Sword in the Stars (Once & Future #2) - Cori McCarthy Page 0,115

nothing worth stealing in the Paleolithic,” Merlin said. “So you have nothing to fear. Though, cave paintings are often considered the precursors to the first developments in literacy, and I could do a quick—”

“No!” Val said. “This is already too much.”

“Nobody misses these,” Merlin promised as Val climbed a ladder up the stacks to hang another globe. “I only pinch books nobody is using. And I do good works, too. I rescued quite a lot of manuscripts from the library of Alexandria before it burned down. And I had a lovely chat with the librarian. She wasn’t even worried when I walked out of a black spot in the wall. People in ancient times were much more open to magic.”

“I guess everything goes in cycles, hmm?” Val said, perusing the new selections despite his complaints. “Look at this!” He pulled out a slim volume. “Tolkien wrote an Arthur story?”

Merlin peeked over from where he’d been shelving a delicious new acquisition, a book of short stories by Kat Howard with an Arthurian novella. Nin made an appearance in that one. Morgana was rather central. And the Arthur mantle was taken up by a headstrong college girl with a lovely girlfriend and a very loyal dog. Yes, Ari would enjoy that.

“You know Tolkien?” he asked, as Val paged through the book.

“Of course I know Tolkien,” he said. “Mercer used to sell replicas of that evil ring. They thought it was funny. One company to rule them all.” Val cocked his head. “I just looked into the future and you looked a lot like Gandalf.”

“And?”

“I was into it,” Val said. Merlin blushed his way to the film section. Val rolled the ladder over. “What is this old film you’ve hand-labeled Trash King Arthur?”

“Oh, that one. It’s notable for being as far from the actual story as humanly possible. Percival is Black, though.”

“Damn straight, he is.” Val ran his fingers over the neatly filed volumes. “Someone really should write the rest of the story. You know, the cycles that came after the first Arthur? All the way to the end, with your magical sword sticking Nin’s lake into a billion icy bits? Seems like a pretty huge omission if you ask me.”

“Actually, a pair of twenty-first-century authors came rather close!” Merlin said, skimming through the books and pulling out one with an electric pink, glowing Excalibur on the cover. “They got a few things lopsided, of course. I am a good dancer.”

Val artfully dodged that one. “What’s this?” He pulled out a folder filled with shiny silver discs. “A whole television show with your name on it! Should we put the lights down low and watch?”

Merlin pursed his lips. “Quite fun in places, that one. I do like the dragon. But, well, they had a tendency to make it seem as if Arthur and Merlin could be love interests, only to pull out at the last possible second.”

Val quirked an eyebrow, a double entendre no doubt simmering behind his smirk. When he spoke, it was more frustration than amusement. “Ugh, why would anyone do that?”

“It was called queerbaiting,” Merlin said, the word like a stone in his shoe. “And it was sadly common in that age.”

Val made a disgusted face and a retching sound to go with it.

Merlin had to agree. He’d heard the arguments. That they were just stories. But he knew, from deep personal experience playing a role in one of the most enduring legends in Western history, that stories were never just a string of pretty words on a page or attractive strangers on a screen. They climbed inside your head, reordered things. Tore up parts of you by the roots and planted new ideas.

Magic, really.

And not always the sparkly kind.

Merlin had told himself stories. He’d said he wasn’t a hero because he’d stood beside brave men and played the enchanted sidekick for so long. He had given in to the idea that because he’d once been lonely and lost, he always would be. He’d believed that love was for fools who couldn’t see the inevitable ending. That hope was always going to die, spitted on the end of someone’s sword. But the tales he’d told himself weren’t just wrong—they were dangerously wrong. They were pain and fear buffed to a shine until they glittered like truth.

Now Merlin’s old stories didn’t just sound like piffle. They sounded like exactly what Nin would want him to believe. It was time for something new.

“Queerbaiting, hmm?” Val asked, coming down the ladder to slip