He watched the two women's faces, holding his breath.

  Ayn spoke first. "Half," she muttered. "Well, I suppose it's better than nothing. Though with my big family..." She trailed off, turning to Mistress Mabel, who, Arthur realised, had burst into tears. Arthur watched as she dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands clasped in prayer.

  "Please, kind sir," she begged. "Your Grace. Your Majesty. Do not split Helen of Troy in two! If she must have her, then she must have her. But make her promise not to eat her and to let her lay her daily eggs. They're good eggs — the best in the village." She turned to Ayn, her face pleading. "You'd do so much better to keep her alive than eat her, I promise you!"

  It was all Arthur needed to hear. He clapped his hands.

  "I have made my decision," he declared. "The chicken - Helen of Troy - shall be returned to this woman here." He smiled down at Mabel, who was still on her knees before him. "For if she cares so much for the fate of a chicken that she's willing to give it away rather than have it be cut in two, clearly she is the rightful owner."

  Mabel let out a cry of joy. She dived for the chicken. Helen of Troy leapt into her lap, and she hugged the creature tightly against her chest, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. The crowd behind her broke into cheers.

  Mistress Ayn grunted and stormed out of the great hall, slamming the door behind her.

  "Oh, thank you, kind sir," Mabel cried, still weeping. "Finally, we have a true king. One who is so just and good and kind and fair." She rose to her feet, still cuddling Helen of Troy. "I will bring you eggs every day from now on! To thank you for your kindness." She bowed again, then turned and headed through the hall to the door, all the while being congratulated by the others waiting their turns.

  "That was very good, boy," Archimedes hooted. "Using wisdom to gain knowledge. Merlin would be so proud."

  Arthur beamed, all of a sudden feeling quite proud of himself. His first act as king, and it was a success. Perhaps this wouldn't be as hard as he'd thought.

  "Your Majesty, if you're done courting chickens, we must speak of graver matters."

  Or... maybe not.

  Arthur looked up to see that Sir Pellinore had stepped up to the throne. The tall, thin balding knight looked quite distraught - with an expression under his thick grey moustache that sent a chill down Arthur's spine.

  "What is it?" Arthur asked worriedly, not entirely sure he wanted to know.

  Sir Pellinore gave him a solemn look. "We have word that a new threat is coming to London Town, Your Majesty.

  An army of Saxon invaders is rumoured to be landing on our eastern shores. They have supposedly heard of your new... position... and likely seek to learn for themselves what mettle you are made of." He met Arthur's eyes with his own steely grey ones. "What should we do to answer their call?"

  Arthur sank back into his seat, all his earlier bravado fleeing. While the fate of chickens was something he felt somewhat confident handling, the fate of the kingdom was something else entirely. Especially when it came to matters of war. What if he made the wrong decision? People could die. England could be overrun by invaders. Soon there might not even be an England for him to be king of.

  He glanced over at Archimedes, but the owl had retreated up into the rafters. Coward!

  "Um..." he stammered, turning back to Pellinore. "What do you think we should do?" Sir Pellinore was, after all, an actual knight. And much more versed in these types of matters.

  But the elderly knight shook his head. "What I think doesn't matter in this case," he told Arthur. "You, my boy, are our king. You are the one the heavens chose. You are the one who must decide our fate."

  Arthur bit back a groan. He'd had a feeling Pellinore was going to say something like that. He rubbed his hand on his chin, as if deep in thought. But in truth, his mind

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  was basically blank. He squirmed on his throne, once again wishing he had a cushion. But all the cushions in the world couldn't get him out of this one.

  What would Merlin do? he asked himself again. But this time he had no answer. Merlin had tried to give him a top-notch education, but none of his teachings had to do with battles or invaders. War wasn't the wizard's thing.

  "Well, Your Majesty?"

  Arthur could feel the entire court locking their eyes onto him, holding their breaths, waiting for his reply. Whatever came out of his mouth next had the potential to change the course of history. He did not want to say the wrong thing. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth...

  "I think we should... L think we should..."

  His voice trailed off as he realised everything had gone strangely quiet. The hum of voices in the hall had completely ceased. And when his eyes scanned the room, he realised everyone was standing very still. Not still because they were paying close attention, mind you. But as if they had been actually frozen in place. Even Archimedes was hanging above him — suspended in midair.

  Then, suddenly, a new voice rose up beside Arthur. Thin and reedy and high pitched.

  "Now, now, don't tell me our illustrious new king is chicken..."

  CHAPTER TWO

  ARTHUR

  Arthur whirled around, shocked to find a hunched old woman standing next to him, seeming to have come out of nowhere. She wore long purple robes and the same style of pointed hat that Merlin favoured, though hers was a dark shade of violet. She leant heavily on a wooden cane topped with an elaborate carving of a dragon's head. As Arthur gaped at her, she grinned toothily back at him as if he were a long-lost friend, and even though he was pretty positive he'd never seen her before in his life, he felt a weird shimmer of familiarity wash over him as he gazed upon her face.

  "Um, who are you?" he asked, warily looking around the room. "And why is everyone but us frozen?"

  The woman laughed. It sounded like the tinkling of

  tiny bells. "That-was my doing, m'lord," she informed him, bobbing her head respectfully in his direction. "1 wanted to speak with you privately, and they were all being so very loud." She paused, staring at him with strangely vivid purple eyes. "You don't mind, do you?"

  "Um..." Arthur honestly wasn't sure if he should mind or not. On one hand, it wasn't right to freeze people against their wills simply to have a quieter conversation. On the other, it did give him some extra time to make a decision on the whole Saxon invader thing, which, he supposed, wasn't unwelcome. "Who are you again?" he asked.

  "My name is Morgan," the woman informed him. "The marvellous Morgan le Fay. I am a wizard of some high regard. Surely you have heard of me?" She looked a little hurt to think that maybe he hadn't.

  Arthur felt his cheeks heat to a blush. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sure you're quite well known. It's just... I don't get out much, you see. In fact, before last month, I'd never gone beyond the Forest Sauvage and my foster father's place. And now that I'm king, I'm not allowed to leave this castle."

  "Poor lad." The woman - Morgan — put a hand on his arm and patted him comfortingly. Arthur couldn't help noticing that even her fingernails were painted purple. "And now you're king of all England. I imagine that

  SET , :;}'■ N S T O N E

  kind of quick change of fortune is bound to make one's head spin."

  "You have no idea," Arthur said with a sigh, looking out over his frozen court.

  "Oh, but I do! In fact, it's why I'm here, my boy!"

  "It is?" Arthur turned back to the woman, his eyes widening. Suddenly he put two and two together. "Wait... did Merlin send you? Is he all right? Why isn't he here? Is he still angry at me about the whole squire thing? Because I really feel bad about all that! I didn't mean to drive him

  away!

  Morgan laughed, holding up a hand to stop the barrage of questions. "Oh, my dear boy. You know Merlin! He's so flighty. So unpredictable. He wanted to be here, of course. But he had a little holiday planned. And you know how those can be. Don't cancel in time? You don't get your deposit back. And no one wants that!" She gave Arthur a knowing look.

  Arthur swallowed hard, his mind whirling. He knew she was speaking English, but he wasn't quite sure he understood half the things she'd just said. But then again, that was how Merlin always talked, too. Maybe it was a wizard thing...

  "Anyhoo, while dear old Merlin is enjoying a little R and R in the far-off future, I'm here at his behest to take over your education. And it seems, my dear little sparrow,

  I've arrived just in the nick of time." She glanced out over the frozen court. "Now tell Auntie Morgan. What exactly seems to be the trouble?"

  Arthur sank back down onto his throne, slumping his shoulders in relief. Finally, someone grown-up - and human (he stole a glance up at Archimedes) - who was willing to listen.

  "I want to be a good king," he told Morgan. "I don't want to let anyone down. But I know nothing of battles and wars and invasions." He sighed. "It seems the Saxons - whoever they are - will be landing on our shores shorty. And it sounds as if they'll be up to no good when they get here. But I don't know what I should do about it."

  "Oh! That's simple!" Morgan exclaimed without a pause. "You blow them out of the water."

  Arthur looked at her, surprised. "What?" This was not quite what he'd been expecting her to say.

  "Come on! Isn't it obvious? We have to show these silly boys they can't just roll up to England's shores without RSVPing first! It's simply not done! And quite rude, to boot."

  "RSV-what?"

  Morgan waved him off. "Look, it's all very simple. You round up an army of your very best knights. And you send them down to the shores to defend your land. Show them

  exactly what happens when they try to rise up under our rule!"

  "Our rule?" Arthur scrunched up his face.

  Morgan giggled. "Did I say our? I meant your, of course. Foryou are the king of England now! All because you pulled that sword from that stone." She motioned to the sword at Arthur's belt. "A marvellous miracle, don't you think?"

  "I— I suppose..." Arthur stammered, starting to feel a little uncomfortable.

  "Oh! He's modest, too! How adorable." Morgan pinched his cheeks, just a tad too hard. Then she clapped her hands. "Look, all you need to do is show them who's boss. And then they won't have a leg to stand on. Literally - if you cut off their legs." She giggled. "Just kidding," she added quickly, in a way that made Arthur wonder if she had been.

  "Look, I don't want to hurt anyone," he told Morgan. "I just want them to go home."

  "Oh, they will. A few amputated limbs and everyone will take off running." She laughed. This time it sounded a bit more like a cackle. "Well, not running, exactly." She slapped her hand on her knee. "Kidding! Kidding! Sony! Sometimes I just can't help myself!"

  "Right..." Arthur pressed his lips together, glancing up at Archimedes again, wishing the owl would unfreeze

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  and help him. Maybe he could tell Arthur who this woman really was - and if she truly was a friend of his teacher's. She claimed Merlin had sent her. But she certainly had a very different way of looking at the world than his old tutor.

  His mind flashed back to the day Merlin had turned him into a fish. They'd been swimming along in the castle moat quite happily when a huge pike with nasty sharp teeth had started chasing them. Merlin had refused to help, telling Arthur he needed to figure it out on his own. In fact, he still remembered the wizard's words. Something about the strong wanting to conquer you, but that you could defeat them using intellect.

  Intellect - not violence. Because according to Merlin, brains were just as powerful as brawn.

  What if he could trick the Saxons? Or better yet, try to befriend them? Maybe they could avoid violence. Maybe it could even work out in everyone's favour - having a new friend was never a bad thing...

  He realised Morgan was still waiting for an answer. Sitting up straighter in his throne, he cleared his throat. He had to be careful. After all, friend of Merlin's or no, she was clearly a powerful wizard. He didn't want to make her angry by dismissing her outright. She might even refuse to unfreeze his court. And then where would he be?

  "Look," he said, "it's not that I don't appreciate your

  advice. I really do. But in this case, I think I am going to try something else first. Something more... peaceful." He shrugged sheepishly. "I'm pretty sure it's what Merlin would have wanted."

  Morgan's smile slipped from her face. For a moment, she looked angry. But then, just as quickly as her smile had faded, it returned. "Of course, of course!" she agreed, patting him a little too hard on the shoulder. "You do you! You're the king, after all! You pulled the sword from the stone H all by yourself! So why would you want to listen to a ^^ silly old wizard who went so far out of her way to come and

  help you with your troubles? Much better to imagine what Merlin would do. The cowardly kook who abandoned you to this fate. Did he even say goodbye when he left?" Arthur cringed. "Well, not exactly—" "Of course he didn't. That silly boy!" Morgan snorted. "Anyway, I must be going now! So much time, so little to do!" she jabbered. "Or is it the opposite?" She tapped her finger to her chin. "In any case, have fun running the kingdom all by yourself! Hope you don't get invaded and suffer a fate worse than death!" She lifted her hand to a wave. "Toodles!"

  And with that, she poofed into a cloud of smoke. When it cleared, she had disappeared completely. As if she'd never been there at all.

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  A moment later the court erupted into sound again, everyone talking and moving as if they had no idea they'd ever been frozen at all Perhaps they didn't. Arthur felt a shimmer of unease as he looked to the spot where Morgan had stood a moment before, now completely empty. He wondered if he'd made the right decision.

  Archimedes dropped down from his perch and peered at Arthur quizzically.

  "Are you all right?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

  "I'll tell you later," Arthur said, waving him off. He turned back to Sir Pellinore, who was now once again expectantly waiting for his answer.

  "Sire?" the knight queried. "What do you want us to do?"

  Arthur drew in a breath. "I think we should invite the Saxons here," he blurted out before he could lose his nerve.

  Pellinore looked shocked. "Excuse me?"

  "We will invite them to the castle. And when they come, we will throw a great feast in their honour."

  "You want to invite our enemies to a feast?" The old knight looked as if he was about to fall over.

  "Yes," Arthur declared, feeling more and more confident about his plan as he thought about it. It was exactly the kind of thing Merlin would have approved of. "We will invite

  them here and speak with them as equals. See what they want. Who knows — maybe we can work out a peace treaty that will benefit us both. We may be different, but we're all human beings, after all. There's no reason we can't all get along."

  For a moment Pellinore said nothing. Then he slowly nodded his head. "Very well, Your Majesty," he said. "You are the king. It's your call." But he didn't sound too confident about the whole thing. Perhaps he would have preferred Morgan's idea of destroying them all. Arthur sighed, looking out onto the court for support. Surely someone thought this was a good idea, besides him? But all he saw were worried, distrustful faces. No one seemed to approve of his plan.

  Merlin would have approved, Arthur thought, forcing himself to remain strong. And he's the smartest person I know.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MADAM MIM

  Merlin is such a meddling muck!

  The Marvellous Madam Mim cursed under her breath as she poofed herself back to her little cottage in the woods, so furious at what had just transpired at the castle that her skin had broken out into pink polka dots all over again - an irritating lingering side effect of that horrific disease she'd suffered at the hands of that wily waste of a wizard. She glanced in the mirror, scowled, then snapped a finger. The elegant elder 'Morgan le Fay' vanished into thin air and Mim returned to her normal purple-haired self.

  She stormed over to the fireplace, poking angrily at the ashes. Then she waved her finger, and a small purple flame sputtered to life in the hearth. Huffing, she plopped down

  set in s t o n e

  on a nearby chair in front of her table of cards. But she was in no mood for games.

  "This was not how it was supposed to go," she muttered to herself. "Not how it was supposed to go at all. Here I go to all the effort of faking a miracle, and where does it get me? A young sparrow with delusions of grandeur and no respect for his elders."

  Mim spat on the floor. "Bleh!" This was clearly all Merlin's fault. As usual.

  Perhaps she should have never meddled in the situation to begin with. But when she'd heard the announcement that they were going to have a tournament to decide on a king at last, she'd panicked. All these years she'd been working to ensure England stayed stuck in a dark age of chaos and confusion - a state Mim delighted in; it was just so much fun! And now they were going to allow some random knight in shining armour to rise up and start making rules again? What if this man united England? What if he brought peace and lawfulness to the land?

  Why, that would be no fun at all!

  And so she'd determined to take matters into her own hands. She had sneaked out late at night and used her magic to relocate the real sword in the stone to some kind of fancy theme park far in the future of a land yet to be called Florida. In its place, she'd fashioned a replacement.

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  A design of her own, which allowed the sword to be lifted from the stone by a person of her choosing.