Arfa and Archimedes

Tristan was fishing on his boat. Merlyn was trying to set him on fire.

“Lucian said Archimedes used this tactic at Syracuse,” she said, adjusting the mirror she’d placed atop the castle walls.

“What do you think?” Arfa said.

“I think Lucian was drunk.” She sighed. “I get the principle, but there’s not enough power.”

“Maybe it needs magic.”

“There’s no such thing as magic. There’s only philosophy.”

“Then what’s that guy doing?”

Arfa pointed to a man floating toward them from the west, quite unconcerned, on a millstone.

Merlyn opened her mouth, shut it, and opened it again. “What.”