to your own demise—without atonement for the wrong. No, the way for you to gain what you wished required time and a sacrifice of the truth.”
Richard curbed the bitterness he felt. “And you expect me to trust you after this?”
“You have not trusted me for years,” Merle said.
Richard frowned hard. The whole world around him had dropped away with the exception of the icy blue gaze of Merle. The wizard was right. Trust between them had died when Elizabeth died. Trust with almost anyone had.
He turned away, swallowing bile.
“And you, Bran Ardall,” Merle addressed, ignoring Richard and digging in his pocket for tobacco. “What of you?”
Bran looked at Richard before turning back to the old man.
“Did you know I would accept Arondight?” Bran asked.
“I did not, actually,” Merle replied. “Contrary to what Richard may think, I am not as gifted as many stories make me out to be. I see future possibilities. I see inside of hearts. Nothing more though. The possibilities inherent in the future are not the actual future, only a thought of what could be. There are infinite paths, and although I am fair at deciphering the paths we might one day tread, it is not something I can prophesize.”
“You are saying some possibilities you see never become real?”
“That is exactly right,” Merle admitted. “With you, I knew your potential and helped place you upon a path, but that path had crooked tributaries and you had to chose those on your own. You chose to accept the Paladr. The Lady had other plans, plans I too had foreseen possibly happening. You chose to infiltrate Caer Llion and you chose to hunt down Philip Plantagenet. You stood up to tyranny in Annwn, actions you would have done with or without Arondight. Like your father, you have an honorable heart. If by that you still think I orchestrated events, by all means, believe as Richard does.”
“But you are one of the most powerful beings—in history!”
Richard snorted. “Do not let him lie to you. He saw enough to send the Kreche into Annwn. Without doing so, we’d still be locked in the dungeons of Caer Llion.”
“I did, you’re correct,” Merle confessed. “There are times when multiple paths hold mostly the same event. That was one of them. Wisdom, knowledge of what is true or right coupled with just judgment as to action, has little to do with clairvoyance and more with insight. Is that magic? Is that knowledge of what will happen? No.”
“You know more than any single person ever,” Richard growled.
“That’s right,” Bran said.
“But I still do not know all,” Merle insisted. “If there had been a way to prevent the pain in your life, Richard, or the death of your father, Bran, I would not have hesitated. These paths were kept from me. Do you have any concept the frustration those events—or countless others over the centuries—have caused me? How the loss of those I have cared about over the years begins to weigh a man down, even a man like me?”
Bran looked down to the sidewalk. Richard bit his tongue.
With deft hands, Merle repacked his pipe as he gazed at the purpling sunset. Richard knew the ancient wizard was right.
Merle was not the enemy.
The old man gave Bran a piece of paper.
“Think on your left hand, Bran, and read those words aloud.”
“What is it?”
“You will see.”
Bran did as he was instructed. The moment he finished speaking the gauntlet where his hand had been vanished, replaced by what appeared to be his human hand.”
“What did you do?” Bran breathed.
“I did nothing. You did,” Merle said. “In effect, you just called your first illusion into being. It will hide your hand from those who come into the shop.”
Bran was quiet as he flexed his hand anew.
“You seem pensive?” the wizard remarked.
“When I use Arondight, I feel as though I lose a part of myself in the magic,” Bran said, his voice worried. “Thinking about it, I am almost scared to call it into being.”
“All power corrupts. To what degree depends on the person,” Merle answered, his face solemn. “Politicians. Kings. Everyday folk. Even a Knight of the Yn Saith with the purest of hearts can succumb to the allure of ultimate power. Some have, to be honest. The loss of control can make a man or woman over into something dark and ugly. You have that within you as well. All do.”
Bran nodded. “How do I—”
“Learn to control it?” Merle offered. “Knowledge of yourself and knowledge of the power