"Hmm?" Engrossed as he was in the message, Nigel answered her without conscious thought.
"Thou art interested much in thine handiwork. ‘Tis a stone, no more, only a sign to serve reminder through the centuries. ‘Tis the book that thou seeketh anon."
The old English was beginning to wear on Nigel’s nerves. He pushed himself from the natural bench. Thick grass swept over his calves, beneath the robes. It was more than a little odd, like wearing a dress, and he shifted his weight to accustom himself to the odd sensation. The soft leather soles of his shoes gave his feet an intimate connection with every pebble and irregularity of the soil and flora beneath his step.
"But the stone is key to finding the journal!"
"Not the diary, Merlin. The journal is only the first link in the chain that brings you back to your destiny." Daphne leaned forward and told him in a conspiratorial whisper, " And not the staged one, either!" She leaned forward and brushed a kiss over his cheek. "I will leave you to your lady, then."
Daphne/ Guinevere tilted her head to a lone figure moving gracefully toward him.
There was something familiar about this new woman’s stride, though he still couldn’t see her face. She was tiny and delicate, with a long sweep of dark hair. Her deep rose gown swirled with each motion, and a matching cap offered partial shade to her face. Nigel’s jaw dropped when he could finally see her clearly.
Sydney ran to him, throwing her arms around him. "Merlin! I feared I might never see thee again!"
Go to Part Sixteen.