“He wasn’t always like this,” Marci explained. “When I first found him, he was smaller and far less intelligent. I actually thought he was a death spirit at first. But as I fed him power, he grew—”
Sir Myron lurched in his seat. “Youfedhim power?”
“What?” she said, taken aback. “Is that bad?”
“Notbad.Just reckless and stupid. Did it never occur to you that feeding magic into an unknown spirit was perhaps a dangerous thing to do?”
“It did,” Marci said, narrowing her eyes. “But not as dangerous as the other things I was dealing with at the time. I’ve spent the last month running with dragons in the DFZ and fighting one of their seers. Given everything else that was happening, Ghost’s growth was the least of my worries.”
By the time she finished, Sir Myron was looking very satisfactorily cowed, and Marci wasn’t above giving him a superior smirk. She might not hold a Chair at Cambridge, but she wasn’t some undergrad he could push around, either.
“Be that as it may,” the undersecretary said when he’d recovered, “you’re lucky you were able to maintain control, and that he wasn’t something dreadful.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Marci said proudly. “I fought for him all the way. And I never said he wasn’t dreadful.”
Now she was just pushing her luck, but Marci had had it up to here with being talked down to. If she could hold her own against dragons, there was no reason at all to let another human mage walk all over her, no matter how famous he was. It was time she took control of this conversation, and Marci had a good idea how to do it. “That disturbance you were talking about before,” she said, resting her elbows on the table. “Does it have anything to do with Merlins?”
That was a total stab in the dark, but from the way Myron’s eyes went wide, she knew it was a bull’s-eye.
“How do you know about that?”
Marci shrugged. “Amelia mentioned it.” Obliquely, in passing, while drunk and reeling from Svena’s spell. But she wasn’t about to give away how ignorant she actually was, so she just sat there, smiling her best “I know, I just want to see ifyouknow” grin as she waited for the know-it-all UN mage to cave.
It didn’t take long.
“I’m not sure how much a dragon would know,” he said a few seconds later. “Even before the drought, Merlins were very secretive. I’ve read every magical text in the Vatican’s secret library, and I’ve only ever found a handful of mentions of Merlins, most of them wildly contradictory.”
Nowthey were getting somewhere. “Just so we’re clear,” Marci said, trying her best not to sound too excited. “When you say Merlin, you’re not talking about the King Arthur, big blue wizard hat, time-travels with his pet owl kind of Merlin, right?”
“I suppose if one’s history was taken entirely from children’s television, that would be one description of an historical mage who was known to be a Merlin,” Sir Myron said disdainfully. “But here, Merlin is atitle, not a person. It seems to be a technical designation for a specific kind of very powerful mage, but the few texts I’ve read that mention Merlins specifically don’t agree on what that actually entails. There are wild accounts of Merlins doing everything from slaying dragons to commanding the seas to part and give way to new land. The only actual connecting factor I’ve found is that, whatever other powers they were reported to possess, a Merlin isalwaysa mage who has bound and controls a Mortal Spirit.”
By this point, Marci’s heart was pounding so hard she thought it might thump straight out of her chest. “And you thinkI’ma Merlin!?”
“Not just a Merlin,” General Jackson said. “ThefirstMerlin. At least of our generation.”
“That has yet to be proven,” Sir Myron said quickly, glaring at Marci. “Binding a Mortal Spirit is merely the first step. There are still other qualifications that—”
“Like what?” Marci asked. Because if it meant becoming some kind of super mage, she wasready.
Again, though, Sir Myron’s face crumpled into an annoyed scowl. “We don’t know,” he admitted at last.
“You don’t know?” she cried. “But you’re the one with all the secret knowledge and Vatican connections and—”
“We’re talking about things that were considered great mysteries when they were current a thousand years ago,” Myron snapped back. “I can only work with what I have!”
“What about you?” Marci asked, turning to Raven, who was in the process of stealing the uneaten pancakes from the general’s plate. “You’re always going on about how you’re ancient and wise. Don’t you know all this stuff?”
“I am indeed old and powerful,” Raven said, swallowing a beakful of pancake. “But I’m also an animal spirit. My concerns are my ravens, my world, and having a good time. I admit to a great fondness for humans—your kind has given me anenormousamount of entertainment over the years—but I’m afraid the specifics of Merlin creation are outside of my area of expertise. Frankly, I had my talons full just dealing with the bastards on a day-to-day basis. You wouldn’t believe how pushy humans get once they’ve got the power of a god behind them.”
“Well,” Marci said, her face splitting into a grin, “ifyoudon’t know andyoudon’t know”—she flicked her gaze back to Sir Myron—“who’s to say I’m not a Merlin right now?”
You’re not.
The words made her jump, and Marci looked down just in time to see Ghost crack his glowing eyes.
You’re not a Merlin,he said.Not yet.
Way to take the wind out of my sails, she thought back, her whole body slumping.So how do I become one?
