The Seduction of Chadwick: Back at the CastleOnce he was back at Amber Castle Morgan returned Joy to the stables, with a pat to her side, a kiss to her nose, and a brief conversation with the grooms about her excellent behavior on the ride. Then he was off to his quarters, where he ordered a hot bath. While he was bathing he had a messenger sent to find the king, to tell him that he had arranged for their dinner and awaited his majesty's pleasure. The page came back, his expression worried. "Lord Morgan ... the King's room is locked. He did not answer me when I knocked - nor when I called." "Uh, huh," Morgan said in answer. He finished shaving while the worried page hovered nearby, then began to dress leisurely. Only when he was finally completely dressed, in an elegant evening suit that showed his figure off to good effect, did he tell the page, "Fine, let's go see what the king's up to, shall we?" He led the way back to the king's chambers, and tried the door to the outer room of the royal suite. "Merlin?" he called out. "You in there?" There was no answer. "He hasn't left his room," said the guard who was stationed there. "Right, then," Morgan said. "You," he told the page, "Aren't needed any longer. Back to whatever other duties you have. You," he nodded to the guard. "Make sure no one steals the corridor." He slipped a thin leather case from an inner pocket, opened it, and considered an assortment of skeleton keys and lockpicks. Making a selection, he knelt in front of the door and began working. The door yielded after a short struggle. There seemed to be no spells or wards on it - at least none that were directed against all-comers. There were doubtless several that were not source coded to allow Merlin's closest friends to pass. Once inside Morgan closed the door, and then relocked it. The rooms were in darkness. It took a little while for Morgan to find Merlin but at last he came on him in the bedroom, squeezed in a small space on the floor, between the bed and the wardrobe. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his head lowered. One hand was rolling a champagne cork aimlessly to and fro on the ground - the empty bottle rolling nearby suggested that Merlin had started his evening's entertainments early. He failed to look up as Morgan approached, but he clearly was aware of him, for he spoke in a low, rough voice. "Go away." "OK," Morgan said agreeably. Then he sat on the floor with his back against the bed, and said nothing. There was a long, long silence. Merlin didn't speak again for a while, but he shivered, suddenly. His skin moved oddly as he did so, more like the shivering of a horse or some other creature. Finally, he raised his eyes and looked at Morgan. The eyes of some great cat, golden and dangerous ... For a long second he stared at Morgan ... Morgan stared back, unmoving, tensed to act if it became necessary... Then he blinked, and suddenly the eyes were Merlin's again. "Morgan. Is it all arranged?" "Reservations at the Unguarded Maiden for the two of us, and the Ramblin' Queen has been told to have a sweet, gentle girl ready to teach a young boy mysteries he hasn't even dreamt of yet," Morgan said easily. "There's an amusing little complication, too. Dear Mandor has choosen tonight to lose his own virginity, at least as far as the Queen goes. He's on board." "Mandor," echoed Merlin. "Mandor ... " It was almost as though he could make no connection to the name - that, in this context, it held no meaning. And then suddenly he rose to his feet and grinned. "All right then. Let's see if we can stiff him with the bill for tonight, eh? But we'd best keep Chadwick ... erm ... under wraps? Where's my shirt?" He was stripping off as he spoke, turning away from Morgan. Who had probably never seen before that long line of fair hair, almost like fur, that lay along Merlin's spine. But perhaps it was a trick of the early evening light, for Merlin turned slightly to reach a shirt from the press, and his skin was smooth, pale and hairless. "You want me to get you a servant to help you with dressing?" Morgan asked. "Or should I go ahead and ready our transport? Carriage, horseback, or what?" "Carriage," said Merlin. He was pulling on the shirt, which seemed to shimmer and then adapt itself to his form - it was a trick Merlin routinely used to appear louchely well-dressed. "Large enough for four - so that we can hide the evidence." Morgan nodded. He shrugged into a jacket. "Any idea what Mandor wants? A jolly night out being some way down on his usual list of requirements." "I don't know," Morgan answered. "He hadn't warned them he was coming, and from what I could gather it was completely unexpected. He could just be checking out the place because you go there frequently." He frowned. "Or it could be he's heard something about Benedict, and wanted to question Petra." He shrugged. "So, no, no real idea." He walked toward the door. "Anything else before I go for the carriage?" he asked. Merlin shook his head. Then he hesitated. "Earlier - when you came in. Say nothing of that - to anyone." He turned to choose a suitable cravat. Morgan, it seemed, was free to go. "No idea at all what you're talking about," Morgan said. He left the room, and went to order the carriage and driver to be readied. The carriage rattled along down the long, winding road to the city. Not for the first time, Morgan loudly wondered why the Chaosians could not use some of their vaunted sorcery to improve the springs. "We shouldn't be able to feel a thing when we drive, Merl," he said. "I'm not asking for a grav field here to completely dampen inertia, but knowing exactly how many potholes there are between the castle and the restaurant is a bit much, if you ask me." He kept up the conversation going in a similar vein all the way to the restaurant, commenting on the lighting of the streets, (which he admitted was picturesque. "If you're more interested in setting the mood for seduction than in seeing what you're stepping in, then it's not bad,") the smell, ("I can't agree that the pollution from organic vehicles is any better than that from a good petroleum-powered one," he pointed out) and the lack of privacy ("Everyone can hear everything, Merl, with these flimsy wooden and plaster walls. The last affair I had with a merchant's wife, her servants might have well been in the room with us. Mind you, there was this one red-haired maid of hers...."). "I had her," said Merlin. "While I was waiting for you. You missed nothing. Really." By the time they reached the restaurant Morgan had worked up an appetite just from talking. He descended from the carriage first, instinctively glancing around to spot any potential threats, then gestured for the doorman to hold the carriage door for the king while he had a word with the driver. "Have it ready to leave at a moment's notice," Morgan told him. "You better stay with it, actually. I'll have the kitchen bring you out something." Then he was at the king's side, and they entered the restaurant together. Merlin had a way of walking into a room that seemed almost unassuming - and yet was, in its own way, the height of arrogance. You knew people would be noticing him - and his very manner of demonstrating that they didn't need to be overcome with awe in his presence actually rather drew attention to the fact that they were awestruck anyway. It was a trick that had, in the Shadows Morgan had known, divided the A-list celebrities from the C-list. Merlin had it off to perfection. "Can you see Larissa and Chadwick?" he asked Morgan. "Centrally located," Morgan answered. "Starboard, about 60 degrees. Table for two, nice location, there's at least one waiter keeping an eye on them, and I see someone else hovering nearby with a wine bottle. Already been served. Do we want to spot them now, and invite them to join us at a larger table, or be seated and then, aha!, notice that they're there?"
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