Merlin and Arthur moved quickly to the edge and looked to the courtyard below. Anna was lying in a pool of blood, not moving. People were beginning to gather round her. Gawain looked up and saw the king; then he spread his arms wide apart and shook his head. The woman was dead. It was over that abruptly.
Arthur turned his back on the scene. “Good God, Merlin. Not another one.”
Merlin watched the activity below, hoping she might show some sign of movement, but there was none.
“Three. Three deaths now, Merlin. The man who killed her sons killed her, too.”
“She was out of her mind, Arthur.” He spoke softly. “Something would have-she would have-”
“She was always a bit mad. But not like this. The killer pushed her to it. Three deaths are on his head now. Find him, Merlin. Find him and deliver him to my justice.”
The next day, the second of Merlin’s ravens disappeared. It flew off in the morning, seemingly healthy and happy, then… simply didn’t return. The third and last of them perched on his shoulder that night as Merlin sat in front of the fire, thinking about the killings again and again.
Anna’s death had unsettled him. Not that he hadn’t seen death before; Arthur had fought too many battles for that to be possible. But the conviction that it was self-willed and not an accident-that madness could lead to a yearning for release from life-that bothered Merlin. Even if she had managed to push Greffys, she would have gone with him.
He reached up and idly stroked the bird on his shoulder. Unexpectedly, it nuzzled him and rubbed his cheek with the top of its head. It was the first time any of his pets had ever shown him special affection beyond the mere fact of staying with him when there were other choices.
“There, there,” he whispered. “We’re not alone. We have each other, sweet thing.”
Someone knocked at the door. He wanted not to be bothered that night, but he got up, crossed to the door and opened it. “Greffys.”
The squire looked tired. He was wearing a shoulder bag. “Good evening, sir. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“I’m not busy at all. My little bird and I were just sitting and thinking.”
“Oh. Should I-?”
“No, come in. How are you feeling?”
“Still shaken, I’m afraid.” Suddenly he seemed self-conscious. “Oh-don’t tell anyone I said that, will you, please? I’m training to be a knight. We’re not supposed to-”
“Don’t give it another thought. What can I do for you?”
He shuffled his feet, still feeling awkward. “The king asked me to come.”
“I see. Is there some message?”
“Not exactly, sir. I have this-”
“Sit down, please. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like some wine?”
“Thank you, no. I just ate.”
Merlin resumed his seat. The raven had not left his shoulder all this time. “I was just thinking that I really ought to give my pet a name. Do you have any ideas?”
“No, sir, I’m afraid not. Everyone says I never have any ideas.”
“Do you?”
The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what it would feel like to have one.”
“Not very pleasant, to tell you the truth. There are times when I wish…” He looked away; it was his turn to feel self-conscious.
“Oh. Then I guess I must have a lot of them.”
Merlin leaned his head toward the raven and it nuzzled him again. “Hmm… what about ‘Roc’?”
“Roc, sir?”
“It’s the name of a fabulous bird. Probably a myth, but… I heard about it when I lived in Egypt.”
“Egypt?” Greffys face was blank. “Where is that?”
“It’s a magnificent land at the far end of the Mediterranean. Colossal ruins. Strange, wonderful art.”
“The-?”
“The Mediterranean.” He had to remind himself to be patient; Greffys was only a boy. “The great sea that separates Europe from Africa.”
“Africa?”
“Never mind. Why did Arthur send you here?”
The boy seemed relieved at the change of topic. “Well, I’ve found something.”
Roc flapped from Merlin’s shoulder to the window and pecked at it. Merlin got up and opened it, and the bird flew off into the night. He turned to face Greffys. “They come and go in the most incalculable way. I keep studying them, trying to find some pattern, but I’m not sure there is one.”
The boy was completely lost. He reverted to the comfortable topic. “I’m moving my things into Ganelin’s room. You know, just below the king’s chambers in the tower?”
“Yes?”
“I felt something odd in the bed. And there it was.”
“It?”
He opened his shoulder bag and produced a large scroll. “Here. I showed it to the king, and he said to bring it to you.”
Merlin unrolled it on the table then lit a large candle. It was a roughly drawn, barely decipherable diagram. Merlin studied it for a moment and decided it must be a sketch of the castle. At the center was a large circle; a square had been drawn inside it, against one edge, with three smaller squares inside it. Various lines branched off the large circle; along them were strings of odd symbols: +, X, ★, and ▼.
“You found this in Ganelin’s bed?”
“Yes, sir. His majesty said he couldn’t guess what it might be. Can you?”
“I think so.” Merlin went to the window and took a deep breath. “Were you at the Great Hall the night Borolet was killed?”
“Yes, sir, I was. With the other pages.”
“What do you remember?”
He thought for a moment, pretty obviously trying to guess what Merlin was after. “A long wait, then confusion.”
Brit knocked at the door and came in. Merlin was glad to see her. “Brit, look at this. Greffys found it in Ganelin’s room.”
She inspected it, lit two more candles then inspected it again. “The Great Hall and the corridors around it.”
“Exactly.”
“And this square with the little squares inside it-it must represent the dais and the three thrones.”
“Certainly. And all the little symbols in the halls?”
She looked it over again. “They could mean anything. This could be some game he was playing with his brother, or-”
“I don’t think so. I think this is a diagram he made to keep track of what he learned about the movements of our various suspects that night.”
“A cross, an X, a little star and a triangle? Why would he-I mean, why wouldn’t he use their initials or something obvious? These things could represent anyone.”
“Point taken. But how well did you know him?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do either of you have any idea if he could read and write?”
Greffys and Brit looked at one another. Greffys was plainly lost. Brit said, “Probably not. He was training to be a knight, not a poet.”
“You’re a knight, Britomart, and you’re one of the best-educated people in the country.”
“I’m the odd one, remember? The woman? Learning to read couldn’t diminish my status the way it would a man. Reading is for clerks.” There was a slightly bitter edge to her voice.
Merlin turned his attention back to Ganelin’s diagram. “There were four people Ganelin suspected-four people he learned enough about to make their movements worth noting.”
“Excuse me, sir.” Greffys was quite out of his element. “I really don’t know what you mean. Or who.”
“No, of course you don’t. I was forgetting. Why don’t you get back to your room and to bed. Brit and I have a lot to talk about.”
Not certain whether to be offended, the boy said good night and left.
“Well, Brit. Look at the way the symbols are arranged. They run in lines down various corridors, leading away from the Great Hall.”
“If we’re right and this is the Great Hall.”