Read Online The Old Magic by James Mallory - Free Book Online

black-berry jam. But come, lad, sit down. I was just making tea, and I’ve got a nice large honeycomb for
     you to take back to Ambrosia.”
    Merlin sat down on a stone beside the door of Blaise’s hut. Bran fluttered from the tree to the roof of the hut, where he
     could get a better look at the basket.
    “You stay out of that,” Merlin warned.
    “Eh?” the hermit said. He lifted the steaming kettle from the fire and carefully poured its contents into two thick clay cups.
    “Oh, I was just talking to Bran. He’s hoping for a hand-out,” Merlin said.
    “Charity is always a virtue, unless it is motivated by conceit,” Blaise said. “Then it ceases to be charity, and becomes cruelty.”
     He handed Merlin his cup, then reached into the basket and broke off a chunk of bread. He held it out to the bird, which seized
     it eagerly in its beak and flew up into a tree to enjoy its feast.
    “How can charity be cruel?” Merlin asked, puzzled. In the years they’d known each other, Blaise had told Merlin many things—the
     names of the trees in the forest and the stars in the sky. His talks with Blaise always challenged his mind, filling his mind
     with questions that lasted for weeks. Whatever Ambrosia did not know, Blaise did, and Merlin had always assumed that between
     the two of them, they knew everything there was to know. But lately Merlin had begun to realize that there was something outside
     their vast store of knowledge, something that maybe he had to discover for himself. He listened closely to Blaise’s reply,
     still hoping to find his answers there.
    “When charity is given only to impress its recipient with how superior the giver is, then its purpose is to sow anger and
     despair. The charity of princes leads to wars, more often than not, because only the truly humble and good can dispense true
     charity.”
    “Can’t a king ever be humble and good?” Merlin asked.
    Blaise smiled. “Have you ever known one who was?”
    “I’ve never known any kings,” Merlin admitted, sipping his sweet herb tea. “Everyone says we have two—Vortigern and Uther—and
     that Uther is our true king, because he’s the son of King Constant. But if Uther’s our rightful king, why isn’t he here? And
     if Vortigern isn’t our true king, how does he rule?”
    Blaise sighed. “You ask deep questions, Master Merlin, and I have no easy answers for you. All the answers to that sort of
     question lie outside this forest—and the world out there is a cold and wicked place.”
    “It’s because the king is wicked,” Merlin said dreamily, staring at the dancing dust-motes in a beam of sunlight. Sometimes
     the new inner voice told him interesting things, and this was one of them. “Because the land follows the king, and the king
     serves the land. If
I
were king, I’d be humble and good, and teach others to be good also.”
    “You cannot teach goodness,” Blaise said tartly. “It comes from the heart—it isn’t something you can slap on like a coat of
     whitewash.”
    Merlin sighed, shrugging himself out of his daydream. There were so many voices, both inner and outer, that at times it was
     hard to know which to listen to. “I have so much to learn, Blaise. There’s something I need to know—only I don’t know what
     it is. But it’s as if there’s something inside me, and it’s a part of me, but not like me at all. I want to be good, and fair,
     and just—but how can I tell if I’m being good, when I’m not sure what being good is?”
    The old hermit sighed. He reached out and patted Merlin’s knee reassuringly. “Patience, young sir. Have patience. You’ll know
     all the answers to your questions with time. But be wary in your search for truth. You tread a dangerous path.”
    “I know,” Merlin said, although he didn’t. It seemed these days that more and more of his talks with Blaise ended in warnings.
     It was frustrating to be warned about something, but not to be told what that something