Merlin apprentice

"Full of questions," I replied. I closed the journal, and offered him the pen.
My old mentor's smile only touched his eyes as he took the pen from me: he'd intended me to see what he'd written. "My journal," he said. "Well. The last three are. The ones before that were from my master."
"Master, huh?"
"Didn't used to be a dirty word, Hoss. It meant teacher, guide, protector, professional, expert-as well as the negative things. But it's the nature of folks to remember the bad things and forget the good, I suppose." He tapped the three books previous to his own. "My master's writings." He tapped the next four. "His master's writings, and so on, back to here." He touched the first two books, very gently. "Can't hardly read them no more, even if you can make it through the language."
"Who wrote those two?"
"Merlin," Ebenezar said simply. He reached past me to put his own journal back up in place. "One of these days, Hoss, I think I'll need you to take care of these for me."
I looked from the old man to the books. The journals and personal thoughts of master wizards for more than a thousand years? Ye gods and little fishes.
That would be one hell of a read.


Turn Coat Chapter 47, Page 381-483