A Guile of Dragons Page 0,1

night she said nothing of the stranger.

Earno knew so much! That, in the end, was what counted with Nimue. Hungers of the body could be fed, satiated, soothed, but this hunger of the mind never rested content. She reveled in it, hated it, served it. Her hunger for knowledge was what attracted Merlin to her, so he said. Her continuing delight in learning was one reason their affair had been so harmonious. He had taught her much—too much, or not enough. For the thing was over, she was still hungry, and who could she go to now? Mistress Aldwyn who grew poisons among the hedges? Or some semiliterate bishop? Or Sir Kay, who counted the bushels of flour in the kitchens of Camelot and never got the same number twice? There was no one. No one but Merlin. And now: Earno.

So she asked Earno, when it was obvious what he had in mind, “Will you teach me, as Merlin has taught me?”

Earno answered slowly. He was as tall as Merlin, but heavier in build and in mind. He was balding and his beard was a reddish gray. Everything about him suggested slow care and deliberateness. No one could have been more different from the quicksilvery Merlin. He acknowledged as much, saying, “There is no one like Merlin Ambrosius. In my country, which is also his, he is called the master of all makers. He is a great seer also and walks in spirit through the future and the past.”

Nimue shrugged restlessly. She hadn’t come to Earno to hear him sing Merlin’s praises.

“Nevertheless,” Earno continued relentlessly, deliberately, “Merlin has not, I know, opened his mind to you fully. He has denied you knowledge of many things, especially regarding his homeland. I can guarantee an answer to every such question.”

She listened to all he proposed and agreed to nothing. The decision lay in her hands and she wanted it that way. He seemed to accept this. He also seemed to know she was pregnant, though she never told him. He left her alone in the woods, finally, to return to the man he had asked her to betray.

A week later, the decision was still in her hands, but it would not be much longer. Her body was changing, and Merlin was at last beginning to notice that. If he realized she was pregnant, she would miss her chance.

So that night she made the decision. She lit a blue lamp and set it in her window before she went to Merlin in his chambers. This was the sign Earno had asked for. The next morning she invited Merlin along on her daily ride into Broceliande, to investigate an ancient tower she said she had discovered in the woods. She was sure he would not refuse her, and he didn’t.

As they rode under the eaves of the forest, Nimue had a sudden impulse to tell Merlin she was pregnant. The resolution was conceived in an instant, struggled to be born into action, and (evil omen—or was it?) died without seeing the light. She literally could not speak. It would be throwing her life away. Earno obviously felt no interest in her physically, but he had promised to look after her and teach her, and she thought she could count on that. Merlin was unknowable. With her future at stake, she needed something she could count on. When she found she could speak, she chose not to.

There was little chance of her being heard, anyway. Merlin was discussing his favorite topic. He never cared for digressions from it, unless he introduced them himself.

“Because power,” he was saying as they cantered along, “is what matters. That’s what your local theologians tend to miss. To do good or evil one must first have the power to do.”

Tangled in her own thoughts, she didn’t say anything to this, though she realized Merlin expected some answer. There was a slight rasp in his voice as he continued, “You can’t imagine what it’s like.”

“I’ve tried to,” she said at last. Would Earno kill Merlin? she wondered. He’d promised not to. If he did . . .

“You miss my point,” Merlin swept on, slightly mollified. “Imagination has its limits. This must be experienced. And you will experience it: the thrill of power over the lives and dreams of others. Dragons have a name for it in their language: khûn tenadh, the game of power. A master dragon plays the game to keep control of his guile of unruly followers. A man