“And is she?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t think Merlin thinks so.”

He put the pieces together. “But then-whoever attacked me-”

“Exactly. But we don’t know who it was. Or why.”

“So I’m involved in this. I mean, without knowing a thing about it, I’ve become involved. I want to see the man who attacked me brought to justice.”

“With Merlin hunting him, you will. I’m sure of it.”

Greffys became impatient listening to them. “These boys I’ve found, we ought to talk to them now. They don’t much trust anyone above their social station.”

“Then let’s go.”

“And I think they know the girl Lancelot was with.”

Petronus got to his feet; he was slightly unsteady. “I’m coming, too.”

Nimue decided she did not have the energy or will to argue with him; he would be on his feet soon enough, one way or another. “All right. Let’s hurry.”

They made their way through the castle to the Great Hall and beyond it to the kitchen. Two boys were waiting there, seated at one of the tables. They weren’t much older than Greffys, and they looked nervous.

The taller of them stood and looked suspiciously at the three of them. “Who are they?” he asked Greffys.

Greffys introduced them. “Colin here is Merlin’s apprentice. ”

“An apprentice wizard.” The boy didn’t try to hide his distaste. “Poring over books and memorizing spells while we scrape the floors and tables clean.”

“And this is Petronus, Britomart’s squire.” He introduced the kitchen boys as Dennis, the one who had questioned him, and Tom.

Dennis, scowling, said, “You told me there’d only be one.”

“Petronus here was attacked by the same one who killed Borolet and Ganelin.”

“Really?”

Petronus nodded. “I want to find him.”

Nimue decided it was time to take charge. “Greffys tells us you saw Lancelot here that night, Dennis.”

The boy nodded. “He had a girl. All the knights come here when they have girls, or when they’re looking for one.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “To do it in the pantries, where no one can see.”

“Was he here long?”

“Long enough.” Dennis leered.

“And she was with him the whole time?”

He nodded.

“Who is she?”

“Gretchen. Tom’s sister.” Dennis sounded smug.

“We’ll want to talk to her.”

“No one’s supposed to know.” Tom sounded betrayed. “She’ll be mad at me if she knows I told anyone.”

“This is important, Tom. I can promise you each…” She pretended to be doing a sum in her head. “I can promise you each a gold coin when Merlin gets back.”

“A gold coin!” Dennis couldn’t hide his excitement.

“Just persuade Gretchen to talk to us about that night.” Weakly, she added, “There will be a coin in it for her, too.”

Merlin and Britomart were installed in rooms in Morgan’s castle. It seemed to Brit their welcome was rather grudging. Merlin was sanguine. “We did come uninvited, after all.”

“Courtesy to strangers and travelers is the hallmark of civilization, Merlin. Especially travelers on the king’s business. She did have a letter from him.”

“Civilization is a comfortable lie, Brit.”

The women at Morgan’s court all dressed, like her, in billowing black robes with enormous sleeves. Brit tried to force herself not to think of them as witches, but they so self-consciously assumed that image, it wasn’t easy. They all seemed to work at being cold, aloof and distant.

Alone with Merlin, she commented on it. “It’s so strange. They don’t even make noise when they walk or move.”

“That takes years of practice.”

“And how much practice does it take to be rude? You’d think at least a few of them might show signs of friendliness now and then.”

“They are struggling to preserve a matriarchal society that is fast being eclipsed. Not just here, not just by Arthur, but all across Europe. In most places it is dead already. I imagine they must consider friendliness a luxury.”

“Some society. Dull clothes and bad manners.”

“Morgan’s kind of government has always rested on superstitious flummery. ‘We rule because the Goddess says we ought to.’ And how could anyone know the purported Goddess wants Morgan to rule? Because Morgan says so. It has only been a matter of time before a society like that began to come unraveled. All Arthur has done is hurry the process.”

Suddenly, Morgan herself appeared in the doorway. “What my brother has done,” she intoned grandly, “is slaughter thousands of innocent people in his bid for power. He has destroyed a culture so subtle and complex he has never even bothered to try to understand it. And he has sent the two of you here to help the process along.”

“You see hidden motives everywhere, Morgan.” Merlin made himself smile. “But life at court does that to everyone. Arthur has some specific requests for the ceremonies at Midwinter Court, and he asked me to come discuss them with you.”

“Since when does Arthur concern himself with the niceties of ritual?”

“I should think you’d be happy he’s doing it at all.”

“Better late than never, Merlin?” she japed. “The gods and goddesses he has slighted so pointedly may not see things that way.”

“And they will choose to express that through you, of course.”

“Of course. I am their priestess. And they have been… dislodged from their proper place.”

“We expect to have recovered the Stone of Bran by Midwinter. Surely that must be a sign of their favor.”

“Nonsense. Merlin, what are you doing here? What do you really want?”

He sighed an exaggerated sigh. “We are here for the reasons I’ve stated. It isn’t necessary to look for intrigue everywhere, Morgan. That suggests a particularly morbid view of humanity.”

“I see things as they are. You will come to my chambers tomorrow after breakfast, and we shall discuss court ritual.”

“Fine.”

Brit spoke up. “Is there any chance of a late meal? We spent all day on the road.”

“I’ll send someone to the kitchen to see.”

“Thank you.”

Morgan turned grandly in the doorway, letting her robes swirl with an intentional flourish. “Till noon, then. Be prompt.” And she swept off down the hall.

It was late at night. Camelot’s halls were all but deserted. Torches cast stark shadows on the stones. Nimue, Greffys and Petronus made their way to the refectory.

At the entrance, Tom and Dennis were waiting for them. “Hello,” Dennis said. “She’s waiting. She wants her gold coin up front, before she’ll talk.”

“Doesn’t she trust us?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Nimue walked past him into the kitchen and looked around. There were rough-hewn benches in a room made of rough-hewn stones. In one corner, by a large cook fire, stood a young woman apparently in her late teens. Her hair was long and dark, and she wore it in braids. She was dressed in a ragged floor-length skirt of brown homespun or some similar material and a very low-cut top. Her feet were bare.

“Good evening.” Nimue remembered to smile. “You are Gretchen?”

The girl smiled and tossed her hair coquettishly. “Yes. And you are…?”

“Colin. I am Merlin’s apprentice and assistant.”

“The sorcerer’s apprentice. Like the old story.”

“Merlin is not a-” She decided there was no point starting an argument about something so irrelevant. “Dennis and Tom say you have something to tell me.”

“Dennis and Tom,” she said with emphasis, “tell me you have some gold for me.”

“When Merlin returns, you will be amply rewarded.”

“Then when Merlin returns, I’ll tell you what I know.” She heaved her bosom and looked at Colin quite pointedly. “I’ve seen you around the castle. You’re an attractive boy- man.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you want to get acquainted?” Sensing she was on shaky ground with him, she added, “Free?”

“No thank you.”

“All the knights want me.”

“And most of them have her.” Tom laughed. “Lancelot wasn’t the first.”