on the mountainside, her
fine hair lifted playfully by the wind, her gaze as intent as
when the mirror had first shown her to him. "I know only
that her name is Nimue, though of what clan or tribe or
where she may be ..." He shook his head.

"Nimue—a name of Power, for it was one given in the
old days to a water goddess. I shall remember."

They ate in silence, each occupied with his own
thoughts, and just as silently they lay down to sleep. Yet
Myrddin felt a companionship which he had lacked before
and a sense of well-being he had seldom known, except
perhaps in the cave of the mirror. Nor did he dream.

As the sun broke on the next day they were back at
their search. This time Myrddin went with more eager-
ness. Lugaid's belief in what he was doing seemed to be
catching. And if patience was what he himself must culti-
vate, then the sooner he was about that, the better.

The sun was hot overhead as they climbed a ring-
mound slightly larger than its neighbors. And that sun was
reflected in small glitters, for the metal bit had begun to
swing, moving ever faster. Lugaid laughed.

"Did I not promise that like would greet like? Here is
given proof, boy!" He stamped the heel of his sandal on
the turf which roofed the mound. "Beneath this lies what
we seek."

He tucked the fragment into its hidden pocket and hur-
ried back to the hut, returning with a bronze ax. "Since
we lack a proper spade," he said, "this must serve, this
and fhat knife of yours."

With a strength which belied his appearance of age,
Lugaid straightaway cut into the root-bound turf. It was
hard work, and they took turns at using the ax and scrap-
ing away the loosened soil with knife and large bowl. By
sundown they had reached a length of massive stone
which must roof in the grave space. Lugaid was clearing
along that, seeking the end where they might find an open-
ing.

The sun had gone; twilight was creeping in. Lugaid
stood within the trench they had cut.

"Light! A torch! For we cannot leave this to the night!"

Myrddin straightened, his earth-stained dagger in his
hand. He tossed aside another bowl of earth. Inwardly he
knew that the Druid was right—they must not leave the

58 Andre Norton

opened barrow during the night—though the human part
of him shrank from invading a place of the dead during
the hours of darkness.

Yet he laid aside his clumsy tools and hurried back
across the end of the blue stone circle, dodging among the
megaliths until he reached the hut. The fire, well covered,
still had its coals alive. The boy thrust two torches into the
embers, then swung them around his head, letting the air
feed their flames into life.

One in each hand, he hastened back intent only on
reaching the barrow. But his concentration was suddenly
broken by a sensation of alarm. Though he looked from
right to left and back again, he saw no movement among
the stones whose shadows were beginning to reach like
groping fingers over the earth. This wariness might only be
because of what they were going to do. He went more
slowly, however, and, as he went, he kept careful look
around him.

Once more at the digging, he drove the pointed ends of
the torches into the earth. By their flickering he could see
that Lugaid had not been idle during his absence, for the
end of the stone block had been reached, and now the
Druid was cutting his way down deeper to reveal what-
ever door might once have existed.

There was another stone set there, smaller but upright,
and it yielded to their combined leverage with the ax,
though the tool's metal broke into two pieces as the stone
moved. Myrddin squatted down, his smaller body better
fitted to the opening. Lugaid grasped the nearer of the
torches and brought the fire closer to give him light.

There were things within: jars, a brace of spears and
something wrapped in a covering which puffed into dust
when the air reached it. But Myrddin did not want to look
at that. Instead he searched for the gleam of metal, and
the fire suddenly revealed it.

With infinite care the boy thrust his arm in the opening
and groped until his fingers closed on something cold and
solid. He drew it toward him, bringing a sword out into the
light of the torches.

The blade could only be of the same alloy as that scrap
Lugaid treasured. Unpitted by time, straight and smooth
as if it had been forged within a year, it answered the
flames with a rippling of rainbow light. The hilt was wound
around with wire and a great dull jewel crowned the pom-

MERLIN'S MIRROR

59

mel. Carefully Myrddin passed it to the Druid and then
began pushing back the sealing rock with frantic haste.

"We must hide this," he panted. "Out there"—he did
not turn his head above the trench they had tunneled—
"from out there, we are watched!"

He heard the hiss of Lugaid's breath.

"Then take you this, boy, and go! Leave me the light. I
shall close the barrow. But this must not be risked!"

He held out the sword and Myrddin took it once more,
wishing he had his cloak to wrap that length of blade, for
it seemed to gather light from the torches and reflect

it again like some kind of lamp.

Holding the weapon tight against him, he ran down the
side of the barrow, heading for the hut. And the knowl-
edge that one watched among the stones was so clear that
he expected, every step of his flight, to have a challenge

hurled at him.

It could be some wandering tribesman, even a scout

from a far-roving party of Saxons. And what he carried
now, had they caught clear sight of it, would be booty
enough to bring them down upon him. Yet he inwardly
believed mat the watcher was not any ordinary enemy.

He had left the door curtain looped up when he had
gone for the torches. And that fire he had stirred to life
was still flickering, making a well-marked oblong to guide

him.

Myrddin was within ten paces of the doorway when a

figure separated itself deliberately from one of the stand-
ing stones and ran fleetly toward him. The boy swung
around to face that apparition. The hilt of the sword fitted
into his hand as if the weapon had been forged for him
alone. Its blade was far longer than the swords the Ro-
mans used, which he had seen among Ambrosius' host,
more slender than those of any tribal making.

As he swung the sword before him the length gleamed,
seemed to drip light and color. With it in his hand,
Myrddin at long last knew what it meant to be a warrior,
the fierce excitement that could grip a man with battle
hunger. He did not realize he had bared his teeth, that he

uttered a low cry.

But if he was prepared to blood the sword he had taken

from the dead, he did not cut down that shadow unheed-
ingly. For she stood within the full light of the doorway.
And he knew her.

60

Andre Norton

"Nimuel"

pleTth^sotT ollly saw her laugh but heard the "P-
^ "Merlin!" There was mockery in the name as she said

"Brave warrior." The girl's light mockery stung, setting
him, in his startlement, a little off guard. "What would you
now do, strike me to earth with that weapon of yours af-
ter the manner of fighting men in this dark land?"

Myrddin lowered the sword. She made him feel foolish,
childlike. Since he knew her to be what she was, though,
he must not let her remain in control of their meeting.

"Those who flit in the dark," he returned, "and come
secretly so, must expect to see a bared blade awaiting
them."

"Do you believe that iron will master me. Merlin? Do
you still cling to the superstitions of your kind?" Her eyes
glistened like a cat's in the light from the door. And she
smiled. "Better waste your strength on such as them!" Ni-
mue whirled and pointed back toward the stones from
which she had come.

Things moved behind the rocks, things from a crazed
man's nightmares. But Myrddin knew that they were not
really there. Just as he had drawn on his own dawning
powers to make the High King see dragons at war, so was
she now striving to frighten him with illusions. As he
looked at them and away again, they faded and were
gone.

The smile vanished from her face and her lips flattened
against her teeth. She hissed like a serpent or an angry
cat.

"Do you think," she cried, "that you have all the learn-
ing of the Older Ones within you? You fool, it would take
years upon years to even begin such studies. You are but a
boy—"

"And you are a girl," he made steady answer. "No, I do
not claim more learning than I have. But such play as that
is for those who are totally ignorant."
61

62

Andre Norton

She flung her head, so that her hair moved on her
shoulders.

"Look on me," she commanded. "Look on me, Merlin!"

Her ivory skin shone with a glow of its own, her fea-
tures altering subtly. Beauty flowed about her like a cloak.
Suddenly there was the flowering wreath of the Midsum-
mer Maiden on her head, the perfume of the blossoms
reaching his nostrils. Her garment of green was gone, her
slender body fully revealed to his eyes.

"Merlin . . ." Her voice was honey-sweet and low; it
promised much. She came closer to him hesitatingly, as if
she would touch him and yet some maiden fears kept her
aloof. "Merlin," she crooned. "Put down that drinker of
dead men's blood, come with me. There is more in this
world than you have dreamed of. It awaits you....
Come!" She held out her hand.

Manhood stirred in him for the first time, hot and ea-
ger. He knew sensations he had never experienced before.
The perfume of her flowers, the enticement of her body—
his grip on the hilt of the ancient sword was not so tight.
All of him which was of the earth wanted her.

"Merlin, they have deceived you," she said softly. "This
is life, not what they would make it for you, shutting you
apart from everything within you, straining now for free-
dom. Come to me, learn what it is to be truly alive!
Come, Merlin!"

She raised both her arms, held them out to him, inviting
his embrace. Her eyes were slumberously heavy, her
mouth curved, waiting for his kiss.

"Merlin ..." Her voice faded to a whisper, a promise
of things he only dimly understood.

It was the sword which saved him. Its cold length
brushed against his leg as he nearly dropped it. From that
touch came a kind of shock which alerted him to her en-
chantment. He spoke only one word:

"Witch!"

Once more her eyes glittered. The flower wreath disap-
peared and she was again covered by her rough green
robe. Now she stamped her foot and the hands she had
reached out to him became claw-like, extended to rip the
flesh from his bones.

"Fool!" she cried loudly. "You have made your choice
and you must abide by it from this hour forth. Between us
there is only war, and do not think that I will be a weak-

MERLIN'S MIRROR

63

ling as a foe! At each triumph you shall find me waiting,
and if my strength does not prevail tonight, there will be
other days ... and nights. Remember that. Merlin!"

As she had come out of the night, so did she mesh back
into it, mingling so quickly with the shadows that he could
not truly have said where she went. And with her went
that feeling of being watched. Now he knew that he was
free, for a while at least, so he drew a deep breath of re-
lief.

But he waited for a long moment, listening, testing with

that other sense the mirror had taught him to use. No, she
was gone. There was nothing here but fhat sensation of
long-ago Power which was the nature of the Place of the
Sun. For where men have worshipped with their whole
hearts—where they have wrought things that are unseen,
unheard and cannot be grasped in hand, only in mind and
heart—there remains forever the breath of that Power,
diminished perhaps by the long passing of time, yet none-
theless abiding.

Holding fhe sword with both hands, Myrddin entered
the hut, set about building up the fire. He kept the weapon
ever by his side as he sought out food, put some of the
coarse porridge which was Lugaid's principal food in the
pot to boil. As he worked he listened for the coming of
the Druid, eager not to be left alone.

Not that he feared Nimue. He did not believe she could
call up any strength to outweigh what he himself could
summon. But her first attack was one he had not foreseen.
He fought resolutely now against tile picture which
memory kept presenting of Nimue ivory pale in the night,
of that slumberous, beguiling voice. Not for him was any
woman, fhat he understood. He must have no ties such as
were the right of his human heritage, lest those ties blind
him to the purpose which was meant to fill all his days.

"Who has been here?"

Myrddin was startled out of his inner turmoil by that
sharp demand. Lugaid'had looped back the door curtain,
stood tall and frowning within the opening.

"How did you ... ?" the boy began.

"How did I know? By what Power I have learned!
There is a hostile force awake this night Yet it is not any
guardian aprowl." The Druid's nostrils expanded as he
turned his head slightly, half looking over his shoulder.

64 Andre Norton

The skirts of his robe were heavily plastered with earth,
his hands battered and bruised, soil caked under the nails.

"She was here, Nimue," Myrddin said.

"Ah, that is evil hearing! Did she see the sword?"

"Aye. She—she strove to bind me to her." Myrddin felt
ill at ease, yet to share this with the Druid was to lighten
somehow the burden of that memory, help to banish it
from his mind.

"Like that, was it?" Lugaid nodded. "Aye, that would
be the beginning with her. Perhaps if you had been older
... No, I do not think she could reach you so. But be
warned, now that she is on your trail you will not find her
easy to put aside. The Dark Ones have their own Power
and the beguiling of men is a large part of it. Yet I do not
think she can come nigh or weave her spells too well when
you have a hand on that." He pointed to the sword.

"But as you have said, time may be growing short. I
had not realized it. Thus I shall do as you have asked of
me—I shall go to Ambrosius."

Myrddin knew a sudden surge of relief. He sensed how
dangerous it would be to linger too long here where JNi-
mue had tracked him. Yet this was partly his own place.
He felt a strange kinship with the stones, as if they had
once possessed some life of their own and had given him
some heritage with them.

The boy slept with the sword against his body that
night, one hand lying on its hilt. And if the girl who had
come to him in the dark strove to weave any spell about
his dreams, she did not succeed, for he did not dream at
all. Instead he awoke with the day not only refreshed but
more confident that what he must do would indeed be
done.

Lugaid rode away on the pony Myrddin had brought
out of the hills. The boy saw him go before visiting two of
the snares the Druid had set. He was lucky; both held
game. He toasted meat on an improvised spit and ate lust-
ily.

Later he fashioned a rude scabbard from sections of
tree bark bound together with rags torn from his cloak
and so wore the sword constantly in the daytime. Its mar-
velous blade hidden from view, he slept beside it at night.
For hours he wandered among the stones, setting his
hands at times to one or another, feeling a kind of
renewal of spirit rise in him from that touch.

MERLIN'S MIRROR           65

For the first time he thought objectively about the train-
ing of the mirror. Much of what he had been told by that
bodiless voice he could not use, for the metal wonders of
the Sky People could no longer be made on his own
world. These required too much in the way of special
learning. What he had absorbed was, he guessed, only a
very small portion of the knowledge which had once been

common to his kind.

He could summon illusions as he had for Vortigen,
hold them for a short space. He knew a little of healing,
not only through the use of herbs from the fields and
woods, but also by the laying on of hands and an ability to
"see" the source of others' ills of mind or body. Thereaf-
ter, he might concentrate on rebuilding that which had
been injured or harmed through sickness. But such an art
required in return the belief of the victim that he could so
be healed. And Myrddin doubted whether many now liv-
ing could retain that belief. It was too close to what men
looked down on, naming it sorcery.

He had been given the magic of tongues so that he
could listen to the speech of a stranger and, by concentrat-
ing on the sounds, sort out in part the thoughts which had
given birth to the words. He knew the magic of weight-
lessness—he had briefly applied it in this very place to the
fallen stone—and he would have to draw on it in full if he
was going to complete the task set him.

Now, as he wandered among the stones, he evaluated
his learning critically. Perhaps he had more than Lugaid,
but his knowledge was far less than it might have been
had his race not fallen so far back into barbarism. He
knew this, and it created a feeling of frustration within
him. It was like standing in the door of a hall rich in trea-
sure, knowing that the treasure was freely given to any
man who might lay a hand on it, yet not having the power
to cross the barrier between himself and the hall.

Yet he drew comfort from the stones, anticipation from
the sword he wore with its bark concealment well lashed
about it. And he often wondered for whom that weapon
of the Sky metal had actually been forged. Had that other
been one like himself, the son of no father? For the voice
had shown him enough of the wonders of that other age
to let him know that the Sky People did not fight so, man
against man, face to face. Rather they commanded light-
ning flash and thunderbolt to slay horribly from a dis-

66

Andre Norton

tance. He had shuddered and been vilely ill when the mir-
ror had once reflected a clear picture from the final days
when the world itself, so deeply injured by the wrath of
being against being, had burst forth with inner flames.
Seas boiled, mountains and land rose and fell as Myrddin
himself might now idly toss a clod of soil about.

The boy longed to try the power of the sword and the
chant, to return to its upright base one of the fallen
stones. However, caution held him from such a trial. He
did not know whether using his gift could recall Nimue, so
he waited with a patience he schooled into himself for the
return of the Druid.

It was spring now, though he had lost the strict mea-
surement of days. The grass about the stones took on a
new greenness, as fresh blades pushed up to hide the brit-
tle skeletons of those frost had killed. He found small
flowers budding, some already in bloom. Birds were in
song, and twice he watched quietly as fox and vixen
leaped and played among the stones. In himself there was
a restlessness he tried to subdue. Twice he dreamed of Ni-
mue, and awoke with a feeling of shame that his own self
wished to betray what was the most steadfast in him. And
always he watched the faint trace of path down which
Lugaid had gone.

He counted off the days by putting small stones in a line
from the hut door. And it was when he had put down the
fifteenth of those that the Druid returned. He did not ride
alone but headed a company of six spearmen of the tribes,
who lagged behind as they approached the Place of the
Sun, sending glances of uneasiness at the standing stones.

Lugaid gave a grunt of relief as he slid from the back of
Ifae pony. He raised a hand in greeting as Myrddin ran
toward him, for that moment all boy in his excitement

and relief.

"It is well?" he demanded as he neared the Druid. But
there was no lighting of the other's face and Myrddin
slowed, looking uncertainly beyond at the men who clus-
tered now together, not dismounting, but rather looking
like they would boot their horses into a gallop to be free
of this place at the slightest excuse.

"Only in part," Lugaid returned. "Ambrosius is dead."

Myrddin came to an abrupt stop. "How did he die—in
battle?"

"Not so. He died by the will of that she-wolf from

MERLIN'S MIRROR

67

overseas, though her hand reached from the grave to do
it. For she and her High King had perished in the flames
of their clan tower only one day earlier. The fate she had
sent to her enemy still reached him through the hands of
one of her maids. The truth was known too late."

A death in battle, Myrddin thought, like his clan kin,
would have been fitting. Such an ending as this was a
blackness for Ambrosius, who had deserved a clean sever-
ence of his life's cord with good sword steel.

"Peace on him," said the boy softly. "He was one whose
like we shall not see again." Something stirred in him
which was perhaps a fragment of memory. But it was not
yet time for that to ripen into action and it was quickly
gone.

"Aye, he was a hero. And as a hero he will lie here!"
Lugaid pointed to the Place in the Sun. "Your quest
comes oddly to fruiting, Myrddin. Ambrosius' half brother
now leads the war host. He is of the tribes in his ways and
so would follow the old pattern. I have spoken to Uther,
who men now call Pendragon, and he is willing that the
Stone of Kings be brought from the hold of the overseas
barbarians back to Britain again, that it may mark the
grave of a hero."

Odd indeed were the quirks of fate. At that moment,
great as Myrddin's desire was to fulfill the order he had
been given, he wished as strongly that it might have come
about in another way and that death had not been a part
of it. He tried to remember Uther and summoned up only
a fleeting mind-picture of a tall young man, his red-gold
hair on his shoulders after the old fashion, his face ruddy,
his mouth curved in laughter. But in that picture dwelt lit-
tle of the force which he had felt in the dark, clean-
shaved, Roman-seeming Ambrosius.

"We ride for the coast with this guard the King has
sent. There shall be a ship waiting, and with it a company
of warriors. For it may be that we must fight our way to
the stone, buying it back in blood," the Druid was continu-
ing.

Myrddin shook his head slowly. "I would we did not
take it by force...."

Yet he knew that in the end they would do whatever
they must to get the Stone of Kings.

As they journeyed Lugaid told him more of the new
ruler.

68 Andre Norton

Ambrosius had never claimed that title, holding strictly
to the one granted by the Emperor overseas, Dux Britan-
niae. But it seemed with Vortigen dead, his forces crushed
or withdrawing sullenly from the field after an overwhelm-
ing defeat, Uther was willing to reach his hand for the
High King's crown and no man protested.

"He has the tribes declaring for him," Lugaid remarked,
"more so than they would for one of Roman blood. Yet
those who followed his brother will also cleave to him,
since he is now the only hope left. The Saxons have suf-
fered such a pounding as they will not forget for a space.
Still, I think Pendragon's men will ride often and
swords will not rest long or easily in their sheaths.

"Uther has all the virtues, and also the faults of the
tribes. Because he is a mighty fighter, they will follow him
as they have always followed an open-handed hero. But
such a hold on one's men is hard to keep. He lacks, I
think, the deep-rooted fervor of his brother. Ambrosius
knew only one task in all his life, to restore safe rule to
Britain, though he was wrong in believing that it would
come again from Rome. The day of emperors overseas is
done. We fight our own battles and do not expect to see
tile Eagles march again along the roads they built."

"You find some flaw in Uther?" They had drawn apart
from their escort and those warriors appeared very con-
tent to let them go at a distance, as if they did not desire
close company with the Druid and his companion.

"No more flaw than lies in any man who is apt to fol-
low his own desires too much. Just now Uther's desire is
to forge a disturbed land into a peaceful one under his
hand. Thus his wish serves a good purpose. But in the fu-
ture ..." Lugaid shrugged. "I do not try to read a man's
fate too deeply; therein lie the seeds of despair. It is
enough that he has given you your chance, Sky Son, to do
what you feel must be done."

Myrddin was sure that Lugaid was evasive and had
some uneasiness. He did not press. As the Druid had said,
it was enough that Uther was minded to give them this
chance to snare the King Stone.

They had a good wind to take them across the channel
to the Western Isle. There they made harbor in a small
bay with no sign of man. For the first day it was as if they
traveled through a deserted land, though the men of the
company were constantly wary and sent scouts ahead.

MERLIN'S MIRROR           69

This was their power, that of battle, and they knew it
well.

It was near noon on the second day when a scout came
pounding back with the news that he had marked an am-
bush in a narrow glen. His wariness saved them, for the
men dismounted and slunk through the countryside using
any cover offered, until they were able to ambush those in
rum and the battle became a bloody rout. Myrddin and
Lugaid saw only the hurt bodies which they tended. But
the trained attack of their escort brought in a prisoner of
note.

He held his head high, though a gash in his face had
opened like a second mouth and his sword arm was bro-
ken.

"Patch him up so he will live," the captain of their
force advised. "For this is Gilloman who claims to rule
that mountain land where the King Stone now stands.
With him in our hands we can perhaps strike a goodly
bargain."

But the young ruler spat on the ground at their feet and
tried to laugh, though he could not do it well because of
his hurt face.

"Are you giants?" he mouthed. "You do not look like
giants, but like men even smaller than my people. If you
strive to uproot the King Stone and take it hence you will
fail."

"For that matter," Myrddin answered him, "we shall
wait and see. But your hurt we tend now."

At first it seemed that he would struggle- in their hands
even though they meant him good. But at last he surren-
dered. Lugaid set the bones of his arm, binding the limb
tight between two lengths of wood. And Myrddin put a
plaster of herbs over the gash in his face. While he held it
so the boy concentrated his will on the uniting of the torn
flesh as the voice from the mirror had said how to do it.

And even if the prisoner did not believe, he looked odd-
ly at Myrddin, saying': "What manner of youth are you?
The pain is gone out of my flesh. There is true healing in
your hands."

"It is my gift, even as battle might is your gift, King.
And I would not have your death. Listen to a bargain: if
I can move this stone, lift it from off the ground by the
efforts of my hands and the summoning of my voice, then

70 Andre Norton

will you swear a truce for your people and let us take the
stone to Britain without raising weapons against us again?"

Once more Gilloman strove to laugh. "No man living
can keep that bargain. So if it is not some jest, then I give
my bond of honor. Lift the stone by hand and voice and I
shall bespeak my people. They will give you safe conduct
to it. But when you fail, then stand ready to meet our at-
tack."

"It is well," was Myrddin's answer.

Thus they rode across the country and on both sides,
and behind and before, gathered those who had kind bond
with Gilloman, ready to cut them down at the failure of
the trial Myrddin had taken on himself. There came the
day when he fronted not a single stone, but a dozen such,
some set end in earth and towering, others lying prone.
Yet he did not hesitate but walked swiftly among them
until he came to one of middle size. It bore on its side a
carving he knew well—the spiral circle of the Sky People.

He freed the sword from its covering of bark and the
sun struck rainbows of light from it, so that he heard all
those watching murmur. He raised the sword over the
stone, not edge down, but rather so that the flat of the
blade would meet its surface. Then he began to tap slowly
while he chanted, this time finding it easier to reach those
lower, more guttural notes which he sought. Paster grew
the tapping, deeper the notes of his chant. And the flash
of light from the moving sword veiled both blade and the
hand which held it.

Now the sound of metal on stone was almost continu-
ous, so that one could not detect the pauses when the
sword was raised, so fast did Myrddin strike. And the
growl of his chant mingled with the ring of the sword so
that the sound made a whole which could not be divided
one from the other.

The stone moved, raised from its earth bed. Yet
Myrddin did not pause, only beat out his furious rhythm,
singing stronger, deeper. With the stone so raised, he did
not reach down to strike any longer, but his arm was held
at shoulder level as he kept up the beat.

He began to pivot, moving slowly, scarcely a quarter of
an inch at a time. The stone also swung with him until it
was crosswise of the furrow in which it had lain. Now he
took one step and another, and with him came the stone.
He had no eyes for anything but it and the flash of the

MERLIN'S MIRROR           71

sword. And in this moment he held back the weariness of
his body, putting all his will and determination into what
he would do.

On he moved and, through the air, well off the ground,
came the stone, controlled by the vibrations as the mirror
had told him might be done—given the right stone, the
right metal to use. Thus he passed from among the other
standing stones and brought his burden a little way down
the slope.

Then Myrddin lowered the sword and the stone settled
under it, lying once more on the earth. He raised his blade
and held it quiet and his voice, hoarse and strained, was
stilled. But he looked beyond the length of the block to
where Gilloman stood.

The face of the young ruler was practically covered
with bandages; above them his eyes were wide and filled
with awe. Now he raised his hand in salute.

"You have done what I would have sworn no man
could accomplish, save one of the God-bom Heroes. As I
bargained so shall it be. Since the King Stone comes to
your summons it is free to go, and you and your men with
it. I know not the source of your magic, but I wish it well
out of my land, for it is hard to live under the threat of
such Power."

Thus did Myrddin win the King Stone without further
bloodshed. And so it was brought back to Britain, to rest
in the place from which it had been drawn so long ago. It
was raised openly to the glory of Ambitsius—yet
Myrddin knew that it had another use also, and one he
must strive to discover in the days to come.

7.

Uther Pendragon was High King and there was a mea-
sure of peace in Britain. Myrddin stood in the Place of the
Sun. Although the King Stone lay where it must be placed
for the purposes of those he served—and he knew he served
them blindly—yet his task was not finished. For Uther, as
Ambrosius before him, was not the king he sought.

Lugaid had been right. Although Uther had the virtues
of his warrior blood, he also had its faults. Quick to anger,
his control over that anger was not contained with such
iron bonds as Ambrosius had in his time set upon himself.
Handsome, hot-tempered and hot-blooded, he was one to
follow his own desires. Now he came riding out of the
morning to front Myrddin across the King Stone.

He waved back his shield companions so that he stood
alone and there was puzzlement open in his face as he
faced the youth.

"You are he whom they call Myrddin?" he asked
abruptly, as if he could not believe that.

"I am he."

"Yet you are but a youth. How can such as you be this
prophet, this one who moves rocks by his will and the tap-
ping of a sword? Who are you in truth?"

"I have been told I am son of no man," Myrddin re-
turned. "As for my gift, it was given to me for a certain
purpose, first that the King Stone return into its place for
the good of this land."

Uther set his hands on his hips; his chin was thrust for-
ward a little as if he were about to utter a challenge.

"Who are you to decide the good of Britain? You have
not even bloodied that sword of yours in her service, if
rumor speaks true." He nodded toward the blade, once
more hidden by its bark trappings, where it hung from
Myrddin's belt.

72

MERLIN'S MIRROR           73

"The sword is not mine, lord. I only hold it guardian
for a space. And my gifts are other than the gifts of war."

"I have heard that you prophesy. If that is true, tell me
if Pendragon has won!"

"He has won," agreed Myrddin. "Yet shall the white
dragon return and return again. Lord King, hammer this
land into one kingdom, if you would rule in truth.

Uther nodded. "That needs no prophecy, boy. It is only
what any man knows must be done. Tell me something
which I cannot foresee for myself. My brother did not like
sorcery, and those of the belief of the Christus, who now
come into the land, say such is of the Dark and should be
driven out. I am of two minds yet, boy. Tell me some-
thing I can believe and I shall give protection in return, a
place for you at my hall, honor due—"

Myrddin shook his head. "Lord King, I am not for
courts nor the honors you offer. Your brother once said to
me that as a warrior I might ride with him, but as a
prophet I had no place among his liege men. If you lean
even the slightest on my words, then this fear of theirs will
touch you also. It is better you have no such forces of dis-
sension in your court. But you have asked for a foresee-
ing, and I shall give you one:

"You will breed an heir, but do this in a hidden fashion.
And he will be such a king as this land has not seen since
the days of the Emperor Maximus, perhaps even greater
than that one who seized the Purple and made us safe for
a space. His name shall be remembered through the cen-
turies. And if he does as he is designed to do, then shall
this land be blessed above all others of the world."

"Most men breed sons," Uther returned, "if they have
not daughters. And who will come after me—that is of no
matter now. Nor shall / know to prove you true or false.
Do better than this, sorcerer, if you would show your
magic."

"Lord King, do you expect me to summon a clap of
thunder, or turn your men'yonder into a pack of hounds?
I deal not with what you call magic but with Old Wisdom.
This much I can say: before next year winds to its end
you shall have a use for me. When that moment comes let
your messenger ride to where stood the clan house of Ny-
ren and there among its ruins light a fire. I shall answer to
your sending."

74 Andre Norton

Uther laughed. "Boy, I cannot think what use I would
have for you. It seems to me that your talents are small
ones, mainly dealing with illusions and making men see
what is not. You are right that my men are mistrustful of
your magic and you are better apart. I do not know what
manner of man you will make when your years are ripe,
but I think that we cannot deal easily together, you and
L"

He swept his cloak about him and walked away.
Myrddin watched him go but in those moments he had a
flash of vision. That tall man in his scarlet cloak, his
bronze armor, was suddenly bent and shrunk, his face
drawn and bluish, his strong-muscled arms hardly more
than sticks over bone; death looked from his eyes. Not in
battle would death come to Uther, Myrddin knew in that
moment of other sight, but by treachery and slow degrees.
And he would have called after Uther in warning, but he
knew any words he spoke would be shrugged aside.

He sighed, thinking his a perilous gift if it would show
him what he could not aid; he would be better off without
it if he could see a man's death lying behind his face and
had to keep still about it. But he did not turn away at
once from the King Stone, rather rested his hand on its
surface and wondered mightily what there was about this
one stone, out of the many in this place, that made it so
necessary to the purposes of the Sky People. The mirror
had told him it was a beacon, but he could not understand
its properties as such. He only knew that it held within it
the same feeling of leashed energy he had sensed in many
of the other stones of this place.

Lugaid was waiting for him when he trudged back to
the hut. The Druid had made a bundle of Myrddin's few
possessions. He held the pony bridled and ready for riding.

"You must go."

The abruptness of that startled the boy.

"Why?"

"There is a seeking now reaching toward this place.
You have done what those of the Dark did not want you
to, therefore they may well seek to end your life before
you can accomplish anything further. Last night there
were Shadow Dancers among the circles. As yet none has
the power to take substance from the stones to build a
body. But I think they shall return as long as you linger
here. And with each of their visits they shall grow strong-

MERLIN'S MIRROR          75

er, until they can indeed prove a threat against body as
well as mind.

"I have not asked you the source of the power you have
learned to use. Nor, I think, will that be given me to
know. But now I warn you, Myrddin, go to that place and
thereby renew your own strength. For that which has
taught you must have defenses beyond the weaving of our
race and, I hope, may be impervious to penetration by the
Dark Ones."

"Come with me!" Myrddin said impulsively.

The Druid shook his head. "To each his own. What you
have found is for your use alone because you are of the
breed you are. No, I shall remain here."

"And the Shadow Dancers, then?" Myrddin turned to
look down the avenues of standing stones. Under this sun
there were slight shadows reaching from the foot of each,
that was true, but there was no threat or mystery in them.
He knew what Lugaid spoke of those things which Nimue
had threatened him with on the night of their meeting.

"I am no fit prey for them, being of little account in the
game they have been sent to play. Just as I am of little ac-
count in what you must do."

Myrddin thought of the loneliness of the cave, its
nearest neighbor being the destroyed clan house, which he
never wished to look on again.

"You are not of small account to me," he said. "To live
only with the wild things among the high places, that is lit-
tle to look forward to."

"There speaks fear," Lugaid replied sternly. "Each man
walks his own road in his life; only a few times may he
reach out and in truth touch another. You, being who you
are, must accept that you stand alone in this world. If you
would have company of your kind, then do what you are
lessoned in doing."

So Myrddin rode from the Place of the Sun, leaving be-
hind him a newly set stone among the many, and holding
in him the stark knowledge that indeed he could look for
nothing but loneliness, as was the lot of one who would
use the Old Power. He went back to the hillside with its
cleft entrance by ways which were little traveled.

It was far more difficult for him to force an entrance to
the cave this time, for his body had grown. At length he
won into the inner chamber where the installations still

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clicked and purred. Tired in both body and mind, he set-
tled down before the mirror.

"You have returned," the voice observed, speaking as
monotonously as ever. "And that beacon is now in place.
So far you have answered to your birthright"

Myrddin did not know how the mirror could know of
his success, unless, by some art similar to sorcery, it
picked the thoughts from his mind. And he did not like
(hat suggestion. Was he only the servant of this alien
thing, a slave not allowed any desires or actions of his
own? Ill then was his birth, for no man should be born
subject to a destiny he could not choose nor change.

"It is done," he answered the mirror voice tonelessly.

"Rest, and wait," chimed the voice in return. And at
once it seemed to Myrddin that he was freed from some
compulsion he had not even been aware of carrying. He
blinked and stretched like one who had awakened from a
long sleep filled with dreams. Then he turned and edged
out of the chamber of the mirror, filling his lungs with the
fresh air of the mountain winds.

He did not return to the ruined clan house. Instead he
fashioned a small hut, partly of stone, partly of branches.
The high point of summer came and he busied himself
with the matter of food and stores for the winter. He
found herbs and growing things which he could harvest;

and he hunted a wild cow, perhaps lost from the ravaging
of the clan house, killed it and smoked the meat

When the ravens gathered to pick the hide he had flung
over a bush, a wild cat and her kitten moved in to dispute
their ownership by feline hissing and growls. The ravens
screamed their battle cries in return, greedy for all they
could get. Myrddin watched the engagement until the hide
was picked clean of all remnants of flesh. Then he scraped
and worked it as best he could. Thereafter he left the offal
of any animals he took in hunting for his feathered and
furred neighbors.

It was a strange life, far removed even from the com-
forts the clan house provided. He grew lean and spare, tall-
er, darker of skin where the sun burned him. There came
the day when he used the newly honed edge of his belt
knife to shave down off his lip and chin, at the same time
hacking away his hair so it grew no longer than his ear-
lobes.

His tunic and breeches were too small so he fashioned

MC.KL.W S M1KKUK

77

new breeches, awkwardly, from the crudely tanned hide,
using the thicker portions to make sandals. He tore the
sleeves from his tunic and wore it loosely around the up-
per part of his body.

Now the short summer was drawing to a close. He must
prepare for the cold months. Though he hated the task, he
climbed each morning after sunrise to a point from which
he could look down at the clan house. He was too far
aloft to see much of the ruin and desolation which had
taken the domain of Nyren, but he made sure that the sig-
nal he had asked of Uther was not set

Almost reluctantly he also made visits to the mirror, but
there were few times when (he voice spoke to him and
some of the questions he asked went unanswered. At last
he was driven to chanting as he worked, fixing in his mind
the lore from past learning sessions and exercising a voice
he had little use for.

One day he found one of the raven kind with its foot
trapped in a twist of briar, croaking its terror to the
world. Freeing the creature in spite of its frenzied pecks,
some of which drew blood, he found its foot broken and
tended the bird as he would the victim of man's blood
lust.

When at last the raven mended, the bird seemed un-
willing to depart wholly to the wild. It would often fly to a
perch near the log Myrddin had drawn up at the door of
his hut and which he used for a work place, weaving bas-
kets from osiers brought from a mountain lake, grinding
some half-wild grain from a weed-run field.

Myrddin named the raven Vran and was surprised at
the creature's response to his own tentative offers of food
and his attempts to echo the bird's harsh cries. After a
while, when he appeared from out of the hut in the mom-
ing, Vran would wing to him, darting down to perch on
his shoulder and cackle in softer tones, as if in some un-
known speech, into the boy's ear.

That winter was harsh and Myrddin, on the days of the
worst storm winds, withdrew into the cave of the mirror.
He had to pry and pick away at the crevice to force the
doorway, his shoulders had grown so squared, his height
increased. Vran disappeared, seeking out some shelter of
his kind, and the boy missed his company.

He did not approach the mirror, for he felt a certain
constraint now, as if this were not the time when he was

78 Andre Norton

to use the installation from the stars. In fact some of the
lights across the cubes no longer appeared. He wondered,
almost with a stab of panic, if they would ever work
again, or if the mirror was growing old after a fashion, its
power waning.

The days were no longer marked by any numbering of
time. Myrddin had tried to keep a calendar of stones as he
had by Lugaid's hut; but after a storm had dislodged a
score of them and he could not remember their exact
number, he did not attempt to renew them. There were
days when he ate only one light meal and drowsed away
the rest of the hours in a lethargy which was not normal.

At least no one troubled the peace of the mountain. In
all the time since his return he had seen no human being.
Nor had his special sense warned him that he was being
watched, as it had when Nimue had stalked him.

He wondered where she was and what she might be
doing. The uneasiness of that wondering aroused him to
the thought that perhaps he might be well engaged in
trying to track her, just as she had tracked him. But when
he at last asked that of the voice of the mirror, the answer
came quick and emphatic:

"Do not approach any who serve those Others, for they
will lead you to battle and the time for that is not yet."

Myrddin was about to turn away from the question
bench when the voice spoke again:

"The time is nigh now for your second task. Listen well.
There must be a child born, even as you were born, one
of our blood, unflawed. But all men must believe that he is
of the High King's begetting. When you are asked to aid
Uther in this matter, you shall use the powers given you.
Let the King believe that he lies with the woman of his
choice and enjoys her favors for a night. Let the woman
believe that she entertains her lord. But within her cham-
ber you must open the window and leave her alone.

"Thereafter, when the child is bom, you must take him,
telling the King that he will be in danger, for there are
those who want their ruler to have no true heir. And you
must hide the child carefully, as a fosterling, with a lord
to the north, one Ector. Let that one believe that you
have fathered the babe. For he is one who knows of the
Old Race and you shall give to him the sign of recogni-
tion. In his veins, though much thinned by time and many

MERLIN'S MIRROR           79

generations, is a portion of our blood and like will greet
like.

"Be ready when the King's messenger comes, that you
may do this thing. For this child shall be the hope of your
land, and our hope also. Only when a king of our kin
reigns here in peace will the bonds be strong enough to
bring about our return."

"When shall this happen?" Myrddin dared to ask.

"With the coming of spring. Use now your powers of il-
lusion, work with them day after day, until you can use
them as easily as a well-trained warrior can wield his
sword. For such are your weapons and only by them can
you fashion what we must have."

So Myrddin woke from the dreamy acceptance of pass-
ing days, one so like another that he could not have said
that was yesterday, this is today, this tomorrow. And he
flexed his powers as a fighter flexes his muscles before a
contest

He created his illusions on the nearby hillside, making
them as lifelike as he could. One day he had a dark and
foreboding forest around the entrance to the cave. The
next he banished the darkness to lay down a fair meadow
in which the flowers of early summer swayed beneath the
caress of the wind. Then he fashioned people. Nyren
walked there, his war cloak swept back, the chain mail
rings of bronze sewn on his leather jerkin, shining brightly.
He smiled as he came, raising his hand in friendly salute.

The struggle to hold such an image so that it did not
appear as a shadow but as a living thing was the hardest
task Myrddin had yet to leam. It tired him more than had
his ordeal of raising the King Stone in the Western Isle.
But the more he used that power, the more his strength
grew, the more solid and lifelike became his illusions. Yet
he could not be sure that he could hold them as well for
others as he was able to do for himself.

Then he used Vran, who fluttered back to him as the
spring advanced. He pictured a sheep butchered and
skinned on the ground and the raven, with an ear-splitting
shriek, settled on it, strove to tear the flesh. Then, giving a
honk of surprise, the raven wheeled upward again when
the sheep faded into a bush.

Daily Myrddin tested and wrought his illusions until the
morning when, climbing to his point of vision, he at last
saw smoke rising from the destroyed clan house. Waiting

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only to take up the bark-wrapped sword, he strode quickly
down the faint path he had never wanted to travel again,
to see through the gap of the smashed outer gate the men
who stood by the signal fire. One of them he knew—Cre-
doc, Uther's own shield man. That he should be sent on
such an errand made Uther's great desire obvious. And
Myrddin realized that the time had come of which the
voice had warned him.

He knew that to these men in their rich cloaks, their
fine linen tunics, their wealth and ornaments, he must look
like a beggar of the wilds, a woodwose or some strange
thing out of the hill legends. But he came proudly, know-
ing that only he could foster the King's desire, even
though he would do it by trickery.

"You are Myrddin?" Credoc's disdain was plain to read.
"I am. And the High King wishes my services,"
Myrddin answered composedly. "The life in the hills, my
lord, is not a soft one."

"So it would seem!" Credoc did not quite sneer openly,
but his eyes and tone condemned what he saw, though
Myrddin cared nothing for that.

But he was more suitably clad, in fresh tunic, cloak and
trousers of clan check when he rode into the King's city.
Years of neglect, other years of Saxon raiding, had done
much to reduce to ruin what had once been a goodly port.
But certain buildings had been repaired and the largest of
these was snug-walled. It even had a look of splendor on
the inside, where hangings of needlework covered most of
the deficiencies.

Myrddin was taken to an inner chamber. Uther sat on
the end of a bed whose tumbled coverings had not yet
been straightened, as if the ruler had just risen from sleep,
though the morning was well advanced.

"Ho, prophet" Uther drank from a silver-mounted hom
cup and then passed that to a waiting boy, signaling him
to refill it from a jar of foreign wine. "You spoke the
truth on the day of our last meeting. I have indeed found
a use for you. And if you serve me well in this, you may
name your own reward. You," he said, turning on the oth-
ers in the chamber, "get you hence, all of you. I would
speak in private to this prophet."

"Lord King, he is a self-confessed dealer in magic,"
Credoc protested.

"I care not! Such magic as he has wrought to my know-

MERLIN'S MIRROR           81

ing has been for the good of this land. Not notably so, of
course, but at least to no one's hurt. Now leave me."

They obeyed, with visible reluctance. But the High King
waited until they had gone before he spoke, and then only
in a low voice which would not carry to the walls of the
chamber.

"Myrddin, you dealt once in illusion, as you told my
brother. Saying that men see what they want to see. Have
women also this failing?"

"It is my belief that they do. Lord King."

Uther nodded vigorously. He was smiling, taking small
sips from the refilled horn. "Then I wish you to create an
illusion for me, prophet. Lately was I crowned here before
the host of those who have long followed me. And not the
least of those lords is Goloris out of Cornwall. But he is a
man of age, still sturdy enough to answer the war hom
most likely, but yet not one to satisfy a young wife as he
should. And he has such a wife, the Lady Igrene, near a
daughter to him by years. This lady—she is the fairest I
have ever seen. Though I have bedded many women—and
-all of them came to me willingly enough—yet never have
I seen her likel When I tried to speak her fair she would
have none of me, but rather tattled to her lord so that he
most rudely withdrew from my court, saying no farewells,
in such a manner as to put shame on me!" Now Uther's
face flushed and he spoke with his lips tight against his teeth
in anger.

"No man or woman shall so shame the High King, that
others may titter behind their hands! I have already sent
my guard into Cornwall to make that plain to Duke Golo-
ris. But his lady—aye, that is another matter. I would hold
her within my arms so that she may know how a king can
love. The Duke has been enticed from his stronghold but
the lady is safe, he deems, within. Now tell me, prophet,
how can I come to her bower or she to my chamber?"

"You spoke of illusions. Lord King. There could per-
haps be woven an illusion so secure—for perhaps the
space of a night—that the lady would think her lord had re-
turned to comfort her. Yet it would only be the outer
semblance of the Duke...."

Uther threw back his head to utter a roar of laughter.
He was, Myrddin saw, well heated with the wine. "A fa-
mous jest, prophet! And one which pleases me. You swear
this can be done?"

82 Andre Norton

"For a short time, Lord King. And we would have to
be close to the Duke's hold...."

"No matter!" Uther waved his hand. "In my stable are
the fleetest horses in this land. If need be we can. run the
hearts out of them."

As the High King commanded, so might it be done.
Myrddin found himself clinging to the back of a larger
steed than he had ever known, riding at a reckless pace
through the twilight; they passed on even through the
night, for the moon swung high enough to give them wan
light. He did not consider the good or ill of what he would
do, but rather what could come of this if he was success-
ful. Another Sky Son would be born, one like himself, al-
ways in half exile in this land. And at that he knew joy,
for he had learned the bitterness of loneliness throughout
his years.

Let the child be bom and taken to Ector—then perhaps
he himself would be free. He longed as fiercely for that
freedom as any slave wished his chains to be loosed.

Thus in three days they came to a fortress by the sea
and found hiding places in a copse. Myrddin pushed for-
ward alone to look down on the keep Uther wished to in-
vade and, in the silence of the spot on which he sheltered,
he began to ready his powers for the greatest feat of illu-
sion he had ever tried.

8.

The night was cold, unusually chill for Beltane Eve.
There was a crisp wind off the sea, whose thunder-break
of waves Myrddin could hear even through the thick walls
of the fortress. He himself was feverish as if some rheum
of winter troubled him as he crept along the passage, un-
sure of his powers even yet.

Uther and his men slept back in that hidden camp. It
had been easy enough to introduce the herb powder into
their single bottle of heather mead, for the strong flavor
of the drink covered the lighter taste of the sleep herb.
And he had implanted the illusion dream in Uther's mind
with all the skill the mirror had taught him.

But now he traversed passages where twice he had to
raise screens of illusion to distort sight and leave him free.
The strain was telling on him. In the chamber ahead ...
He paused within hand-touching distance of the curtain
that cloaked its entrance, began once more to create his
dream weaving.

When it was as strong as he could summon, he drew a
deep breath and walked forward, lifting the right edge of
the curtain and stepping boldly through. If he worked his
magic correctly, the woman within would see only what
she looked to see, the unexpected return of her lord.

In his hand was the tiny packet holding the rest of the
sleep draft. Get her to swallow that on some pretext and
his task was done.

A lamp of the old Roman design flickered beside a bed
fashioned like a richly carved wooden box with its lid re-
moved. However it held no occupant. Instead the woman
stood looking out of the window at the storm-roiled sea, a
cloak about her slim shoulders covering only part of her
nudity. She turned swiftly as Myrddin's boot rasped on the
stone.

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84 Andre Norton

Her startled look was gone in an instant. She smiled
hesitantly, as if not sure in what mood the intruder came.

"My lordi But... how come you here?"

Myrddin gave an inner sigh of relief. So the illusion
held—she saw whom she might expect, the Duke Goloris.

"Where else would I be?" he asked. "Fair lady, this is
no night for wars or sword-dealing."

She came away from the window, dropping the edge of
her cloak. Now he could see that indeed this one was fash-
ioned for the joys of bedding, although he could look on
her without that stir of confusion he had felt when Nimue
unveiled her body in invitation. She was indeed beautiful,
this Duchess Igrene, but it was a beauty one might view in
the Roman images of their goddesses. Now she regarded
him with a small, almost secret smile, and he guessed that
in some things she could rule her old lord as completely as
Uther wished to rule Britain.

Make an end to this play, something within Myrddin
bade him. In this room, which was scented with woman
and a life he knew nothing of, he was as uncertain as a
stag who suspected a trap. His hand went out to a small
side table on which there providentially stood a tall bottle
of glass brought from overseas and two beautifully deco-
rated goblets.

"The night is cold," he said. "I would have wine for the
warming."

Igrene laughed low and sweetly. "There are other ways
of warming one, lord." Slyly she motioned toward the bed.

He forced a laugh of his own. "Well enough. But first,
pledge me in a cup, lady. Then we shall perhaps try your
way to see which is best."

She pouted, but waited until he had poured a measure
of wine into each goblet, then docilely accepted the one he
held out to her. He pretended to drink, but she emptied
her cup in a couple of swallows.

"My lord, you are not usually so behind in such mat-
ters." She came closer so that the flower scent which clung
to her skin grew stronger. Making nothing of her naked-
ness, she raised her hands to unbuckle his cloak. "Lord,
you are not yourself this night...."

Myrddin wanted to jerk back, away from her reaching
hands. By sheer will he kept still. Setting aside bis.
goblet, he caught her hands and held them tightly clasped
within his own, watching her with an anxious eye.

MERLIN'S MIRROR          85

Now he caught and held her gaze. The playfulness
faded from her expression. Her face smoothed, as if she
no longer saw him in truth, but some vision which stood
between them.

Gently, after a long moment of that locked gaze,
Myrddin drew her to the side of the bed, settled her
within it. Her eyes were still on what only she saw. Lying
back among the pillows, she made no move as Myrddin
left her.

The window was already well open to the night; the
curtain of hide and the shutter meant to keep out the chill
were both pushed far back. He made sure they would re-
main so. The woman on the bed muttered drowsily, her
words not meant for him but for the vision he had planted
in her mind.

Outside there was a fluttering sound. Myrddin averted
his head and went swiftly from the chamber, threading his
way, his heart beating fast in spite of his struggle for con-
trol. A guard stood at the postern and yet did not see the
slight man who flitted by.

When he reached his previous observation point, a
height above Goloris' hold, Myrddin turned. The moon was
bright and clear. Some distance away flames leaped, where
the lesser folk were celebrating Beltane. His night had
been well chosen: only a small fraction of the keep's in-
habitants would be within the walls tonight.

He could not see the window which lay to the seaward
side of the tower. What happened there now was not his
affair, he must only preserve the hallucination with Uther.
With a heavy burden of weariness resting on him,
Myrddin made his way back again to the hidden camp
and sat for long hours there by the sleeping men.

With dawn Uther stirred. Though he opened his eyes he
did not look about him with any recognition. Instead he
got to his feet like a dazed man, his hands reaching forth
to grasp something which was not there.

Myrddin scrambled up quickly. With the very tip of a
finger he touched the king's uplifted head, directly above
and between the eyes. And from his mind flashed the sig-
nal he had waited so long to give.

"Awake!"

Uther blinked, looked about him in the gray light. He
yawned and then saw Myrddin. A frown knotted between
"is eyebrows.

86 Andre Norton

"So, sorcerer, it would seem your magic works!" He
spoke with a sour note in his voice. "You have done as
you promised." There was no triumph or satisfaction in
his tone. Instead his eyes avoided Myrddin's and he turned
his shoulder to the younger man, shutting him out, or
hoping to.

And Myrddin realized that, having slaked his lust, as he
believed, Uther now felt shame for the act. He would not
welcome in his sight the one who had aided him to an ac-
tion he wished to repudiate.

"If I have done as I promised, and to your satisfaction,
Lord King, then let me depart. For I have no liking for
courts," Myrddin wearily made answer. He had half ex-
pected that Uther would turn on him, but not so suddenly.
And he did not want to lose the High King's favor en-
tirely, for this night's work was not yet complete and his
further part required some thread of connection with the
court.

"Well enough." Uther had turned completely away. He
did not even glance in the other's direction, but regarded
his sleeping men. "Ride where you will, when you will,"

Myrddin accepted the dismissal with a dignity of his
own, not bowing his head in any courtesy he did not feel,
but rather walking back to where their mounts had been
tethered. There he loosed his pony—for that means of re-
turning to his own place he believed Uther owed him—and
he rode away, without a single glance toward the King,
nor beyond to where that keep rose beside the sea. But he
was no more than over the crest of a small hillock when
he heard the thud of hooves, saw a man riding at the best
speed to which he could push his foam-bespattered mount.

"The High King?" he shouted at Myrddin. "Where is
Uther?"

That anyone would know of this secret expedition was a
vast surprise to the youth. Yet so certain seemed this rider
that Uther was in the neighborhood that obviously what-
ever message he bore was of the utmost urgency, enough
to break the veil of secrecy.

"Why do you seek the High King?" Myrddin demanded.
Any change in the state of affairs was of importance for
his plans also. "Have the Saxons sounded their war
horns?"

The man shook his head. "Duke Goloris—he was slain in
battle yesterday. The King must know—"

MERLIN'S MIRROR           87

Myrddin pointed to the way he had come. "You will
find the High King (hereabouts—"

The messenger spurred on before he had even com-
pleted his sentence. As Myrddin kicked his own horse into
a steady trot, he considered the importance of what he
had just heard. Duchess Igrene would leam only too soon
that her lord had been dead before that hour she would
remember on Myrddin's implanted orders. And Uther
would now find his way clear to take openly the woman
he had professed to find desirable above all others. What
bearing would such a marriage have on the life Myrddin
was certain Igrene now bore within her body?

Would the High King, relying on his own memory, ac-
cept the child to come as his own? And what would hap-
pen if and when Uther discussed this happening with the
Duchess? Myrddin had read the King's self-disgust clearly
in the few words they had exchanged. What would come
out of that shame?

There would be more than half a year to pass before he
could leam that. His own task had been made clear. The
child bom of this night's work was to be hidden—hidden in
me north with one who still had a fraction of the Old
Ones' blood and who would be alerted with certain words
Myrddin could utter. He saw no reason why he should not
make his preparations now, so he did not turn back by
hidden tracks to the cave and his solitude, but rode north.

The Ector he sought, he discovered some weeks later,
was lord of a small holding which lay high among crags
and steep valleys. He was esteemed by his neighbors, but
never mixed much with them except in times when they
must unite for mutual defense. And his people were noted
as being extraordinarily averse to letting strangers settle
among them. Ector had taken his own cousin to wife, for
his line was ever known to wed within certain bonds of
kinship, and he was a young man.

Myrddin pieced together this fragmentary information
from 'hints and bits he heard from traveling merchants,
now 'beginning to venture^ forth again as the Saxon menace
Was kept under control: from a smith who had spent the
winter season working in Ector's hold but was now on the
road that he might go to his ailing mother, from a bard
traveling for the mere pleasure of finding new places. He
was pleased with what he heard.

Ector was accorded by all with a keen wit and battle

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wisdom which had aided in keeping, the district free of
raiding Picts down from the north. His wife was a fol-
lower of the overseas faith, one of those they now termed
Christians, and she had given refuge to an elderly priest of
that god who was a noted healer. Though Ector kept his
territory jealously inviolate, he was not one to draw sword
without good cause, and those within his small holding
were as prosperous as any could be in these troubled days.

When Myrddin at last came to the narrow pass which
gave opening into Ector's domain he found guards there.
They were civil enough, though they detained him in their
camp while one of their number rode on to the clan house
with a message. Myrddin had drawn on a scrap of skin
the spiral which was the sign of the older days and said he

had private words for their lord.

He waited until nearly sundown before the rider re-
turned, giving him free passage within Ector's land and
ready to be his guide. He found the lord of the holding
waiting for him as he came into the central courtyard of
the clan house. For a single moment of painful memory it
was as if he had come home again and all the heavy years

had been erased.

Just so had Nyren stood, his head bare, his features wel-
coming, to greet a guest in the times past. As a servant led
away his weary horse, Ector's hand touched his arm
tightly. And Myrddin, seeing that they were nearly alone,

repeated his words in a whisper.

Ector's hair was as night-dark as his own. And his lips
were clear cut, his nose narrow and high-bridged, his face
long, shaping a pointed chin. It was like seeing his own
countenance, somewhat older, and with slight differences;

Ector's face was enough like his own, even to the curi-
ously marked eyelids which made the eyes appear almost
triangular, so mat they could be close kin.

"Welcome, brother," was Ector's reply, nor did he ap-
pear startled in the least at Myrddin's whispering of words
so old their real meaning had long since passed from the
minds of men. "The kin house opens to you."

In this part of his planning Myrddin's path was made
easy. Though neither Ector nor his lady had had any con-
tact with the Sky People, yet the tradition of such folk
had lingered strongly in their clan history. They accepted
without question what Myrddin could tell them. Though
he did not explain the circumstances surrounding the babe

MERLIN'S MIRROR           89

he would find a refuge for, yet they were ready to aid
him. Trynihid, even if she might follow in truth the new
faith as preached by Nuth—a gentle, middle-aged man who
tried to heal bodies as well as lighten minds with his
teaching—was still of the kin clan and nodded her own
head when Myrddin spoke of the importance of keeping
the child safe.

She moved slowly, her own belly swelling with the
long-wanted and hoped-for heir to Ector's holding. And
she rested her hands on that swelling as Myrddin spoke of
the safekeeping, nodding her head.

Seeing her in her quiet happiness made Myrddin
uncomfortable, and he kept from the upper apartments
where she sat when there was any leisure in the clan
house. He had never been attracted to any of the ladies he
had seen at the High King's court, nor to any girl of the
clan house. Only once had desire stirred in his body: when
he fronted Nimue in the night and she had challenged
him to be a man to her woman, young though they were
then.

The happiness of Trynihid and the care her lord wrapped
now about her was a new thing to him. Because there
were traces of the old inheritance in both of them, he felt
more deeply akin to them than he had in any under his
grandfather's lordship. There was a warmth of belonging
between these two which was like the life-giving fire of
winter—yet to him such comfort was denied.

He grew restless and yet somehow he was tied to this
place, and to leave it for the gaunt loneliness of the land
about the cave was more than he could face. He went
with Ector into the fields and helped to number the flock,
doing all a smallhold lord would. And he worked steadily
with his hands, tiring himself as much as he could, so that,
exhaused, he fell into deep sleep at night.

News came with the return of the smith. And Myrddin
listened eagerly. The High King had indeed taken a wife—-
the Duchess Igrene. Yet he did not live with her, rather
she dwelt among the holy women of the new faith, for she
"ore a child which was her first husband's. Until she was
delivered of that, the King would not truly claim her,

So the illusion had held with the Duchess, Myrddin
thought. And Uther must have done nothing to challenge
her belief. This would work better for his own need, for
Uther would not want the coming child about the court.

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Fostering was honorable, much used among people of
higher birth. Even a king would send forth his sons, not
only to have them away from the temptations which
would easily surround them in his own house, but to pro-
tect their very lives. There was always a jealous claimant
to believe that by a private killing the path to rule would |
be made free and easy.                                  is1

He must ride south before the winter really closed in on
this harsher northern country and seek out Uther. Once he
had used mind-bending on the King and had succeeded.
He would be a poor man of Power if he could not do so
again—to the benefit of the plan in which he was a part.

During the summer Myrddin had again undergone one
of those swift changes of body which came to him in place
of the more smooth flowing growth of those of pure hu-
man blood. He was taller, a little heavier of shoulder.
Catching sight of his face in a newly burnished shield, he
was more than ever struck by the resemblance to Ector,
though his face was less softened by the passing of emo-
tion and his eyes were always half hooded, as if he kept
them as weapons in reserve. His beard was sparse and did
not grow fast. When he shaved he did not need to touch a
blade to his skin again for several days. But work under
the sun had somewhat browned his skin and given him

new strength of hand and arm.

Before the Feast of Samain he rode forth from the
holding, bearing the good wishes of these distant kin, well
clothed if plainly, his sword now decently sheathed in
leather, not in a patchwork of bark. Ector had been awed
by the sword, yet he would not even put a hand to its hilt,
saying that such blades of old were well known to tolerate:

only one master.

"Aye," Myrddin had answered. "Yet I am not the mas-
ter, Ector. He who comes will carry this into battle. I am,
but his servant in this as in other things."                 i

He led a pack pony with full supplies, for he deter-
mined to move south by the lesser known ways, letting no
hint of his coming reach Uther, if possible. To take the
High King by surprise would better open the way for his

own desire.

Riding at an even pace, he made the rest of his way
back to the cave, though he was twice delayed by storms
which lasted more than a day. Snow lay white there as he
climbed the path his feet would always find, whether the

MERLIN'S MIRROR           91

eyes of men could see the way or not. There was a rau-
cous call and a huge black bird coasted down to flap
about him. Suddenly losing guard over his features,
Myrddin held out his wrist and caBed joyfully: "Vran!"

Vran it was, planing in at once to settle claws on
Myrddin's glove, turning his head this way and that to eye
him, croaking all the time in a coaxing way as the crea-
ture had learned to do when it begged for bits of meat.

"But give me time, Vran," Myrddin promised, "and you
shall be fed."

The bird fluttered up to perch on a stone and the youth
rummaged through his pack, bringing out a chunk of
smoked pork which he tossed to the ground, only to have
a black explosion of feathers fall on it.

There was no indication that any had been this way
during the months of his absence. And he had come for
only one reason. Myrddin unbuckled the belt which sup-
ported the sword and, taking that inside, hid the weapon
in the darkest comer of the cave behind the largest of the
installations. He noted that the majority of those were
silent now. Only one still had a run of lights back and
forth across its surface. For a long moment he stood be-
fore the mirror, seeing only his own reflection. Truly he
looked older than his years now—a man as old as Uther
had been when he had last seen him. His face was secret,
closed, and the soberness of his choice of tunic and cloak
made him a dark and brooding figure. Perhaps this was
how a sorcerer was meant to appear in a world which rel-
ished light and color, the glitter of gems and the burnished
wealth of gold.

He went again into the outer world. Vran was workirtg
on a few last beakfuls of the pork. And Myrddin found
another lump for the raven before he mounted.

"Little brother," he said, and at his words the raven
stopped its fierce tearing of the meat, looking up at him
with beads of eyes which seemed more knowing than any
Myrddin had ever seen set in a bird skull. "Farewell, keep
safe. When I return you shall- feast again."  .

So promising, he turned the horse toward the valley of
the clan house, tugging at the lead so the pack pony fol-
lowed.

It was well past Samain and the winter wolf had fas-
tened his cruel ice jaws on man's world when Myrddin

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came into the room where High King Uther sat by a fire
which roared mightily and yet gave little heat beyond the
small radius of the hearth. The King was alone as
Myrddin had guessed, for the symbol he had sent was one
which Uther would know and, knowing, he would not
want any to share his inner secrets.

"So you come again, sorcerer," was his curt greeting.
There was no welcome in either his face or his tone. "I
have not summoned you."

"Events have summoned me. Lord King," Myrddin re-
turned. "I served your desire and asked for no payment—"

Uther set his horn of wine down on the tabletop nearby
with force enough to make its metal binding ring out. "If
you value your life, sorcerer, keep a still tongue in that
ugly head of yours!" he flared.

"I speak not of the past. Lord King, that is your own
affair. What I must ask is of the future."

"All men whine and beg at a king's throne. What are
your demands—gold, silver, a lordship?" Uther sneered.
Yet his eyes were uneasy, wary, as if he did not like what
he saw when he looked at Myrddin. He was even a little
awed by the other's composure.
"I want a fosterling, Lord King."

"A fosterling—" Uther's mouth gaped wide in startle-
ment. Then his eyes narrowed threateningly. "What plot is
this, sorcerer?"

"No plot. Lord King. There will be a child born shortly
to one whom you greatly love. This child is a threat to
you in a small way. To have such ever under your eyes—"

Uther pushed up from his chair in a half-leap in
Myrddin's direction. His hand had swung up as if to smash
full into the younger man's face. Then he stopped, master-
ing that flare of rage.

"Why do you want this child?" he demanded harshly.
"Because I am responsible in part for its birth. Lord
King. I am a man of the Power; as such I betrayed much
I believed in to aid you on that night. Now in conscience I
must pay for my interference with events. The child will
be safe; it shall be gently fostered. Men will forget it lives.
There will be no more whispers in your court. You and
your lady queen will be lighter of heart. If it remains here,
though, there will be those who would use the child as a
tool for revolt. Those who followed Goloris are not all
dead even if they are now silent."

MERLIN'S MIRROR

93

Uther's face grew thoughtful. He strode back and forth
along the edge of the hearth, his face tense with concen-
tration.

"Sorcerer, there is wisdom in what you say. I would
have this coming baby apart from the court, both for the
sake of my lady and for its own safety. As you have said,
there are those who have not taken kindly to events in the
past. Perhaps if the child is male they will cherish the idea
of a new lord in years to come. My lady believes it is—
she thinks—" Uther's voice sank. "She sometimes thinks it
was forced on her by a demon in her husband's guise. She
fears its coming as if it will be born a monster. Take it if
you will, sorcerer, and do not let me know where it will
be fostered, or by whom. It is better forgot for the good
of all."

"Well enough." Myrddin relaxed inwardly. He had car-
ried his point without tedious argument. "I am lodged at
the Sign of the Rowan. Let me know the hour of the birth
and I shall come and go—no man or woman being the
wiser."

At Uther's assertive nod he left the room. There was
much to be done. For all his power and knowledge he
could not travel north with a newly born infant in the
dead of winter. But he had deliberately chosen his inn
with an eye to that matter. The wife of the host had re-
cently given birth and was suckling a fine healthy child,
the place was clean beyond most of its sort and Myrddin
had the means within himself to silence questions and
provide answers men could be brought to believe. Now he
only had to wait.

9.

The message came to Myrddin on the eve of the Feast
of Briganta. He had already made his own provisions for
the care of the child. In the slave market he had ransomed
one of the small, dark, Pictish women taken on a raid
across the ancient wall of the Romans. She had borne a
dead child three days earlier and was so sunk in despair
that the dealer asked no great price. But Myrddin, using
the powers of the mirror, was able to communicate with
her, promising her eventual freedom if she would take
care of the baby he would bring her. She might not have
believed the truth of his promise, but she did not protest
when he took her back to the inn, asked that she be given
water to wash and then provided her with a plain woolen
tunic and a cloak perhaps warmer than any she had ever

known.

The child was a son, even as Myrddin had been sure.

And, since there had been no name given him, just as
Lugaid had once named him, standing in place of the fa-
ther who should have held the babe in his arms, so did
Myrddin look down into that small red face and call him
after the name the mirror had spoken: "Arthur."

Three weeks later he hired a horse litter and made con-
tact with a levy of men riding to reinforce the northern
borders, that they might ride with a measure of protection
through lands which were still debatable. Thus they jour-
neyed to Ector's holding where he was welcomed as kin
come home. Ector pressed Myrddin to stay there also. But
such an uneasiness had ridden with the younger man since
he had left the King's house that he would not agree. The
sooner he was well away from here, the less chance there
would be of any secret man of the King or the King's ene-
mies tracing Arthur.

Myrddin doubted that Uther would mean the boy any

94

MERLIN'S MIRROR

95

fatal harm, but the High King would doubtless be a hap-
pier man if he should lose this unwanted child overseas.
And there were still many ties with families in Lesser Brit-
ain. Among those Uther could find someone to hide Ar-
thur past any finding.

"When he is ready for schooling," Myrddin had re-
turned in answer to Ector's urging, "then shall I come."
For he was certain that Arthur must be given those same
sources of knowledge which had shaped his own life. "Un-
til then, forget that he is not truly of your blood kin."

And Trynihid, holding her own son Cei to her full
breast, smiled.

"Kinsman, he shall abide safe."

Ector nodded vigorously. "Blood oath on that if you
wish—"

Myrddin smiled in return. "Kinsman, what need of
oaths between those of one blood? I have no doubt that
you will make him a true fosterling of this house."

Thus he rode in the early spring, heading south, but set-
ting to a path which would take him again to the Place of
the Sun, for he was very lonely. Perhaps in Lugaid he
could find a certain companionship. Such a way would
also confuse his trail for anyone who followed, for he
could not rid himself of the feeling that he was indeed the
object of a hunt.

The King's men, he believed, would be more open in
their seeking, if Uther had changed his mind. No, this was
more subtle, like being pursued by a shadow, a cloud,
something he could not seize on nor confront, but which
was there. And he knew only one who could command
such a shadow—Nimue.

There could be, he speculated, some way in which each
use of his powers might be made known, wherever Nimue
hid to weave her spells. And, because he had no inkling of
the depth of her knowledge, a prudent man would assess
her skill at maximum in order to go prepared. So his
haunted feeling as he rode north meant that she had now
leamed'of Arthur.

His first fear lay with the child. If, when he himself
traveled forth from Ector's land, that sensation of being
watched vanished, then it must be the child who was in
danger. Learning that, he himself would return immedi-
ately to make other plans, set up such protective barriers

96 Andre Norton

as he could. But, to his relief on that point, he went ac-
companied by the invisible watcher.

Now he searched the land around as he rode, set up
certain mind-alarms of his own each night while he slept,
lest he be ambushed unaware. Still there came no attack,
only that continual foreboding feeling....

He thought he could perhaps throw it off when he
reached the Place of the Sun, remembering that sense of
renewed power which had flowed into him when he
touched those tall-standing sentinels of a lost age. How
strong was Nimue? So much depended on the answer to
that question. And what moves had she been making over
the years since their last meeting? For he was certain that
she had not been idle.

So he came into the giant circle of standing stones and
there dismounted and stood to watch dawn banished by
the rising sun. He had been right: here he was free of sur-
veillance for the first time. Yet he knew he must not allow
Nimue to be baffled long; there was always the fear in his
mind that she might backtrail—that she would strike at
Arthur. Above all else, Arthur must endure!

Myrddin crossed the turf to the hut Lugaid had built.
He urgently wanted the advice the Druid might give him,
the feeling of one comrade on his side if a strange battle
was to be enjoined. But even before he reached the crude
building he saw that its roof of branches was broken, that
it no longer was the home place of any man.

"Lugaid!" He could not choke back his own dispairing
cry, though the name seemed to ring far too loudly in the
air. The hide curtain was gone from the doorway, so he
could look into the cramped single room. No one had
been here for a long time.

A little forlornly he stooped and went in, kicking at the
powdery ash which had been a fire. The bronze cooking
pot, the wooden bowls and spoons were gone. There was
nothing left to say when or where the Druid had left. At
least Myrddin could read no sign of violence—Lugaid had
not fallen prey to any roving war band or slinking outlaws
such as might visit this deserted place.

Slowly the youth returned to the King Stone, setting his
hands palm-down on its rough surface. This was indeed a
thing of power! Within him he could feel his own energy
and will rising to blend with the emanation from the stone.

MERLIN'S MIRROR

97

That confidence which had ebbed when he found Lugaid
gone came back to him.

There were things he could do here, certain forces he
could evoke, which he thought would make Arthur secure,
remove from his own journey that watching presence. And
those he did, using word and thought, a certain rhythm
beat on the rock face with the blade of his belt knife. He
felt the answer from the stones, the gathering of what was
like an invisible war band. And he marshaled that force,
aimed it—released it like an arrow from a bow toward
the north and Ector's small valley.

Then he was tired, drained. He dropped down in the
grass, his shoulders against the King Stone, his eyes on the
sky where clouds whiter than the whitest linen sailed
slowly and impressively to affairs outside the understand-
ing of man. Beyond the clouds, beyond the higher sky, lay
other worlds, many more than a man might count. Life
inhabitated those distant worlds—though the mirror had
shown him little of that and only fleetingly. Yet, if the Sky
People returned, their ships would be bridges to those
worlds. Would he have the courage to voyage outward,
seeking another sun? He did not know, though the idea ex-
cited him. How long would the waiting continue?

Men thought in years, in seasons; the Star Lords in cen-
turies. Man's life was short. How long was that of a Star
Lord? Perhaps three, four, a hundred times that of man?
At the moment he felt all man, awed, a little afraid of
those who would come to his summoning if he could fulfill
everything the voice of the mirror asked of him.

Myrddin slipped into a half-sleep as his pony cropped
the new-springing grass around the stones. In that sleep his
imagination woke and showed him even stranger things
than the mirror had ever hinted at. Yet there was nothing
threatening in those sights, unearthly as they were. He
only felt wonder and delight.

Cities—such cities!—with shining towers of rainbow
glass reached high into skies that were not the blue of the
earth he knew. And some others were set under the rest-
less waves of seas, sharp pinnacles, as red as the precious
coral he had seen shown by merchants from the southern
lands. Yes, he could imagine the cities, but he could not
"ring to life the people who had built them. Perhaps man
could only see life equal to his own image. That was the
fatal shortness of man's sight.

98 Andre Norton

The sun passed behind one of the clouds; more were
gathering. Myrddin was roused by a wind with a sharp
promise of rain and storm. He caught at the reins of the
pony, started back to the hut which had been Lugaid's. He
sheltered there that night while wild winds raged across
the land. Twice he cowered as lightning struck with ex-
plosive force against the King Stone, as if that rock drew
the full fury of what lashed across the sky.

He had weathered such storms before, but it seemed to
him that he had never faced one with such fury wrapped
within it. He plugged his ears with his fingers, closed his
eyes—still he could not escape either sight nor sound.
There was a strange odor in the air.... This was the
force men could never hope to control, now gone mad
and striving to wipe the earth clean of life.

In spite of his fear Myrddin was also gripped by a wild
exultation which made him wish to run out into that
chaos, leap and shout, abandon all to become a part of
the fury, free himself from restraint, of his mind's control.

But in the morning there was nothing to show the pass-
ing of such force. Not until he had ridden outward from
the circle did he see trees overthrown, their roots pointing
accusingly like crooked fingers at the sky from which their
deathblows had come. In Myrddin there was a new kind
of peace. The storm might have drawn with its disappear-
ance all his unease, his fears. He still had some of the
freedom which had grown in him during those dark hours.

His sense of being spied on was also gone with the
storm. Yet he took no chances and approached the cave
only after some days of travel by a circuitous route, using
the caution he had always maintained. This time Vran did
not greet him, even though he whistled for the raven and
laid out an offering on the ground. In fact he became
aware, as he watched and listened, that there was an odd
silence over the slope. There were no other birds. Even
the wind had ceased to blow here.

He listened not only with his ears, but also with that
mental sense. The very absence of any life was in itself a
warning. And he could guess what might have happened;

he had been too sure he had thrown off that questing. The
mind so engaged had not wasted time trying to trail him,
instead it had come straight here!

Nimue!

He stripped saddle and bridle from the pony and turned

MERLIN'S MIRROR           99

the animal loose, trying to conceal any outward sign that
he was conscious of what might soon face him here. He
decided, after several quick glances in that direction that
the crevice entrance to the cave was undisturbed. Stones
he had piled there to hide the opening had not been
moved. It was the sword which lay at the back of his
mind now. He was sure it would be impossible to trans-
port any of the space things from here—they were all too
large to be drawn through the crevice. How they had en-
tered into the mountain he never knew; perhaps they had
been left there through the centuries.

But the sword was a different matter and Nimue knew
that he possessed it. It could well be that she wished to
take the weapon from him. He shifted his plump saddle-
bags to his shoulder, went to the crevice. This Nimue
knew also, so he was betraying no secret. But let him get
inside and she would discover that she had been left be-
hind. He well understood that the mirror had its own
safety devices and that he alone was able to approach it.

He worked quickly, refusing to turn around, to look
over one shoulder or the other. There was a growing pres-
sure on him, a command—but not to the extent that his
own will could not counter it. As if he could hear her
laughter ringing again, he believed she was watching—
waiting—applying the burden of her will, intent on mak-
ing him obey. But she was too confident, too sure of her
own use of the power. He must not be so overconfident in
return; rather he must be wary.

Perhaps she had easily been able to compel obedience
by use of the same hallucinations which he had employed
to his own purposes during the years. Now her confidence
was supreme, because she had not previously met resist-
ance such as he could offer.

So far he had not resisted because his will marched with
hers: she wanted him in the cave, he wanted to make sure
that the sword was safe. The last stone was aside; he
stooped to wriggle through. Once more he discovered that
not even the enlarged entrance was big enough to admit
him without a struggle. His tunic tore on hip and shoulder
and skin beneath suffered painful grazes.

The cave was deeper in gloom, with only one small line
of lights alive. Myrddin dropped his saddlebags, went di-
rectly to the niche where he had concealed the sword. The
wrapped bundle lay there in safety, but he stripped off the

100 Andre Norton

sheath to make sure that the blade still rested within. In
the dark it shone with a wan light of its own, and he held
the hilt in his right hand, ran the fingertips of the left
along that smooth length. Like the stone, this touch report-
ed to him the feeling of unleashed strength, of energy
which might be released on command. This was more an
object of destiny than just a tool to move the King Stone.
It had a future use also, and that he would learn in time.
But now it was safe and he wound the wrappings about it
again hiding its luminosity.

"Merlin!" A voice, but not the familiar one.

He rounded the nearest square to look into the dark
surface of the mirror. There was a strange silvery sheen
across it and in the midst of the eerie light stood Nimue.
She was now a woman and that quality in her which had
moved Myrddin at the Place of the Sun was stronger, far
stronger. He was dazzled by the woman who looked at
him as if she were indeed behind the mirror, her eyes
meeting his.

"Merlin!" Now she made his name not a demand for at-
tention, but a soft greeting which stirred an answer within
him. Breed called to breed in spite of all he knew.

"Alas, poor Merlin." Her voice held no mockery,
though he might have expected it, rather a touch of pity.
"You have entered the trap and it is sprung. All your
meddling with the affairs of man—and woman—will be
put to naught by time itself. Clever are those who fash-
ioned you to carry out their actions, be their hands and
feet in this tormented land. But not quite clever enough.
They set guards about their mirror and everything else
they landed from star voyages, but perhaps they did not
know that guards can be placed around guards. Merlin,
you have gone to earth like the fox which is hunted, but
unlike the canny fox you will not come forth again!

"I have set an outer force field to keep you in and you
shall abide there until your human part fails through hun-
ger and thirst. This deed is terrible, aye, but worse would
you in time bring to pass if you are not so halted. Your
Arthur will live, but he will be no more than any other
man. Thus falls to dust your dream of kingdom. He will
never claim a crown, and death unknown will also be his
portion. Farewell, Merlin. It is a pity we could not deal
together as distant kin should."

She was gone in a flicker of light. Myrddin had flung

MERLIN'S MIRROR          101

out a hand as if to try to arrest her disappearance, though
he knew that the real Nimue had not stood so, only a Send-
ing she had released. Now he whirled and in a minute
was at the crevice.

The opening was there, he could put an arm into it. Yet
before his fist was out into the open it met, with a shock
of force, an invisible wall.

Two more testings, top and near ground level, made it
plain that the barrier formed a tight plug. He wasted no
time in useless physical struggle. Only the mirror might
have an answer for this and he returned to it in two
strides, crouched down on the viewer's bench he had so
often occupied in the past. Gazing intently at his own re-
flection, he thought his problem, aware, though he knew
not how it was done, that his query or plea for aid regis-
tered somewhere.

He saw the installation, so long dark and quiet, waken
to life. Then the mirror voice spoke:

"The force field is too strong to break ... now. And it
is true that you wear a body which was not fashioned to
withstand much physical stress. But for that there is an
answer. You will sleep. Merlin, and during that, sleep all
body processes shall be slowed down. Thus, when the mo-
ment comes that time thins the field, you can awake and
issue forth once again, alive and whole. This is the manner
by which such can be accomplished."

His own face and body were not gone from the mirror
this time, but he saw himself going to a long, low machine
at the far end of the row. There he pressed his hands, fin-
gers deep into small holes. The lid of the machine rose on
upward-reaching pillars. Then the man he watched stripped
off his clothing and he climbed through the wedge be-
tween the chest and lid to lie down. The pillars slid toward
the cave floor, sealing him in.

Myrddin shivered. He could not doubt the wisdom of
the mirror and the voice. Yet this way seemed to be enter-
ing his tomb while he still lived. To follow such action
needed all the courage he could summon.

The mirror had cleared again. He saw only his own
form as it was, while he reluctantly rose to his feet. Slow
starvation, death by thirst—or the offer of the tomb? The
chances were very slim on either side. But because he
trusted the mirror he followed instructions now.

That long box opened as he applied the pressure, just as

102 Andre Norton

the mirror had shown. He stared down into the interior as
the lid rose. Within was a rosy glow, pale, but strong
enough to reflect on his hands. And the bottom was awash
in a liquid from which came a pleasant, aromatic scent.
He stripped off his clothes, piled them to one side and
slung a leg over the edge of the box. The liquid was about
his ankle, rising up his shin; it was warm, soothing some-
how.

He pushed through the rest of his body, settled himself
at the bottom of the box. Now the liquid washed over his
chest, caressed his cheeks. And mat was the last thing he
remembered, except that the lid was settling swiftly down-
ward to lock him out of the world.

There were dreams, strange dreams of cities whose like
he had never thought could exist, so high did their narrow
buildings tower into the air. Men flew in things which
were not birds, but made stiffly of metal cunningly fash-
ioned. The dreamer sometimes abode for a small time in
the body of one or another of those men, though he was
then beseiged by thoughts so different from his own time
that he could not understand them.

Even as these men flew about the clouds, so did they
travel in turn beneath the surface of the sea. It would
seem that no secret of their world was hidden from them.
Yet they were unhappy, restless and much troubled, and
Myrddin soon shrank from any contact with their minds.

There came a time when the world itself went mad.
Howling winds broke the cities, did such damage as no
normal storm could. Waves rose mountain-high in the sea
to crash upon the land, sweeping the remnants of man's
world into oblivion. Mountains breathed forth flame, great
gouts of molten rock flowing down their sides. When that
met the waters of the insane seas, steam formed so thickly
as to blot out both land and sea, and hide the heavens.

When there was an end at last, the drowned, scarred
land was changed, had new bays, new rivers. Some of its
substance had been lost to the eating of the sea, but in re-
turn it had gained in other places steaming spreads of stink-
ing mud which had once been water covered. But man
had survived—in some manner a handful of men survived.
Shocked, mind-deadened, they crept forth into the new
world. A few could remember earlier times, but only in
fragments. The others were near imbeciles, wanting only

MERLIN'S MIRROR          103

to eat, sleep and sometimes mate brutishly with less grace
than any beast.

They were lost indeed, that remnant and they sank back
farther than animals. Some preyed on their fellows to fill
their bellies, killing their quarry with rocks. A few strove
to cling to their memories. Some of these had wit enough
to draw apart, to establish themselves in areas they could
defend against the mindless brutes. Once more came a
slow, very slow climb upward. Truth became legend over-
lain with imagination; later generations had no belief that
man had ever been other than what he was in their own
time. But there were always some who remembered bet-
ter, whose tales from one generation to the next were
clearer, less embroidered.

Myrddin dreamed and dreamed again. His was a breed
which clung to life, which might be defeated but which
was never wiped away. And among man were always to
be found the dreamers, the seekers....

There was a loud sound, like the ringing of a great mel-
low-toned gong. Within the box Myrddin stirred. His
breathing, which had been so slow, began to quicken. The
liquid completely covering his body was draining away.
His eyelids fluttered.

As if that small movement was a signal, the columns
which supported the lid of the chest began to climb stead-
ily upward. His eyes opened and he uttered a feeble
sound. His limbs felt stiff, no stiffer than if he had spent a
night in the open. And his mind was returning fast to the
here and now.

Was the voice right—had the force field been weakened?
He crawled out of the box and stood upright, feeling dizzy
enough to clutch at the edge of the lid. Around him the
installations were afire with a beading of flickering lights.
His body dried quickly. That moisture which had filled the
box rolled from his skin in large drops, leaving little
dampness behind.

He looked for his clothing. But when he stooped to pick
up his tunic the linen was yellowed, so frail it tore as he
pulled it on. Time—how much time!

Dressed again, he came to the mirror. How long had he
slept was the foremost thought in his mind, how long?
The voice, as strong as ever, answered that thought.
"Sixteen of the years of this world. Merlin. But the con-

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fining field is now shattered. You are free. And that one
who set this upon you can do no more, for her powers
were greatly drained by what she did. Now she moves in
other ways for your defeat. It is time that you take up

battle."

He stared at his own reflection. Sixteen years! But he

was perhaps only a year or two older than he had been
when he entered that box! How could such a thing be?

"It preserves life, Merlin. However, think not of the
past. You must be about your mission. And that is to see
Arthur truly king of Britain."

"Uther?" He made a question of that name;

"Uther dies. There are great lords about him—two have
married daughters of his body. But he has had no sons, no
sons save Arthur whose claim you must make. Though
you have not done for Arthur what was planned, taught
him as you were taught, yet he is of Sky Blood and so
ours, not theirs. Put Arthur on the throne. Merlin, and
Britain shall have a High King whose name will be spoken
by men for more than a thousand years."

Myrddin nodded slowly. Arthur and the sword, they
must come together. It was this thought which had lain
far at the back of his mind since the time Lugaid and he
had found that wonderously wrought piece of Sky metal.

"Arthur and the sword, with you behind him. Merlin.
This is the task for which you were conceived and no
greater one can be faced by any man living. Arthur and

the sword ..."

10.

Merlin stood looking down at the great camp where
chieftains and petty kings flew their battle standards over
brightly walled tents. He was no longer Myrddin, he must
remember that. Now he wondered if any of those
gathered here would remember him. Sixteen years—Ar-
thur was man-grown and he had had no part in his
teaching. Wholly of this earth would be any wisdom the
boy had. But there was nothing to be gained by looking
over one's shoulder with regret; facing forward with war-
iness and hope was all that was left.

His time-tattered clothing had been changed by chance
for a long wool robe such as bards wore. And he had al-
lowed his beard to grow, though the hair was sparse
enough not to impress unduly. He had found the robe in
the baggage of a dead man lying beneath the summer sun,
his horse cropping nearby. Three Saxons enriched the
ground with their blood, escorting the stranger as a war-
rior should go. Merlin did not know who that benefactor
had been, or why he had been so ambushed. But he had
given the unknown spirit thanks for the horse and the
robe folded into a bundle, and he had buried him face to
the east under a morning sun.

He had met scores of travelers approaching this tem-
porary capital of Britain. For Uther was dead for a hand-
ful of days, but the High Council had not yet named his
successor. Having learned plainly how affairs stood, Merlin
set his own plans accordingly. Now he studied with nar-
rowed eyes the arrangement of the camp. The banner of
Lot who was wed to one of Uther's daughters—that was
very prominent below. And there was the Boar of Corn-
wall—now upheld by a son of Goloris who was not in the
legal line of descent, but about whom Cornish men rallied.
Merlin saw other devices which he did not know, but he
105

106

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could guess that every lord here had come with at least a

faint hope of advancement.

He searched for the one important to him, the Soaring
Hawk that was Ector's badge. At last he sighted it, not ;

among the inner circle of the great lords, of course, but in
the company of King Urien of Rheged, that northern
kingdom which had held stoutly through the years to pre-
vent the Picts from ravaging far south of the old wall.
Circling off the dusty road, Merlin made his way toward

that tent.

Before it stood a young man trying on a jerkin on
which rings of bronze were tightly sewn, one against an-
other, His head was dark and for a moment Merlin was
nearly startled into hailing him by name. Then the youth
raised his head and looked full square at the newcomer
and Merlin saw in him a much younger Ector.             ;

"Lord Cei," he named the boy by guess. "Is Lord Ector

within?"

"My father has gone to the Council of the Dukes," Cei
returned, eyeing Merlin with what might even be disfavor.

"Have you a message for him?"

"We are kin, distantly," Merlin answered. Cei had a
certain arrogant cast of countenance which had never
been his father's. "Aye, I have a message for him." He
longed greatly to ask for Arthur, to know how the foster-
ing had gone through his years of imprisonment. But now
he knew better of Cei than to bring that query into the

open.

The son of Ector approached stiffly to pay him the

courtesy of the house, holding the reins while Merlin
dismounted. Perhaps because of his plain robe, with the
dust of the road thick upon him, he made little better than
a beggar's appearance. But he accepted the boy's atten-
tions as rightfully his due, as indeed they were.

Within the tent they passed out of the glare of the sun.
Cei ordered a manservant to bring wine. He eyed the long
package Merlin carried which was the safely trussed
sword, but had better manners than to ask any questions
as Merlin settled on a traveling stool with it across his

knees close under his hand.

"How does your father and your lady mother?" Merlin
had spilled a few drops of the wine to the earth underfoot
as was the custom of the clans, and now sipped apprecia-
tively at a better vintage than he had found in any inn.

MERLIN'S MIRROR           107

He remembered wistfully now his summer spent in the
safe valley, and how he had labored beside Ector to
gather the earth's bounty.

"My father is well. My lady mother—" Cei hesitated a
moment. "She died of the coughing sickness last winter,
stranger."

Merlin's hand shook. So much he was remembering now;

of Trynihid's pride when she carried her son, of the
closeness between her and her husband. Grievous must
have been the blow for Ector.

"May happiness of the Blessed Isle be hers. . . ."

"We follow the Christ here, stranger." Cei replied with
a sharp note in his voice. "You wear the robe of a brother
of the Church yourself, why do you speak then of the
Blessed Isle?"

Still a little confused by memories and a sense of loss,
Merlin looked up at the youth in near bewilderment. "My
robe is but a borrowed one." He gave the first answer
which came into his head. "I am a bard."

The longing to know of Arthur was so great he could
hardly control it. Except for Cei and two menservants he
had glimpsed, there appeared no others here. Had they
left Arthur back in the valley? If so his plan was defeated
before he could even bring it into action.

"Cei, where are you, boy?"

That voice was the same. Merlin started joyfully to his
feet as Ector entered. But this was not the Ector he had
known, and. fronting a stranger made him uncertain for a
moment or two so he stood open-mouthed, staring like
any loutish slave in the fields. The slim body he had known
had thickened and gray streaked the dark hair. The face it
framed was tired, with the look of a man who had to
force himself at every sunrise to a day of duties he hated,
and could look forward to no true rest even when that
day was done.

But the eyes which met Merlin's were the same. First
they mirrpred puzzlement, then recognition. But surprise
overrode both of those.

"You are alive!" Ector broke the tense moment of
silence. "But why did you not come?"

"I was imprisoned," Merlin replied. "Only lately have I
won my freedom."

"You—you are changed. But you have not grown old,
only—only strange," Ector said slowly. Then he seemed to

108

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Andre Norton

recollect that other ears were listening and he turned to
his son. "Do go and find Arthur and bring him here. This
lord is one he should know—"

When they were alone Ector continued: "The lad has
done well enough. But, when you did not return as you
had said, we could give him no more learning than we
gave Cei. I know that this was not how it was to be."

"You have given him the best you had. How can any-
one fault that?" Merlin returned swiftly. "The failure was
mine, not that I could have foreseen it. But tell me now,
what of the Council? Have they set yet on a choice of

king?"

Ector shook his head. "It is a perilous wrangle, for
there are those who back Cornwall, and he has shown
himself a good commander in the field. Then there are
those who hold by Lot because he has wed the King's
young daughter, and he is a man of no little ambition.
They may pull Britain in two between them before we see
the end of this. Urien broods and plans, though he has not
shared his plans with me. And the Winged Hats raid as
they will. It is the bad days come again, but there is no
one commander with power enough to seize the rule with-
out dispute from the others."

"With power . . ." Merlin repeated. "But if one were to
give him the power. . . ? It seems that I have come at a
moment which must be seized quickly, lest all we hope for
go down into the darkness. Listen, kinsman, Arthur is of
the Pendragon blood. He is Uther's son, though the High
King would have him live in hiding lest he be plucked
away in childhood by just such lords as this Lot and the
rest. And for him I have also the Power, or at least a
symbol of it." He turned eagerly to snatch up the wrapped
sword. "We must arrange that he accept this openly be-
fore all who think to rise to the throne."

Suddenly he became aware of Ector's silence. Glancing
up. Merlin saw a white horror on the other's face.

"What is it? Is he maimed, unworthy in some manner by
clan laws?" Merlin was chilled by the expression he saw.

"He—" Ector moistened his lips. "He is a comely lad
and— By the wounds of the Christus, had you only told

me!"

"What has happened to him?" Merlin dropped the
sword, reached forward to close his hand about Ector's

arm. Now he shook the northern lord, as if by force he
would have an answer out of him.

"Uther—he brought to court some of his basebom get.
And one of them—Morgause—she was old for her years,
hot-eyed for any man. She—she enticed Arthur to her bed
a week ago!"

Merlin stood as still as one of the pillars of the Place of
the Sun, his mind moving swiftly. Arthur was not Uther's
son, but if he made plain the real circumstances of the
boy's birth would one of these lords follow him? No, there
would be prattling of night demons who begat him, and
the same aversion Merlin had met himself in days past.
Yet for a man to lie with his sister—that, too, would .put a
stain on Arthur for his lifetime.

"This Morgause," he asked, "is she wed?"

"Not yet. The King was dying but when rumor of her
conduct reached him he was greatly angered. He sum-
moned a lady who was much with him because she had
great healing arts—the King died slowly of a wasting sick-
ness. Into her hands he gave Morgause, though the girl
was not mindful to go quietly. .They say that she was
taken away by night, bound and gagged, within a cur-
tained horse litter. And no man knows where."

Merlin gave a small sigh of relief. "Is it generally known
that Arthur was the cause of her going?"

Ector's frozen cast of countenance lightened a little.
"No. She was free with many men. Uther himself found
her in bed with one of the guard. He knew her nature.
And he swore he would not have her an open shame in his
court."

"Then we are safe." Merlin gave a sigh of relief. "There
may be rumors, but with the wench out of sight they will
soon be out of men's minds. It remains that Arthur must
rule. I have been given the sign,"—and his fingers moved
in that old secret twisting—"that this is ordained. Now it
is in my thoughts we may accomplish this so ..."

He gathered up the sword once again and began to pull
away its wrappings while he talked. And he saw that Ec-
tor seemed to forget the shock which had disturbed him so
Profoundly, that he nodded his head in agreement as this
Point and that were swiftly outlined.

"Remember," Merlin warned when he had finished,
"Myrddin is dead, Merlin lives. Arthur is best unknowing

110

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of his true heritage for now, since he has not had the |
training of his kin."                                      '

"It is—" Ector was beginning when the flap of the tent
was raised and a youth burst in with exuberance, as if he
had been running to the encounter.

Looking at him, Merlin knew a shock nearly as deep as
Ector had experienced earlier. This—this could not be Ar-
thur!

The lad bore no -outward signs of the Old Blood at all.
Taller than Ector and Merlin by serveral inches, his hair
was the red-gold of a tribesman; his face lacked the
hooded eyes and high-bridged nose, the secret-keeping
mouth Merlin fully expected to see. This young giant was
cast in Uther's image. But how could that be? There was
an openness about his manner, about even his features,
which Merlin could not reconcile with the Old Heritage at

all.

"Lord," the boy said, smiling sunnily, "Cei said you
would speak with me—"

"I wish you to meet this lord." Ector indicated Merlin.
"You were my fosterling because of him, and he has
something of great import to tell you."

Merlin moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. His
eyes refused to accept this handsome boy as the Arthur he
had thought of since his birth. Had he looked like the Old
Race, then he himself could have confidently told the boy
as much of the truth as he deemed necessary. But now, his
instinctive wariness when confronted by so apparent a
tribesman wavered.

"Lord?" The boy turned questioningly to him. There
was an eagerness in his eyes. Perhaps all these years he had
hoarded questions which could not be answered by his fos-
ter father. It would only have been natural for Arthur to
wonder about his parentage. And he had had no mirror to
make plain his destiny.

"I am Merlin, and I am a follower of the old knowl-
edge." He watched closely for any reaction, any hint that
this unlikely Arthur had deduced he himself was not full
kin to those about him. But there was only wonder to be
read in the boy's expression. "You are of kingly
blood...." After the affair of Morgause it was perhaps:

better not to make too close an identification with Uther.;

"In fact you are of the kin of Ambrosius and of Max-|
imus." And, Merlin's thoughts added silently, of a breed

MERLIN'S MIRROR          111

far greater and older than either. "In your childhood there
were those who believed you too near the throne. Thus it
was considered better that you be fostered far from the
court. Since Lord Ector is kin to me, and into my hands
you were entrusted, it was to Ector I took you. But the
plans we'held then were not accomplished. It was set upon
me to teach you the old knowledge. However, I fell into
the hands of an enemy and have only lately been delivered
from the prison in which I was held captive.

"But this I would tell you, Arthur: there were prophe-
cies made at your birth and before your birth. High King
of Britain will you be..."

The boy had looked puzzled, now he laughed. "Lord
Merlin, who am I to claim the throne these great lords
now wrangle over? I have not a single liege man at my
back, nor tribe kin to raise my name."

"You have something greater than an army." Merlin
had to believe what he was saying, he had to believe that
the mirror had led him aright. "And that is command over
a Power which was, is and will be. That you shall prove
before the sight of all men when the morning dawns. No."
He held up his hand to halt the questions he saw the other
would ask. "I shall not tell you how this may be done.
You will come to the testing innocent of all knowledge, so
that no man may afterward question the result. But only
you who were born to do this thing can achieve it."

Arthur studied him soberly. "You plainly believe what
you say, Lord Merlin. But to be High King in Britain is a
task few discerning men would thank you for. Those who
reach now for the crown see only that and not the heavy
burden it carries for its wearer."

Merlin felt a lessening of his doubt. If this boy could
understand that, then indeed he had some of the Old Race
in him. If only he might have been taught! But that time
was past. Now the end lay within Arthur's own character,
for good or ill. And by Ector's account there had already
been ill.

Ector spoke to Merlin. "I shall tell the Council. There
will be those who will raise the cry of sorcery—"

Arthur made a sudden movement. "I am no party to
sorcery!" he stated firmly.

"There is no sorcery," Merlin replied. "There is only a
knowledge which most men have forgotten. And if any

112

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remember enough, then perhaps they may win over you.
But it has been prophesied that only you shall reign."

He held stoutly to his faith in the mirror. If that was
shaken he had no secure anchor in his life, and all he had
done had been meaningless. The Star Lords must have
foreseen much when they had prepared the way for this

hour to come.

But he was also chilled and had a queer feeling, as if he
had lost something he had long treasured. His hope of find-
ing a strong kin in this boy who had been fathered, even
as he had been, by the strange beings who strode easily
from star to star, that withered into dust. Even the tie he 3
clung to when he met with Ector, tenuous as it was, was |
lacking here. There was no feeling of inner recognition be- I

tween Arthur and himself.

Now the boy shifted from one foot to the other, looked ;

from Merlin to Ector, as if he awaited only his foster fa- ':

ther's permission to be gone. When Ector nodded, he van-:

ished so quickly it was easy to read his relief in being :

away from this stranger whom he might distrust more than

trust.                                                            :

"I have been thinking." Ector became brisk, as if he, i
too, sensed a certain atmosphere of strain. "There is ai
stone nearby—I think it might be one of the Old Ones—;

well placed for our service. But will they listen to you?"

'They will," stated Merlin grimly and briefly. "Now let f

us to this stone of yours."                               |

Ector was right, it was indeed a standing stone, very I
like those in the Place of the Sun, except this one hap-||
pened to be alone. Perhaps it marked some long-ago vic-|
tory or defeat. Power was still generated by some great 3
deed within it, sensed when he ran his fingertips across its |
surface. Right for his purpose indeed.                    |

Merlin freed the sword from its wrappings and, placing!
both hands on the hilt, set its point to the surface of the|
stone. Slowly, in a low voice, he began the chant, not to|
induce a stone to" rise this time, but rather to open a gate,]
for the metal resting against it. He put all the concentra-j
tion he had learned into this deed, shutting out the world, ||
leaving just the stone and the metal which he would make|i

obey his will.                                         |
The point of the sword bored inward, as if what it rest-I

ed against was not hard rock but far softer wood. Inchj
by inch Merlin strove to work the metal into the stone.|

MERLIN'S MIRROR          113

When it was a third embedded his arms fell to his side and
he swayed, would have crumpled to the ground if Ector
had not caught him.

"The ancient knowledge is a fearsome thing, kinsman."
He steadied Merlin's body against his own, his arm tightly
about the younger man's shoulders. "Had I not seen you
do this deed I would not have believed. But Arthur does
not know the words of Power. Can he indeed draw it forth
again?"

"It is so set that only he can do so," Merlin said faintly.
"He is of the race who have power over stone and metal,
though he knows it not." He made a strong effort, drawing
on his own last store of energy. "Now we must see that the
lords are made aware of the testing."

Afterward Merlin was never to remember clearly how
he confronted that assembled company. He only knew
that within him that night there was an upsurge of Power
so that men listened—even though he wove no illusions—
listened and believed. With torches in hand they went to
the stone and there looked at the sword buried in its harsh
body. Thereafter they agreed that the test Merlin pro-
posed would be their first effort to select a war leader.
Even though they might well believe that no one of their
number could pluck that metal forth, yet something in
them yielded to Merlin's fervor.

He himself was so wearied that he fell rather than laid
himself down on the bed of cloaks and coverings which
Ector provided in his own tent; he then passed into a sleep
untroubled by any dreams, as spent as a man who has
won a victory against overwhelming odds.

In the morning Merlin ate and drank what was given
to him, tasting nothing, chewing and swallowing without
knowing what he did, so centered was his whole energy on
what was to happen. Later he took his place by the stone
with an impatience he found hard to cloak with the out-
ward-seeming dignity and foreknowledge which his role of
prophet demanded.

They came, those of the most consequence first. Lot of
Orkney stood, his face a fox's mask beneath fox-red hair,
his^eyes sliding from one man to another as if he would so
weigh the importance of each man to his own cause.

But under his hand the sword did not stir. In fact he
jerked his fingers quickly back from the hilt as if they had

114 Andre Norton

been licked by fire. Colons' son out of Cornwall tried, and
the others, so many that their names began to mean little
to Merlin. Most were tribesmen, but one or two must
have been of Ambrosius' old army, for they were clearly
of the Roman breed.

Next came the younger men, some boys who had barely
taken armor. Their attempts to draw the magic blade
were more intense, as if they believed where their elders
were of two minds about it all. Cei's dark face was the
only one Merlin recognized. He had always been too much
apart from court and camp to know many.

But he held his breath as Arthur, the sun turning his
hair to a gold as clear and bright as that from the
Western Isle, stepped forward at last. Then within Merlin's
mind word fitted itself to word in a smooth, long-practiced
pattern, though he spoke not aloud.

Arthur wiped the palms of his hands across his thighs as
if they were damp with sweat. His tunic was as sun-bright
as his hair, and the light seemed to draw in about him in a
dazzle of flame. Or was it only Merlin who saw him so?

The boy closed a tight grip on the hilt of the Sky
Sword. Merlin saw the rippling of muscles as his tunic
tightened on shoulder and arm with the effort he put
forth. His face was utterly serious. If no one else in this
throng was wholly sure, Arthur was.

There came a protesting, grating sound. Slowly the
sword loosened, came forth from the slit in which it had
been set. Merlin heard the indrawn breaths, the gasps
from those who watched. They had all tried—they knew
this deed to be impossible—yet before their eyes Arthur
was accomplishing that impossible feat.

He gave a last tug. The hilt fitted his hand as it never
had Merlin's narrower, long-fingered one. The blade was a
fire as he gave a joyous laugh and swung it up through the
air.

Merlin did not shout, but his words carried through all
that company as if he had roared them forth full-lunged.

"Hail, Arthur Pendragon, High King of Britain, he who
was, is and shall be!"

Awe conquered that moment. He saw even Lot's drawn
sword give a warrior's salute to the chief. And Merlin felt
the tension begin to ease out of him.

Then he chanced to glance at the gathering of women
who stood a little apart. Queens and ladies had stood there

MERLIN'S MIRROR          115

watching, perhaps each hoping in her heart that the magic
of this deed would favor her lord and that she might reign
with him. But among them ...

Merlin's^ hands, hanging by his sides, clenched into fists,
though he might have guessed she would be here, and in
some trappings of state this time, no rough green square
belted about her now. No, she was tall for a woman, and
slender, with a grace which made most of her companions
seem like women who labored in the fields. Her robe was
green, right enough, but it was richly worked in fantastic
patterns, and the thread of that working was silver, just as
there was a silver circlet about her dark head, one which
bore a green stone to rest in the middle of her forehead.,

Her eyes met his and he saw a small, secret smile form
on her lips. Straightaway all his feeling of accomplishment
was threatened, he was on the defensive. If he only knew
what powers she could summon! The mirror had said that
in using her energy to imprison Merlin in the cave she had
nearly exhausted what force she could summon. However,
just as that field had waned over the years, could Nimue
not in turn have regained at least partial command over
what she had lost?

The lords of the company were coming to Arthur, to
swear their faith to him. Merlin saw Ector, as always a lit-
tle apart. Two strides closed the distance between them.

"Ector," Merlin said in a voice masked by the clamor
of those greeting Arthur, "who is that woman, she who is
turning away now?"

He must know what standing Nimue had at court, how
much opposition she might be able to summon, either
openly or more subtly.

"They call her the Lady of the Lake. For she has ^a hold
of her own, one people say was once a temple to some
strange goddess who ruled springs and rivers. But she has
great power of healing and has dwelt in the court lately
tending Uther until his death. It is she who bore away
Morgause, and perhaps keeps her in that tower which is
her own. Men credit her with the old learning. Yet if she
is of the kin, never has she moved to claim it with such as
my own clan."

"No!" Merlin exploded. "She is of the Dark Ones, Ec-
tor, and her true name is Nimue. It was by her will that I
have lain in prison. We must set watch on her, for she will

116

Andre Norton

mean Arthur no good will, mainly because he is what he

"'But they were too late, for, when Ector had summoned
two of his trusted valley men to set watch upon the Lady,
they found her gone, no one knowing where. And Merlin
was left with a shadow of fear of what might come to
color his days and disturb his nights.

11.

Merlin stood once more within the Place of the Sun.
Lugaid's hut was just a tumble which could no longer be
discerned as any habitation of man. He wondered, not for
the first time, where the Druid had gone—if he was not
indeed dead. He shivered as if some foot had pressed on
his own grave barrow, and the loneliness which always lay
in wait beyond the circle of his will stirred like some beast
crouching ready to attack. Ector—Ector had gone down
beneath a Saxon ax, two or three battles ago.

Time had become not a matter of the counting of sea-
sons but rather of battles, for Arthur was the war leader
whom they had long sought. He had in him more skill,
even in his youth, than Uther had ever summoned for rid-
ding Britain of the invaders; he had more flexibility than
Roman-trained Ambrosius had been able to employ in his
handling of the jealous, quick-to-anger clansmen.

His answer to the inroads of the Winged Hats had been
cavalry—the Black Horsemen of the borders. Horses of
the Friesian breed, larger and heavier than the native po-
nies, which had been auctioned off nearly a generation ear-
lier when the cavalry left the wall, mated to the also
dark-coated Fell Ponies of the north, producing a wiry
and strong mount, able to carry a man wearing chain ar-
mor. The horses themselves also wore protection of stiff-
ened leather oversewn with metal links.

The Saxons, in spite of their reverence for white horses,
which they sacrificed to Wotan on suitable occasions, were
not the horsemen most tribesmen were. And a quick
cavalry charge, tearing into massed footmen, became Ar-
thur's way. Ambrosius had done well in his time, holding
back the invaders, pushing out those Vortigen had wel-
comed as a buffer against Scotti and the Picts; Uther had
held precariously to the gains his brother had made. But
117

118 Andre Norton

Arthur was ever pushing at the Saxons, forcing them back
and out.

More and more of them had taken to their dragon-
prowed boats with their women and children, their posses-
sions; they headed overseas, away from Britain where the
continual harassment of Arthur's men kept them living
with spear and ax to hand, with no surety at the rising of
each day's sun that they would be alive to see its setting.

In so much had Arthur won.

Merlin dismounted by the King Stone, his shoulders a
little bent under his white robe.

He rested both palms on the surface of the block. How
young, how filled with excitement and triumph he had
been on the day it was set herel He had won so easily
what he had given his life to obtain. A stone ferried back
across the sea, planted in the earth of Britain—an act too
small to be deemed a victory.

Now he sighed wearily. He had made Arthur king, yes.
But the Arthur who now sat on the throne was not the
king of his dreams, nor his labors. He listened to Merlin
with courtesy. Sometimes—only sometimes—would he
listen with agreement. The priests of the Christ were also
near at hand. And they turned on Merlin when they could
with a gabble of sorcery, raking up once more the old
tale that he was demon-sired.

It seemed to him now that there was always a subtle
flaw in all he planned. Only three things had he done with-
out mistake: brought this stone back to its rightful place
where it could serve as part of a future beacon, freed the
Sky Sword and put it in Arthur's hand and raised Arthur
himself to the throne.

But Arthur did not have the learning which the future
of the Sky People depended on. His character had been
formed by others. And Merlin had long since learned that
Nimue had her own ways of countering all he would do.

There was the matter of the Queen. Merlin's mouth
twisted in a grimace as if a mortal pain had struck him
with that thought. A king's daughter, of such beauty as
made men's breath catch in their throats when they first
looked on her—outwardly a worthy mate for Arthur. In-
wardly—what? A toy, a doll, a woman so obsessed with
her own kind of power, of the body alone, that her eyes
were never still when she was in company; rather they flit-
ted here and there seeking out each man to see if he was

MERLIN'S MIRROR

119

smitten suitably by her grace of face and form. That was
Guenevere.

And Merlin scented suspiciously something about her
that was of Nimue, though he had never seen the Lady of
the Lake since she had turned smiling from Arthur's
triumph with the sword. So long ago ...

Merlin rubbed his hand across his forehead. He felt a
great weariness of spirit, together with a foreboding he
could not understand. Twice he had made the pilgrimage
back to the cave, but the mirror was silent; he had not
tried to break its silence, drawing instead what force lay
within himself to carry on.

Still he dreamed at times, and those dreams were able
to nourish his will. He saw the cities which rose in the sky,
the men who mastered the ability to fly, fashioned the
land itself to suit their will as a potter slaps and pinches
clay into a new form. He saw what man could create, and
then he awoke to the squalor and the degradation of what
man had come to in this age.

He had wisdom to offer, but who would accept his
counseling? Arthur—when it suited his own plans. Oth-
ers—a few who came to him for healing. But the majority
listened to the priests from overseas, looking on everything
that was not favored by their preaching as the outpouring
of evil. How and why had he come to this low ebb?

He stood apart now as if encased in uncracking ice. He
could feel compassion, but he was more kin to the beasts
of the fields and the forests than to man. And always the
loneliness gnawed him.

His very appearance set him apart, for it seemed that
he did not age greatly now that he had reached man's es-
tate. He prudently used the arts of herbs to alter his face
and hair, bringing about the effects of encoaching years;

otherwise his continued youth would also awake hostility
in men who feared most of all the failing of their own
powers, the approach of age which meant death in the
end.

Cold and dark—

Suddenly Merlin shook his head, stood straighter. He
was letting his own uncertainties defeat him. Arthur was
firmly on the throne of Britain. The King had forged that
peace with the sword Merlin had put in his hand. No man
could seize victory unless he had first tasted defeat. This

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Andre Norton

was the hour at last, the hour toward which all his own

life had been directedl

He looked about him with renewed vigor like one awak-
ening from a dark dream. The stones stood tall and strong
here, ancient as their setting had been. What had the mir-
ror ever set in his mind—the Power that was, is and will
be! And the "will be" lay before. He would bring Arthur
here in spite of all the priests from overseas, take him on
to the mirror. Why had he allowed shadows to lie heavy
in his own mind, whisper dispiriting thoughts in his ears?
He was Merlin of the Mirror, perhaps the last man of this
world to hold so much of the old knowledge! He had
wasted time too long. Now that Arthur did not need to
hunt the invaders from his land he would be ripe and ready
for the task he had been destined for, just as Merlin had

been destined in turn.

It seemed to him as he threw aside that morbidity of
mind that the stones blazed royally under the sun, with a
flare like that of torches. They stood for torches in a man-
ner, emblems of forgotten light in a dark world. He held
his head high, straightened his shoulders.

Why had he allowed the cloak of doubt and a premise
of defeat to rest on him lately? It was as if men's talk of
magic indeed held a core of truth and he had been firmly
encircled by some spell, just as he had formerly been re-
moved from the world by the action of the mirror to
preserve his life. Flooding through him now was a realiza-
tion of Power almost as strong as the day he had raised
the King Stone from its bed of earth on the Western Isle.

Yet he also felt a reluctance to leave, to start back to
the High King's fortress-palace. These stones were closer
to him in spirit than any man living. And he thought with
deep regret of how he had longed for Arthur's birth that
there might be one other to share the alienation he always
felt, most strongly when he was among a throng of men.

He whistled and the horse, which had strayed a little,
grazing on the ragged grass about the standing stones,
nickered an answer, trotted to him and butted its head
against Merlin's chest while he fondled its ears, the stand
of mane between. It was one of the famous black mounts,
larger and sturdier than the hill ponies Merlin had known
years earlier, and more docile, lacking those quirks of in-
dependence which sometimes moved the ponies to resent
the control of any rider.

MERLIN'S MIRROR

121

After he swung up into fhe saddle Merlin still lingered
to look on the stones wistfully. He could see the barrow
they had raised over Ambrosius, that dark, forceful man
who had endeavored so hard to bring back the past be-
cause only in its ways could he see any security.

Uther did not lie here. The foreign priests had claimed
his body, set it under the floor of one of their rough-
walled churches which had been erected on the site of a
Roman temple, the very stones of that temple riven and
reset to the service of this new god.

Merlin could see also the barrow they had invaded to
bring forth the sword. Who had lain there? One of the
true Sky Men who had come to death so far from his
home? Or one like himself, a son of a mixed union? Mer-
lin would never know, but now he found his hand rising in
a warrior's salute, not only to the man called the Last of

the Romans, but also to that unknown one of a far earlier
age.

As he rode out of the Place of the Sun he buttressed his
own resolve. He would appeal to Arthur, take him to the
mirror. Arthur was far from a stupid man; he could tell
the difference between ancient knowledge and that which
ignorant men of this age termed magic,

Also it was time, surely it was time that Merlin put the
King Stone to its intended use. There was a certain object
in the cave of the mirror. That must be brought forth,
placed under the stone meant from the first to be its
guardian, and then—then the summons would go forth!

Ships from the stars, ships which themselves were older
than man could reckon, would come in answer. Once
more men would rise to conquer sky, earth and sea! The
glory of that belief exalted him, gave warmth to melt
quickly the ice encasing his hopes. Man stood on the first
step of a new and glorious age.

So was he borne up by his thoughts during the long
journey back to Camelot, and his night dreams were the
brightest he had ever had. Arthur and the nun-or—the sig-
nal and the stone—-
Days later Merlin rode up the rise of the ring-and-ditch
fortress which Arthur had held and reworked into the
most formidable hold in all of Britain. The guards knew
turn well enough so that there was no challenge at the in-
ner gates. And he paused only to change his travel-stained

122 Andre Norton

robe for one more in keeping with the splendor of the
court before he sought out the King.

Arthur was inclined to be expansive. "Hail, Merlin." He
beckoned across the center of the board which was one of
Merlin's own ideas, a circular dining place where no
quick-tempered chief or petty king could claim that he
was slighted by being placed below another with a lesser
claim for notice. Being round, none could say that his fel-
loW was more advantageously placed than he.

"Hail, Lord King." Merlin was quick to notice a new
face among the familiar ones. Cei was no longer at Ar-
thur's right hand, though the foster brother, for all his un-
certain temper, had been the King's comrade from the be-
ginning. No, here was a new youth, hardly more than a
boy.

Looking on the dark face of that stranger, Merlin sup-
pressed a sudden shiver. If Arthur had nothing in his fea-
tures of the presence of the Blood, this youth showed it
more plainly than Merlin had yet seen it, except in his
own mirrored face.

Familiar was that look, yet also strange. For the eyes
which peered from under the veiling lids were hard, un-
readable. Those sullen and watchful eyes were old beyond
the apparent years of the boy's body; they more than hint-
ed at some vengeance. . . .

Merlin took his imagination firmly to task. He should be
glad at this moment that one of the Old Race was here.
Yet there was nothing in the youth to which he could
warm.

"You are in time." Arthur gestured and his own cup-
bearer hastened to produce another cup of hammered sil-
ver, fill it with the wine from overseas and hand it respect-
fully to Merlin. "You are in time, bard, to drink to the
health of one of the Pendragon blood new come into our
service." He nodded to the youth. "This is Modred, who is
son to the Lady Morgause, and so my own nephew."

Merlin's hand closed tightly about the goblet. He did
not even need that sly, darting look from the boy's eyes, a
look which measured him in a way alerting him to danger,
to know the truth.

Arthur's nephew? Nay, Arthur's son by that slut whom
Nimue had taken into hiding. And by that single glance at
him, Merlin was also sure the boy knew the truth—or the
part of it which could cause the most harm for Arthur—

MERLIN'S MIRROR          123

that he was indeed the King's son, and by a lady who was
reputed the King's half-sister.

Merlin drank, knowing that his long training in hiding
his feelings must now serve him better than ever before.
"Lord Modred." He nodded to the boy. "The Pendragon
blood is in honor."

"Aye." Arthur smiled. "He is in good time to blood his
sword and show what mettle he has in him. For we have
had the coast lights up along the Saxon shore. These war
dogs yet sniff around for some mouthful of prey to snatch.
We ride hunting again—"

The King's face was a little flushed, his eyes alight
Merlin, looking at him, knew that no argument he might
use now would stop Arthur. He must set aside his own
plan of confronting the King with the mirror, so letting
Arthur learn his heritage and true purpose. And Modred
... Modred who was the King's son was fostered by Ni-
mue. That Merlin also instinctively knew. She had had a
long time, as earth men measured time, to prepare the
shaft. Now she had launched it. To the malice of one who
sees himself bereft of a rightful place, add the iron will of
Nimue. She had a formidable weapon in this youth.

Though caution moved in Merlin, so did anger begin to
rise. It was always Nimue and from the first he had been
far too influenced by her good fortune. Now he would seek
her out. And how better find a road to her than through
this Modred who was her creature?

Merlin listened to the excited talk of a new expedition
against the Saxons. But as he sat in his place at that round
board he raised his eyes to the gallery of the great hall,
there looking from one fair face to another. It was the
boast of the Queen that she had in her train the most
beautiful women of Britain, having no jealousy in any
threat of comparison.

There sat Guenevere. Her richly embroidered robe was
a clear yellow, like ripening grain. There was a thin crown
of red gold'on her hair, which was so near the color of
her robe that hair melted into cloth and cloth seemed a
part of hair. A heavy necklace of amber was around her
throat, and earrings of that same mystic gem dangled
against each cheek as she leaned forward, her eyes nar-
rowly intent on—whom?

Merlin traced her gaze. She was looking at Modred and
about her lips there lay a faint shadow of a lazy smile.

124 Andre Norton

For a long moment Merlin studied her intently, for he
knew that something lay in that look which he could not
read. And his inability to do so was disturbing. That the
women of the tribes were puzzles for him was perhaps a
kind of maiming, though that thought was startling in it-
self and he did not have time to consider it now. He had
believed Guenevere a doll, a plaything, without any
thoughts which might be of service to his own goal. Was
she more?

He was searching now for another face, however. So he
turned from the bright sunlight of the Queen to the more
subdued rainbow of her ladies. Some he knew by name,
others were but flower faces which he had never chosen to
study with as much interest as he now gave them.
Nowhere was the one he sought. There was no dark lady
as vivid, or perhaps more vivid, than the Queen. If Nimue
had introduced Modred to the court, she had not come
here herself, or else she chose not to attend this feast.

Slowly Merlin sought for her with that other sense
which he rarely used in such a large company, mainly be-
cause it could be overwhelmed and lost when there were
so many minds and personalities all emitting energies of
their own. No, he would take blood oath his enemy was
not present.

But her will was here, in the person of the King's
"nephew." Merlin began to plan anew. He could not be-
lieve that this sudden news of Saxons at the coast signified
any great difficulty. It would seem that Arthur himself
looked on this ride as a diversion, a chance to show his
new-found nephew the dexterity and invincible force of
the Black Horse troops.

Now—Merlin knew it inside himself, swelling, pushing
aside, erasing all the doubts of his half-human heritage—-
now was the time for him to do what should be done in
this hour. Summon the Sky ships at long last—with or
without Arthur's concordance!

He had withdrawn, even in the midst of the feasters,
into his own thoughts. Now he was suddenly aware that
the men about him were rising, calling on their armor
bearers, making ready to ride. There was excitement in
them, that fiery thirst for battle that always marked the
tribesmen. He could feel the force of their emotions kin-
dling an answer in himself. And he was quick to control it
with that other part of him which was not of this world,

MERLIN'S MIRROR          125

but of the Star Lords; that part of him thought, planned
and used invisible forces to accomplish its ends, not the
sharp-edged primitive weapons about him.

There was one standing before him, looking into his
eyes. Merlin, now alert, stared back at Modred.

"They call you bard." Modred's voice was low-pitched,
to pass unheard in the clamor about them now. "They also
name you sorcerer, son of no man." There was an insolence
in his tone which would have brought any of the tribes-
men to his feet, sword half out, ready to offer an open
challenge in return.

"All that is the truth." Merlin was a little mystified by
this open approach, though he had felt from the first that
Nimue's man would in some way make plain his feeling.

"And how much of it is true?" The challenge in the
youth's voice was even more marked.

Merlin smiled. "How much truth do any of us know
concerning ourselves? Or are able to convey that truth
even a little to others? We all have our own powers and
forces, much or little. What matters is how we use the
gifts and learning given us."

"There is learning from the dark as well as from the
light," the other answered him flatly. "The High King lis-
tens to the priests of light, bard. The old days are done—"

Now Merlin laughed. The same battle fever which
gripped those around him at the message that there were
Saxons to be met arose in him, but for another reason.
Nimue, through this youth, was delivering her challenge.
And when it came to war, then his doubts vanished. He
could draw on the forces he had used that day when the
stone rose to his signal and moved. What had eaten him
lately in this court? He was no useless tool; he was a com-
mander of such powers as none in (his hall had ever seen.
Now his mind moved rapidly as he enumerated those pow-
ers in part, even as his surface thoughts probed at
Modred.

"Have ypu never heard this. Lord Modred," he asked,
making a mockery of that name, light mockery which the
"oy caught, for there was a dark flush rising under his
skm, "that there is that which was. is and will be? I think
she who taught you knew that promise well."

He had half turned away when Modred caught at the
sleeve of his robe.

"You are insolent, bard! And what mean you by 'she'?"

126 Andre Norton

Merlin laughed again. So Nimue had not been able to
establish full control of this nursling of hers. He might
look like one of the Old Blood but he had the ways of the
tribes, with that spark of angry fire rising at the first cross-
ing of mental swords.

"Boy"—he gave him no "lord" this time—"you have
not learned manners, whatever else you have been
taught." Merlin twitched the sleeve of his robe from be-
tween the other's fingers. "Most of all, you should leam
the nature of your man before you speak."

Perhaps he had given the boy a hint too much with
those words. But he was also of tribe blood and royal as
Modred. He also thought that Nimue must not have done
too well in choosing this tool for her meddling. He was
not another Ector, nor even a Cei—he was partly a fool.

Merlin made his way through the throng of excited
men. He had his own mission, now that he had at last
made up his mind. However, at the door he paused to
look back. Modred was still staring after him, and now
the boy's hand lay on another arm, that of one of the
priests from overseas. The priest's shaved face was alive
with emotion and Merlin saw that Modred's lips were
moving. That he stirred some pot of trouble, Merlin had
no doubt. But what kind of trouble ... He shrugged.

He went swiftly to his own quarters and put aside the
bard's robes. Those white lengths made him too conspicu-
ous. He pulled on a simple tunic over breeches, picked up
a hooded cloak. Thus garbed, he found a fresh mount,
filled saddlebags with bread and cheese from the kitchens
where the servants muled about doing the same for the
troops gathering at the King's orders. But Merlin rode out
first, and in the direction of the mountains.

It had been several years now since he had taken this
way, but he could never forget each twist and turn of its
going. And the time he had spent living wild in the woods
never departed from his mind either, so that he made
small camps at night without fire, and was able to hide his
going well, which had become habit with him.

The ruins of Nyren's hold showed now only as a single
tumbled outer wall overgrown with bramble and bush.
There were no longer any ghosts left there to trouble him.
But Merlin halted for a long moment as he came near it,
trying wistfully to remember how it had been when that
was the clan home for one Myrddin.

MERLIN'S MIRROR

127

Then came the upward slope. There he stripped his
mount of bridle and saddle, hobbled it and turned the
horse loose to graze while he went to the mirror. He
picked free the stones of his door to go inside. The cave
was very dim. Not one of the cubes showed any light, and
he did not approach the mirror. This time he had no ques-
tion to ask. He knew well what must be done.

Edging along the wall he came to a cylinder as tall as
his forearm, as big around as a circle his two hands could
make, thumb touching thumb, little finger against little fin-
ger. Stooping he gathered that up. Long ago the mirror
voice had told him of this, of how it must be used. The in-
structions were as clear in his mind now as if they had
been issued within the hour. This was the full purpose of
his life. There must be no more hesitation, no more trying
to work through men whose natures betrayed over and
over the win of the Star Lords.

The beacon was lighter than he thought it would Be as
he carried it out into the open. He set it to one side, re-
closed the door with the stones. He was not finished with
the mirror. Arthur would come sooner or later, even as
had been planned. There would be time for that. How
long it might take for his message to reach the ships, he
had no idea. Months, years ... it was his task to keep Ar-
thur king until that hour when those others would come.

Holding the cylinder close against him as one embraces
a longed-for treasure, Merlin started down the slope.

12.

There was no light this time when Merlin reached the
Place of the Sun. The year was late, harvest was well in
and cold bit fiercely at a man in the frost-tinged early
mornings, the long dark nights. And the stones seemed to
stand bleakly aloof now, as if they had withdrawn from
all possible contact with the men of this earth.

If he still had the shining sword his task would have
been comparatively easy. But now that was Arthur's, and
Merlin must make do as best he could with his knowledge
alone. As he penetrated the pillared circles he shivered
with more than the reaching fingers of the cold wind. The
kinship which he had always felt waiting for him here was
missing, closed off like a door to shut out the unwanted in
the dark of night.

Nor did Merlin lift his hand to caress any of the stones
as he had been wont to do on his earlier visits here.
Necessity drove him directly to the task. So he approached
the King Stone where it lay, flanked on either side by the
rude arches in all their strength.

Carefully putting down on the ground what he had car-
ried through these days of travel from the cave in the
mountains to this site, Merlin considered the stone.

It was plain that he could not merely set his burden out,
enthroned on the stone, as he had once naively thought to
do. Anyone passing here, shunned though the site gener-
ally was, might be moved by curiosity to inspect the
beacon. No, it must be well hidden and his training told
him exactly where: under the massive block of stone it-
self.

He had moved the rock once to prove his strength,
therefore he could move it again, though the task was a
formidable one without the sword. He had only the short
128

MERLIN'S MIRROR          129

blade of his belt knife and that was not fashioned from
the wondrous metal. Nevertheless he must use it.

It was dusk when he had reached the stones. Their
shadows cut deep, and there was something about those
shadows. He found himself jerking his head around now
and then to stare intently at one or another of the pools of
dark. Though he knew that Nimue had previously used
only such illusions as he himself could call up at com-
mand, still there remained a residue of the uncanny, the
not-to-be-known in this place.

Merlin recalled what Lugaid had once said, that a tem-
ple where the worship of certain forces had continued for
a long time absorbed into itself the power of belief rising
from those worshipers. That power, too, could be drawn
on by the men who know how to awaken it.

Only this was not a place of the night. It needed dawn
or the full beams of the sun, which had long been honored
here as a source of life, to bring forth its full energy. He
must wait out the hours of the night. But he could use
that time to prepare himself for what would be the
greatest effort he had yet made, greater even than the
parade of illusions which had brought about Arthur's
fathering.

Picking up the beacon once again, he moved over to the
tumbled mound which had been Lugaid's dwelling. There
he made his rude camp, drinking from a small spring, now
almost silted up again since the Druid had not come to
clear passage for the water, eating the last of the provi-
sions he had carried from Camelot.

Merlin settled then with his back against the half-top-
pled wall of rough stones and looked back over the Place
of the Sun. As the light fast faded the wind came. When
that blew around and over the pillars there rose a weird
wailing sound; the imaginative might well read into it the
lament of men and women now long vanished from the
earth, yet still somehow alive and longing for a safe re-
turn.

Not for the first time Merlin wondered about the Sky
Lords. What did they seek here that they were so deter-
mined to come again? If they were mighty enough to travel
from one of those stars now shining above him to another,
why could they not have found another world which
would welcome them?

Was there some quality found only here which they

130               Andre'Norton

must have in order to endure as a race? Did they need
mankind in order to survive? The mirror had been evasive
whenever he had tried to probe into that. He had often
been overwhelmed, when it poured forth information, with
much he could not begin to understand because his world
had no names for the strange artifacts, the complicated
machines those others used with ease. But some of the
most simple questions appeared in turn to silence the
voice, as if it in turn were baffled by such searching on his

part.

Though he did not close his eyes now, but continued to

watch night engulf the Place of the Sun, Merlin was at
work inside himself, drawing out scraps of knowledge,
summoning energy to buttress all his power. This would be
no fashioning of an hallucination, it would be a real act.

He was a general as supreme as Arthur, but his troops
were not men. Down and down he delved into his own
memory and mind. And then, with a sudden start, he rec-
ognized a picture which that memory supplied. There was
Nimue in this place, her body white, her hair tossed by the
wind. He could hear the honey smoothness of her voice,
almost reach out to touch the hand she extended to him. :

No!

Resolutely Merlin fought that memory which was so

troubling. He was a little apprehensive ... could he per-
haps actually touch Nimue now by recalling her too
plainly? Out of his mind—he must thrust her safely away.

The mirror, he must concentrate on the mirror, as if it
stood full-length before him now. He grew calmer and his
turmoil faded as he visualized the mirror. And its voice
was in his ears so that he could sort out words, phrases, fit
such together to reinforce his knowledge of what must be

done here at sunrise.

He was no longer tired. Power was growing steadily in

him, filling his body, his mind. He must hold it so con-
tained until the moment came to release it to do his will.
Time for darkness—time for light—but he did not mark
the hours. Nor was he any longer cold. Power furnished
heat in his body so that he threw off his hooded cloak in
spite of the frost-breathing wind.

Chancing to glance down at his two hands resting on his
knees, he was not surprised to see that his flesh was giving
off a kind of glow. Why shouldn't it? He was afire with
force, and now he had only to contain it until the moment

MERLIN'S MIRROR          131

to come. His lips moved but not even a whisper emerged
from between them, only in his mind did the archaic
words echo in the proper patterns.

Merlin rose when the sky grayed. Though he had been
sitting through the night his limbs were in no way stiff-
ened. He felt instead like a runner advancing to the start-
ing post, eager to be gone. His left arm cradled the
beacon against him. His right hand held the belt knife,

drawn and ready.

Long strides brought him to the King Stone and he
stood behind that block ready to face the rising sun. He
placed the beacon on the ground between his feet. And
now he stretched out his hand, began to bring the knife
blade rmgingly down on the stone, while from him poured
all those words he had gathered out of memory, arranged
in the right pattern, ready for this great moment in his

life.

Beat—beat—ever increasing in tempo. The sky showed
the forebanners of the rising sun. His voice sing-songed an
invocation older perhaps than even the stones about him.
Beat—chant—beat—

The stone—it was coming alive, reluctantly, heavily, in
grudging answer. But it was coming! The beat had in-
creased to a flashing of metal; sparks flew from that meet-
ing of rock and iron. Merlin's voice rose as he called on
the force which was imprisoned in the stone to answer to
his will.

The block stirred, not as quickly as it had under the
summons of the sword, but it was answering! His will har-
nessed the force—he raised the knife blade—one end of
the stone followed.

His tunic clung damply to his body. In spite of the cold
he was feverish with heat, sweat pouring from him. Up
and up. Until that block stood on end. Then he said the
single word he had never dared use before, one of the
Great Bindings of Power. The stone remained on end, the
place where it had lain was bare.

Merlin dropped to his knees. He began to dig with the
knife point in the uncovered oblong of earth, working as
fast as he could, for he had no idea how long that Word
would hold an inanimate object. Dig, scrape loose the soil,
dig again, deeper, deeper, faster—

At last he had the pit ready and he fitted the beacon
"ito it, standing erect, its lighter end pointing to the sky.

132

Andre Norton

Now he worked even faster, pounding back most of the
earth he had excavated, hammering the soil down with
both palm of hand and butt of knife. Finally he threw
aside the knife and, with his earth-stained, broken-nailed
hands, he touched the top of the cylinder at a certain
place, turned it so that the cover itself slid around to the
left under the pressure of his fingers.

Trembling from near exhaustion. Merlin threw himself
back from the bed of the stone. He got to his knees, look-
ing up at the towering block. In his mind he released the
Word. The stone fell with a crushing force. He only hoped
that his pit for the beacon had been deep enough to
preserve it. But now he was so spent that he could only
He, one hand against the King Stone, only half conscious
that he had finished his task.

It was the touch of the stone which aroused him at last.
He had always been able to feel the force imprisoned in
this mighty block, but this steady throb was new. Merlin
gave a cry of relief and joy as understanding reached him.
He had succeeded. The stone itself was charged by the
beacon—he had indeed lighted the way. But when would
the ships come? How far, how many, when?

He was too weak to rise to his feet at once, but sat
there, his head drooping on his breast, his hand resting on
the rock, aware most of aB of that steady beat.

What roused him this time was an alert of danger, as if
some warning or foul stench had carried down the wind.
He groped in the withered grass for his knife, his only
weapon. Now he heard the thud of hooves, a shout which
could only have come from a human throat

Saxons? Outlaws? He was sure only by that warning of
his heightened senses that those who came were enemies.
So he did not rise to his feet, rather crept on his hands
and knees into the shadow of a standing stone. From there
he could see the party milling about They were not
advancing directly toward his insecure hiding place, he
thought they were reluctant to enter the enclosure of the
Place of the Sun.

One of them came riding swiftly from the direction of
Lugaid's hut, urging Merlin's horse before him. He could
hear their excited voices but not make out the words. He
was near enough, however, to see that the two who ap-
peared to command the party wore the robes of the

MERLIN'S MIRROR          133

priests from overseas, while their followers were plainly
liege men to some tribal lord.

The priests were urging the warriors on. But in spite of
commands impatiently delivered, as far as Merlin could
read their gestures, the tribesmen were not about to enter
me ancient sacred place, which was a clue to their mis-
sion. For the oldest law to which all the tribes bowed was
that no blood could be spilled within, no fugitive pursued
into one of the Places of Power.

He was sure that he was their quarry but he could not
guess the reason for their hunt. Arthur gave room at his
court to the believers in the Christ and many of his people
were worshipers, but he also followed the liberal policy es-
tablished by Ambrosius, asking no man what god he paid
homage to when he came armed and ready to join in the
harrying of the invaders. There were still some of the old
Roman breed who bowed knee to the Bull-Slayer Mithras,
and others who served older gods of Britain.

Who had granted these hunters permission to come af-
ter him? Merlin would swear that it was not the doing of
Arthur. Though the King had never been kin-close as
Merlin had once hoped, he respected and sometimes listen-
ed to the man who had put the sword of Britain into his
hand. No, Arthur would not turn against him. But some-
one had sent these hunters, and his guess fastened on
Modred. Had the "nephew" come out of nowhere gained
this much ascendancy at Camelot?

The priests were still urging on their followers, but the
warriors drew back. So now the gray robes themselves
came forward alone. One held aloft the symbol of his god,
a cross of wood, and they were both chanting. Merlin saw
that the sturdier of the two had drawn a sword, though
that was foreign to the very teachings he was supposed to
uphold: a man who was a priest was not a warrior.

Hiding like a hunted animal revolted Merlin so he now
rose to his feet on the far side of the stone behind which
he had taken refuge. When he stepped into sight he was as
erect as a warrior awaiting an enemy's charge.

Now that they were closer Merlin could see their fea-
tures and he recognized one. He was the priest to whom
Modred had been speaking in the feasting hall at Camelot
So his suspicion was confirmed. This meeting was of
Modred's doing.

134 Andre Norton

"Whom do you search for, men of a god's service?"
Merlin came into full view.

The one who held the cross chanted, in the tongue of
Romans, an invocation against the forces of Darkness.
Now he stuttered over a word, but continued his chant
valiantly. His companion did not quite raise his sword.
Though his eyes were those of a fanatic, he seemed not
yet ready to ride down an unarmed man.

"Demon spawn!" he spat, his voice rising above the
chant.

Merlin shook his head. "You stand now," he said qui-
etly, "in a place which has known many gods. Most are
now long forgotten, because those who called upon their
names in times of peril are also gone. As long as men re-
alize that there is some greater Power outside themselves,
a force which will aid them to better lives, to good will,
and to peace in time, so there will be gods. What matter if
Some men call that Power which is the greater Mithras or
Christus or Lugh? The Power is the same. Only men dif-
fer, being mortal, while the Power was, is and will be—
beyond even the death of this earth on which we now
stand."

"Blasphemer!" was the cry from the priest. "Servant of
the Evil One—"

Merlin shrugged. "You take upon yourself my role,
Priest. It is for a bard to call names, though he does it
with greater ease and skill, being well able even to insult
kings to their shame in open courts when he chooses to
sing them down. I have no quarrel with you. What I have
heard of your Christns tells me that he is indeed one who
holds true Power. But I say he is not the only one who
has—or will. To each tribe of men a god arises in his own
time. I salute your Christus as one who has seen the Great
Light But would such a one welcome the hunting of men
who do not follow his road? I think not, for if he did, then
truly he is not the Great One to whom all roads are made
open and plain."

The older priest's chant had dwindled into silence. He
studied Merlin with an odd appraising look on his old
face, for it was a face wrinkled and much worn by time.

"You say strange things, my son," he said.

"If you have heard much concerning me, Priest, then
you know I am a strange man. If you wish to match pow-

MERLIVTS MIRROR          135

ers with powers—that is the game of a child who plays
with the truth and does not use it worthily. Behold—"

He pointed with his forefinger, moving it quickly from
side to side. Small flames danced for the space of three
breaths on the crown of four of the blue stones.

The older priest watched this with calm. His wild-eyed
companion flushed a deep red and cried out: "Devil's
work!"

"If that be so then, as evil yields to the force of good,
banish it. Priest!" ordered Merlin as again the flames
danced.

The priest pointed and spoke in Latin. But the flames
remained until Merlin snapped his fingers, when they van-
ished. Now the priest's face swelled with scarlet wrath.

"The nature of evil," Merlin observed slowly, "lies not
outside a man, but in. Within himself he makes room for
hate, fear and all the things which are spawned in
darkness. If he does not give such room, then he does not
give birth to demons. I use no force to harm and never
have. Nor will I do so. For if I put my talents to such a
purpose, (hen they shall in turn be lost to me. What god I
hail when I use his Power, that is my own concern. I
strive not to make any other man believe in him. It is
enough that I know such Power exists, that it was, is and
shall be!"

The old priest studied him for a moment and then said:

"Stranger, your road is not ours. But from this moment I
shall not believe what has been told us, that you are an
active agent of evil. You are sadly mistaken, and I shall
pray for you, that your mind may be turned to the truth
and away from the error you believe in."

Merlin bowed his head for a moment. "Priest, aH
prayers made in good faith are noted by the Power. It
matters not in what name they may be said. I mean you
no harm, let it be that you shall say the same—"

"No!" The cry came out as if the younger priest were
strangling with anger, or perhaps some fear. "This demon
breed is a threat to all believing men. He shall die!"

He made a sudden lunge with the sword, not awkwardly
but with ease. Merlin thought that perhaps he had been a
warrior before he had put on the priest's robe. But Mer-
lin was ready, for he had noted the small change in the
other's eyes. His own hand swung up, empty. The sword

136 Andre Norton

was dragged to One side, as if caught by a giant magnet,
to crash against the nearest stone. The blade shattered.

"Go in peace," Merlin said as the priest stared incredu-
lously at the jagged scrap he held. "I say the truth, I mean
harm to no man. But you would do well to ride from this
place. For the old ban remains here: no man coming in
wrath and with a bared weapon once lived within these
circles. The worshipers who enforced that law are long
gone, but there is still the force of their prayers. Go and
be glad that the stones do not rise up to answer you in

kind."

"Brother Gildas," the older priest said quietly, "under
your obedience to God, do you come. This man walks his
own road and it is not for us to question him."

Then he reached down and caught the dangling reins of
the other's horse and turned away, leading the second
mount behind him, while the rider sat silent as if shocked
beyond speech. When they joined the waiting warriors the
older priest gave an order. The tribesman who held Mer-
lin's horse loosed it. And they rode away with a haste on
the part of the escort which suggested that if the priests
did not believe in the force of the ancient holy place, they

certainly did.

Merlin watched them disappear. Again the great fatigue
born from his efforts seemed to fasten leaden weights on
his limbs. He must have sleep and soon. But would it be
wise to linger here?

He thought that he could trust the older priest, and
from the results of their trial of strength, he was superior
to the other. Besides, it had been plain that the warriors
were not minded to ride into the Place of the Sun to take
him. He returned to the King Stone. The sun generated
some warmth here and he had his cloak for a covering.
Also the wind had died. He pulled together the coarse,
dead grass to fashion a nest in which he settled to sleep.

It was late afternoon when Merlin awoke. The noise he
had heard was the plaintive whicker of his horse. It had
grazed its way among the stones and now waited nearby.
The man wished he could fill his own belly so well. He
had eaten the last of his provisions the night before and
this was not the season when one could glean berries or
herbs to stay hunger. He would have to try his luck in the
old way of his boyhood with sling and stone, perhaps he
could bring down a rabbit

MERLIN'S MIRROR          137

Selecting some pebbles which seemed suitable, he set
out and found that his old skill was indeed not lost. But he
did not leave the circle of the stones, building a small fire
instead, striking sparks with a piece of flint and his knife
blade. There, beside the King Stone, he roasted the rabbit,
eating it down to the last fraction of flesh which could be
sucked from its bones.

In spite of the dark Merlin went to sleep again in the
same grassy nest as the shadows grew, united and spread
darkly. It was as if in his mastery over the stone, his plant-
ing of the beacon, he had achieved the freedom of the cir-
cles; now there was nothing which could threaten him.
And his sleep was without dreams.

Sun in his eyes awoke him. There was no reason to lin-
ger here. He had the impression that it would be long be-
fore the beacon brought any answer, but before he rode
away he again laid a hand to the stone to assure himself
that that steady beat continued.

He was riding to Camelot. Modred's setting the priests
on him was such an outright declaration of battle that
Merlin knew he must not allow it to pass. The youth must
not think that he had won even in a little way, that he had
brought about what might be termed Merlin's flight. And
this time he could enter the court with an unfettered
mind, ready to turn to his own purposes any chance which
would bring Arthur to listen to him. He had set the
beacon, and that great labor the mirror had placed on him
was now out of his hands.

Before he reached the court he heard the news of the
King's victory in the skirmish over the Saxons at the
shore. He had guessed from the first that it had been a
skirmish only, but even so small a victory, when Modred
had taken part in it, would establish the boy well among
the warriors.

Merlin had his own small chamber within the sprawl of
the three-story inner building which was ringed about by a
stone and earth wall.,He went to it, stopping on the way
only to order a servant to bring him a kettle of hot water
for washing. For his clothing and his body were salty with
the dried sweat of the ordeal at the Place of the Sun.

As he stood in the middle of his small room, he looked
about him and felt an odd unfamiliarity with it. There
were his containers of medicants, the bunches of dried
"erbs laced on thin thongs across the wall, the few books

138 Andre Norton

he had assembled, all in the Latin tongue. There were
some queerly shaped stones whose oddity of appearance
had appealed to his eye. But there was no wealth, no show
or ornament or color. His bed was like a rough box witfl
linens and woolens for covering, and there were no hang-
ings on the walls, no cured skins for rugs. As he looked
around him he remembered those other rooms—those of,;

his dream cities and the wonders that furnished thein^i
adorned their walls, covered their floors.                  ||

Would he ever see the rise of such tower houses agam?|
Surely it must take a long time for men to leam enough?!
of the long-forgotten knowledge to erect their like. Even il|j
the ship came tomorrow, this year, it might be generations
before that world would bloom again.

There could be only one hope left when it did, that ft
would not be the quarrels of men, or of Sky People, which
would tear it once more into nothingness. For how many^
chances would the Power grant to his kind? There must b
a limit in the end to the rise and fall of civilizations, na
tions, mankind himself.

And when the Sky People came, what if they met sue
as this Gildas? Could they work through or with such i
he? Would they discover enough men ready to believe ai
to stretch out hands to the future? Or would fear and av
become terror, making ignorant men turn their backs c
the offer of a new world?

Arthur—Merlin could understand now why he must win^
Arthur. Not because the King was a battle leader without
equal in this time and land, but because he in himself was
a symbol men would follow, listen to, leam from. There-
fore, above all, Arthur must be prepared for the coming
from the stars.

13.

In the end Merlin did not have to go to Arthur, for the
King came to him. There was a scratching at his curtained
door, an almost stealthy sound, as if the one who waited
there came on some secret errand. He reached out to
twitch the curtain aside and saw the High King, alone.

But this man was not that supremely confident Arthur
of the feast hall. Years had touched him since that night
when he bade Merlin drink to welcome Modred. There
was a tic by his left eye, and he looked as if he had parted
all company with sleep for days. Now he eyed Merlin nar-
rowly, with a menace about him which the other could see
as well as sense.

Arthur turned sharply again after he strode into the
chamber, held up the curtain and gave a quick look right
and left as if he would make sure there were no lurkers
outside. When he spoke he had controlled his voice until it
was only a whisper.

"They have told me tales of you, sorcerer. And those I
did not believe. Perhaps it was because I was a fool and
chose weakly to shut my ears, since it was by your doing
"at I came to be High King. Aye, that tale have I also
heard!" Hot anger glowed in his eyes, and the fingers
which rested on the hilt of the Sky Sword curled and
tightened there as if he would draw the blade forthwith.

"Now will I have the, full truth out of you even if I
have to carve it from your living flesh! Aye, I am so
dnyen now, sorcerer, that even that will I try!"

'The truth of what. Lord King?" Merlin, too, sank his
voice. Mischief had been made, that was evident And he
could guess who had so worked upon Arthur.
Am I Uther's true-bom son?"

Merlin's thoughts sped to a swift conclusion. He could
guess the shameful story which Modred might use as a

139

140 Andre Norton

level against the King, against Merlin and against all the
House of Pendragon.

"That is what he believed," he said slowly.

"Then—" the King's face was white with strain—
"then Morgause—and I—Modred—" Suddenly a flicker
of intelligence broke through. " 'So he believed,'" he re-
peated. "You choose odd words. Merlin. Can it be that his
belief was not the truth? If so, who fathered me, for Go-
loris was dead a day before my mother lay with him she
thought was her true lord."

Arthur made a visible effort at control. "I have heard a
strange tale. Merlin. A claim has been made on me which
can cover my name with black shame, set me before men
as one worse even than that traitor Vortigen who betrayed
his people to the axes of the Saxons. But it was you who
took me as a fosterling to Ector, and it is only you who
can know the truth. If I am Uther's son in truth, then I
am foredoomed through my own lust to be one hunted out
of the ranks of honest men. My honor is ruined and were
I to give an order to the meanest kitchen slave he would
spit at my feet. You say now that Uther believed I was his
son. Give me the inner meaning of this. For I tell you I
am near to drawing my own sword against my throat be-
cause of what has been told to mel"

Merlin pulled forward one of the stools. "It is a strange
tale. Lord King, but it is the truth, and it goes back many
years."

Arthur eyed the stool as if he had no wish to linger
there. But he did sit down as he burst forth: "Get on to
the telling of it, and quickly! If it can lift this burden of
wrongdoing even a little, then—Speak, man!"

"You know what they say of me, and with truth." Mer-
lin sat himself on the edge of the bed, still keeping his
voice to a whisper. He was also alerting his inner sense to
make sure no other was within range of his voice now. "I
am the son of no man...."

Arthur shrugged impatiently. "I know they name you
demon-bred. But what has that to do with—"

"Not demon-bred," Merlin interrupted firmly, using his
powers as he could to reach out to the King, make him
listen. "My fathering was of the Sky People. Aye, there is
truth in those old legends. The daughters of men once
bore children to others who came from the stars above us.
And from that mating arose a mighty race who fashioned

MERLIN'S MIRROR         141

such wonders as no man now can do more than dream of.
But in the end there was a mighty war, one which did in-
deed rock the entire earth, so that land became sea and
sea bottom land. Mountains rose, from plains and all was
altered so that those few who survived were like madmen
and remembered very little of what they had been. They
sank lower than the beasts of the field and forest

"But those who had fathered them did not forget. And
when that war which had carried them outward to the
stars—for the Sky Lords had mighty enemies we knew not
at all—was done, they remembered earth and longed for
it again. Thus they loosed ships of the sky, and one such
answered an ancient beacon set among our mountains. It
carried the seed of the Sky Lords and my mother was the
first to receive it into her womb—"

"You spin a wild tale," Arthur interrupted.

"Look well at me, King, into my eyes," Merlin com-
manded. "Do I spin you an idle tale or do I speak the
truth?"

Arthur met his gaze squarely so that their eyes locked,
After a moment the king said slowly: "Though this thing
seems impossible, yet you believe it to be the truth."

"A truth I am prepared to prove," Merlin stated. "One
of the duties which my birth laid on me was the fostering
of a king strong enough to bring all Britain under his hand
and keep peace. For the Sky Lords needed that peace
when they could come again to us. Ambrosius was a great
commander, but he could see peace only as the Romans
had commanded and imposed it. Uther could deal with-the
tribes, but he was of their nature, having their faults as
well as their virtues. He was a man of lusty passions and,
where those were involved, he knew no self-discipline.

"It chanced at his crowning that he saw the Duchess
Igrene and wanted her. So open was his desire that her
lord withdrew from court, thus gaining Uther's displea-
sure. Goloris set his lady, as he thought, safe within his
own sea-bound Keep, one which had never fallen to an en-
emy, so well girt and guarded was it.

"Then Uther sent for me and ordered me to use certain
powers to gain him his desire. I told him that I could
weave an illusion which would make him Goloris in seem-
ing for a night that he might enjoy the Duchess' bed. And
I set upon him a dream that this was so, just as I entered
the keep and bemused the Duchess with another dream. But

142 Andre Norton

what came to her was no man of ova world; she conceived
by the will of the Sky Lords.

"Uther knew shame and the Duchess, learning that her
lord had truly died before he had visited her, was be-
wildered of mind to the point that she listened to the talk
of night demons. Thus both were eager to give you into
my hands.

"Ector had in his veins some of the Sky Lords' blood,
though his descent from them was far in the past. He took
you very willingly. It was set that I should school you,
even as I myself was taught, in the lore which had come
from our fathers. But I had—have—an enemy." Merlin
hesitated. Neew he now speak of Nimue? Perhaps he
should so that Arthur would be warned.

"The Sky Lords whose heritage we share have their
dark enemies also, of an alien breed. They wish that we
not rise once more to rule here, but be forever plunged
into the darkness which mankind seems ever to draw
about him—the darkness of hate, killing, despair. Thus
these enemies were alerted as to my birth, and they in
turn produced my opposite, one who faces me ever with
powers which may be as great as my own, or perhaps
more. For we have never yet met in equal contest. This
being, bred out of the Darkness, is she whom men call Ni-
mue, Lady of the Lake."

Arthur's amazement was plain to read. "But she gave
aid to Uther, she has sheltered Morgause, fostered
Modred—" Then he stopped nearly in mid-word and his
expression grew intent.

"Aye," Merlin pointed out quietly, "and this devotion to
the line of Pendragon might well have two sides, Arthur."

The King's fist clenched where his hand rested on his
knee. "I can understand your hint. You think that she has
done so with a purpose which means no good to me. But
as I have your word, I have her actions. She was your
captor?"

"With the Power she gathered to her she kept me cap-
tive. For I was unknowing that she had found out my
place of refuge until she struck. So I was held in bondage
until the time of your crowning. High King. And that
which you should have known from your childhood was
lost to you. Then I learned what else had happened—that
Morgause had tempted you—and, though I have no proof
of what I say, I also believe that act was of Nimue's

MERLIN'S MIRROR          143

doing. She could well foresee that deep trouble would
come of it. As now it threatens. She also made Moored
her tool—"

"He is my son," said Arthur heavily. "In honor I cannot
deny that."

"In body he may be your son," Merlin agreed, "but in-
wardly he is of the Dark. And should he set abroad this
tale which so defames your name, then can he wreck all
you have fought to win."

Arthur looked down at his fist; his face was ravaged,
nearly as bleak as if his spirit was broken.

"How can I prevent it?" he asked dully. The first of his
anger had burned out; now he looked out from a pit of
ashes. "Will any man accept the story you have told me?
They will rather prate of demons and all the old fears. And
I shall fall from the throne as easily as a leaf is wind-
whirled across the ground at the year's end."

"First," Merlin answered him, "you must accept your
inheritance, though it comes to you late. I shall give you
the proof that all I have said is the truth. This cannot be
shared with most men, to that I agree. But with it to arm
you, then there will be a way to defeat Modred and the
one who stands behind him."

"This proof of yours.. . ?"

"Lies in another place. Lord King. One you must visit
without even a shield bearer at your back. Alone with
me."

"Leaving Modred here to spread his poison!" Arthur
said.

"You will give Modred something to shut his mouth for
awhile, and yet this act shall not be strange in the eyes of
your men. He is of the blood of Pendragon, therefore you
shall make him regent while you go. Yet take the precau-
tion that he has no real bidding over your war lords.

"Aye, be sure I do not give him claws, as it were!" For
the first time Arthur's expression grew lighter. "Now I
must cast in my nund for an explanation of why I go
forth from the court in such a manner."

"Lord King, there are old forts long fallen into disuse in
the direction we must travel. A Roman road once ran by
them from a good port. Since trade now waxes, what bet-
ter reason could you find for seeing if this way can once
more be put to use? Take with you the men of your own
shield comrades. When we reach the point nearest where

144 Andre Norton

you must visit, you shall fall ill of a fever and be tended
by me, perhaps by one bodyservant you can trust. Have
you one in whom you can set full confidence?"

Arthur nodded. "There is Bleheris who came to me
when Ector felL He first taught me how to use a sword.
Though the years begin to wear upon him, he is an apt
holder of secrets."

Merlin cast his memory. Bleheris? There was a small
dark man with tattooing across his forehead, not one of
the tribes. He identified that vision from the past

The Pict?"

"Aye, he was won to Ector when he was not slain out
of hand as he lay with a broken leg after a raid. And he
married Flanna, who was my nurse. She chose to stay
even after her service was over and Ector offered her
freedom and goods, the same that you promised her. Ble-
heris is now my man, bound to me tighter than any battle
comrade."

Merlin nodded. "We ride then at your will, Lord King.
And bring with you an open mind, for you will discover
that I have not told you even half of this story which con-
cerns us both."

The tense anguish which had driven Arthur when he en-
tered was gone from his face. In its place was rather an
expression of anticipation, which was like the one he al-
ways wore before some trial of strength. But, as the King
left the room, Merlin was left with much to consider.

Merlin had not expected Modred would blacken his
own birth in order to bring down the King, Arthur's
Queen had borne no children. Merlin half suspected that
the fault lay with the King. It might be that the half-
bloods could not breed with mankind now for some rea-
son. His own indifference to any woman but Nimue
pointed in that direction. Though Arthur's infatuation with
the Queen had been marked enough, he was so often from
court in the past that he might not have realized that their
relationship was indeed sterile.

Arthur, without a direct heir by Guenevere, left only
Modred of the old royal line. But that Arthur could beget
a son outside lawful marriage on a woman of the tribes
was a contradiction of Merlin's suspicions. He wondered if
Nimue had had a hand in that conception, for she was
certainly much about the court of Uther when that secret
coupling had taken place, and had taken charge of Mor-

MERLIN'S MIRROR          145

gause immediately after Arthur had lain with the girl.
Could Modred even be Arthur's son in truth, or rather
again some halfling of the Dark Ones?

Merlin bad sensed in him any trace of the Power which
could not be mistaken by those of the Old Blood. No, he
thought it likely that Modred was exactly what whispering
tongues and Ector proclaimed him, Arthur's getting by his
reputed half sister.

The boy could be threatening to spread such a story to
bring Arthur to heel. If that were his game, though, it was
none of Nimue's planning, for Arthur was no weak fool.
He had been distraught, it was true, when the story was
first thrown at him, but anyone in his position would feel
shock and dismay. Now that Arthur had heard the truth,
and would be shown the proof, he in himself would be im-
mune to any demands from Modred. What remained to be
considered was how far Modred would go to bring down
his father. Was he too young and hotheaded to realize that
besmirching Arthur would also mean disinheriting himself?
For just as a king among the tribes could not show any
physical disability, so neither could he have his name so
shamed before those he ruled.

Modred was ambitious, of that Merlin was sure. He did
not think the boy would foul his own nest; he wanted too
much to be Arthur's heir. Only if the Queen should show
signs of breeding in the future would he turn to telling all
he believed to be the truth.

And by that time—Merlin's slightly hunched shoulders
straightened—Arthur would be fully armed. Only let him
front the mirror and listen. The real truth would make
him free of such devious intrigue.

So Arthur named Modred as his regent before the court,
though carefully setting such secret safeguards as he could
to limit any plans the black-browed stripling might have.
However, Modred appeared content with the deference
shown him. Nor'did he appear to notice Merlin's presence,
though the priest Gildas frowned hotly at the bard from
his place among those around Modred's throne.

When at last they rode out of Camelot, Arthur half
turned in the saddle to look back at the rise of the palace.
When he faced around again his face was grave.

"I know not why," he said to Merlin who rode at his
left hand, "but it is as if the future lies hidden in clouds.

146 Andre Norton

The sun now shines on us brightly, yet when I look back,
a shadow gathers there."

"Uncertainty," answered Merlin, "cannot easily be thrown
off. Perhaps you have learned too much, Lord King, in
too short a time. But time can also be an enemy. There
are many in this land who will not welcome any change,
even the coming of a lasting peace."

"That too, I am beginning to understand. My war band
watches now wistfully for some warning beacon aflame. It
is as if they wish back the days when we were always in
the saddle, sore, weary, half-famished, and with the enemy
before and behind us. Death rode with us, yet they dwell
on those days when they sit at the feast board; they boast
of slaying and of the planning of campaigns. Even I can-
not still a quickening of the blood when my hand fits
about the hilt of my sword. We were bom in war, we
lived by war and if war is gone ... then we may feel pur-
poseless and unneeded."

Merlin laughed. "But there is more than war to occupy
the hands and minds of men. Lord King. I grant you that
only by struggle do we reach our highest feeling of accom-
plishment, but that need not be struggle against another of
our kind. Wait and see. There is much we can do which in
time will make the Great Nine Battles of Britain seem the
play of thoughtless children."

"Show me. Merlin, and you shall have my thanks. I
think I was bom for but one cause, to fight. And if I have
not Saxons—and I shrink from thinking of any of my own
rising against me—then give me a battlefield worthy of
my ardor."

Arthur inspected three of the old forts, and at each he
detached a certain number of his men with orders that
they were to examine the usefulness of the sites thor- ,|
oughly, reporting at his return whether these could be re- |
paired easily and once more put to service. Thus it was j
(hat when they reached the fourth and last fort, before "
Merlin knew they must strike into the mountain ways, Ar-
thur's company was much depleted.

There were no men of noble rank left in the shrunken
band. The King had arbitrarily assigned all of them to ||
overseeing the study of the other forts. The eight men
who rode into the last section of tumbled wall and burnt-
out interior were, Merlin could see—appreciating Arthur's
astute selection—not the most curious nor resourceful, but

MERLIN'S MIRROR          147

rather those who wished no more than to take orders
given by others, without any worry to themselves.

As they camped that night Arthur complained of an
aching head. He ate very little of what Bleheris brought
him and Merlin suggested that he go earlier to rest since it
would seem he might have taken a touch of such a fever
as accompanies a rheum.

Only to the Pict did the King tell the truth, that the
chamber which had been hastily cleared and set aside for
Arthur's uses must be as well garded as a treasure chest,
for the King's absence was to be kept a secret. And the
small dark man bowed his head in promise.

There was no moon outside that night, but Merlin knew
(hat his sense of direction would draw him to the cave,
just as a migrating bird is drawn even across seas on the
path it must travel with the seasons. And Arthur was no
stranger to the ways of ambush and scouting, practicing
now, to escape his own band, all the craft he had used
against the enemy. So together they worked from shadow
to shadow away from the ruins of the fort, seeking the
high hills which lay beyond.

Merlin believed the King's illness might be stretched to
perhaps four days without the members of his escort
growing restive and beginning to wonder why he was not
seen, nor any messenger sent with news of his ailing. They
were perhaps still a night's journey away from the height
of the mirror cave and the darkness would slow them.
But, through the night, he heard a soft laugh from Arthur
such as a boy might utter, trying some reckless exploit of
his own.

"This is like the days of my boyhood," he confided in a
whisper as they reached the top of one ridge and lay
belly-down to detect as best they could what might lie
ahead, "Just so did Cei and I sometimes stray secretly
afield by night. Though then we were not hunting what we
hunt now. Merlin, if Cei is Ector's son, then is he not also
of the Old Race whom you mention with such reverence?
Could he, too, be part of this secret of yours?"

"If it is so willed. I do not choose," Merlin replied.

ihat which is from the stars does so. But we must press
on, Arthur, for there is yet a distance to go and the night
is short enough."

Not so short, however, that they reached the cave be-
fore a single streak of dawn swept across the sky, a sword

148 Andre Norton

blade to part night from day. And Merlin, more by touch
than sight, worked at his improvised door, pulling loose
those rocks he always tried to arrange as if they had once
cascaded there from above. At last they were cleared, be-
stowed now also so that anyone who might stray into
these higher ways would not see them piled too straightly.

Then Merlin took the fore and worked through into the
cave of the mirror. He was greeted there, not by the dusk.
but by a flashing of light, for all the squares had awak-
ened, either during his absence or to herald his return. Ar-
thur had greater difficulty in pushing his larger body
through, but when he stood by Merlin, the rows of flash-
ing lights, the dark burnished surface of the mirror before
him, he said nothing. And Merlin, glancing sidewise, saw
that the King was seemingly struck silent with awe. In-
deed, there was nothing here which was of the world they
knew.

"The mirror." Merlin laid his hand gently on Arthur's
shoulder, drew him forward to face that tall-standing
oblong of shining surface. As he did so he spoke formally:

"Here stands now Arthur, High King of Britain, who
was fathered and born to the command of those we
serve."

They could see their reflections in the mirror, though
these appeared to waver, perhaps because of the flickering
of the lights. Then Merlin felt Arthur start as, out of the
air above the mirror, came the voice in answer:

"The greeting of the kin to you, Arthur, who was, is
and will be, though you remember not from age to age
and thus are now blind to the past. This is one of the
hours in which you face a choice and must act for the
good of your people though, by the tricks of the enemy,
you have come late to this meeting. Watch, Arthur, for of
choices before you not only your destiny, but that of Bri-
tain will be wrought. Merlin, to Arthur alone shall this be
given, so he shall see, while you remain blind."

The bench slid forward as it had on Merlin's first visit
there long ago. Arthur seated himself as one in a trance.
To Merlin there was no change in the mirror. He still saw
only his own dark-browed, slow-aging face, Arthur's own
brightness of mien. But the King gave an exclamation and
leaned forward a little, his eyes wide, his lips parted as if
he were about to utter some cry of the same astonishment
that was imprinted on his countenance.

MERLIN'S MIRROR          149

Merlin stepped back. He had been late indeed in carry-
ing out this, the last of his duties. But perhaps not too
late. Maybe by her use of Modred, which had sent Arthur
to him Nimue had weakened her own control over the fu-
ture. Otherwise the King might never have been persuaded
to believe him. Arthur, haunted by the shame Modred
seemed to put upon him, had been so readied that Merlin
could lead him here easily.

He watched the King, whose eyes were still so intent on
the mirror, who sat so unmovingly, that he might have
been fashioned of metal like the objects about him and
not of flesh and blood. Shadows of expression crossed his
countenance, now and then expressing alarm or resolution.
Whatever Arthur was learning from the mirror was slowly
changing the King even as Merlin watched.

He had come to the mirror a mighty war leader, tri-
umphant in the success of all his maneuvers in the field.
Now he was becoming a leader shaped in another pattern.
Merlin's own heart beat faster with excitement as he
watched that metamorphosis. Nimue had failed!

The Arthur who would go forth from here need not
tremble before any ill-speaking or shadow of the Dark. He
was becoming the ruler he would have been if that fash-
ioning of him not been delayed for all these weary years.

14.

Night and day passed, then another night before Arthur
at last rose from the bench and turned to face Merlin.
There was no light in his eyes now, rather the dour look
of a man who must set his will to some great task and
summon therefore all his innermost energy.

"You have seen. . . ?" Merlin asked.

"I have seen," the King answered. "If this is some
dream, then at least I have seen enough to know that a
man can live for and by such a dream." He hesitated.
"But kin-brother, we are not like other men. There will be
those who would turn their faces from any belief, even if
they were shown something they could touch with their
own hands. I—" He shook his head slowly. "A man can but
try."

Merlin watched him narrowly. There was no exultation
in Arthur, only a kind of grimness, as if he had accepted
some burden which he must bear whether he wanted to or
not.

"I wonder," the King said now, "if this time is wrongly
chosen. Men have lived with fear so long that now they
look on each new thing, every stranger, as a threat."

That question matched some of Merlin's recurring
doubts. Had men come far enough yet to want to reach
for the stars?

"Closed minds," Arthur continued. "Can you," he said,
turning to Merlin, "believe that any of this"—he waved
his hand about the cave—"will now be thought anything
but the work of demons? You have known this since child-
hood. I come to it a man grown and tried, so that I can
understand such fears. And fear leads to hate and destruc-
tion. Also, there is the Lady of the Lake."

"What of her?" Merlin moved uneasily.
150

MERLIN'S MIRROR          151

"If she is the enemy, then we must know more of her,
wherein lies the root of her own powers."

"She knows me," Merlin returned. "I have long been
her enemy. If I sought her out..."

Arthur nodded. "Just so. But she served Uther well,
being noted for her healing gifts. We have begun an im-
posture here with our excuse of fever which has struck me
down. Well, can we continue that? I shall return to Came-
lot a stricken man and those about me will send for this
Nimue. It will be your part, kin-brother, to be reviled as
one who has boasted of cures he cannot make. Perhaps
you must even be resigned to exile for a space."

Merlin had one objection. "Lord King, I know of this
woman and I have tasted her powers. What if you cannot
stand against her? Then indeed you shall be sacrificed and
all our plans will come to nothing."

"That is a fortune we must dare. I see no other way to
best her, for otherwise she will spin her spells and these
will reach to enmesh us, as a spider web enmeshes the un-
wary fly, when we need to make some necessary move.
Kin-brother, you seem unusually wary of this Nimue—
why?"

Merlin flushed. "Is it not enough that she held me cap-
time when I had need to aid you? The mirror has told me
little of what forces the Dark Ones can command, but
what I have seen of those has been daunting. To offer
yourself as her prey might be the greatest act of folly in
our world!"

"It may," Arthur agreed. "Still, I know that we must
draw her from cover. Men say that no one can seek her
out unless she wills it, that great mists curl around that
ancient keep she has taken for her own, hiding her dwell-
ing from the eyes of all. But if I can hold her at Camelot
then you, with your greater knowledge of such forces,
might well penetrate to that secret place of hers and dis-
cover just how strong is the support she can call on."

, Arthur thought in terms of warfare. Merlin must reluc-
tantly agree, however, that this risky form of attack just
might succeed.

"Did you learn this from the mirror?" he asked in re-
turn.

Arthur sighed. "The mirror leaves to men their own
choices. It can show what may happen, but that future
constantly changes with the acts of man."

152 Andre Norton

"That is true. Very well, it shall be as you wish. Lord
King." But even as he agreed. Merlin remained uneasy.
Arthur was the chosen King. It was for him to make the
decisions now that he had learned his role, but he had not
yet met the Dark Ones face to face, only seen something
of their work in the affair of Modred. He did not know
Nimue except as a healer and a figure of some mystery.

They worked together to close the cave and then took a
secret way back to the ruins, evading two sentries Arthur
cursed under his breath for their lack of attention. Bleheris
awaited them in the inner chamber.

"It is well you have come. Lord King," he said with
open relief. "The men grow restless. Twice Tirion has
come asking how you do. He has threatened to send a
messenger to Lord Gawain at the other fort—"

"I do badly, Bleheris," the King returned. "Listen well,
shield comrade, this is what must be done. You will go out
among the men and say that the fever which grips me is ;

worse. Then Merlin will follow straightaway and order |
that branches be cut and a horse litter made. You will be •
ever by me, but when you fetch food or drink you will ^
speak of my strange ravings and that I am fevered worse ;

than you have seen any man before, that you are dis-
turbed in mind because of this illness which has come over ;

me. Do you understand?"                             a

The small Pict looked from the King to Merlin and?
back to Arthur again.                                ;•

"This is some battle ruse, Lord King?"                 ^

Arthur nodded. "But it is for a kind of battle which isj
not fought with swords nor spears. I must be returned to-
Camelot as one who is gravely ill, and only you and Mer- ;

lin must tend me on the way, so that the truth may not be ;

guessed."                                                 ^

Bleheris looked now to the curtained doorway of the;|
room.                                             ^

"Lord King, these men will be alarmed. They do notS
like this place. They have been speaking among themselves
of the ghosts of old ones who do not favor the company
of living men and who have thus struck at you. This talk
can become dangerous—"

It was Merlin who answered: "Demon-attack, Lord:

King, might well serve our purpose."                     i

Arthur's face was sober. "But dangerous for you, Mer-s-
lin. Such whispers have always spread about you. They;

MERLIN'S MIRROR          153

can say that this attack is of your doing if we speak of
demons."

"True enough. However, such a report will serve our
turn well. Let it stand. Go, Bleheris. Do not add anything
to this talk of ghosts, but look knowing when you hear it,
as if you could say more if you would."

The Pict grinned. "Lord Merlin, I do not know what
game you and the High King play but if it is your will, I
shall do my best to make it come right for you."

As Arthur had planned, so was it done. The High King
developed certain symptoms induced by Merlin's herb
knowledge, making him flushed of face, hot of skin. Ble-
heris reported that the men of the following were now
convinced that their leader was demon-attacked and that
they had begun to look askance at Merlin. The Pict was
given his own instructions. Once they reached Camelot he
was to whisper it about that only the Lady of the Lake,
who had kept Uther visibly alive when all other healers
had given him up for near dead, should be summoned.

The lords of Arthur's following were persistent, as each
group joined the train on their return, that they see the
King for themselves. But, when they did, the High King
seemed to lie in a stupor; Merlin gave the impression of
one who was gravely troubled, as if, in spite of his well-
known healing knowledge, he was now faced by an illness
he found baffling.

He was well aware that Cedric had sent a messenger
ahead and he was not surprised when, just a half day's
journey away—for they made that trip slowly, fitting their
progress to that of the rough horse litter they had
devised—the messenger returned with one of the gray-
coated priests. To Merlin's relief it was not Gildas, though
he was well able to read the hostility of the man. When the
Priest attempted to see the King, however, Arthur cried
out that there was a new demon to torment him, and he
acted so well the part of a man half crazed with a high fe-
ver that the priest was forced to withdraw.

The lords turned on Merlin, demanding an explanation
of what fell disease had struck down the High King. He
drew a long face and answered that there were strange
emanations in ruins. Who knew what shadow things lurked
where old evils had been done?

. ^y came at last to Camelot and Arthur was carried
"side and placed in his own bed. But when Modred and

154 Andre Norton

Guenevere speedily came to him, he rose up and ordered
them away as being traitors and murderers. Only Bleheris
and Merlin seemed able to soothe him. And he did not
make the mistake, even for a single moment, of dropping
his role of a gravely ill man to exchange so much as a
whisper of coherent speech with them alone.

The second day Bleheris moved to carry out his part of
Arthur's plan. When he returned he slipped into the King's
chamber like a small shadow among larger, ran swiftly
across to kneel by Arthur's bedside.

"Lord King, I have spoken," he whispered, "even as you
ordered. I talked of the Lady of the Lake to two of the
Queen's maids, the man who waits on the Lord Cei who
has just returned and others. I think they listened."

Arthur's head moved almost imperceptively on the pil-
low to show that he heard and understood. Merlin gave a
sigh of relief. It was good hearing that Cei had returned
from a visit to Urien's court in the north. He himself
had never felt the kinship with Ector's son that he had
with his father, but he knew that Cei was completely loyal
to Arthur, no matter how terse and rude he might be to
others. Cei was also quickly jealous of any Arthur chose
to favor, so with Cei on guard Merlin could go more light
of heart to accomplish his own part of what they would
do.

Now he bent over the King as if examining some small
change in his patient. There were none to see, but his lips
only shaped the words he would say:

"Tell Cei!"

Again the King assented. Perhaps he, too, felt the need
of someone to take Merlin's place.

They waited for the fruits of Bleheris' sowing to ripen. It
was in the morning of the next day that the Queen, to-
gether with Cei and Modred, pushed into the chamber.
Merlin could believe in Cei's concern, but that of the
other two he doubted. He believed Guenevere liked her
crown too well to want to see another in Arthur's place,
but Merlin had not even that small shred of trust in
Modred. Modred would be for Modred. His attack on Ar-
thur had already revealed how far he was willing to go—
to achieve what? Nimue's desires? His own chance at the
throne? Either motive would make him a fell danger.

But those two now left it to Cei to round on Merlin
with the words he himself had been waiting to hear:

MERLIN'S MIRROR          155

"It would seem, healer, that your powers are less than
you would have us believe. Our lord does not grow better
under your hands, but worse. Therefore we shall seek else-
where for one who can return him to health."

"Aye." Modred interrupted with an arrogance that acted
on Cei as a goad urged an ox to labor. "Good Brother
Gildas is learned in the art. And since he is a servant of
God, who better can cast out the demons which have en-
tered the King?"

Cei glowered at him. "We have no proof of the powers
of this priest of yours, boy." His tone was meant to crush,
to relegate Modred to the status of a child.

"You—you forget yourself, Cei!" Modred flared in-
stantly. "I am of Pendragon's own kin—"

"And I am his foster brother," returned Cei flatly.

None of the tribes had an answer to that, for the foster
tie was counted in their world as strong as blood-kin. Be-
fore all of Camelot, Cei was as Arthur's birth-brother.

He turned his shoulder now on the youth, whose temper-
flushed face was a mask of open hate, and spoke straight
to Merlin.

"You have wrought no cure, not even a small easing of
our lord's distemper. Therefore we have sent for one who
can. The Lady of the Lake is well known to have great
power over such ills. Did she not rid Uther of them when
his sickness began?"

Merlin bowed his head. "I love our lord too greatly to
speak against any help which may be given him". There-
fore, summon this lady if you think her nursing the
greater good."

Cei had an uncertain look for a second. It was as if he
had expected a hot protest, and to get such instant agree-
ment made him uneasy. Guenevere had moved forward to
the bed; now she raised her head to look around.

"My lord, I have already sent a messenger to summon
her. If any ^can raise my dear lord again from this bed,
that one is she. As for you, bard, self-proclaimed healer,"
she flashed out at Merlin, "better that you get hence.
Leave us. I command iti"

Arthur had closed his eyes. Now he gave a small groan.
Merlin made as if to go to him but Cei stepped swiftly be-
tween.

"The Queen has said it. Get you gone, son of no man.

156

MERLIN'S MIRROR          157

Andre Norton

Your name has no honor here, and best you understand
that."

Merlin withdrew. He did not care that his going seemed
like the flight of one overawed by the company. It was
much more important that he have no confrontation with
Nimue. He could not tell how much she could read of
their motives and plans if she faced him in person, so
avoiding her was the way of a wise man.

Within his own small chamber he made ready for the
task ahead. Laying aside the robe of his office, he put on
once again drab journey clothes which would mark him per-
haps no more than an upper servant of the court. Then he
drew from his store of things of Power certain carefully
thought-out selections. There was a piece of star iron,
found when meteors fell to earth, and also a glassy dark
jewel droplet from the same off-world source. There were
herbs which he sifted a pinch at a time into a small linen
bag, its drawcord long enough for him to wear it amulet-
like about his neck. He tucked it inside his tunic against
his skin, so that as his body warmed the bag the faint
scent of what it held reached his nostrils, serving to clear
his head, keep his senses fully alert. Last of all was
Lugaid's legacy to him, that small fragment of metal
which had been wrought in the long-ago and had helped
to find the sword of Arthur.

These were not things of any "magic" as men thought
of magic, but some had or should have an affinity with
any off-world object. And as Lugaid had said long ago,
"like seeks like." Merlin had also gathered over the
years—with, he had always hoped, no notice—information
concerning the stronghold of Nimue. He credited the tales
of the enchanted mist which always enfolded it as being
ordinary men's reaction to some hallucination; if that was
the truth, such could not baffle him. That he had never
ventured in its direction might be to his advantage now:

Nimue could well believe he had learned his lesson so
well that he would never try to match strength with her
again.

Last of all he drew from a secret place behind his box-
bed a rod twice the length of his forearm. Into the head
of this he carefully fitted the gem of the stars, making sure
that the prongs of metal waiting there encircled it past
any chance of loss. Then he reversed the wand, weighting
down the slightly larger butt with the pebble of meteor

iron. Both in place, he laid the rod across his wrist, trying
it at different places until end balanced end, and it re-
mained level as long as he held his arm steady.

Once again he gathered a goodly pack of supplies from
the kitchens and took a leather bottle with a shoulder
sling; he did not fill this with wine nor cider but carried it
to the spring where he tipped into it as much pure water
as it would hold. So armed with his own weapons and
provisioned for travel. Merlin set forth from the High
King's court.

He fixed his mind as he went, not on the true goal of
his journey, but rather concentrated on building about him
a small trace of illusion, as much as would keep him from
the notice or memory of any he passed. Confident in his
power of producing hallucinations, he was content none
would report him and, perhaps, his absence from Camelot
would not be quickly noted.

He did not go directly toward the site he sought. In-
stead he started eastward, following one of the old Roman
ways for some distance, until it met one of the tracks of a
yet older people. There he turned, crossing land which
seemed bare of man. Now Merlin released the illusion,
made the character of the land itself serve him for con-
cealment. At the same time he built another form of illu-
sion, this one within himself. He purposefully did not
think of Nimue, nor her tower; rather he held the thought
to the fore of his mind that he traveled merely to another
Outpost of men.

Merlin had no idea what safeguards surrounded Ni-
mue's hold. He doubted that they were the ordinary ones
of high walls with men to defend them. His own cave pos-
sessed a distort which would make any invader not of the
Old Blood uneasy and blind. And if anyone did persist,
there was a device within which would bar the way. Mer-
lin had not the least doubt chat Nimue's place in turn had
its own invisible guardians.

The defense of his own refuge, however, had not been
proof against Nimue. Therefore, reason argued, hers
should not be beyond his powers to solve.

By nightfall Merlin reached the edge of the wood which
men called Nimue's first defense. There the old road
curled around its edge as if, even in the dawn days of this
land, men believed something uncanny lay in that forest.

Merlin drew back under a wide bush, not lighting any

158 Andre Norton

fire, munching instead a small portion of bread wrapped
around a bit of cheese, drinking sparingly from his water
bottle. He sent out those invisible scouts which served his
mind, reaching farther and farther when these scouts re-
ported nothing but nature in the trees' shadow. At last
Merlin broke that concentration and set his mental scouts
on guard while he dozed in light sleep—he would not dare
surrender to any depth of unconsciousness.

It was at the rise of a nearly full moon that he felt a
stir which was not of any person, nor animal within the
forest. This was the force that he recognized only too
well, for it he could draw on it himself. Whatever sentinels
served Nimue were now at their posts.

Merlin made no attempt to identify the nature of those
beings, or lesser powers. He had no wish to alert them to
his own presence by any touch of mind. What he did now,
with care and all the skill he could summon, was locate
each and mark where it was stationed.

Perhaps Nimue depended on some form of visual dis-
tortion by day and terrifying illusions by night, which
would be a natural enough defense against most men. Fi-
nally he marked a slash a little to the west of him where a
stream wandered through. It was not deep but of some
width.

There was his door. For he knew, as true men did not,
that water, flowing water, was a nonconductor of distorts
and illusions. From this truth was born the ancient belief
that certain evil forces might be stopped if the pursued
were to cross running water.

He had his gate for the morrow, and now he knew
where all the enemy sentinels near him kept their
posts. Leaving his own thread of awareness on guard,
Merlin lapsed once more into slumber.

The dawn light came and he crawled from the embrace
of the bush. Once more he ate a little of his food, then set
off westward until, before the sun had more than sent a
warning of color into the sky, he reached the stream. A
series of fording stones were set where the old road dipped
to meet it. Merlin made no use of these, but waded
out into the center of the running water as equidistant as
he could get from each wooded bank.

He waded through knee-high water so clear he could
see the stones below, the darting forms of water-dwellers.
Before him he held as a balance the rod tipped with the

MERLIN'S MIRROR          159

two star gifts. This remained level until he was well
into the forest itself, the trees arching above the wash of
the water to form a tunnel of dusky green.

Every one of Merlin's searching senses was alert. He
picked up the flickers of small lives which were part of
this world, but no trace of those things which had been set
to prowl the night Suddenly the rod turned of its own ac-
cord in his grip, swinging in an arc to transpose itself end
for end. The gem pointed ahead and slightly to the east.
His alien gifts had served him well, pointing a direct path
to Nimue's hold. Still he did not leave the water; he
would stay with it as long as the stream ran in the same
direction he wished.

The gem-point of his wand was slowly being pushed
backward, until the wand once more formed a level bar.
He had reached the place opposite the hold. A little ahead
of him the stream made a right-handed curve also, so
sharp a one Merlin did not think it had been designed by
nature. Then, catching sight of some very ancient and
moss-grown rocks squared and fitted together, he knew
that his guess was right.

The path of the water here was much narrower, as if
being forced through a sluice. It also had far more of a
current rising up his body, resisting his advance, while the
rush of its outflow had swept away sand and grit so that
his boots supped on stones set to line the way. Now
prudence dictated that he move closer to one of the banks
where he could grasp overhanging bushes and vines and so
work his way along without risking a fall.

Merlin's advance was slow, yet he was not tempted to
crawl out of the water which to him was a promise of
cover, small as it might be. Now he could see the sun once
more ahead, dancing on an expanse of water much
greater than the outlet up which he pulled himself. Mo-
ments later he stood, sucking a thorn-torn thumb, looking
out on Nimue's domain.

She was indeed Lady of the Lake. On an island to
which clung only a ragged bush or two—all that could
find root-room among the rocks—was a tower of stone so
dark as to make one believe that the very passing of time
itself had overlain it with a sable cloak.

In the lower story there were no windows, but, above
that, narrow slits gave what must be very limited light to
the interior. The stones themselves were not cut and mor-

160 Andre Norton

tared into place after the Roman fashion, rather they were
the roughly surfaced rocks which were like those of the
Place of the Sun, though fitted with such a cunning hand,
allowing for all their natural oddities of shape, that they
formed a most solid building.

From the tower, well to his right, there ran a causeway
of the same rocks. It was broken in the middle and Merlin
guessed that the dwellers in the tower—whoever or what-
ever they might be—had some way of temporarily
bridging the gap, so that drawing away the bridge gave
them protection.

The water of the lake itself was odd, giving off a shim-
mer of light which Merlin knew was part of a strong illu-
sion. Doubtless to anyone not versed in the use of such
things, the whole lake and the tower might be shielded in
an impenetrable mist, just as tales reported was so.

He studied the tower, seeing no sign of life about it. As
it now stood it could be a long-deserted ruin. Yet in his
hand the wand quivered and fought against his hold. If he
loosed it he believed it would be drawn across the water
to a strong power source. Now it was his task to span that
gap with more than his wand—his whole body.

To his left, however the quiver of the water's surface
grew more pronounced. Merlin had a sudden warning. He
splashed up onto the bank, watching warily that agitation
of the lake. Out of the water reared a monstrous head,
jaws agape and dripping, showing fangs as sharp as any.
sword point.

15.

This was no illusion. The monster beast was real,
though not of any breed he had seen. Merlin recalled
some of the information taught by the mirror, that there
Were many worlds coexistent with this earth, and the walls
between them sometimes thinned. By chance, or by some
swift loosing of force, a life-form from one might well be
drawn into another; hence the tales men told about loathy
worms and dragons slain by courageous human heroes.

Trespasser in this world though the water thing might
be, it was not the less dangerous for being transplanted.
And Merlin did not doubt that the lake-dweller was part
of Nimue's defenses.

The thing moved shoreward with disconcerting speed,
its dagger-jawed head held well above the surface of the
lake, an ominous hiss puffing with foul breath from its
mouth. Merlin twirled the wand in his hand, spinning it
with nearly the same force he had used when beating the
blades on the stones.

The creature's eyes, set far back within pits of the nar-
row, scaled skull, no longer stared unblinkingly at Merlin.
They were held instead in fascination by the whirl of the
wand. He knew a small relief: the thing was not too alien
to answer to controls he had perfected long ago among
the woods creatures.

Now the monster's head swayed a little left, right, left,
nght and there was no more interest in Merlin but full at-
tention for the whirl of the wand. Having so caught and
held the thing, he probed what mind it might have: alien
and deadly but not intelligent, thus open to his own at-
tack.

As Merlin might build an hallucination for a man, he
strove now to set the creature under his rule, and that
Proved easier than he had hoped. Though he began to

161

162 Andre Norton

lessen the swing of the wand, the monster did not move.
Its head still swung and its eyes were dulled as if, in a
measure, it were now blind.

Merlin took a chance and stilled the wand, waiting,
poised to begin again should the lake thing move. But it
did not. He sent a last command winging to its strange
brain. The coils on which the head was reared began to
slip down beneath the waters and at last ripples closed
over it.

He had thought of approaching the island by swimming,
lest any scouting of that broken causeway bring attention
from the tower. Now he knew better than to try. He did
not even have any idea of how long the serpent thing
could be held in mind-bondage. So he strode as swiftly as
he could along the shore toward the end of the causeway,
not neglecting as he went to keep an alert watch on both
land and water, as well as leaving his mind open to any
emanation from other guards.

At the shore end of the causeway he paused, looking
across that middle break to the island. The glare from the
water was unusually dazzling—perhaps some safeguard
had been triggered by his presence here and was striving
with all its might to bewilder and bemuse the invader.

Under his feet was a trace of ancient way. A well-used
road had once run to this spot. But his wonder grew as he
looked at the tower. For all the kinship of the stonework
to the megaliths of the Place of the Sun, this had not been
any stronghold of those he knew—or sensed—in the latter
place. It was almost as if this dark squatting building had
been summoned into this world from another, like the
scaled thing of the lake. Even looking at the heavy lines of
its walls disturbed Merlin.

Could it be a distort of some kind which reached him so?
Merlin did not know, but he had no wish to invade either
island or tower. However, wishes did not rule him.

He began to whirl the wand once more, holding it out
at nearly arms-length from his body. If his defense was
working as he hoped, no watcher in the tower could see
him clearly behind that flashing rod. His mind-probe
picked up nothing ahead. There was only a blankness,
which in itself was wrong.

Now he had reached the edge of the break and saw that
there were scars on the old stones. Merlin thought this
proved his guess was right: there was some way of

MERLIN'S MIRROR          163

bridging this gap which could be laid down and taken up
again. But he could not allow himself to be defeated by a
length of open water.

Looking down, he could see fallen stones, green with
water slime. Some did break the surface, though their tops
were wet and also slimed. Merlin measured their setting
critically with his eye.

The shimmering of the water was very thick here, but
not enough to veil those possible stepping-stones from him.
To take that path, though, he must put aside his own de-
fense by the rod and thus expose his coming to any
watcher in the castle. He considered the problem and
could see no other answer.

Merlin tied the wand fast to his belt with cords—tight
enough to insure he could not lose it—for he would need
both hands free now. Finally he swung himself over the
edge of the break, dropped with all possible caution to the
top of the first water-washed rock.

He kept a wary eye on the water itself. If there were
any more monsters in this lake, this was the proper place
and time for them to make their presence known. The
surface of the water shimmered so much he could not see
what lurked below it.

The next rock was green with slime, and it was more
than a possible stride away. He would have to jump that
gap—the quicker he moved the better. Merlin leaped, his
feet skidding, but he went to his hands and knees, clawing
for a hold so he would not slide into the water.

Disaster had been so close his mouth was dry and he
was shivering. He had kept his perch; the next rock was
not so far away. Also, though its top above the level of
the lake was very broken and rough, that stone was drier.

It took resolution to move on to that perch, however.
And, when the second stone teetered under his weight, as
if about to turn over and fling him into the water, Merlin
fought fear once more. This block would be hard to take
off from and, though the next was far more level, it was
slime-streaked.

Somehow he made the step once more, his heart pound-
ing, as the broken rock swayed with every movement. He
squatted on the third stone to get his breath, glancing
around for any hint that he might be the quarry of some
other foul creature.

The last jump landed him at the foot of the other side

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Andre Norton

of the break. Now he stood on a small outcropping of
stone, hardly wide enough to hold his feet. His face was
only inches away from the wall he must climb. He
reached above him, not daring to stretch his head far back
to look up, hunting holds for his hands and feet.

He found them and pulled himself up. When he edged
over the top of the causeway he lay for a moment, willing
his heart to beat normally, his will to establish control
over his emotions.

Then he got to his feet. Before him was a doorway but
no door was shut against him. Instead there was what
seemed to be thick darkness between Merlin and the inte-
rior, as if indeed some night cloud had been fitted there to
keep out the light of day.

Merlin untied the wand from his belt and held it in his
hand with the gem upward. It pointed toward the door-
way of its own accord, pulling the wand straight in his
grasp. Though he needed no assurance, he could tell by
the action of the star stone that like indeed called to like
and what was in the tower was not entirely of his earth.

As he walked steadily toward that dark-curtained door-
way he feverishly sought to discover whether any new
guardian lay in wait beyond. Did Nimue have henchmen
and women to serve her, perhaps plucked like the serpent
of the lake, from some other world or time?

If there were other guards they had some defensive
cover which was not for his understanding, because he
could pick up no trace, nothing similar to the haunters of
the woods. He stood before that curtain which swirled and
billowed within the opening, and in that instant he was
aware that Nimue needed no locks or doors. This cloud
stuff was as efficient a barrier as solid stone would be. Try
as he would, Merlin could not advance another step.

He was not ready to concede defeat, however. Instead
he drew forth from his belt pouch the last of his arma-
ment, Lugaid's scrap of metal. This could be bent if one
exerted pressure enough, as well as will. Now he pressed it
as tightly as he might about the gemmed point of his wand,
until the stone was covered with a cap of shining metal.
The closer he advanced it toward the cloud door, the
more its own light brightened. Then he thrust it straight
into the center of the darkness as a warrior would strike
with a spear. There answered a glare of light so brilliant

MERLIN'S MIRROR

165

Merlin's eyes were blinded, and a sound as if a thunder-
clap had burst just above his head.

He smeared his hand across his eyes, willing sight back
to them.

The doorway before him was now clear. And, if the sun
did not reach beyond it, there was light of another kind in
the windowless interior, no light of lamp or torch, but
brighter.

Merlin, holding the wand before him, crossed the thresh-
old.

As the cave had been when he first sighted it, so this
vast inner room, which must include all of the lower story
of the tower, was crowded with a huge number of installa-
tions. He recognized some as resembling those which fos-
tered the mirror, having the same flickering of light across
their surfaces. Others were strange. And there was no mir-
ror. In whatever way Nimue received her instructions it
was not in the same manner as Merlin had his.

There was no life there but for himself, none he could
detect. Against the far wall was a stairway which wound
up, cut into the stone itself, leading to the floor above.

Merlin strode down an aisle between the flashing boxes.
The very familiarity of some of this equipment reassured
him. Now he began to climb up to the second story where
there were windows. The bold light of the interior came
from long rods set into the walls, but those were only be-
low. As he came up through an opening in the floor he
was greeted by not only the light of day entering much
more dimly and wanly through the slits of the windows,
but by scents he himself knew. Here were the odors of
herbs and cordials. Sniffing, he could detect that and this
which he had harvested and stored in his own chamber.

A long curtain divided the round room into two. On
one side were stools, a table, garlands, of dried herbs
against the wall, a chest with shelves set above it on which
stood lidded pots and beakers. Studying this array. Merlin
felt entirely at home.

Yet there was something else to be sniffed in this half
room—sniffed or discovered by that other sense of his.
For the wholesome scent of the herbs did not entirely dis-
guise another odor, and that was far from pleasant. Some-
one had dealt in illusions here, but such dealing had been
reinforced with drugs such as Merlin knew better than to

166 Andre Norton

employ. That was the stink of evil, insidious, half hidden,
but there.

He passed the edge of the curtain to the other side.
Here was a carved bed covered with linen which had been
steeped in saffron for a golden tinge. Over that was drawn
a coverlet of deeper gold on which was worked a compli-
cated design in sea-green thread, looped here and there to
draw a pearl into line. On the walls were hangings worked
with gold thread on green. But there were none of the
fanciful beasts, hunters, other patterns such as the ladies
of the court were wont to use. Rather the lines were sharp
and stiff, consisting of angles and squares, drawn in a
manner not altogether strange to Merlin.

In his dreams of the tower cities he had glimpsed
paintings which were not unlike these. And it was the trick
of such work that the longer you stared at it, the more an
uneasy feeling grew in you that something lurked within
those lines, watching and skulking for no good purpose.
Yet he could glimpse nothing he was sure of but the lines
themselves.

There was a chest also, carved like the bed and, stand-
ing on it, one end propped against the wall, was a mirror.
A mirror! Merlin made a careful way across the room,
taking every precaution to keep his reflection from its bur-
nished surface.. It could well be that this was set as a trap
and that on her return Nimue might summon up on the
surface the likeness of any intruder. When he came close
enough, however, he was certain that this was not the
same as the mirror of his cave, merely an article aiding to
adornment.

This side of the upper chamber was not tainted with
that trouble he had found in the other. He decided that it
was no more than Nimue's own quarters. As there was no
further way up, the tower must contain only the two
rooms.

He had seen no sign of any servants. Nimue must live
alone—except for such as needed no quarters and perhaps
no food nor drink, unless what he picked up in the herb
chamber might be termed that.

Back in the other section, fronted once more by all the
raw materials of a healer's training. Merlin again swung
the wand widely, pointing the metal-covered gem at the
wall, turning very slowly so that any movement of his in-
dicator would be noted.

167

MERLIN'S MIRROR

But the wand lay quiet in his hand. What was here had
no affinity for the star things. All that must lie below. He
returned to the crowded lower section.

What he wanted most was complete destruction of ev-
erything that stood here. But there might be more than he
could hope to control if he attempted that. Slowly he
paced among the machines, noting those which were in
any way different from the ones he had come to know—if
not wholly understand—in the cave.

There were three of the latter. One stood upright, a lit-
tle taller than Merlin himself. Its front panel was unlike
the rest, which were of smooth metal, while the one he
faced was pebbled and rather akin in substance to an
opaque glass. The wand in his hand came to life. Before
he could tighten his grip on it, the gem-and-metal tip thud-
ded against that panel at the height of Merlin's breast.

Though the panel was not broken there came a change
in it. It was as if an inner skin was sloughing away as he
watched, to show what stood behind. What stood...

Merlin caught his breath. He was looking now on a
woman, propped upright in the cabinet or else standing
there. But, though her eyes were open, there was no sign
of life about her. She might have been some statue, except

she was far too lifelike.

Red hair lay in long, ribbon-entwisted braids down her
shoulders, shining brightly against the clear light blue of
her robe. She had a torque around her throat, a bracelet
of bronze curiously worked around one wrist. To Merlin's
eyes she was young, yet in another way she carried about
her a kind of ripeness, as if she knew well the pleasures of
the body.

At first he believed that he faced the dead, cunningly
preserved after no fashion this world knew. Then he
stared more closely, even venturing to tap with one finger-
tip against the now transparent panel. There was a swirl
of small particles across the face of the girl in answer. She
stood' there fully engulfed in liquid, just as he had lain un-
der the protection' of the mirror so that he might live, not
die as Nimue willed.

Nimue was once rumored to have brought someone
nere—Morgause, Uther's daughter! But this was only a
girl. She could not be the mother of Modred, a fully
grown youth . . . unless she had been so imprisoned short-
ty after her son's birth! When Merlin studied her longer he

168

Andre Norton

was sure he could indeed trace a faint likeness to Uther,
but certainly none to the dark-browed Modred!

Why did Nimue hold her prisoner so? The Lady of the
Lake must foresee some future use for Uther's daughter,
not as she would have been if time had dealt commonly
with her, but as she was when Uther had sent her forth
from his court. And, knowing Nimue, Merlin did not be-
lieve that that purpose could be any good one.

He inspected the box carefully for any fastening or
latch. It seemed sealed on all four comers as well as the
top. Perhaps it was the sort of coffer which could only be
released by the right word, spoken in just the proper tone.
Though he pitied the girl who slept, he could see no way

of freeing her.

Oddly enough, that opaque backing which had been
dislodged by his wand was beginning to gather again,
spreading over the inner surface as frost covered a stone.
It was thickening and for that he was glad, since the fewer
signs left of his visit here the better.

Now he went past Morgause's strange prison to an ob-
ject made of fine wires spun with ribbons of metal. This
was woven into a crown-like head covering, though some
of the wire rose up from the top of that crown into a tall
pillar standing behind it, where they were swallowed into;

the substance of the pillar itself.                            ^

Before that pillar on Merlin's side was a bench, onj
which the crown waited. He considered the whole thing |
carefully. Then suddenly he was excited. He had the mir-|
ror and the voice; this crown might be a device for com-
munication just as the mirror was for him! If that were

so...

Merlin edged around to the back of the pillar. It was
entirely smooth and rose nearly to the ceiling overhead,
There was a space about half the length of Merlin's wand
between its top and the overhead beams. Some glistening •S
rods about the thickness of his little finger jutted into that "3
space from the crest of the pillar at irregular lengths, no

two the same.

Not even in his dreams of the lost cities had Merlin
ever seen its like, but if this was Nimue's link with those
who had set her tasks here on this earth, and if it could be

destroyed...

He had a hearty respect for anything fashioned by the
Star People and so little knowledge—simply because he

MERLIN'S MIRROR          169

had none of their devices in common use—of what they
might be, that he was loath to interfere with any of this.
Yet he also knew that he finally had before him the
chance to deal his enemy the greatest defeat.

The wand warned him of force inside the pillar, such a
flow of force that he dared not test it. However, the reac-
tion was far less when he pointed the off-world gem in the
direction of the crown on the bench. And those wires that
wedded crown to pillar looked very fragile.

Merlin drew a deep breath. Even if he awoke here such
a force as would sweep him into death, defeating Nimue
and those behind her would be worth such an ending. He
had obeyed the orders laid on him—the beacon was set to
bring in those of his kin; Arthur knew what they would
have of him—so what matter if he died now, as long as he
took with him Nimue's greatest tool?

Slowly, with caution and all the skill he could bring to
the task. Merlin slid (he tip of the wand along the surface
of the bench until it lay directly under, but not touching,
the wires that led up to the pillar. Then, just as he had
used the knife blade to compel the King Stone to his will,
now he began tapping with the metal-encased gem. And in
a low voice he chanted. Tap—chant—tap—

He made no move to touch the crown, but bent his will
on its anchorage. Slowly the crown itself lifted from the
surface of the bench. It rose by jerks, as if it were a sen-
tient thing fighting against his control. But still it rose.
Now it was higher than Merlin's head as he stood there,
and the wires to the pillar were pulled taut as harp strings.

Merlin did not hesitate. Tap—chant—tap—

He sensed that beyond the reach of his own mind there
were things gathering, prowling unseen, moving on a level
not open to the eyes of man. But he would not give heed
to those things, concentrating his whole will on what he
would do.

The crown tugged fiercely at the wires that held it, bob-
bing down to strain upward again with a quick snap. Still
those thread-like filaments held. But Merlin persevered.

There was a sharp ringing sound. One of the wires had
at last broken, trailing back against the pillar limply. The
crown, freer now on one side than the other, made desper-
ate swoops and soars to win loose in answer to Merlin's
command.

Another snap. It was held now by a single thread only.

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Andre Norton

Merlin did not allow any feeling of triumph to slow his in-
vocation. The crown dipped low like a tethered bird,
nearly flying into Merlin's face as if it resented what he
would make it do and was now minded to attack. He did
not flinch but his tapping grew stronger and he raised his
voice a fraction, uttering a single loud ringing word of

command. -
The crown flew from him as if to escape whatever fate

he laid upon it, rising in a whirl of motion overhead, and
the last wire parted. Now all virtue went out of the
crown; it fell to lie at Merlin's feet and he deliberately set
his boot on it, crushing its fragile weaving into a mass of
broken wire. Raising the tangle by the tip of his wand,
being careful not to touch it with his bare hand, he carried

it before him as he went.

The last of the installations he did not understand was
another pillar, but this had no crown, no wires, no surface |
break, not even any flashing lights along its front. He |
could make nothing of it ... And those presences he |
sensed when he had attacked the crown were growing I

more restive.                                         ^
He did not know them, could only feel that in some

way they were akin to the watchers in the forest. His own
inner force had been badly eroded by his destruction of ;

the crown so it seemed better to meet out in the open any ^
attack which might be aimed at him now—not facing it.u|gj
Nimue's own fortress where the unseen attackers might bg
able to draw upon energies he could not locate. In spite o||
Nimue's usurpation of this section of the forest. Merlin"!
had some strengths which the earth itself would feed and;|

nurture.                                               ••L
He ran through the doorway, out of that well-lighted ||

room. When he reached the break in the causeway he||
turned and hurled the wreckage of the crown far out into
the lake, where the glittering water swallowed it. It would
have been better to bury it in the earth—for this water
had been englamoured by his enemy—but Merlin now
needed his hands free for what might come.

What did happen surprised him so much that he nearly
lost control for a startled moment. He had been dreading
the return across those slippery stones. Not only did he
know that he was already under a silent attack which
sucked at his control and his inner powers, but he feared ;

m

MERLIN'S MIRROR          171

that Nimue's forest servants had been alerted. Caught on
those slimed rocks he would be easy meat

However, when he turned to look in the direction of the
land, he glimpsed something that was not the false sheen
of the water, but was suspended above it like a nearly in-
visible link between the two broken portions of the cause-
way. If water itself could form a bridge. Merlin believed,
it would look so.

Dare he trust it? This might be a subtle trap. He
thought he had the way of testing that. Leaning forward a
little. Merlin stretched out his wand to touch what ha
could hardly see at all. The stone-metal point thudded
down against a surface which was very real indeed.

Thus, tapping gingerly before him with the tip of the
rod as he went. Merlin stepped onto the invisible bridge,
forcing himself not to see with his eyes but with his mind,
to know that he had footing even if it appeared to be only
empty air.

16.

He gained no confidence during that crossing, even
though his wand continued to report that steady footing
formed the bridge. Only when he was down again on that
other length of stone he could see as well as feel did Mer-
lin give a great sigh of relief. Yet this was no time to

relax his guard.

Facing the trees in the dark wood through which the
trace of that very ancient road ran, he stiffened. They
were alert at last, those eerie guardians Nimue had set to
patrol her boundaries, and they were closing the path be-
fore him. There remained the way he had taken in, the
stream. With the memory of the serpent still paramount in
his mind, though, descending again into any water fed by
this lake was a task which needed firm willing.

Merlin dropped down into the deeper runnel, his wand
in hand, feeling the slight swing of that which, added to
his extra sense, would be his warning of any imminent at-
tack. The water here was not as clear as it had been far-
ther down the stream and, as he walked, slipping and slid-
ing across a very uneven footing, clouds of silt rose to

make it more murky.

He was well down that water road, near the turn where
it became a more honest and natural stream, when his
wand turned sharply in his hand. At the same moment a
strong warning of his sense of Power brought him half

around.

He expected to see a monster, perhaps the same mon-
ster he had beguiled in the lake. Not—not a woman stand-
ing as if her sandals were set on the surface of the water,
which had now become a firm flooring at her command.

She smiled lingeringly. As he had first seen her on that
night he held the barrow sword, so did Merlin see Nimue
now. She made no attempt to conceal her slim white
172

MERLIN'S MIRROR          173

body, which was all woman's curves; she even shook back
her cloak of hair to display herself more wantonly. She
was bare save for a girdle of stones as milky white as her
skin, two wide armlets of the same and a neck chain
which held a single stone carved into the sickle of a new
moon, hanging between the proud upsurge of her breasts.

She shook her head in the mock playfulness one might
use toward a child who had done ill but did not under-
stand.

"Merlin—" His name came like the sighing of the wind,
yet he noted sharply that her lips had not shaped it And
with that small hint of what she might be, he lifted the
wand and struck—even as if he handled a spear in battle.

That point fashioned of metal and gem pierced between
her breasts just below the moon pendant. There was a
flurry in the air, then nothingness. Illusion!

But the fact that the illusion had called his name was
highly disturbing. Nimue must have suspected that he
would come or else she would not have fashioned such an
apparition. Or did she know from afar of his invasion,
from Camelot itself?

Either way he was disturbed. Though he might deal
with certainty and wisdom with everything else in this
world, yet this woman could stir his emotions and make
him as awkward as any untried youth. It was not the
strength she might summon and control, as he summoned
and controlled forces, which made him uneasy. No, it was
that subtler, other influence which reached the man in him
no matter how he tried to control such longings. He knew
they endangered all he could command, and that he would
be far less than he now was if he were to yield to them.

For a long moment after the disappearance of the illu-
sion Merlin stood waiting where he was, half expecting it
to form again, but it did not. Now, feeling like a hunted
fugitive, he splashed on, setting the best pace he could out
of that evil wood.

Did Nimue know from a distance what damage he had
wrought in her tower? He was willing to attribute all kinds
of knowledge to her. And had his destruction of the crown
defeated her future plans in anyway? He knew so little
and needed to know so much!

Breathing faster but turning his head from side to side,
gripping the wand so he would feel the first stirring it
might give, he pushed on steadily. It seemed to him that

174

Andre Norton

gloom gathered under the trees on either side of the
stream, folding in thicker, almost like the curtain he had
dispensed at the tower. And behind that—what prowled
behind? He closed the door of his imagination, refused to
allow such speculation. To look for that kind of attack was

often to open a way for it.

No birds twittered in this woods now. Merlin could no
longer pick up the smallest hint of any animal life-force.
When no other manifestation rose to confront or threaten
him, he began to believe that Nimue's image had been
random only, set up in simple expectation that some day
he might venture here, and was not keyed to this one ex-
ploit of his.

The moon necklace she had worn—that he knew. Not

from any teaching of the mirror, rather from the legends
of his mother's people. It was the sign of one of the three
who were chosen in the old days to serve the Earth
Mother: Maid there always was, with the new moon for
her ranking. Mother, with the full moon. Old woman with
her waning orb. Why had Nimue chosen such an archaic
symbol? This countryside was sparsely settled and he knew
that the people here might well cling to the old ways. It
could be that many, perhaps the women chiefly, secretly
worshiped the Old Goddess. At that thought a small unex-
plainable shiver ran down his spine. This matched that
faint scent of evil he had detected in the herb chamber, a
hint of something that was a warning, but so veiled a one

he could not understand it.

Merlin breathed deeply with relief as he came at last
out from under the daunting canopy of the trees, but the
sun would not be with him much longer. This time he got
well away from the fringe of the woods before he sat
down, his damp breeches and boots clammy on his body,

to eat and drink.

Tonight there would be a full moon, ripe and yellow-
white in the sky. Merlin licked crumbs from his lips. He
was very tired; the outflow of energy which had obeyed
his will to destroy Nimue's crown had closed down on
him. To go on when he felt so weak and tired was folly.
Still, even in this open, he was not easy of mind. He sat
cross-legged, his wand lying on his knees, and realized he
was listening, listening with a fervor he could not under-
stand. Listening for what? Who?

Twilight faded and still he sat there, every sense alert.

MERLIN'S MIRROR          175

He often stared at the black blot of the woods, but it was
not from there that this feeling of dark awareness came.
He also watched the slopes of open land around him. He
was sure they had once been cleared by the hands of men
and then abandoned to the wilds, so that shrubs and
bushes had begun to reclaim the forest's territory.

Merlin heard the bark of a fox, the rustle of some
flying thing swooping low near him, perhaps to make a
hunting kill. The night was alive again, but that life was
normal to it. Why then did he sit waiting?

Now and then he glanced down at the wand. Its white
length was barely discernible, and the gem and metal on
its point did not gleam. He began to believe that whatever
threatened was not a weapon of Nimue's armory, at least
no off-world one. There were times when he tried to com-
pose himself to sleep, (he light drowse he had known the
night before, but that inner sentinel his mind had set re-
fused to be ignored.

The moon rose, as whole as a piece of Roman gold
tossed into the sky to overawe the stars with its light. Then,
very far away, there began a disturbance which Merlin
could not hear; he could only feel it like a vibration
through earth and air picked up by his inner sense, not
any outer one. It grew stronger until at last he heard as
well as felt it.

There was a chanting which raised the hairs along his
neck, made him breathe more quickly, his heart beat fast-
er. Though he dealt with words of Power and knew what
could channel through them, still this was wholly alien to
his own forces. There was something utterly strange and
wild in that wail in which he could not yet distinguish any
words. Old, old, said his own knowledge, back, far back.
This was nothing of the Star People, but entirely of a
young earth before the coming of their ships.

The chanting broke into a series of shrill yelps. At last
Merlin knew.

There was a hunt up under the moon, and he was the
quarry. The goddess whose symbol Nimue's illusion had
worn also had her dark side. To that portion of her char-
acter men had shed blood—the blood of their own kind.
She had two faces, that goddess, as well as three ages, and
the second face was turned to the outer Darkness, which
'sen had always feared and tried to propitiate.

176

Andre Norton

The Great Mother—and the Great Destroyer—of man-
kind!

Yet yielding to atavistic fear meant utter defeat. Merlin
swallowed twice, working to calm the beating of his heart,
to marshal what he knew, the forces he himself controlled.
There must be an answer—and that was not to run. For if
he gave way to that...

He shook his head. There was an answer! It lingered in
the far part of his mind, overlaid by all the mirror had
taught him. This was not of the mirror, however, it was of
his own world alone.

The Great Mother and her priestesses who watered the
earth with the blood of men—
The Great Mother and—

From that far-hidden place in his memory Merlin
dragged what Lugaid had once told him very long ago.
The Mother had her rival. In latter years that rival became
her mate: the Homed God, to whom hunters paid tribute
that they might ever find the herds they preyed on. The
Homed God . . . and how greatly did these priestesses
hold him in awe?

There was little time for self-questioning. He could ei-
ther run, which his nature forbade and which he knew|
would condemn him anyway, or he could stand. In hisf
standing, he would have to-hold the strongest illusion he^
had tried for years. It had to be strong, for the power of|
the Mother was not like any force he had faced before.    |

Merlin rose to his feet. He deliberately shut out as best^
he could the screams of the huntresses. He steadied his|
mind, concentrating, hoping with every breath he drew|
that his command over his own powers had not been too|
devastated by what he had wrought at the keep in the!
lake. There was no mirror fronting him now in which he^
could check the illusion. He could only hold the picture in|
his mind.                                             |

They were close enough now so he could see their whites
bodies darting in and out among the scrub bushes, the toss-j
ing of their hair. Like Nimue, they wore no clothing, but|
had necklaces of acorns. And the pack was of all ageSya
girls scarcely into puberty, matrons with sagging breasts
which had nursed children, hags so old their skin was
seamed leather under the moon.

As they drew in on him, now, their faces showing only
the frenzy which was the dark aspect of their goddess,

MERLIN'S MIRROR          177

their clamor stilled. There was an avid blood lust in their
eyes, just so had they once gathered to slay the Winter
King. Merlin must not allow himself to think of anything
but the protection he had woven for himself.

The first of the pack came within leaping distance, but
now they faltered, their stares fixed, then wondering. If his
own powers worked they saw no man, rather a dark figure
bearing stag horns on his raised head—a figure which dis-
played no fear of their goddess-frenzy because the Homed
Hunter was himself of the earth, the sky, the land about
them.

The leader of the pack snarled, a tall woman with pen-
dulous breasts who wore about her loins a thong support-
ing the disk of the full moon. Twice she started to reach
for him with her long-nailed fingers, crooked to claw the
flesh from his bones, but she still did not strike. Her fol-
lowing hung farther back, glancing uneasily from their
priestess to Merlin.

He raised his wand, though the star things had no
power against such as these. Yet with that in his hand his
confidence was greater. Now he spoke:

"You do not hunt me, women of the Goddess." He did
not make that a question but a statement. "You may call
the earth to answer you, to take the seed into it, to con-
ceive, to bear the fruits of full harvest But / command
that which roams about the earth. Behold—"

With the wand he pointed to his left. There stood snarl-
ing the great Dire Wolf, a hound such as no living man
had ever seen. And to the right he pointed, so that there
crouched a giant cat with long fangs, and it hissed even as
the wolf growled.

The women behind the priestess started back. But she
stood her ground, and her teeth showed in a snarl as open
as that of the cat's.

"Hunter," she spat, "do not try to oppose the Mother!"
"I am not a hunter," Merlin replied, "I am the Hunter.
The Mother'knows me for I, too, am of her breed. I am
no Spring King to share her bed for but a season. Look
upon me. Priestess! I am of the wild kind and, as in the
^d kind, so does my wrath rise! You serve your
Mother—I do not bow knee at any shrine of hers. Thus
between us lies a balance of power, each equal with the
°ther. Is this thing not so?"

178

Andre Norton

Very reluctantly the priestess inclined her head. But shftij
did not surrender her fury.                              , a

"We hunt when the Mother is threatened," she stated.

"Do I threaten her then, Priestess?"

For the first time she looked uncertain. "Perhaps—per«
haps you are not the one we seek."

"Yet it is to me you have brought your pack," he couih-
tered. "I mean your lady no wrong, for both she and I
serve the powers of earth life. Seek your man elsewhere,

Priestess."

She stared straight at him, puzzlement on her broad
face. Then she backed away, her women scattering behind
her. Merlin watched them go. He had no doubt that
Nimue had somehow been at the bottom of this abortive
attack. Had the Lady of the Lake brought back one of the
oldest beliefs of all to cement new numbers of devoted
followers to her?

The women were gone and once more he could hear
their bare feet thudding against the earth around the
bushes. Plainly they were indeed casting about for another
trail. He hoped no wayfarer was abroad in this wasteland
tonight for he was sure that, once balked of what they
thought was their prey, they would take an added ven-
geance on any they found.

Was this how the Star Lords of his half kin first present-
ed themselves to men, taking on some illusion of an earth
god? He could almost believe that he had only followed a
pattern of contact devised very long ago. Simple men
needed symbols to tie themselves to their belief in the
great Power which was beyond any man's description.
And there had been many forms of gods walking this
earth. An ancient Sky Lord might have assumed the form
of one—that would be the easiest way to make men listen,
to direct them into new ways of living and thought.

Merlin had already relinquished the illusion with which
he had clothed himself this night. Now he set out through
the moon-and-shadow-checkered land to follow the old
road, to be away from this place as soon as possible,
drawing on the dregs of his strength to keep walking.

It was three days before Merlin saw the high rise of
Camelot's hill before him. He was very tired and hungry,
though he had broken his fast at a shepherd's hut that
morning. The man had little news, except a rumor that

MERLIN'S MIRROR

179

the High King ailed and kept to his chamber. So Arthur
still played his role. But when Merlin came nearer to
Camelot he saw a party of horsemen spurring down the
slope at a pace that suggested some need for haste. When
they had gone. Merlin made what speed he could up to
the outer wall of half earth, half stone.

There were twice as many guards at the entrance, and
within a bustle of men were preparing to march. The first
sentry swung his spear up crosswise, barring Merlin's pas-
sage.

"Stand!" the man commanded.

"You know me," Merlin countered. "Why do you this,
fellow?"

"By Lord Cei's orders, none is to enter—"

"Then send a message to Lord Cei," Merlin returned. "I
am not one to be kept waiting thus."

The man seemed undecided and there was a shadow of
hostility on his face. However, one of his fellows did go
off, and Merlin settled his shoulders against the firm wall
to wait with what patience he could summon. He was ea-
ger to know what had happened. That Cei gave the orders
here—that either meant Arthur still played his role or—
Merlin tried to list the factors which might have gone
wrong with their plan.

The messenger was already returning. "You are to
come to Lord Cei," he told Merlin shortly, using no cour-
tesy in that command. Nor did Merlin ask anything of the
fellow who stalked by his side through the enclosure.

All the signs were of war. Saxons? Had there been some
unlooked-for invasion during his absence? He kept his ears
open but he could gather little from the shouted orders
and general talk of the men.

Then he mounted the inner stairs of the palace to a bal-
cony room where Cei stood by the outer window frowning
out at the ramparts. He turned quickly at Merlin's coming
and his scowl did not lighten.

"Arthur?" Merlin made a question of that name.
- Cei's scowl deepened. "How near you are to traitor,
bard," he said menacingly, "I do not yet know. When I
leam ..." He held out a hand between (hem and slowly
^led his fingers into a hard fist. "H I find it to be as I
suspect, so shall I take your throat and crush the life out
of you—slowly!"

"It would save time," Merlin pointed out, "if you would

Andre Norton

180

tell me what has happened. When I left the King was
playing ill for purposes of his own—"

Cei showed his teeth wolfishly in what was far from any

smile.

"So he told me. But look upon him now, healer. And it

you can indeed heal, (hen do so speedily!"

Nimuel Merlin nearly said the name out loud. Perhaps
he and Arthur had been defeated in trying to keep her
from her stronghold. Poison was a handy weapon and Ni-
mue knew her herbs well—those which were baneful,
too—as he had sniffed in the tower room.

He had already turned again to the door. "I will see

him now."

If Cei had tried to stop him he would have struck the w
younger man down, for Merlin carried an icy fear which s
armed him doubly. If Arthur died . . . !               I

So once more he came into the King's chamber. Ble-^
heris rose from where he had crouched by the bed. He/
too, turned a bleak face in Merlin's direction. But all Mer-
lin had eyes for was the man on the bed.

Arthur's face was not flushed by any pseudo-fever this
time. Rather it wore a sunken look and the skin seemed
gray; it might almost have been a dead man lying there.
Merlin went to work instantly, all his healer instincts

aroused.

The King's body was chill, too chill. Merlin called for
stones to be heated and wrapped, put about him as he lay.
Next he used his sixth sense, and that recoiled immedi-
ately. Though the fell symptoms he saw might well come
from some ailment of the body, it was surely the evil of
some possessive hold which kept the King prisoner.

Cei watched and now he demanded: "What is it? Yes-
terday when the Lady Nimue departed he was well and
able once again. This morning—" He flung out his hands,
his face twisted with pain. Though Cei seldom showed his
feelings outwardly Merlin knew that the tie between him
and his foster brother ran deep and clear. "Then that
nithling, that stinking traitor—"

"He is under ensorceument," Merlin answered the first
question. "And he must be swiftly awakened thereit."

"You can do that?"

"With certain remedies, aye. Let me go to my chamber,
but you stay here. Allow no one but the two of you near

MERLIN'S MIRROR

181

him." He nodded to the Pict now. "I shall be as quick as I
can!"

Alive and well when Nimue departed, he thought as he
strode along the hall. Then perhaps she had placed on the
King one of those delayed mind-orders which would strike
when she was gone. What else Cei had said did not hold
Merlin's attention now. He must save Arthur!

In his own chamber he chose hurriedly from his sup-
plies, gathering small jars into a rush basket. And he also
carried his wand with him as he returned to the King's
chamber. Once there he sent Bleheris for a pot of boiling
water, then had the Pict set up a brazier into which, on a
bed of live coals, Merlin tossed leaves of various sorts he
hurriedly culled from his selections. An aromatic smoke
arose while Merlin brewed a tankard of liquid with the
water.

"His sword—" He turned to Cei. "Where is his sword?"
It was Bleheris who answered, not with words but by

scuttling across the room to fetch the sheathed blade from

behind a chest.

"That one came hunting," he said as he put the sword
into Merlin's hands. "But he did not find it."

As Merlin drew the sword and the firelight caught the
blade, taming it into a shimmering bar of light, he asked
of Cei: "Modred—is this nithling you speak of Modred?"

"Aye." Cei's voice was hot with fury. "He tried to put
his will on the lords because the King ailed. They would
not swear to him. Then—then he wooed the Queen. And
she listened to him! In the night she rode off with Modred,
and men who saw her go said she went willingly. Faugh!
She is near twice his years and yet she colored like a maid
when he looked at her. She deems Arthur as good as dead
and she would still be Queen! What will you do now?"

"I summon our lord's presence back. A part of him
strays in a strange place and it is a place which is death to
man. Now be silent!"

Merlin raised the sword until the point rested lightly, tip
°Dly, on Arthur's forehead above and between his eyes.
"lough both Cei and Bleheris listened and this was not
Meant for the ears of common men, he began to chant.
"is eyes were closed as he tried not to believe that he
stood in the familiar chamber of the King, but rather
ranged in another place to which someone, doubtless Ni-
'"ue, had banished Arthur.

182

Andre Norton

There was a kind of nothingness, though odd crooked ;

dazzles of light still ran through it. Each of those flashes
was a personality which had either chosen to enter this
limbo or had been banished here. Merlin's chant rang, not|
as words, but rather as muted sounds. With that a path o(||
light also spread out and out from Merlin's own stand;|[
here. The sword was a pointer he could use in his search||

to locate Arthur.                                        |

Merlin began to move along that path of light while thg.i|
dazzles drew back or fled away. But one red-gold fla-ihan
was touched and held in spite of frenzied contortio
Seeing that. Merlin changed the flow of words. Earlier •
words had been of far-seeking, now they formed an i

perative summons.                                    ;,•»,

Down the path of sword light came that wriggling"
figure, fighting because the compulsion to remain here
had been set upon it Merlin's will must defeat that com-
pulsion. He commanded, as one who had full right to do so.
Into that command Merlin poured all his concern for Ar-
thur, his belief in the other and the mission which they

both shared.

Back drew that fighting fragment of twisted light. It
was fairly caught and held by the power of the sword.
Merlin released his own hold on that strange far country

to open his eyes.

He was never sure if he actually saw that last flicker of

light slide down the sword blade to the King's head, but
he heard Arthur's groan and saw his head move a frac-
tion on the pillow. He had won.

17.

The breeze at the top of the windswept wall did not
carry away the words of the man who stood below. Ar-
thur, his face drawn and set in lines of haggard strain,
stood firm-footed gazing down at that bard. Behind him
was ranged a ragged showing of his once-proud court.
Cei's voice was a thick growl, monotonously cursing the
bard, who by the ancient custom of the tribes must be
free from any retaliation in physical form.

Merlin studied the man. This was so ingenious a move
that he did not believe the idea had been Modred's at all.
He could see Nimue in this—or was he too ready to see
Nimue in all which moved against Arthur or him? The
plan could even have been partly Guenevere's, for the
bard below was from her father's court, well noted there
for the sharpness of his tongue and the evil twists of his
mind which profaned bardic uses to his own purposes.

This was a threat which had brought proud lords and
kings to dire disaster in the past: for the bard was en-
gaged in singing aloud the tale of Arthur who lay with his
own sister to beget a son whom now he hunted from him,
of Arthur who was demon-possessed and no true king at

an.

Since his recovery the King had refused to listen to Cei
and the others who had pressed him for the instant pursuit
of Modred and Guenevere. He had patiently pointed out
over and over again that to pursure with a sword was to
break" apart the Fellowship of Britain. And that, if the
Fellowship failed, Britain would also break asunder while
the sea wolves would be quick to pick her bones.

Merlin had thought Modred more farseeing than to
move thus openly with the old scandal. He could not ex-
Psrt the lords to rally to him after revealing his mother's
shame to pull Arthur down. Even though he was of the
183

184 Andre Norton

Pendragon blood, no lord hearing this would raise his
voice for Modred to wear the crown. By tainting Arthur
he tainted himself. So why?

Guenevere, too, had much to lose. If she had chosen
Modred as the coming ruler, thinking Arthur on his death
bed, then why would she wish to dash his chances? Too
many questions and they all led, he was sure, to Nimue.

If she had discovered his attack on her stronghold then
her fury might have erupted, pushing her to act without
the careful intrigue he associated with her, to throw aside
all cover and make such a deadly attack. Nimue—he was
positive of that!

On and on rang that chant, derisive, penetrating, tearing
at the innermost feelings of a man who had no way of
taking counteraction. Maybe Arthur could not, but ...
Merlin moved. There was an answer, abrupt, perhaps dan-
gerous in a way. Yet he could not allow this reviling to
continue. In the past, mighty men of good life had been
led to commit kin-murder by just such goading.

Merlin raised his wand, pointing it at the head of the
bard. This was no real weapon; he was not putting an end
to the law of bardic freedom of speech by physical means.

No, it was thought command which he hurled, knowing
full well that the man below would never have ventured to
the very walls of Camelot with his obscene attack were he
not defended by shields no man could see. Merlin concen-
trated. The words sing-songed on.

Then suddenly the bard was silent. His head shook from
side to side. He raised frenzied hands to claw at his own
mouth.

Merlin's own voice rang out: "The one who has spat
forth poison now must chew on it! Speak, man of little
power, speak now the truth!"

It took all the power of his will to hold the bard. He
had been very right in his belief that the fellow had come
wen armed. He had strong defenses of the old lore to
counteract, yet he did so.

The bard had fallen to his knees. He looked straight up
at Merlin now, his face working hideously as if he indeed
held some fell poison in his mouth and could not spew it
forth, so that it ate into his tongue and jaws. Again Merlin
pointed with the wand.

"Speak out, with the truth. Give us no more lies of your

MERLIN'S MIRROR          185

foul imagining. Who sent you to so bemire the High
King?"

As if against his will the bard's lips parted.

"She—" he said. That single word might have been
wrenched from him by a torturer's instrument.

"Give this woman a name," ordered Merlin. "Or as you
have spouted forth lies, so shall it be that (he truth will be
ever closed to you. Henceforth all men will know you to
be a liar, and none will listen to you again. For there
comes a time of judging when one answers to his own
Power. And if you were true bard you would also
know—"

There was red hate burning in the man's eyes as he
stared back up at Merlin. But accompanying that hate was
fear, and the fear was growing stronger.

"It is the Lady Morgause who has told this thing," he
said thickly, "and how better would anyone know the
truth than she?"

Morgause—the girl Merlin had seen imprisoned in Ni-
mue's keep? Was this the reason Nimue had kept her on
hand and ready for all these years? Merlin could hear a
shocked murmur of those behind him on the wall.

"You saw the Lady Morgause." Merlin forced his calm
to hold. "And you say how better could anyone know than
she. How—"

Arthur's voice cut across his own. "Let it be. Merlin.
The High King does not fight with women."

Now the grimace of the bard below turned into a
snarling grin. "Speak fair. Lord King. Cling to that shadow
of honor you have never wholly had since even before the
day of your crowning. Let this demon's son strike me
speechless. There have been ears enough for the hearing.
Men remember evil quicker than good; it is the way of the
world. Even if you could by some miracle prove yourself
innocent of this act, more will listen to the accusation than
to any words which absolve you. Listen well! Lord
Modred sets dishonor upon you. He marches now to bring
justice'into this land. If you would meet him, then let the
Power itself decide what is right and what is wrong."

"Good enoughl" Merlin heard Cei's instant answer to
that. "Lord King, each lord who listens seriously to this
foul lie is a traitor. And with traitors there is only one
way of dealing. Let them speedily face the sword edges of
honest men!"

186 Andre Norton

A small cheer followed his speech, but Arthur's rrown
came swiftly. However it was to the bard he spoke, not
Cei.

"Bard, you have delivered your message. Now go."

"And what return do you make to Lord Modred, High
King?" The man accented the title tautingly.

"That I do not propose to wrench Britain apart to suit
his will," Arthur replied somberly.

"You have no choice," the bard returned, "unless you
creep away in full dishonor before the faces of all men.
Remember that!"

Then he rose from his knees, favored Merlin with a
last glare and strode away, his back turned without cour-
tesy upon the King. Cei grunted.

"A spear between that one's shoulders now," he said
wistfully, "that should be his full payment. But he is right,
foster brother. You fight or else you leave full power open
to Modred, And how do you think he will use that right to
rule? He is a nithling. The great lords will break apart, for
he will find few to do him homage. Lord will quarrel with
lord, each reaching a hand for the crown. What comes of
that? A riven land will open as easy meat for the Saxons.
So it was at the death of Uther. Lord King, you have no
choice. You ram these foul lies back down the throat of
that nithling, using your sword hilt to do so, or else you
stand without honor before all who have followed you
through these years."

Arthur's set expression did not change, but his eyes
turned from the retreating bard to Cei and then to Merlin.
"Attend me," he curtly bade them both, and strode along
'the rampart, men falling back to give him passage.

But too many faces in that company were sober, too
many eyes rested on the High King questioningly. Cei's
summing up of the situation was very apt. Arthur would
be damned before all men if he did not fight, and a war
between lord and lord in Britain would come either way.
Everything he had wrought would break apart like a fruit
rotted at the core.

And Merlin, as he obeyed the King's summons, thought
of the beacon. How long, how far? To those questions he
had no answers. Perhaps what he had set in motion would
draw their off-world kin into utter chaos. Yet he could not
see what he might have done differently at the time.

With Cei he entered the King's chamber close on Ar-

MERL1VTS MIRROR          187

thur's heels. The King strode back and forth across the
room, his hands clasped behind his back, his chin sunk
upon his chest. There was pain in his face, such pain as no
physical wound would have raised.

"Brothers," he said, "you alone know the troth which
lies behind my heritage. Aye," he spoke now to Merlin, "I
have shared the truth with Cei for he is also of the Old
Blood in part. But there is this: will any man, either those
out there who heard that down-chant, or those who have
apparently flocked to Modred, believe it?"

Cei spoke first. "If they did, brother, they would find it
an evil truth and look upon you with even greater hatred.
Few men will accept that there may be a race somewhere,
either on this earth or off it, who are greater in gifts and
talents than themselves. The priests teach that there was a
Christus who was so, but he is dead. And so, being dead,
men can now accept him. Yet in his time men hated and
reviled him for that difference, and conspired to send him
to the most shameful punishment they knew, one reserved
for slaves and traitors. Men bow to gods, but if those gods
appeared they would fear and hate them.

"It is the nature of man to wish to drag down to his
own level all who have climbed above. You are the
greatest king Britain has seen, even greater than Maximus,
for you have not deserted your duty in pursuit of ambi-
tion. Had you not been given the crown, still you would
have struggled to serve. Men know this and it does not
make them revere you the more. Do you think that Lot,
who was in position to claim the throne, loves you now?
Nor may the Duke of Cornwall, nor any of those others
who might aspire to your crown.

"Aye, they shall use this old scandal against you. But
this was an act of a lusty youth and it can be made plain
that the Lady Morgause was unknown to you as being
close kin. Besides, she was one who had warmed other
beds and it can be hinted that Modred was none of your
true get—"

"No!" Arthur interrupted. "We do not befoul a
woman's name to answer this threat. She perhaps was—
is—all that you say. But I will not hold her up meanly be-
fore all and cry The woman deceived and tempted me!'
Such action is not for any king."

Cei nodded. "So would you decide, brother. But such
fairness will not work for you either. Men will accept for-

188 Andre Norton

bearance as an open admission of guilt. However, to tell
the truth is even worse. We shall have 'demon-born'
hurled in our ears until that cry will deafen and turn
from us even the most strong-hearted of those who would
otherwise support you."

"He is right," Merlin said quietly. "This is a time when
either choice will make strong enemies. The web has been
well woven; the snare is around us."

"You are sure this is of Nimue's doing?"
Merlin answered the King forthrightly: "As sure as if I
had heard her order Morgause to teach the bard his lines.
She is taking her revenge now. But there is this, Arthur, I
am also certain that she can no longer speak with her
guiding voice, therefore what she may do is of her own
thinking. And the beacon cannot now be overset—"

"This beacon—" Cei rounded on him. "You promise it
will bring the Sky Lords. In what numbers will they come,
and when? Will they raise weapons to aid our King, or
stand aside and let man struggle against man, perhaps
then making some treaty with the victor?"

"I have answers to none of those questions," Merlin re-
turned. "Time to the Sky Lords does not pass as our days
or years. They live much longer than we do. It may be
that years will pass before their ships drop from our sky."

Cei shook his head. "Then it is best to forget them in
any plans we make. But Modred must be handled, and
speedily. As yet his force will be small, but men will ride
to him. And do not forget, he also has the Queen. Her
very presence in his camp will argue that she believes this
shameful tale and so has withdrawn from you, Arthur."

"That I know," the King returned. His voice sounded
tired, as worn and ravaged as his face. "Men will also say
that I ride out against my own son."

"You ride against a traitor!" returned Cei forcefully.
"You," he said, turning his attention to Merlin, "this was
of your doing! If your knowledge was so great and all-
powerful why—"

But Arthur replied with more strengh in Merlin's behalf
than he had for himself. "Waste no time, brother, on the ||
counting of many 'ifs' which lie in all our pasts. Merlin did j
only what was given him to do. And it is on him that all '||
our success will lie in the end."                           l|

Merlin, startled, regarded the King narrowly. There had ||
been a note in Arthur's voice when he said that, as if

MERLIN'S MIRROR          189

suddenly the talent of farseeing had been given to him.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"When the hour comes," the King continued in that
same assured voice, "then it shall be known to you, kins-
man. We each have a part to play, ill-fated though such
may be. It is, as you have pointed out, Cei, well that we
move to the playing of them now."

They rode out of Camelot, not ablaze with colors wav-
ing and high confidence in their might, but soberly, yet not
in any degree showing that they believed their mission any
the less rightful than when they marched against the in-
vaders.

News was brought to Arthur. The forces had indeed
split, and it was true that many of the great lords, perhaps
through jealousy as Cei had foreseen, were either holding
aloof from taking sides or had openly joined Modred. He
had dared to raise the Dragon standard and proclaim him-
self High King, Arthur being no fit ruler.

Cei laughed harshly when that was reported at their
second night's camp.

"He is a fool," he said bluntly. "Does he believe that
Lot, who waits now to see how fortune favors us, would
allow him more days on that unsteady throne than it
would take him to offer Modred open challenge?"

If Lot was one who waited, Constans of Cornwall was
not. With his Boar banner waving proudly, he brought his
train of fighters into Arthur's camp. There before all
gathered he reaffirmed his sworn allegiance to the King.
So an old ill was forgotten and Arthur gained heart
thereby, for Constans was the son of Goloris' son, and the
only other true-bom lord of Arthur's kin.

On the fourth day, when their army had been augment-
ed again by two troops of the Black Horse fresh from
duty along the Marches, Arthur called council, meeting
with those lords and commanders who had remained true
to their allegiance.

"We march now." the King said with a harsh note in his
voice, "against those who have been sword brothers and
shield comrades. A hundred times or more have we faced
a common foe and braved the threat of death together. It
is not meet that we now turn steel against one another in
anger. I will not put aside my crown, not because I choose
to be king against the will of all men, but because I will

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Andre Norton

not step aside from my duty to this land. Yet it is a very
grievous thing to slay old friends."

He paused but no man of that company spoke up.
Merlin thought that Arthur had not really expected any
answer. Then he continued slowly:

"Let no man be able to say in days to come that I do
not wish well those who have been seduced from me by
lies. Therefore, I would send a messenger to Modred and
say to him that we should meet in open company, all
weapons sheathed, and speak together, that he break not a

peace so hardly built."

Constans, who was the greatest of the lords now in that
company, though almost the youngest also, then answered

him.

"Lord King, this is the act of one who has indeed

thought of others first. Few men who have had a bard
sing against them would hold out a hand in peace to those
who sent that bard. If you go meet this traitor, then I

shall stand at your side!"

"And I—I—I—" They had caught fire. Merlin saw.
No one there, having looked on Arthur's face as he spoke
of that offer, would ever say that it was one made out of
fear; rather it came from his love for Britain, which he
had served nearly all his life long.

So one of the oldest of the lords, a certain Owien, who
had in his youth ridden in Ambrosius' own bodyguard,
offered himself as messenger. And Arthur, knowing the
high respect in which all men held Owien, was well ;

pleased. Having the King's words given to him, Owien
went forth from the camp. And they rested, waiting
through a day and a night. On the second day Owien re-
turned.

He came directly to Arthur, "Lord King, I have spoken
your words to Modred. There was some talk among his ;

people, urging this and that, but at last he agreed that it
shall be as you wish. He has said to meet with him at the
Lesser Stones of Langwellyn, bringing with you ten of
your lords, as he shall come with ten of his. The priest
Gildas spoke up saying that Merlin must not be one of the
ten, for he would lend the Devil's own strength to you. But
Modred laughed at that and said he had something which
would defeat any Devil's work. Lord King, with their
forces rides the Lady Morgause, yet she is not aged, but is
even as she left the court at Uther's sending. And with her

MERLIN'S MIRROR          191

is the Lady of the Lake. Men look sidewise at them, even
in Modred's company, for it is not natural that age has
not touched the Lady Morgause."

"If She be the Lady Morgause at alll" snapped Cei.
"Uther had bastards in plenty and this one may even be a
daughter of one of them, if she looks so young. It is but
another trick for the undoing of our lordi"

Arthur gestured as if brushing aside this addition to
Owien's report.

"All that matters now is that Modred has agreed to this
meeting. Let us take heart in that."

But later, when night had closed in, he came to Mer-
lin. "You have powers," he began. "Can you use them
over Modred, making him repeat before his lords words
which will commit him to peace? I do not believe that one
man should command another so against his will, but tills
is a man who would plunge our world into blood. If there
is anything I can do to stay his hand without a killing, that
I shall attempt."

"It depends," Merlin answered as frankly, "on how well
Nimue has armed him. Mark his reply to Gildas made be-
fore Owien. I have done what I can to weaken her power.
But I shall not know how well I have succeeded until we
have a trial of strength. Be sure, however, that all I can
raise in the way of force is at your disposal, kinsman.

"More than that I do not ask," Arthur returned. "I wish
that it had been given me to leam as you learned. For at
this moment I feel that I need more than human strength
and will to aid me." He rose slowly, "Well, let us sleep, if
any sleep will come to us. Tomorrow brings either peace
or blood, and which choice we cannot now foresee."

"There is this," Merlin told him. "They have appointed
a meeting place in the middle of ancient stones. If this is
part of some forgotten temple, even as the Place of the
Sun, then I can command more of the Power to our ser-
vice. For much lies sleeping in such places."

"Providing they are not places hostile to us."

"Lord King, I have found many such places in this land.
Only once has any had the stench of the Dark about it,
and that was the hold of Nimue. I hope that none was
built elsewhere."

If the King slept that night, Merlin did not. He lay on
his cloak, his eyes closed, to be sure, but his mind awake;

he sought through his memory for anything which might

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Andre Norton

prove either armor or weapon. Piece by piece, word by
word, he assembled all he knew, all he had learned from
the mirror that might at this time add to his inner forces.
He understood that this was a trial of strength with Ni-
mue, perhaps the final battle between them.

Though he had not slept, yet the morning found him
alert and eager for that confrontation. And as they moved
on, he fingered his wand as a boy might finger his sword
hilt before his first battle.

They came to a place which was like a finger of firm
earth poked into marshy land. There were ponds here and
there, some scummed over with green, others clear but
dark, with water reeds and the strange growths of such
country standing tall. On the finger of firm earth were the
stones Modred had named, while on the slope of the hill
on the other side were drawn up the rebel forces, making

a parade of banners.

Arthur's men did the same on this slope, while the King
dismounted and with him Merlin, Cei, Owien and others.
He had refused to take Constans, rather giving into the
Duke's hands the command of the force behind. Constans
would have argued but Arthur pressed on him that this
was his true duty, for after Arthur now no other man had
clear right to the crown.

Then with Arthur to the fore, Merlin and Cei shoulder-
to-shoulder behind him, they moved on down to the
stones. The rhythm of chanting from the rebel forces
sounded, and Merlin saw robed monks in a tight group
under the unlawful standard of the Dragon.

Though he searched carefully with alert eyes he could
make out no sign of any women. If the Queen, Morgause
and Nimue were there, they were somehow hidden by the

warriors.

He next studied the stones as they slowly drew closer to
them, their pace being carefully matched by Modred's
group coming down to meet them here. To Merlin's eyes
there was little outward difference between these rough
rocks and those he had seen at the Place of the Sun. But
he still wondered at Modred's selection of such a site.
Such places were abodes of the Devil, to the monks who
had given their good will to Modred. Why then ... ? Mis-
trust strengthened in Merlin, for he felt that Nimue would
never have allowed her puppet prince to select a place
where the old forces slept and could be awakened.

MERLIN'S MIRROR          193

Unless she was finding Modred—her own creation per-
haps—a weapon which turned in the hand, and that he,
not she, now gave the orders of their company.

The stones were set in a single small circle. Two lay
prone. Merlin swung his wand a little. He felt no pull, de-
tected no spark of energy. These stones were as dead in
that respect as any ordinary rock. Well, he had not really
expected that they would be otherwise.

He watched Modred now, that narrow dark face which
bore so much the stamp of the Old Blood, yet had some-
thing within it which subtly repelled. Modred was smiling;

he gave the appearance of one whom fortune had favored.
And Merlin, thoroughly alert for trickery, began a subtle
probing, only to meet a barrier as strong to his mind's
thrust as steel might stand to the prod of a single fingertip.
Modred was well armed indeed.

18.

Merlin did not relinquish his struggle to touch the
younger man somehow. He caught Modred's slanting gaze
once and was answered with a sly smile, as if Modred
knew what he would do and had no fears. Then Modred
spoke directly to Arthur with open insolence.

"You have asked that we meet. What plea would you
make to me?"

Merlin sensed the stiffening of Cei, knew that it was
only with difficulty that the other must be restraining his
growing rage at such an insult to the King. But Arthur's
answer came calm and clear.

"I make no plea, Modred. I only tell you the truth now;

if we war, Britain fails. Then all we have won will be lost
forever."

"Your throne will be lost," Modred returned, flaunting
his insolence without any shading of prudence. "Have you
come then to beg for your crown, Arthur?"

Merlin saw the flush rise on the King's face. That Ar-
thur kept his self-control was a measure of the man, and
Merlin's pride in him was great. He himself strove to
pierce Modred's barrier, to reach the man. And so intent
was he on the task he had promised Arthur he would try
that he nearly lost the warning of a more subtle attack.

He turned his head swiftly. Something moved by the
nearest stone, rustling in the grass. Before Arthur could
answer, one of Modred's men uttered a cry of surprise
and fear, drawing his sword and striking downward. For a
moment they saw the upraised head of a serpent. But it
was no true serpent. Elusion, cried Merlin's own senses,
too late.

"Treachery!" Cei's blade was also out, slashing at thf
man who had driven his sword into a serpent which van'
ished even as he tried to impale it.
194

MERLIN'S MIRROR

195

Modred sprang at the King, his sword out and ready,
but Cei's charge shouldered him aside. Then battle swirled
openly around the stones. From behind, Merlin heard the
sounding of the trumpets where Constans was ordering a
charge. Inches of steel reached for his own throat. He
brought up the wand and hurled a mental blast at his at-
tacker.

The man howled madly, his sword wavered, his eyes be-
came fixed in his head. He plunged on, hurling Merlin
back against one of the stones. The force of that crushing
against the rock drove the breath from Merlin's body in a
mighty wheeze.

The fighting swirled around him. The man he had
mind-struck staggered on, to be cut down by one of Ar-
thur's men. Down the slope thundered those of Arthur's
guard, the man in advance leading the King's own charg-
er, cutting his way in so that Arthur might swing into the
saddle. Modred was gone. Merlin, clinging to his stone lest
he go down and be trampled under hooves, saw him
leaping from tussock to tussock across a band of marsh to
join with those milling there, striving to find a dried path
to come at the King's forces.

There were four bodies among the stones. One was
Owien, his aged face turned up, his sightless eyes staring
straight into the sun hanging over them. There was a look
of vast surprise frozen on his features, as if death had
come so swiftly that he had not even had time to realize it
before the stroke fell.

The fighting had already whirled away from the stones.
Merlin got back his breath, went from one body to the
next. Healing craft was his and by the looks he would be
well needed this day. But these were all dead.

He made his way back to the wagons which carried the
supplies for the wounded. There he shrugged off his robe
of office, leaving his body freer in his under-tunic as he
went to work. But in him was the stricken knowledge that
he had failed Arthur. Had he not been so intent on master-
ing Modred, he might have seen that illusion, dispersed it
before it incited this slaying. Whether he had seen Nimue
or not, the serpent was hers, he had no doubt of that.

Now he labored to staunch grievous wounds, perhaps
saving lives while in the valley below others were as intent

°n ending it. Whoever won this day, Britain might well be
lost.

196 Andre Norton

Time ceased to be counted as passing hours. Merlin
wrought with his hands and with his mind among thostiij
brought to him. Many he could only ease into a painless*
parting, others he could grant a chance. And of those who
still had their senses alert enough to give coherent answers
he asked about the progress of the fight. But the men he
tended had seen only portions, those which had centered
about them. Sometimes they reported retreats, at other
times small victories, with a beating back of the rebels.

At mid-aftemoon they brought him Cei's young shield
bearer. And the boy wept as Merlin set splints around a
broken arm. His lord, he said dazedly, had been cut down,
though he had taken with him at least four of the enemy
who had surrounded him.

So Cei was gone, even as Ector had gone before him,
Merlin thought wearily. He had indeed ever been Arthur's
right hand, and now that was cut off. Owien and Cei, and
how many more who would have and did follow Arthur
no matter what tattling lies could be told?

He felt as if he moved now through some dreadful
dream, perhaps that hell the followers of the Christus
were wont to say lay ready to engulf all unbelievers.
There was blood everywhere, and dead men asprawl, their'
bodies dragged hurriedly aside when no more might be"
done to aid them.                                    ;

The stench of blood filled his nostrils, clung about him,
just as it splashed and clotted on his under-tunic, bespat-'
tered his arms and legs, even his cheeks. And with it hung
the smell of death from which there was no escape. The:

sun that had been overhead at the beginning of thii
slaughter was now far down in the west.                 ?

"Merlin—" Someone pulled at his arm, tugging in spitel
of his efforts to shake off that touch. He moved on toward
a man who lay groaning, his hands clasped across a great
gash in his belly, the touch of death already on him.

"Merlin!"

Dazed, he looked down into a small dark face across
which was a cut which had dribbled blood now clotting in
a smear. There was a name for this man. Merlin searched
his memory ....

"Bleheris," he said.

"Merlin!" The other jerked at his arm. "Bring your
healing things and come!"

Merlin shook off the stupor which had grown out of

MERLIN'S MIRROR

197

suffering and his attempts to relieve it. There could only
be one reason why Bleheris sought him out. And he dis-
covered at that moment that all the fear which he had
ever known in his life was nothing compared to the terror
which gripped him now.

Arthurl

Though (hey had known that death ever waited in bat-
tle, still Merlin had not really foreseen in his heart that
this might come to Arthur. It could not! All he had, all he
was, would rise to fight for the last of the Star-bom.

Savage anger followed that thrust of agonizing fear. In
that moment he wanted two throats between his hands—
Modred's and the slender one of Nimue! Catching up a
bag of linen strips, grasping at two pots of salve, he round-
ed on Bleheris.

"Where?" he demanded.

The Pict was fairly hopping from one foot to another in
impatience.

"Come." He started on a run and Merlin easily matched
his pace.

They threaded a way through the human wreckage of
the battle. The fight had swirled away. Only distantly now
could they hear the shouting, the cries, groans, screams of
wounded horses and men. Bleheris bore to the right,
pounding along the bank of the river whose overflow fed
the swamplands. There were more dead here, even wound-
ed who cried out faintly. But Merlin's ears were still closed.
Arthur was all that mattered, for Arthur was Britain—Ar-
thur was the shining future of the world!

"It was Modred," the Pict babbled between gasps as he
ran. "The King, he had cut straight through all the others
to get at the traitor. He speared him, but Modred would

not die. He held to the King's lance and cut up. He would
not diet-
There were tears washing away the clots of blood on
Bleheris' cheek. "Dead he was, that foul traitor, but he
would not die until he left his mark on the King."

There was a hut ahead, a rough thing probably used
during the hunting season by a fowler. And outside it
stood two of those Merlin knew as Arthur's guard. He
pushed by them, and then was on his knees where a body
rested on a heap of stained and tattered war cloaks.

Arthur's eyes were closed. There were beads of sweat
°n his forehead and cheeks. His breath came in the ragged

198

Andre Norton

gasps of a man in torment. They had stripped off his ring
armor, bared his body, and there was a mass of cloth
plugging a wound in his lower belly.

Swiftly, but with care. Merlin drew that away, sodden iK
as it was with blood. What he saw there—                —

Men did not live with such wounds. Not in this day. But
Arthur was not just a man; he was more. Merlin worked
deftly, cleansing, binding up that wound.

"He—he will live ... ?" Bleheris blinkered to watch, fl
and beyond him was Gawain of Arthur's guard.           1js

"I do not know." Merlin sat back on his heels. His mind ^|
had at last broken free of that deadly stupor which had
gripped it since the battle began. Clear as if he saw it ac-
tually before him, he was remembering that coffin box in
the cave. It preserved life—could it heal Arthur or at least
keep him asleep and living until the Sky Lords came? For f
their knowledge was greater than Merlin or any in his H
world would have.                                     J

But that cave was distant. Could he keep Arthur living jgf
until they reached it? What did he have? Only the small J
knowledge of this day, a little aided by what the mirrorm
could share with him, though he was unable even to corn-1
prehend the learning long since lost. But he also had his |
will! And if will and purpose could keep Arthur living,,!
then he would set all of his to that task alone from this I
moment forward.                                      :"

"How goes the battle?"

He could not transport Arthur through a land where
they might be hunted as they went. Now he saw the young
guard near Arthur's head look at him angrily, as if noth-
ing mattered except saving the life of his wounded lord.
But Bleheris guessed the reason for his question instantly.

"If you would take the Lord King hence, Lord Merlin,"
he answered, "Modred's men are broke. They flee before
the vengeance of the Black Riders."

"Where would you take the High King?" demanded the
guard then.

"He is sore hurt," Merlin answered. "He must be taken
where those well versed in heal-craft can tend him."

"Merlin—"

Their heads all swung around. Arthur's eyes were open,
his voice so thin, a thread of sound, that they tried to stifle
even their breathing that they might not drown out hfe|

words.                                              I

. '•'*.

MERLIN'S MIRROR          199

"I killed him ..."

That was not quite a statement, not quite a question,
but Merlin treated it as the latter.

"He is dead," he replied flatly.

"He forced me to it. He was so greatly my enemy that
he threw away his life to make sure of my death. Why?"

Merlin shook his head. "I do not know, save that he
was only a weapon in another's hands. This hate is old,
old beyond our understanding. Once it turned this world
into ashes—"

"So does it again." Arthur's voice had grown a little
stronger as if he must get out the words he would say.
"The Fellowship is broken. Merlin." His hand moved a lit-
tle by his side as if seeking something which should rest
there. "Where is the sword?"

"Here, Lord King," Bleheris burrowed beneath the edge
of the massed war cloaks on which the King lay. He
found the weight of the ancient blade heavy but he held it
up so Arthur could look at it without turning his head.

"I shall not... put hand to its hilt again ..." the King
said.

"Not until your wound is healed," Merlin corrected
quickly.

"Brother-kin." Arthur's lips curved in the faintest of
smiles. "Do not deceive yourself. Great may be your pow-
ers, but on all powers there is a limit."

"There was also a promise!" Merlin's eyes caught and
held Arthur's, setting his will on the King. "You are he
who was, is and shall be!"

"Shall be . . ." repeated Arthur drowsily, his eyes
closed.

Bleheris regarded him fearfully. "Is he—has he gone
from us?"                                           <

"Not so," Merlin assured the Met. "He sleeps and will
continue to sleep free from pain. So shall he rest until we
get him to where he may be cared for."

"Lord Merlin, what of—? Who will lead us, then?"
asked the guard.

"The Lord King has given Constans the leadership. But
when you speak to the Duke tell him also that Arthur
lives, he only goes hence that he may be cured of his
wound. Also" —he was thinking clearly and logically
now—"do you tell the Duke that he is to search in
Modred's camp and there he will find the Queen and two

200 Andre Norton

others—the Lady Morgause and the Lady of the Lake.
And these he will say nothing to concerning the King, save
that he is wounded a little and rests. But he shall also
make sure that those three do no more mischief."

"Lord Merlin, as you have said it, so win it be told to
Duks Constans. But how bear you the King hence and
where—"

"As to how, he shall go by horse litter, well wrapped in.
And where, to the mountains where there is a place well
known to healers."

He began to give orders and they were obeyed. It was
as if those who had served Arthur so faithfully were
willing to do anything to maintain their fragile hope that
the King would survive. By morning Merlin was ready to
lead forth a small party.

The King, as well protected as they could make him,
was secured in a horse litter, with Bleheris, mounted on
his own small pony, leading the horses. Merlin brought up
the rear. He had spoken to Constans, who had sought him
out with the news that Modred's forces had suffered such
a defeat as would make the kingdom safe.

"Duke," Merlin had answered him. "I do not hide from
you, though I ask you for the sake of the men's spirits not
to set it generally about, that the King is sore hurt. He has
only one chance for life and that is to reach a place of
healing. I shall fight, as you have, to keep breath in his
body until we are there. Into your hands did he give com-
mand, and to you he would leave his rule. Britain has
been torn sorely here; you must heal the country's wounds
as I will strive to heal the King's."

Constans listened and then said, "Healer, I have heard
many strange things of you, but never has it been said
that you were unfriend to the King. Rather it is known
that to you he turned when he was in sore trouble. There-
fore I believe in what you say. I shall hold Britain, not
as her king, but as one who rules for another. Unless word
comes that your hopes have come to nothing. Then will I
reign as Pendragon."

"So be it. Now what of Ae women?"

"The Queen has been found, much distraught and
nearly out of her wits. She begs to be sent to the house of
the holy women who call themselves sisters and live at
Avalon. The Lady Morgause—she has also been found—
dead. Though the manner of her death we do not know,

MERLIN'S MIRROR          201

for on her body was no wound, nor were her features dis-
torted as if she had drunk poison. Rather she lies as one
asleep. But of the third you bade me seek there is no
sign."

Merlin sighed. Guenevere and Morgause were neither
of any great matter, but Nimue was different. Having
wrought this great tragedy, would she now seek to make it
greater by bringing death to Arthur? His rage awoke. Not
sol Arthur must live in spite of all the spells and illusions
of that dark one.

"Seek her diligently," he said now, though he was sure
Nimue would not be found unless she willed it, "for of all
the enemies of the King she is the greatest, being who and
what she is—a mistress of great magic."

Constans nodded. "Will you take an escort?"

Now it was Merlin's turn to ponder for a moment be-
fore answering.

"No. Where we go a large party would be noted. You
have broken Modred's forces, but there will some scat-
tered few, with the name of traitor rightfully laid on them
now, who will be willing to risk all to kill Arthur. A small
group may go by hidden ways; a large one can be quickly
seen or tracked. I shall take only Bleheris the Pict. He has
all the trail skill of his people and so he can cover and
conceal our path that few can follow."

Thus it came about that they traveled with what speed
they could along wilderness ways. And Merlin's will kept
the King asleep and perhaps even life in his body as they
went. Nor did they see any others in the wilderness Ble-
heris chose for their passage save twice at a distance,
when they were in hiding, small bands of men Merlin be-
lieved fugitives from the rout.

Up into the mountains they came until Merlin could see
ahead the peak which marked the ground of the cave.
Then he turned to Bleheris.

"Good comrade, ahead lies where we must go. But I
know not what we shall find there. If the King can reach
a certain cave still living, I nurse hopes of his survival.
However, though he may so live, it may not be granted to
us—"

"Healer," returned the Pict, "I have already lived longer
than a warrior of any clan can rightfully expect to do.
The King gave me life once, shall I now deny it to him? I
am a clanless man, but the Lord King sat me beside his

202 Andre Norton

home hearth and named me liege. What is to be done, tell
me, and that I shall do."

It was difficult to get the horse litter up the final grade
and at length they had to loosen it and draw it up by then-
own strength of arm. But at last they reached the cave en-
trance.

Nor was Merlin greatly surprised to find one there be-
fore them. She sat on a rock, her face turned toward
them, a certain patience about her as if she had waited for
some time.

Merlin placed the litter gently on the ground before he
turned to her.

"Look upon your work," he said. 'Take pride in it, Ni-
mue!"

To his faint surprise there was no triumph in her face.

"There is no pride to be taken in the death of any
man," she said. And there was about her now none of
those enticing graces, none of that appeal to his senses.
"What was done was enacted because it had to be."

"Why?" he asked baldly.

"Because once before men became playthings of Star
Lords who used them carelessly, taught them what they
were not yet ready to know, drew them into their own dis-
putes one with the other. Finally this world itself was
riven and nearly destroyed. There was a war among the
stars afterward and an oath taken, that never again should
those of another species come under our command—"

"Yet it seems that oath was not honored," Merlin
pointed out. "You are the servant of the Dark Ones and
you have wrought such a bloodletting in Britain as will not
be forgotten for a thousand of man's years, maybe more."

"I did what had to be done," she said tonelessly. "You
would have called down knowledge which men of this age
cannot learn, or in their half-learning would use to greater
evil. It is you. Merlin, who brought in your High King to
change the world, and it is you whose acts killed him."

"He is not dead," Merlin retorted. "Nor shall he die,
sorceress. On the day appointed he shall stand before the
beacon and welcome those of his fathering."

She glanced at Arthur almost indifferently, "Your
beacon, Merlin, is a useless thing. The Sky Lords do not
measure time as we do. It will be perhaps a hundred cen-
turies more before that beacon will have an answer, if it
ever does. And by that time perhaps man will be better

MERLIN'S MIRROR          203

readied to know how ill the Sky Lord's gifts will be for
them. You have set your beacon. Merlin, but I have de-
feated your king."

Merlin shook his head. "Not yet. I have the promise: he
was, he is, he shall bel"

Now she looked at him pityingly. "Merlin, you could
have been so much, yet you have chosen to be so little: a
spokesman for only half-told knowledge, guardian of a
barbarian kinglet soon forgotten." Now she rose and
stretched wide her arms, so that the loose sleeves of her
robe fell away from her white arms.

"Merlin," and the old teasing note crept back into her
voice, "you and I are akin, you know. I can look on no
man of full earth blood with any lighting of heart, nor can
you lay hand on any maid of the tribes. My tower and
lake can fade from the sight of the common kind, and yet
we can live there undisturbed. Our lives are long, past the
years of the true human kind. Are you never lonely, Mer-
lin? We have done our tasks, now we are free...."

He faced her and in him there was a mighty surge of aB
he had pushed away from the fore of his mind. Nimue
laughed.

"Ah, Merlin, I see you rememberi Aye, I can be many
women if I choose, all lovesome and willing. Much can I
teach you, muchi"

Merlin stepped back a pace. "I do not doubt that," he
said dryly. "But I serve the King."

"A dying mani" She looked at him now not mockingly,
nor with any dark laughter, rather with a droop to her
lips. "Lonely Meriin, would you be ever lonely then?"

Her words opened a door to a chill which shook him in-
side, for now she played on another part of his nature,
and one he also knew as a weakness.

"If that be my portion"—he was glad his voice sounded
so steady—"aye, I shall be lonely."

Nimue turned from him then, her shoulders sagging a
little. And he realized that she at last played no games but
was letting him see her as she was. He was torn within,
for he knew that never again would he see what he might
have had, what would bring the warmth of full life into
him. He almost took a step after her. But there was Ar-
thur....

He watched her go away slowly, knowing that there
was still a chance to call her back, that in a fashion they

204 Andre Norton

had both been cheated by the Sky Lords who had made
them, perhaps coldly and without any feeling, to be what
they were. Then she was gone. And it was too late.

He went to the hidden cave entrance and began to pull
aside the stones. Bleheris came to help him after a mo-
ment. The small man's face was full of distress.

"Lord Merlin, what is this place? I have a pain in my
head which grows ever the worse—"

"Forgive me." Merlin remembered the safeguards which
had been set there. "There is that here which is set as a
guardian, Bleheris, so get you hence. No," he added as the
Pict sat down on a nearby stone, "I can enter here and so
can the King. But we shall not come forth yet awhile, per-
haps for a long time, Bleheris."

The Pict shook his head. "Lord Merlin, it will not mat-
ter if it be days or a year before you come forth. If for-
tune wills, you shall find me waiting. This is good land,"
he said, looking about him, "somewhat like my northern
mountains. I shall wait."

And against all Merlin's protests he swore that was
what he would do. Finally Merlin freed the King from the
litter and, taking Arthur in his arms, he somehow won
through the passage. He carried the King to the box and
there brought it open. Stripping Arthur of all but the ban-
dage which bound up his wound, he lowered the King to
' rest. Arthur was still breathing—that was all Merlin knew
as the lid slowly settled again on the box.

But Merlin, having watched the sealing of that coffin,
went for the last time to the mirror. In his hands he held
the sword which Bleheris had passed to him before he or-
dered the Pict to reclose the entrance.

Now he stood facing the polished surface of the mirror
seeing a gaunt, dark-faced man, his clothing stained with
dried blood, his hands enfolded on the hilt of a tall sword.
Around him the installations hummed.

He had done all this by instinct alone. What would fol-
low now?

It was the mirror that answered him:

"Go to the box at your right. Merlin, and press there
the four small buttons. These shall master time for you.
When you awake, you will find that men are again looking
to the stars. Then your hour will strike. This time was
flawed—we must wait for a better day."

"Arthur?" he asked.

MERLIN'S MIRROR          205

"He was, is, will be.... You will find another such rest-
ing place prepared for you. Enter therein and sleep."

For a moment Merlin hesitated, and then he asked a
last question:

"And Nimue?"

"Her fate is not within our knowledge. Merlin."

He laid the sword on that bench before the mirror
where he had sat so often. The blade still shone with all its
glory undimmed. Only men's hopes had failed. Merlin
sighed.

Slowly he turned and found the buttons. He pressed as
he had been ordered. Lights flashed back and forth. He
stood dully watching them until once more they were still.
Then he went to the box. Taking off his clothing, he set-
tled within, felt the liquid rise about his body. Time—
time—how long would be the time?

A white body beneath the moon, laughter bidding him
come, bare feet running fleet as any deer could go across
shadow-dappled ground. . . . Merlin began to dream.