Chapter Nine: More Lessons

As much as Nimue wanted to get on with researching the Hourglass, she knew Merlin was right when he told her she needed to spend more time learning to fight. After all, she'd made a great deal of progress with the Hourglass; she'd traced its origins back all the way before ancient Greece. At least, she was pretty certain she had, although some of the legends she read mentioned the possibility of a duplicate Hourglass having been made at some point. Either way, the last traces of it had been on Atlantis, which was the point Nimue was at now.

Still, she'd dragged herself out of bed in the morning, dressed in breeches and a simple shirt, and allowed Marielle to help braid her hair. She was on the floor near the empty hearth, pulling on her boots, a piece of cheese clamped between her teeth, when Merlin came down from his room. He never, ever looked ruffled in the morning. His hair was brushed back, some of it braided with feathers tied at the end, and there was so much as a wrinkle in his clothing. It isn't right, Nimue thought, taking a bite of her cheese and pulling it out of her mouth. I don't even look half that good when I've been out of bed for several hours.

"Glad to see you're awake," Merlin said, sounding surprisingly cheerful. "He doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"He who?" Nimue asked, frowning. "Why won't you tell me?"

Merlin grabbed an apple from the tray of food on the table and shined it with his sleeve. "You'll see soon enough," he told her. "Feeling all right this morning?"

"Still a little.bruised," Nimue said quietly. Most of her bruises had faded by now, actually, but she could still feel some of them under the skin. "Otherwise I'm fine."

"Good," Merlin said, grinning as he hauled her to her feet. "I would hate for you to have bruises on top of your bruises at the end of the day. Although you probably will anyway."

It should be against the law, Nimue thought, to be so cheerful at this hour of the morning. Merlin, however, seemed completely unaware of her scowl. He wrapped his fingers around hers and tugged her towards the door. Although she was suffering from some discomfort over what had passed between them, nearly a week ago now, he seemed to be unaffected. Nimue simply hoped he didn't notice her cheeks turning red. After all, she was a redhead; her cheeks often turned red, sometimes for no reason. But Merlin must not have noticed, because he didn't say anything about it.

"Why are you so perky?" Nimue asked.

"The king says he'll carry out Bryant's sentence as soon as the bastard can move again," Merlin explained. "Which, admittedly, will probably take awhile."

Nimue perked up. "So what's going to happen?"

"He and Chelinda are going to be exiled," Merlin told her. He noticed this time when her cheeks reddened, this time out of annoyance. Smiling gently, he said, "I know, Nimue. But please."

"He should be locked up," Nimue muttered darkly, "at the very least! Why is he being allowed to roam free?"

Merlin came to an abrupt halt and pulled her around to face him. "He isn't likely to be roaming around anywhere ever again," he said quietly. She noticed, with some surprised, that he actually looked a little guilty. "I've examined him, Nimue. He won't be walking ever again. Do you understand?"

She did understand. And it frightened her. Nimue knew that Merlin was powerful, but what he'd done to Bryant simply proved it beyond a doubt. It was true that she wasn't exactly pleased with the king's decision; Bryant should be put in jail. But if he truly couldn't walk ever again, then other girls would be safe from him. Like peasant girls, the type Nimue had once been, who didn't have protection from men like that. No one was exiled or jailed because they tried to rape a peasant girl. Even when they succeeded, there was no punishment. Maybe I should have a talk with His Majesty about that, Nimue thought, as she followed Merlin down into the practice yard.

At first she didn't recognize the man who was waiting for them. His long, silver-streaked, dark hair was pulled back, and in the early morning sunlight she could see just the faintest hint of auburn amid the rich brown. He was dressed in simple tunic and breeches, with a pair of worn, doeskin boots. It wasn't until Nimue saw the sword at his hip that she realized who it was; for there was simply no mistaking Excalibur. A simple-looking sword it might be, but there was something about it, an aura, she thought. What is the king doing here? she wondered, glancing over at Merlin. What's going on?

"Ah, there you are," the king said, when he noticed them. "I was wondering if you'd ever get here. I've been waiting for what feels like an eternity."

Merlin sighed. "That's because you never sleep, my liege," he said. "Nimue, stop gawping like a fish, it's undignified."

"But.but he's.he's the king!" Nimue stammered. She looked back and forth between the two of them, absolutely stunned, and turned bright red when the king began to laugh.

"He's also the best damn swordsman alive," Merlin told her. "Which is why he's going to be your teacher from now on."

"Don't worry, girl," the king said, smiling at her gently. "I don't bite."

"N-no, my liege," Nimue mumbled. "I mean.I meant.that is."

Both the king and Merlin seemed to find her stammering highly amusing. Nimue would have been annoyed, except she didn't think you were supposed to be annoyed at the king—at least, not to his face. She stared down at the scuffed toes of her boots as Merlin left them in the practice yard. What am I supposed to do? she wondered. Taking a look around, since she had no idea what she should say or do, she saw that there were wooden practice swords resting against the wall nearby. That was good; Nimue didn't like the thought of fighting the king with a real sword. Even Etherea, which, odd as it sounded, seemed to like her.

"Shall we begin?" the king suggested, when they were alone in the practice yard.

"Um.Your Majesty." Nimue began, uncertain of what she really wanted to say.

"Arthur," he corrected.

She stared at him, horrified. "But.but I can't.I can't call you that! Even Merlin doesn't."

"Oh, yes he does," the king assured her, smiling. "Only I broke him of doing it where it would undermine my authority. However, I really do much prefer being called Arthur."

Merlin had better sleep with one eye open, Nimue thought, trying not to scowl in front of king. How dare he do this to me? She couldn't just take instructions from the king! And she most certainly couldn't call him by his name. What am I going to do? she wondered, watching him retrieve the wooden practice swords. I can't fight the king, even with a wooden sword. Never even mind the fact that he would thoroughly thrash her, if he was as good as Merlin said. Nimue had made a pledge to protect the king—even from wooden swords!

The king handed her one of the wooden swords, which was surprisingly heavy. Etherea didn't seem to weigh anything at all; it almost felt as though it had been made for her. This was heavy enough that she found herself letting the tip fall too low as she took her stance.

"Now, let's start by seeing what you've learned," the king said. "Come at me."

Nimue stared once again. "What?"

"I said, come at me," the king repeated. "Attack me. Don't worry, girl, I'm more than capable of defending myself."

"I can't do that!" Nimue protested. "You're the king!"

And the king, as it turned out, was very fast. She didn't really see what he did, but the next thing she knew, she was laying on her back, staring up at the sky. The back of her knee stung, as if someone had slapped her hard with a very solid object; which was probably exactly what had happened. Her back ached, and she thought her hand might be going numb. The wooden practice sword lay several feet away, where it had landed when it had flown from her hand. And the king stood above her, staring down, the expression on his face very serious.

"That I may be," he said quietly. "But at the moment, I am also your teacher. And you will listen to me. If you do, perhaps, you'll have a few less bruises than most of my students do, at the end of the day."

God above, Nimue thought, as she forced herself to sit up. What has Merlin gotten me into? The king retrieved her practice sword and handed it back to her when she had climbed to her feet. She didn't want to think about the amount of bruises the king's students—and she hadn't known he had any students to begin with—had at the end of a lesson with him. Or maybe I should ask, Nimue thought grimly, as she set herself up to begin again. Because after today, I'll probably want to be giving Merlin the exact same number of bruises.



Nimue's research was surprisingly in depth. The fact that she had tracked the Hourglass back as far as she had, in such a short time, and with everything that had happened, was truly impressive. Unfortunately, there was still nothing tangible enough to help them track down Sebille. Merlin was pretty certain she was on the moors; it was more a question of why than where. But he felt it was of dire importance that they found out how she had gotten her hands on the Hourglass to begin with. If she had access to one magical artifact, who knew what she might be able to get hold of?

I have to talk to Ferfnelb again, Merlin decided. He closed the book full of Nimue's research notes—her handwriting was still a bit shaky—and set it aside. The problem was that Ferfnelb was not making himself easy to get in contact with. And aside from that, how was he ever going to convince Nimue to go visit the old bastard again? She would probably not be too enamored of the idea. She's probably pretty annoyed at me right now, as it is, Merlin thought, grimacing. I probably should have warned her, but I didn't think she'd go for it.

He should have brought her to Arthur months ago. No one had more patience for beginners than he did. Of course, months ago Merlin hadn't known that Nimue was what she was. If he'd known she would be quite this powerful, he would have done something sooner. If I'd known what sort of trouble she'd get into because of it, he thought, I would never have left her alone. She would have found the council meeting horribly boring, as he did, but at least there Merlin would have been able to keep an eye on her.

It was past noon already, which meant he was late to pick her up. He made sure there would be something to eat waiting for them when they returned, before he headed down to the practice yard. It made him a little uncomfortable to admit, even to himself, that he didn't like leaving her alone with Arthur. It was only that Arthur would choke on his honor rather than betray a friend or loved one, no matter what he himself wanted. Not that there's any reason for him to want Nimue, Merlin thought. Really, he likes more docile women, like Guinevere. Except that, from what Nimue told him, Guinevere wasn't half so docile as people assumed she was.

"On your feet!"

Merlin frowned; that was Arthur's voice. He stepped out into the practice yard, to find Nimue climbing to her feet. Damnit, Merlin thought, watching her push her hair, damp with sweat, out of her face. She's exhausted! He started across the practice yard. Obviously he had to have a word with Arthur. Nimue wasn't one of his male students, after all. She needed to be treated a bit more gently.

"Enough for today, I think," Arthur said, when he noticed Merlin coming towards him. "You might want to go get cleaned up."

Nimue nodded. She handed the practice sword to Arthur, then turned, almost running into Merlin. He noticed that, despite the fact that she was obviously tired, she was smiling broadly. Amazing, he thought, watching her make her way across the practice yard, practically skipping. I don't think I remember what it's like to be so young and full of energy. Actually, Merlin was still quite young, for one of his king. Only he felt old.

"She's a fast learner," Arthur said, when Nimue was gone. "I haven't had a student like her in a long time. Except for perhaps Lionel."

"Yes, but she isn't Lionel," Merlin pointed out. "You shouldn't be so hard on her. She is a woman, after all."

Arthur glanced sidelong at him. "Merlin, all these years, you have been wiser than I. Yet in this you are being quite unwise."

He was, of course, right. Merlin wasn't sure what was going on with himself, lately. Nimue had worked just as hard when she had still been posing as a boy, and she'd managed very well. She is my apprentice now, he thought, scowling. I have a right to be protective of her. Something he imagined that Arthur would even agree with. But he didn't have a right to tell her what she could and could not do; at least, not so far as this was concerned. I can deal with this, Merlin thought. It's when she starts getting better at magic that she's going to be a handful.

"You know Nimue won't tolerate you treating her differently, simply because she's a woman," Arthur went on. "Nor should you."

"You treat Guinevere differently because she's a woman," Merlin pointed out.

"She's also my wife," Arthur reminded him, "and hopefully soon she will be the mother of my heir. Even if I wanted to allow her to do the things she wished, I cannot risk her." He smiled sadly. "Who will rule if something happens to me?"

"If I were Nimue," Merlin said, "I would probably tell you that it might not hurt if you told Guinevere that you had that much faith in her."

"If you were Nimue," Arthur retorted, "you'd be too well-behaved to do that!"

The two of them laughed. Merlin felt a little better as they headed together into the castle. Arthur was right, of course; he couldn't get too protective of Nimue now, simply because she was a woman. I'm just not as wise as everyone seems to think, he thought, sighing inwardly. I haven't actually really dealt with a woman since Morri.and God knows I made a total fool of myself around her often enough. Not that he'd abstained or anything. It was just that most court women didn't have the sort of spirit a woman like Morrigan or like Nimue had. Most of them were.too compliant.

"You still have to go a little easier on her," Merlin said, after long moments of silence. "I need her help with Sebille, and that means she can't be too exhausted to move or think all the time."

"We've got worse problems than that wench," Arthur told him.

Merlin frowned. "What, pray tell, is worse than a horde of barbarians, their Shamans, and a crazed sorceress?" he asked.

"Underlings," Arthur replied, sighing. "Lord Kestin, on the border."

Merlin winced. Lord Kestin's land bordered the moors. And while his father had been a good man, he himself was suspect. Arthur was worried that Lord Kestin's loyalty was not very dependable, and Merlin agreed. It would be foolish indeed for him to try and make any sort of bargain with the barbarians, but he would be so foolish, given a reason. The man is far too greedy for my comfort, Merlin thought. He's already made implications as to what he might do, if we don't offer him the things he demands. Which were all outrageous.

"Well, one thing at a time," Merlin said. "I'd better go check on my apprentice. It's not always the wisest thing, leaving her to her own devices, now that she knows she can use magic."

Arthur's laughter followed him down the corridor. Merlin made his way quickly back to the tower, just in case Nimue decided she wanted to try something for herself. Usually she was good about listening to him. There'd only been one small incidence so far, and she insisted it was an accident. Since he himself had occasionally caught things on fire, without meaning to do so, when he'd first begun to learn, he'd given her the benefit of the doubt. But Merlin couldn't really risk that that would happen again. Especially if he wasn't in the room.

Nimue wasn't in sight when he entered the tower. A tray of food sat on the table near the hearth, untouched, which meant she'd skipped over that. There were only two other things she could have possibly done instead. She might have gone to take a nap, which would at least keep her out of trouble; even though they really needed to continue her lessons. Or she could have decided to take a bath, which could mean all kinds of trouble.

"Damn!"

I hope I never gave Morri this much hell, Merlin thought, as he headed for the bathing room; the tub had been moved back there, where it belonged. I'd like to think I was a bit easier to deal with.whoa. He should have knocked, really. Nimue was standing by the bathtub, dressed only in her hair. Even though it was loose, it was in thick, sweaty clumps. She whirled as soon as she heard the door open, and Merlin took a step back, turning away. I definitely did not give Morri this kind of trouble, he thought. She would have just laughed in this situation.regardless of how much it would have bruised my ego.

"How do you do this?" Nimue asked.

He looked without thinking. She was holding a handful of pearls; there were some still in the tub, as well. Nimue looked so confused and so exasperated that he had to laugh. Shaking his head, Merlin took the pearls from her and approached the tub. Although it might not look it, this was magic too advanced for her to grasp yet. She might never, if it turned out she had no affinity for water. But for him it was almost too easy. In seconds the tub was full of water, which was simple enough to warm.

"Don't you have a robe?" Merlin asked, keeping his eyes on the water.

"Well, yes," Nimue answered. "But I've got some pretty big bruises and my robe is a little rough. Guin keeps insisting she'll get me a silk one, but I think I'd just end up ruining it."

Merlin sighed. "Let's see those bruises first," he said.

Nimue finally seemed to realize that she was completely naked. She stood, shifting on her feet, as he examined the bruises on her back, arms, legs, and stomach. Nothing worse than anything he'd ever picked up, but still probably terrible uncomfortable. Merlin picked her up and deposited her in the bath, then grabbed several jars from the shelf against the wall of the bathing room. Good thing I make so much of this stuff, he thought, sighing. Sometimes he had to use it, too, although he very rarely got the kind of bruises he had when he'd first begun.

"You're going to get spoiled," Merlin told her, as he crouched beside the tub. "Don't expect me to do this every time you get a bruise."

Nimue smiled shyly. "I don't," she said, looking down at the water. "But.well.it is nice. You know. That.that someone cares."

Her cheeks were turning pink as she spoke. Merlin found that he was unable to stop himself from reaching out and gently touching her cheek. He really needed to tell her about Lord Kestin, but he didn't want to break this sudden tension between him. It wasn't an unpleasant tension. And he knew that the way she quivered beneath his fingertips was not because she was upset. I really should know better, Merlin thought, as he leaned closer. She's much too young.

He brushed her hair back, letting the damp strands get tangled around his fingers. Her skin was soft beneath his lips as he pressed his mouth against her bare shoulder. Soft and wet. The water made a soft shushing noise as Nimue turned towards him. Her eyes were so big, but she wasn't scared. She would never be scared of him. Merlin knew it, because he could feel it. The wall keeping them separated had gone crashing down as soon as he'd touched his lips to her skin. He was having trouble keeping his own thoughts and feelings from flooding her.

Merlin hadn't kissed her since that day when Sebille had escaped. He hadn't forgotten, though, the way it felt. It was hard to say which was more exciting: her lips parting beneath his, or her power rushing over him like a wave. She had a very sweet mouth, soft and warm, and a little timid. He cradled her head in his hands gently, leaning over the tub to kiss her deeper. Merlin thought he could forget all about the problem of Lord Kestin, so long as he was kissing her. Except that as soon as he thought it, she knew it, and she pulled away from him, her eyes wide.