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comforter; he was in his underclothes. "I'm sorry. What's wrong?"
       "I need you to go to the King's Tower. Arthur is awake. Find out if he is all right. Or if he needs me."
       "Yes, sir." He climbed into a pair of trousers and a shirt and pulled his boots on.
       The two of them stepped out onto the landing. Just as Petronus was about to leave, Merlin saw someone coming up the spiral stairs with a torch. After a moment he realized who it was. "Arthur!" he called.
       The king continued his ascent without answering.
       "Arthur. Where are your bodyguards?"
       Arthur shrugged, then laughed. Finally he reached them, paused, looked around and walked into Petronus's room without saying a word.
       Petronus looked at Merlin. "He's been drinking," he whispered.
       "Wait here."
       Merlin followed the king inside and closed the door. Arthur was sitting on the bed with his face buried in his hands. Without looking up he said, "Merlin, I want this to be over."
       "It will be, Arthur. Sooner or later."
       "I still love her. Do you understand that? She still owns my love."
       Softly Merlin replied, "I know it. I can't imagine why."
       He looked up. "You don't think she still loves me?"
       "The word in that that gives me trouble is still ."
       Arthur looked away from him. "It's late spring, almost
    summer. I used to love this time of year. Birds, butterflies, flowers, refreshing rains. Now it all looks more foul to me than I can say. You remember, Merlin. I met Guenevere when I was twenty. Still green, still a boy. She seemed the most magically beautiful, sophisticated woman I'd ever seen. And she said she loved me. Me ."
       "Love, even when it is not an illusion, rarely lasts. Arthur, you are a king, but you are not exempt from hu­ man behavior." He lowered his voice a bit. "Or human suffering."
       "She's going to kill. There will be death. I know it. Not everyone will survive this year alive."
       "We don't know for certain that she was behind the at­ tempt on you. It seems likely, but—"
       "She was. You know it. We both do."
       Merlin sat beside him and put an arm around him. "You need sleep. Let me have Petronus take you back to your tower."
       Arthur pulled away from him quite violently. "Did you hear what I said? This year will bring death."
       "Every year does. Arthur, come along."
       "No. Leave me alone."
       "When you were a boy, Arthur, you begged me to teach you how to be a king. Show me that you learned your les­ sons well. It is time."
       Outside the door Petronus listened to all this, fascinated. When, finally, ten minutes later, Merlin called him and asked him to get the king back to his rooms, he was wide awake and ready.
       But the next morning he knocked softly on Merlin's door. Merlin was grinding another one of his lenses.
       "Sir?"
       "Yes. Come in, Petronus. Thank you for your help last night. I hope you will keep what you saw to yourself."
       "Yes, sir, of course. But . . ."
       "Hmm?"
       "I don't understand. When I was very small my mother used to tell me I'd understand things better when I grew older. I don't. Even Arthur doesn't."
       Merlin sighed and sat down. "Can I tell you a secret? No one does. We all improvise our way through life, missing cues, mistaking motives, trusting the wrong people. Reason and logic—clear vision, to the extent it's possible—is our only hope."
       "I don't understand."
       "I told you. No one does."
       Petronus was lost. "I—I— Is Guenevere really likely to murder someone? Does she have other—does she have agents here?"
       "Quite possibly. Maybe even probably. I don't know. I don't see how anyone can know. Brit is investigating, but— Do you not understand what I've been telling you?"
       "No."
       "Well, you are young. It might make sense to you some­ day. Then again, it might not. It comes down to this: Noth­ ing human is