Solving the Mystery

It was quite a normal day by Camelot standards. There had only been one sighting of a could-be magical creature in a far-off village, Arthur had only very nearly read his speech intended for the knights to the assembled Guild of Candlemakers – through no fault of Merlin's, mind; it was Arthur who couldn't distinguish between the two – and Merlin had only very nearly escaped being seen using magic by one of the people of the lower town. All things considered, he thought, it had been a good sort of day. Granted, he was sore all over from all the chores Arthur had him doing – sometimes he rather thought the king amused himself by coming up with all manner of tasks during boring council meetings; it would explain the vacant stare – but it was better than being sore from being shot at.

It had been dark for ages already when Arthur finally let him off. Gaius would probably be asleep already, so the chances that he had kept supper hot were slim to none. Merlin couldn't really blame him. But it did mean a detour to the kitchens. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could get his hands on one of the cook's fabled pies. If he was less lucky – meaning: if the cook herself was in the kitchen – he would only get leftovers or dry bread. For some reason Mary, Queen of the Kitchens, did not like him much.

'Hello there, Merlin!' he was greeted cheerfully upon his arrival. Nope, Mary was nowhere in sight. Her assistant Sarah was the only one still around. 'Have you come in search of pie?'

Merlin was fairly sure he was going to get one no matter what he did, because unlike her employer, Sarah actually liked him. Still, a smile couldn't hurt. 'Have you got one left, or has his Royal Pratness eaten all of them? I had to put another hole in his belt today. Again.'

And when Arthur had caught him in the act of doing so, there had been a good long death glare that warned Merlin not to utter the word fat in his hearing. Of course, Merlin had let it slip accidentally anyway. He distinctly remembered saying the word not before fat, though, but it must have gone straight over Arthur's head again, because he'd thrown a goblet in Merlin's direction as a reward. Fortunately that one had gone right over Merlin's head, so no harm done.

Sarah grinned. 'You're in luck,' she announced. 'I kept one back for you. The unsung hero of Camelot deserves only the very best.'

He gave her a quizzical look. 'Unsung hero?'

Sarah blushed a deep crimson, as if she only just realised she had said something she shouldn't and then she started talking so fast it was hard to distinguish individual words. 'Well, you work harder than any of us. You practically keep the kingdom running. I mean, what would become of Arthur if you didn't run around cleaning up after him?'

'He would hire George again,' Merlin replied promptly. 'And be bored to death within the week.' Well, he'd probably be dead within the week, that part was true enough, but quite possibly not of boredom.

Apparently and surprisingly, Sarah seemed to have her doubts about that as well. 'Just of boredom, eh?' When she saw she had managed to confuse him, she shrugged it off and turned around to fetch the pie. 'Never mind. Just take that and find a quiet place to eat it. Mary will have both our heads if she finds out I've been smuggling you pies.'

'Yes, she doesn't much like me,' Merlin agreed.

'Well, you shouldn't have said all those nasty things about her pies then, should you?' Sarah told him and Merlin couldn't think of one thing to say in return. The kitchen maid had a point, after all. The pies were delicious, but hearing Mary go on and on about them became very tiring very quickly. Could anyone blame him for losing his temper just once?

It wasn't until he had devoured the pie and was lying in bed that he realised that the only time he had insulted Mary's pies was when he had been in his Dragoon/Emrys disguise and she couldn't have recognised him.

Well, wasn't that odd?

Speaking of odd, once it had gotten started, it didn't seem to stop. The next morning he went down to the kitchens early to return the plate before Mary got in. This time of day she was usually out discussing Important Business with her suppliers and the vendors at the market. It was her firm belief that her subjects – meaning: the kitchen personnel – could hardly mess up breakfast and hence that was the best time to leave them unsupervised. Merlin knew this and used it. He'd be a fool not to and, contrary to popular belief, he really wasn't one.

It was quiet in the kitchens. Most maids weren't in yet. But Sarah would be. Merlin suspected she had a bed hidden away behind a cupboard somewhere, because she was always the last one to leave and the first one to arrive. Technically, no one ever seemed to witness either her arriving or her leaving, which led to the rumour that she never left at all. In all his years in Camelot Merlin had never seen proof to contradict it.

'I've been such a fool!' he heard her lamenting to one of her many friends. That was unexpected; in all the time Merlin had known her – and she had worked here as long as he had – she had never been anything but cheerful and friendly.

'How so?' Elen, another kitchen maid asked. 'Did you burn the chicken? Because if that's the case, Mary will skin you alive and cook you for dinner instead. And none of my pleas will save you, you know.'

Merlin hid behind the door. Eavesdropping was a bad habit, he knew, but old habits died hard. And he was curious, especially since it was such a difference from what was normal. Not normal was usually synonym for bad news.

'It's worse,' Sarah said. 'I nearly told him! I nearly told him that I know! I knew I shouldn't have accepted that wine Tom offered me yesterday! It's making me all talkative and stupid. I am never touching it again. I swear!'

Speaking of things that did not make sense. What was she going on about? Nearly told who that she knew what? He had to say, this did not sound well.

Elen appeared to understand, though. 'Oh,' she replied, seemingly taken aback. Then she recovered. 'Oh, well, it's not as if he has worked it out before and we haven't exactly been subtle about it sometimes. Merlin's as oblivious as the king, bless him, just about different things. He won't suspect a thing, I promise. And if he does, you'll just whack him over the head with the ladle and he'll forget all about it. Best not to tell Mary about it, though.'

Sarah laughed. 'I know better than that.'

'Well, you ought to know better than to drink wine too,' Elen remarked wryly. 'You do know Tom is sweet on you, don't you? So if you just promised to spend the day with him once, maybe he'll stop bringing you things.'

'Spend the day with him?' Sarah exclaimed. 'I'm busy here all hours of the day. Where would I ever find the time? Mary would never let me leave.'

The conversation kept getting more curious by the second. But Merlin was well aware, like all the other servants, that invoking Mary's name summoned her quicker than a person could blink. It wasn't magic – he had made sure of that years ago – and no one was quite sure what it was, but it was how things were. And he had better not be here when the woman descended on her domain, so he skipped in like he had only just arrived, thanked Sarah for saving him some delicious supper last night and asked about the king's breakfast.

Sarah looked increasingly awkward and after half a minute Elen took pity on her and stepped in. Something was not quite right here, but he knew better than to ask. Sarah was still holding the ladle, after all. He would get to the bottom of this, though.

But probably not today and certainly not this very moment. Over the years he had developed a sixth sense telling him when danger was near. It told him some was rapidly approaching and given where he was, it could only be one person. Time for a quick escape.

Merlin was quick, but not quick enough. On his way out he almost collided with the very woman he was trying to avoid.

'Where do you think you're going?' She waved her finger so close to Merlin's face he almost had to look cross-eyed in order to see it properly.

'Serving the king's breakfast!' he said, holding up the plate as if it was evidence in a court, which it sort of was. After all, Mary fancied herself the Queen of the Kitchens and no one, not even King Arthur himself, dared to contradict her on the matter. It was only common sense to keep the one that fed him on side. Although there wouldn't be quite such a need to adjust belts if Mary cut him off for a time, Merlin thought cheekily.

By the look of things, she did not believe him. 'One of my pies went missing last night,' she stated. The finger moved closer and Merlin did a step back. It was only good sense; he didn't want her to poke his eye out.

'Oh,' Merlin said, swallowing back the almost automatic reply of 'it wasn't me.'

The show of innocence did nothing to abate Mary's suspicion. 'If I find out you stole one of my pies after you insulted them, I will roast you for dinner instead of the pig.'

'I wouldn't!' he exclaimed, meanwhile searching for an escape route. He could try to slip past her, but that would take some effort. Mary was a large woman and she positively dominated the corridor. 'Look, I've got the king's breakfast. I have to serve it!'

It worked. 'Then go and do it before the bread goes stale, boy, and don't dawdle. And they will never find your body if you so much as think about dropping it!'

Her threats followed him down the hallways as Merlin did his best to get as far away from her as his legs would carry him whilst not dropping anything on the plate. So when he finally realised that Mary had known about his pie-insults as well, he was already on the other side of the castle. And he didn't think she had recognised him when he was wearing his old man disguise. She couldn't have, could she? Because if she did, she knew he had magic. And if she knew he had magic, she would have reported him to the king, if only to punish him for his many kitchen-related crimes. So it couldn't be that.

Unfortunately it didn't explain how she knew.

Fortunately some things would never change and Arthur truly was in a fine shape this morning. Rising early was never his strong suit, especially not if the reason he had to get out of bed before sunrise was that he still had a speech to learn. He was lucky that at least he didn't have to write it; Merlin had done that the previous day. And a good speech it was too. Arthur would deliver it later that day to the Guild of Carpenters and Merlin had kindly invited Gerold, one of his friends in the lower town and a skilled carpenter himself, to help out. Of course, Arthur knew nothing about that. He merely wondered where an idiot such as Merlin had learned that much about a craft he couldn't possibly master himself, being so clumsy all the time. Merlin hadn't enlightened him.

Predictably, Arthur was moody and clearly not in the right state of mind to appreciate a joke, if the sudden cutlery throwing contest was anything to go by. These were the times that Merlin had to remind himself that Arthur was really a good man who had come quite a long way from being the bully that he had been when they had first met. It was just a tiny bit hard to recall it during the early morning sessions of complaints and target practise, with Merlin being the target in question.

There would be no cleaning Arthur's room until after the king had learned the speech, so Merlin made himself scarce and headed down for the hated chore of mucking out the stables.

Of course, he never quite made it that far.

'Good morning, Merlin.' George greeted him just before he left the castle.

'Morning,' Merlin said. He never quite knew what to make of George. Half the time he looked at him in disapproval for the way he did – or didn't do – his work and the other half he looked at him as if Merlin would bite at any given moment. It didn't make sense at all, but Merlin had quickly learned to chalk that up to George being George. The man made jokes about brass at the rare occasion he did try to loosen up, for goodness sake.

'Allan has asked me to tell you to take a quick look at the stable door when you go there.' George had a very formal way of talking. It came with being the perfect servant, Merlin supposed.

Merlin frowned. 'You should ask one of the carpenters.' There would be enough of them wandering around soon enough to listen to Arthur's speech. Surely one of them could do it? They certainly could do it quicker than Merlin could.

George shook his head and gave him the special sort of look he reserved for people he thought were shirking their duties. It went without saying he looked at most people like that. 'Allan was adamant you were to do it. He said to tell you that a man of your talents ought to fix it in a jiffy.'

Those were Allan's words no doubt. Merlin generally liked the Captain of the Guard, but he had enough chores to be getting on with as it was. Man of your talents indeed. He didn't know how Allan had got wind of the speech for the Guild of Carpenters already. He'd thought that Gerold could keep his mouth shut or he would never have confided in him, just to avoid this very scenario.

'How did Allan know?' Of course, it was pointless to ask. George didn't like palace gossip, never mind partaking in it.

If there was such a thing as looking politely confused, then George was doing it. 'What did Allan know?'

'About the speech,' Merlin clarified.

Other people would have asked: 'What speech?' Not George. George said: 'I do not believe I know which speech you are referring to.' With the way he was talking he could give the majority of the nobles a run for their money. He certainly spoke more posh than Arthur did.

'The speech for the Carpenters' Guild,' Merlin answered. Either Allan hadn't told George what he meant or his fellow servant was exceptionally slow today.

'Oh,' George said. In so far as it was possible, he even managed to say that politely. Even after a few years in Camelot he still hadn't managed to talk any other way. 'I do not believe that the subject of the speech was the talent that Allan meant.' If Merlin had blinked he would quite have missed out on the quick smile that passed over George's face, as if he was privy to a joke Merlin could not possibly understand. 'Good day, Merlin.'

Merlin was quite used to being in the know about things in Camelot; it was how he kept Arthur alive. Not knowing so many things, it made him feel like… well, like Arthur, truth be told. Only Arthur didn't know that he was oblivious to so many things, so it was not quite the same. But still. Something strange was going on, something shifty and it seemed to have infected most of the servants he'd spoken to since yesterday evening. He didn't think it was magic, even though it usually was when something was wrong. But it would have to wait. There were chores to be done and doors to be repaired and apparently that was one of his talents now.

The stable door in question had been torn or blown – Merlin couldn't say – off its hinges and was lying on the floor as if waiting for someone to come and fix it, which apparently was Merlin's job. And he had no idea how to put it back the way it was, not the slow and non-magical way. But there weren't any people around really and if he was really very quick and stealthy, then all anyone need ever know was that he was better at fixing things than they had previously expected. And it was not as if anyone had ever caught him doing magic before…

Five minutes later the door was as good as new and Merlin had just done a few steps back to admire his handiwork when the sound of running footsteps alerted him to the minor crisis taking place behind him. A rather shady looking man – it seemed to be standard practise for all bad guys to dress in dark colours – came running at top speed, with Allan and Tom in hot pursuit.

'Stop the thief!' Tom at least had enough breath to shout, whereas his superior, who was getting on in age, needed all his energy to keep up with his younger friend.

He really shouldn't use any magic in public, but it wasn't as if people really noticed, was it? And it was an emergency. Of course, that would not stop Gaius from giving him an earful about using magic where everyone could see and did he want to end up being burned for witchcraft, because if not, well, it could have fooled him. Merlin knew the lecture by heart, could reproduce it even in his sleep. Still, exceptions had to be made for a crisis. A thief making off with the queen's jewels counted as one in Merlin's book.

And it wasn't as if the thief wasn't asking to be stopped, what with how easy he made Merlin's job this time. He ran over a broomstick that some stable boy had forgotten and it was really far too easy to make it hover above the ground an inch or two, just enough to make the thief trip and land face first in the pile of obliging hay. Before he could so much as think of getting up again, Tom had jumped on his back.

Allan left the prisoner to Tom and made his way over to Merlin.

'A fine job,' he complimented.

Merlin smiled as innocently as he could. 'It was easy,' he said, hoping all the same that this wouldn't mean people would ask him to fix things all the time. Repairing one door with no witnesses in sight was one thing, but fixing things with people around was quite another. 'It will hold for a while.' He gave an experimental rap with his knuckles on the wood and was very pleased to find that it didn't come crashing down again.

Allan looked at it as if he had only just noticed the door. 'Oh yes, very fine job indeed,' he said. 'But I rather meant your help with the capture of a dangerous fugitive.'

Now it was Merlin's turn to be confused. 'But I didn't do anything.' And he had checked if the broomstick was lying where it had before he had made it fly. It was. And from that distance no one could have noticed it really. 'I was just here. Fixing the door.'

Allan nodded with an indulgent smile. 'Indeed. So you were. My apologies. You were nowhere near, so of course you couldn't have made him trip. It must just have been a trick of the light then.'

Uh oh. 'Yeah, must have been,' Merlin agreed.

'Because it can't have been magic,' Allan continued. 'My eyes aren't as young as they used to be.' Merlin could have sworn there was a twinkle in those eyes, almost as if the guardsman knew more than he was saying. Really, him as well? What was wrong with people today? 'Well, I must be getting on with it. Can't let Tom do all the work alone. But a good job, a very good job indeed.'

Something, Merlin decided, something was really very wrong here.

Because really, not everyone is as thick as Arthur, are they? And Merlin will work it out next chapter.

This story does fit in with the Unseen Keepers of the Secret series (Guarding the Secret, Kitchen Tales and Serving the Kingdom) but I think this one can stand alone as well. All of the original characters in this story are mentioned in these previous three stories, though, so if you want to know more about them, feel free to check them out.

Thank you for reading! Reviews would be much appreciated.