Martin took a step back, the murderous look on Merlin's face making him vaguely uncomfortable. "L-Lord Merlin!" he said, figuring a little bit of ego-massaging could do him no harm. To his surprise, Goldie snatched his arm, her fingernails digging into his bicep even through his robes. Grimacing, he didn't say anything to her, figuring she could use the comfort. They were in deep trouble.

Merlin cocked his head to the side a little. "Just what," he said, in a deadly calm voice, "were you doing in there?"

"We—we were just ..." Merlin stopped. What excuse could he give? It wasn't like he could pretend they hadn't been in Will's cell. They had just come out of it, for heaven's sakes. "Nothing," he finished weakly.

"Plotting against me with that traitor?" Merlin snarled. "He tried to have me killed. And now, I shall do the same to you two traitors!"

That was how he was going to play it off. That Will had been an assassin sent to kill Merlin, and that Martin and Goldie had been prepared to do the same. For some reason, that filled Martin with rage, and he replied, "Oh, really? I don't think you want to do that."

"And why not?" Merlin demanded.

Goldie elbowed Martin seconds too late. "You need blood for the ink, don't you?" he said. "You'd have to reveal that you possess Will, and that won't make the Merry Men very happy. After all, you said he ran away."

"How ... do you know about the blood?" Merlin looked shocked.

Martin smiled. "That's my little secret, isn't it?" he answered. "Of course, if you kill me, then you'll never know how we found out."

Merlin advanced on him, the very picture of fury. "I will know," he snarled.

"Not if you kill me." Martin returned Merlin's scowl with a calm, neutral look of his own. "Makes sense, doesn't it?"

Seeing the expression on Martin's face, Merlin, with some effort, corrected his own. "It does. However, it doesn't matter how you found out ... as long as you don't remember it." Goldie made as if to bolt like a frightened animal, but Merlin put up his hand, and Martin felt his limbs freeze. The girl cried out in surprise, her lips evidently still able to move. "I'd much rather kill you, but that would attract far too much attention. Consider yourself lucky."

Merlin placed his fingers on Goldie's forehead, and Martin kept his eyes open and locked on her face. Mentally, he was chanting in Welsh, changing the course of Merlin's spell and causing it to dissipate into the air. When Merlin stepped back, Martin reluctantly chanted another spell and knocked Goldie unconscious, causing her to slump to the ground. She also banged her forehead against the stone floor, a fact that made Martin wince guiltily.

Luckily, by the time Merlin turned his attention to Martin, the boy had gotten his facial expressions under control again. He faked a bit of fear, confident that he could turn the memory spell away from him. And even if he couldn't, Goldie remembered Will's fate and The Four of The Story would have to be enough. "Your turn," Merlin told him, and laid his fingers on Martin's forehead.

. . . . . . . . . .

Mimi seemed to be getting tired of the party the rebellion was throwing her. In truth, all the rebels had gone to bed, aside from the Merry Men and most of the knights of Camelot. She sat beside Philip in the outer courtyard, the bonfire the men had set up lighting the grass and giving it a strange, flickering color. The bonfire leapt up occasionally with snaps, and the men cheered whenever it did so. Occasionally, one of the Merry Men would burst into song and everyone would join with him—lacking a bit in melody, since several barrels of ale had been passed around.

After a song had finished, the Merry Man singer came over to Philip, brandishing two mugs of ale. "For the lady and her gentleman!" the lanky man said with a lopsided grin.

Mimi stood up, managing a smile at him. "I don't think so, no," she said. "Philip, come. It's time we were off."

But Philip was enjoying himself too much and accepted one of the mugs. "To Mimi!" he said, clanking it against the Merry Man's mug. The redhead singer down the contents of his mug in seconds. Philip took a sip and found it was sweeter and not as strong as he had anticipated, and did likewise. It had a fruity taste to it. Mimi shot Philip a look that clearly said, Honestly? He smiled back at her and held up the empty mug. "It's good," he said.

The musician swept a bow, his arm hitting the mug and sending it spinning out of Philip's hand. "It is indeed!" he exclaimed. "Is the party to your liking, sir ...?"

"Andric," Philip offered. "Philip Andric."

The man grinned in that odd, lopsided manner again. "Alan-a-Dale," he said. "Bard of Sherwood Forest and proud member of the Merry Men." When he said the words "Merry Men", Mimi gave a distinctly guilty wince. Either the bard was ignorant or he just pretended not to notice. "It's a pleasure to meet both of you. I cannot believe that our esteemed leader planned to have you executed! It makes one wonder if he's telling the truth about everything else, or if he wants something more sinister ..."

"Perhaps a little research into that would show you the truth," Mimi suggested. It seemed to Philip that she was trying to offer Alan some kind of a hint. That seemed rather pointless to Philip; the bard didn't seem ... for lack of a better word ... smart enough to take heed of the hint.

He grinned. "You might be right," he agreed. "However, for tonight, we celebrate. Won't you have one drink, Lady Winthrop? We wanted to honor the lady we pulled from the jaws of death."

It was a not-so-subtle reminder that Mimi owed her life to the assembled group, and Philip coughed to hide his laugh. Maybe he hadn't given Alan enough credit. The girl glared at Philip, unimpressed, but heaved a sigh. "Oh, very well. One drink."

Alan gave a happy smile and bounced off. Mimi glared at Philip. "I can't believe I got roped into this," she muttered.

He grinned at her. "Alan does seem to have a knack for getting you to agree to something you don't want to," he said. "Maybe I should keep him around more often?"

She frowned in reply. "Don't you dare," she told him. There was the smallest hint of a smile on her face when she spoke, though. "Martin is bad enough."

"Where is Martin?" Philip wondered aloud. "I haven't seen him since the party began. I rather miss him. He grows on you, in an annoying, questioning kind of a way."

Mimi shrugged. "He said he had something to take care of and just ran off. He really is a peculiar boy. How you ended up saddled with him, I'll never know."

Philip shrugged. He didn't say it was because Martin was the only one who had been willing to support him when he'd stolen The Story Book from the Guardians, or that the sorcerer had saved Mimi's life from the dragon. Nor did he bring up the crushing sadness they'd both felt when they realized they might have lost him for good. When he raised his eyes to Mimi, he could see her thinking the same things, and she gave an apologetic shrug. "That's probably why," she agreed. It was funny how neither of them had to voice their thoughts. They knew what the other was thinking without even saying it.

Alan came back with a mug of ale and handed it to Mimi. "For you, m'lady," he told her with his weird, crooked grin.

Mimi shifted uncomfortably and took a tiny sip. Philip wasn't even sure she took a sip at all. "It's ... good," she said. "Tell me, are you the youngest member of the Merry Men?"

Alan's grin faded a little. "Oh ... no. That's not me. That is—was—Will."

Philip cocked his head. "Stutely?" he said.

"Scarlet," Alan corrected, shaking his head. "It was the strangest thing. One minute, Will was with the rest of us, joining this rebellion, the next, he was gone. Merlin told us he must have been captured by the Guardians, or killed, but we weren't sure that was the truth. I mean, we went straight from Sherwood Forest to here, through Merlin's portal or whatever it's called."

"Story door," Philip interjected.

Alan seemed to care little for the details. "Whichever," he said. "If Will was taken or killed, then it was Merlin's fault. But he's done nothing to aid in Will's recovery or even assure us at all. To be honest, Miss Winthrop, we sided with you because it was what Merlin didn't want us to. Forgive me for being blunt, but he isn't the greatest of leaders if he doesn't care about what we're doing or one of our number."

Mimi grimaced. "Have you looked for him?"

Alan spread his hands helplessly. "With what? Our spare time? We haven't got any. Merlin has worked us like dogs since we got here. Sending us on petty thieving missions, forcing us to practice in all hours of the night and day ... honestly. It's like he doesn't want us looking for him."

At that, Mimi looked supremely uncomfortable, but didn't say anything. Philip did have to wonder what she was thinking and why the subject of Will Scarlet had been brought up anyway. It was obvious it was causing Alan a good deal of pain, though. "Maybe you should look for him," Philip suggested. "There's the possibility that Merlin is lying to you for some reason about Will. Maybe I could help you dig into it?"

Alan's big smile was back. "I would appreciate that!" he exclaimed, sticking out his hand. Philip shook it with a smile of his own. "Will's like my little brother, you see. I'd hate to see anything happen to him."

There was a definitely-guilty look on Mimi's face now. Philip made a mental note to quiz her about it later. After releasing Alan's too-hard grip, he shook his hand in a jocular way. "Guess I'd better be off to bed now," he said. "It's been a fun party, Alan. I owe you a good deal of thanks for siding with Mimi, even if it was because Merlin has done you wrong. You were one of the first, weren't you?"

Alan nodded, his eyes lingering on Mimi with a smile. "I wasn't being completely honest," he admitted. "Your speech was quite fine, Miss Winthrop. Right from the heart. It was wonderful."

Mimi gave a shy smile. "Thank you, Sir Dale. It means very much to me."

Alan bowed fragrantly again. "It was my distinct pleasure. I bid you both good night. Shall we meet back here in the morning, Sir Andric, to discuss our search for my missing little brother?"

Philip nodded. "Yeah. Sounds good. See you in the morning, then."

Alan gave another bow before going back over to his compatriots. After a moment, Mimi spoke, her voice quiet. "Is it wise, to take such a rebellious stance against Merlin?"

Philip shrugged. "When have you ever known me to be wise?" he asked. She scowled at him, and he gave a little chuckle. "Seriously, though, Will is just a kid, according to Alan. Would you have me just stand aside and let Merlin do who-knows-what to him? It's not right."

Mimi passed a hand over her curls in a ponderous gesture. "What if I told you ... I knew where he was?" she said after another long silence.

Philip turned to her, his eyebrows shooting up. "Why didn't you tell Alan that?" he demanded. "You could've helped him!" Forcing himself to calm down, he started again. "I mean ... I'm sure you have a perfectly good reason for not telling him, and—I'd love to know what that is, because frankly, I'm stumped."

The Guardian flushed, her cheeks pink. "I ... I didn't know if I could," she admitted. "I mean, my oath, Philip. What if Merlin is actually holding Will prisoner for a reason that benefits the rebellion?"

Philip stared at her, his jaw slack. "Holding him prisoner?" It took all his strength not to yell out the words, forcing them down into a whisper. "Mimi, are you nuts? He's just a kid! There's no viable reason to hold a child prisoner!"

"Don't lecture me!" Mimi snapped. "Don't you understand? This oath is laying heavy on me, every single day. I question if what I'm saying is for the benefit of the rebellion. I don't know if anything I say or do will send me to the River Styx!"

Philip slapped his forehead. "Mimi, we're not in the Greek Story," he said.

She scowled at him. "What the heck does that even mean?"

"The oath only works when it's made in the Greek Stories," he said. "Its magic doesn't extend to the rest of The Story! Since you made it here, in this Story, it doesn't apply."

"Phil, are you ... are you sure?" she asked weakly.

"Positive." Philip dragged the palm of his hand over his face and started to laugh. She glared at him, but that only served to amuse him further. "All this time, we never even realized the obvious! My gosh, are we dumb."

Mimi's scowl darkened. "Philip Andric, don't you dare laugh at me," she said.

"I can't help it," he said, slinging his arm over her shoulders. "We're a right bunch of fools! C'mon, let's go get Martin. I'm sure he'll be able to figure out why the heck Merlin wants to lock up a kid."

"You're probably right," she admitted a little reluctantly. "Come on, then, let's go."

The two of them walked into the castle together and were immediately beset by one of the former partying rebels. "Lady Winthrop! Lord Andric!" he panted. "Come quickly!"

"What is it?" Philip asked, sending Mimi a concerned frown. Her lips were pursed, but she added nothing to the conversation.

"It's Martin Relen and Goldilocks, sir. They've been found. They've been attacked!"