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The tapping at the door was so light that it took a good minute for Merlin to recognize it as knocking. He didn't look up from the vials of coloured liquid in his hands, and instead addressed Archimedes:
"Archimedes, would you get the door, please?"
The owl scoffed. "Oh, certainly," he said. "And how shall I do that, hm? Peck at the hinges 'til they fall off? In case you never realized, feathers aren't designed for gripping doorknobs."
"What?" Merlin looked up, his concentration finally broken. "Oh," he said. "No, I suppose not." He began to arrange his vials into their proper places on a little rack, just as the tapping at the door picked up its pace to a more insistent rhythm. "In a moment, in a moment!" he snapped. "Hold your horses!"
He slipped the last vial into place and crossed to the door. He flung it open, somewhat crossly, prepared to reprimand his visitor for their questionable manners, but at first, it seemed that no one was there. Then, a chitter drew his gaze downwards. A little red squirrel sat on the doormat, staring up at him with more purpose than squirrels usually did.
Merlin muttered about prankster woodland critters under his breath and began to shut the door, but he paused when the squirrel jumped forward and sank her front claws into the wood. She strained rather uselessly to stop the door, chittering and chirping with all her tiny might. Surprised, Merlin stopped. He stooped and adjusted his glasses on his nose as he peered more closely at the squirrel.
"Say, I believe we've met," he said slowly. "That would have been nearly seven years ago now, wouldn't it? The little redhaired squirrel from the treetops."
The squirrel answered him with a chirp.
"Perhaps you should come in," Merlin said.
He stood back, and the squirrel scampered into the cottage. Merlin returned to the table where he had left his vials and scooted them to the edge and out of the way. The squirrel took his cue and scampered up the table leg. She began to chatter excitedly, but Merlin put up his hand.
"Hold on, now," he said. "I don't speak squirrel."
The squirrel sat back on her haunches, her ears drooping.
"Now, now, don't be discouraged," Merlin said. He pulled out his wand and held it over the squirrel's head as he considered. "Archimedes, what's that spell to make animals talk?" he asked.
Archimedes poked his head out of his birdhouse. "Make animals talk?" he asked. "You haven't used that spell in years!"
"Longer than years," Merlin said. "The last time I used it was on you, if I recall correctly. Come now, what's the spell?"
"How do you expect me to remember?" Archimedes snapped. "I was significantly less educated back then, I'll remind you. And what do you need it now for? To make squirrels talk? Waste of good magic, if you ask me!"
"I didn't," Merlin retorted. "All I asked you for was the spell!"
"I already said I don't remember," Archimedes said, pulling his head back into his birdhouse and slamming the door. He added in a muffled voice, "Look it up in one of those books you insist on dragging everywhere we go!"
Merlin grumbled, but in the end, he had to do just that. Balancing the open book in one hand, he tapped his wand against the squirrel's head with the other and chanted the short Latin incantation.
"There we are," he announced, and closed the book with a snap. "That's done it, I think."
"Done what?" the squirrel asked, cocking her head to one side. "I don't – oh! Is that my voice? Oh! It is! I'm speaking in the human language, aren't I?"
"Indeed you are, my dear," Merlin said, seating himself at the table. "Now, I suppose the matter at hand must be urgent, for you to knock like you'd bring down the place if you could. What troubles you? I am the wizard Merlin, and perhaps I can help."
"If only you could," the squirrel said. "You did say you remembered the first time we met, seven years ago? I recognized you as the human who lived in this cottage when we met, but when I came here the day after that, I found that you had moved out. Only this morning did I see signs of your return."
"Yes, I spent some years helping a friend adapt to his new role," Merlin said evasively.
The squirrel appraised him. "You were a squirrel the first time we met," she said.
"Only for the day, I'm afraid," Merlin admitted. "It wasn't a permanent thing."
"So I've come to realize," the squirrel said. "You had another squirrel with you then, a rather handsome one who changed into a human boy."
"I'm afraid his natural state is human, my dear," Merlin said gently. "He was only a squirrel for those few hours."
Her ears drooped again. "I know that," she said. "Now, at least. I didn't really understand back then. I still love him, though, Merlin. My heart tells me we're meant to be together. That sounds rather silly, with him being a human and me being a squirrel, doesn't it? I suppose it's out of the question for you to change him back into a squirrel?"
"Quite. He's a man now, and king of all England besides."
"Oh, dear." The squirrel sighed. "I'm afraid I don't quite know what that means, but I know it means he can't spend his time in the woods anymore. You see, squirrels don't have kings. But I hear talk from the forest birds, and they fly where humans live. From what they tell me, I gather that being king is quite an important job."
"The most," Merlin agreed. "He couldn't give it up to frolic about as a squirrel."
"Do you suppose he remembers me?" the squirrel asked. She flicked her tail anxiously. "Do you think he hates me? I was so young and foolish then! I acted rather shamelessly with him. And the birds have give me to understand that humans don't court like that, even. I couldn't blame him if he didn't like me at all."
"He doesn't hate you," Merlin said firmly. "He didn't hate you then, either. I daresay your persistence annoyed him at the time, but in the end, he still thought kindly of you. You were sweet in a squirrelly sort of way, and you did save his life, you know." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "The whole misunderstanding was my fault, I suppose. I turned his body to a squirrel, but I didn't change his language. He tried to tell you he was really a human, but you couldn't understand him."
"I wish I could see him again," the squirrel said sadly. "I wish – oh, I wish I weren't a squirrel! If I were a human, I might have a chance, at least."
"Yes," Merlin murmured, gazing thoughtfully at her. "If you were a human..." He sat suddenly upright. "Yes, what if you were a human?" he repeated, furrowing his brow. "And why shouldn't you be? I can change you into one, of course. It's a simple spell, no more complicated than turning a human to a bird or fish."
The squirrel jumped with joy, clapping her little paws together, but Merlin put up a warning hand. "Hold on, now," he said. "I can change you into a human, but I can't make him love you. Not even the greatest wizard can put love into a heart against its will. You'll have to ready yourself for the possibility that he could want nothing to do with you."
"I know, of course, but there's a chance, isn't there?" The squirrel clasped her hands together. "Oh, Merlin!" she pleaded. "Please, change me! I'd give anything for a real chance to be with him!"
"Are you willing to learn human ways, then?" Merlin asked. "You can't scamper about like a squirrel once you're human, you know. You'll have to learn the ways of a lady before you even meet him."
"I'll learn it by tomorrow if I must!" the squirrel cried. "We can start the first lesson now, if you like!"
"No need for that," Merlin said with a chuckle. "I have a friend named Cador who will take you under his wing, I daresay. He's the Duke of Cornwall, and a good man. He and his wife haven't any children of their own, and I think they'd rather enjoy a young person brightening up their halls. I should warn you, though, it could take years to learn all you must about human ways."
"I can do it!" the squirrel insisted. She raised her chin stubbornly. "I don't care how long it takes."
Merlin reopened his spellbook with a smile. "Then—" He paused. "My apologies, my dear, what's your name?"
"Guinevere," the squirrel answered.
Merlin began to chuckle again, and then to laugh outright. He tapped his wand against the spine of one of his other books, one of the strange ones with thin pages made by a method alien to the present century. The title, in fading gold letters, read, The Legends of King Arthur.
"Is Guinevere a funny name?" Guinevere asked anxiously. "It sounds all right in the squirrel language."
"Not funny at all, my dear," Merlin said. "Forgive an old man his wandering thoughts. It's the only name you could possibly have, I suppose. I should have known! Queen Guinevere!"
"Queen?" Guinevere repeated, growing more confused by the second. "What's a queen? Squirrels don't have those, either."
"I expect you'll find out, soon enough," Merlin said. He rolled up his sleeves and began flipping the pages of the spellbook. "But not if we never get started. Brace yourself, my dear, this sort of change can be a bit of a shock."
Guinevere shut her eyes and stayed perfectly still as the wizard's wand tapped against her little head. The Latin filled her ears, and she felt a strange tingle begin in her toes.
Her heart ached with longing, but she tempered it as best she could. Whatever was to come, she decided, she would embrace it. She had waited seven years already. She could wait a little longer.