Icespell by C.J. Busby Page B

suspicious.
    “That boy is definitely up to something, mark my words,” said Ferocious darkly. “We need to let Merlin know.”
    “But I couldn’t see anything,” said Max. “I think I probably disturbed him before he could do whatever it was he was planning. I don’t know if it’s even worth mentioning.”
    Olivia grimaced. “He’s a poisonous toadwartand if he was lurking in the armoury, then odds on he was about to do something foul. Morgana’s going to be here for the Festival of Chivalry – I bet they’re planning something.”
    Max nodded. “We need to keep an eye on Snotty. I’m sure he is up to something. But there’s a week before Morgana gets here, and nothing’s going to happen till then.”
    But Max was wrong. Something quite spectacular was going to happen. And when it did, it would be all his fault.

Merlin’s Magic
    M erlin’s chambers were simple and plainly furnished, with a long, narrow window looking out onto the moat. Max stood at the window, looking down at the greenish water. It seemed hardly any time since the day he’d been transformed into a frog in this same room, and Snotty Hogsbottom had dangled him out of the window before casually dropping him fifty feet down to themoat below. Max shivered, remembering the killer pike that was probably still down there looking for tasty frogs to swallow whole.
    The heavy oak door to the chamber flew open and Merlin strode in, pulling off his long dark travelling cloak and unbuckling his sword.
    â€œSorry, Max, I didn’t mean to be late. We had a bit of an alarm call down in the south and I went to investigate. Everyone’s a bit jumpy these days, with all these rumours of an enemy sorceress.”
    He winked, and Max grinned. Merlin was well aware that the recent plots against the king were the work of Morgana le Fay, but she’d managed to make sure she had an alibi each time, and King Arthur was very reluctant to accuse his half-sister. Instead, the story was that some ‘unknown sorceress’ had been behind the plots.
    â€œRight,” said Merlin, rubbing his hands. “Time for some magic.”
    Max felt the familiar thrill of lessons with Merlin. He never knew what would happen next, andhe was constantly surprised by what he could do. Spells for seeing from afar, spells for linking one bit of magic to another, spells for detecting other spells. But today, something even more unusual was clearly in store, because instead of being down in the cellars, with the cauldrons and spell ingredients, they were in Merlin’s rooms, and there was no magical apparatus ready at all.
    Merlin smiled, his eyes bright in his weathered face.
    â€œToday,” he said solemnly, “we are going to do magic without any potions or spells.”
    Max looked at him, rather taken aback. He’d never even heard of magic without spells or potions. Everyone did magic with potions. You took ingredients, you put them in a cauldron, you said the right words – and there was your spell. You could make it work at once, or embed it in an object, or keep it in the form of a powder or a liquid, to use another time. Even when witches or wizards looked like they weren’t using a potion, there was always onesomewhere, a sprinkle of dust on their hands, a droplet of spell on their fingers. It was why they went round with huge numbers of pouches and bags and bottles attached to their belts or secreted in their clothes. You never knew what spell you might need at short notice.
    But Merlin was different. Merlin looked like a knight, not a wizard, and suddenly Max realised why that was. It was precisely because he didn’t have the usual clattering collection of potion bottles and packets of powder tucked into belt pouches or hanging round his neck, bulking out his clothes. He looked like a lean, plain, simple knight – no tricks. Yet Max had seen his magic, knew he could remove spells with a twitch of his finger. Why had he