A Hard Day's Knight (29 page)

“Trust me,” I said. “You really don’t want to know. Can you do anything with these clothes?”

Tracy sniffed loudly. “How about shooting them, then burying them at sea?”

“You do know who I am, don’t you?” said Suzie.

“Of course. They put warning posters about you all over the Mall.”

“You really want me to get cranky?”

“You wouldn’t like her when she’s cranky,” I said solemnly.

“Strip it all off and stick them in the bags provided,” Tracy said resignedly. “I suppose you want the Emergency Special Biohazard Deep Clean While You Wait service?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

Tracy pointed to the changing cubicles, and Suzie and I chose one each. Togetherness is all very well, but the smell was bad enough on its own. Combined together in a small space, it would probably have blown the door off the cubicle. I removed my trench coat with great care, looked at the state of the clothes underneath, gulped, and took it all off. I bundled everything up, being very careful what I touched, packed it into the black plastic garbage bag provided, slipped on the complimentary dressing gown, and stepped out of the cubicle. Suzie was already there waiting for me, with her own bulging bag. She was also wearing a dressing gown. Mine was a smart navy blue, hers was a shocking pink. She looked at me.

“One wrong word at this moment, and you will never see me naked again.”

“Perish the thought,” I said gallantly.

We took our bags over to the counter, and Tracy accepted them from us while wearing heavy-duty rubber gloves. She held the bags at arm’s length, pulled a variety of faces, none of them good, and glared at Suzie and me.

“Did you remember to empty everything out of the pockets?”

“Don’t worry about the trench coat,” I said. “It can take care of itself. Suzie?”

“I already removed the weapons,” said Suzie. “They’re in another bag, back in the cubicle. Don’t let anyone touch that bag if they like having all their fingers.”

Tracy slapped two customer numbers on the counter before us and disappeared out the back with the bags. There was a pause, followed by some loud if rather muffled bad language. Suzie and I moved away from the counter and went to sit in the chairs provided and read the nice magazines. I settled down with the Nightside edition of
Empire
, and read what Kim Newman had to say about the latest films:
Butch Cassidy and the Cthulhu Kid
, Clive Barker’s
Transformers
, and the rediscovered Orson Welles classic, his Batman movie,
Citizen Wayne
. Sometimes it’s nice to sit back, put your feet up, and enjoy a little light reading. Suzie had
Which Magazine: Weapons of Mass Destruction, A Consumer’s Guide
.

I could still feel Excalibur in its invisible scabbard on my back. Removing my clothes hadn’t disturbed it in the least.

Our clothes were back inside half an hour, spotlessly clean and impressively immaculate. My trench coat was so white it practically glowed, while someone had taken the time to polish every last bit of metal on Suzie’s outfit, from the rivets to the steel toe-caps to all the remaining bullets in her bandoliers. Suzie and I took our clothes back into the cubicles, and I soon emerged feeling like a new man. And able to breathe through my nose again. Suzie stepped out of her cubicle, fussing with the two bandoliers so they crossed right over her bosom. She never looks impressed with anything, on general principles, but she didn’t seem too displeased. Tracy beckoned us back to the counter and slapped the bill down before me. I took a look. I didn’t know numbers went that high. For a moment, I actually considered telling her to put all the filth back on. Instead, I shook my head and smiled condescendingly at Tracy.

“I have decided I don’t need to pay any of my bills in the Mammon Emporium. Partly because I am the new Walker, and if any establishment annoys me, I can have it shut down on moral health grounds. But mostly because I have recently saved this entire place from being blown up by a soulbomb, and if anyone gets stroppy, I can always bring back the Things from Outside and let the merchants deal with the bloody things. Any questions?”

“Go ahead,” said Tracy. “See if I care. They don’t pay me enough to deal with people like you.”

“There are no people like us,” said Suzie.

“Got that right,” I said.

Squeaky clean and utterly fragrant, Suzie and I made the long trip out of the Nightside and back into London Proper. Suzie insisted on accompanying me this time, and I didn’t have the heart to say no. She stuck close to me at all times, and though she wouldn’t give up any of her weapons, she at least kept her hands away from them. People gave us all kinds of funny looks as we strode down Oxford Street, but no-one actually said anything. They didn’t want to get involved. We finally came to a halt in front of where the Green Door wasn’t, and I struck an impressive pose.

“It’s me! I’m back! And I bear important news concerning Excalibur and King Arthur.” There was a long pause. The Green Door remained firmly absent. I scowled at the blank wall before me. “Come on! You know who I am!”

“Yes,” said a wary voice from nowhere. “We know who you are. But we also know who that is standing beside you. That’s Shotgun Suzie, isn’t it?”

“She’s with me!”

“I know. That’s the problem. I’ll have to check.”

The voice fell silent, and Suzie and I were left standing there, in the open on Oxford Street, for some time. People were starting to pay serious attention to us, and not because I was loudly berating an apparently empty stretch of wall. If anyone looked like they were getting too close, Suzie just looked at them, and they remembered they were needed somewhere else. Suzie’s always been good at that. The voice finally came back again, hovering on the air.

“You can both come in, but only as long as you agree to vouch for her behaviour; at all times and under all conditions.”

“I promise Suzie won’t kill anyone who doesn’t need killing,” I said.

The voice sighed loudly. “I told them this was a bad idea. I’m going to hide all the good china. Come on in, and remember to wipe your shoes.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me,” said Suzie. “There will be special treats for you when we get home.”

The Green Door appeared before us and swung slowly open. Suzie and I passed through into Castle Inconnu, and the Door closed quickly behind us. A knight was waiting, in full armour, to guide us through the many stone corridors. Suzie looked about her unhurriedly, being deliberately not at all impressed, as usual. The knight took us by the quickest route, and maintained a steady pace. He didn’t bother us with questions, probably because Suzie kept looking thoughtfully at his armour, as though judging exactly how many shotgun blasts it would take to penetrate it. We finally ended up back in the Main Hall again. Sir Gareth and Sir Roland were waiting there for us, still in their full armour, with their helmets clasped under their arms. They nodded to me and gave Suzie a long, thoughtful look. She gave them her best hard look in return.

“So you’re Shotgun Suzie,” said Sir Roland. “The posters don’t do you justice. We’ve heard a lot about you. Did you really ... ?”

“Almost certainly,” I said. “Take that as read, so we can move on to more important matters. I have spoken with Gaea ...”

“And she has spoken to us,” said Sir Gareth. “You do get round, don’t you? It seems you are to give Excalibur to King Arthur, after waking him from his long sleep. You can imagine how that news has gone down here. We always assumed that duty would fall to one of us.”

“Yes, well, that’s life for you,” I said vaguely. “Now, I could use my gift to find him, but I can’t help feeling there are bound to be all kinds of difficulties. King Arthur wouldn’t have stayed hidden all this time unless he was protected by really heavy-duty defences. And a whole lot of psychic booby-traps. So I’m pretty sure I need to speak with your Grand Master first, and see what he knows, before I try anything.”

“Of course you do,” said Sir Gareth. “He is the oldest of us all and knows many things. You’d better come with me. If you’re really going to raise up the once-and-future King himself, you need to talk with the last surviving Knight of the Round Table.”

Sir Gareth led the way through the increasingly crowded corridors and meeting places that led to Castle Inconnu’s interior, where the knights and their families lived. The area presented quite a contrast to the far-more-austere outer layers. The interior was much more comfortable, with all modern comforts. Sir Gareth had a smile and a kind word for everyone, and they nodded cheerfully back. They hardly looked at Suzie and me. We passed through large open-plan rooms, full of men and women hard at work, and children playing in the corridors, and a roomful of teenagers with swords, practicing mock duels. They were really good at it.

“Not everyone here becomes a knight,” said Sir Gareth. “Only those most suited to it. It’s not for everyone. The rest work at maintaining the castle’s infrastructure. There’s a lot of work involved, keeping a place this size running smoothly. And we are completely up to date, where we need to be. Everyone here knows how to use a computer. Though someone always wants to take it that one step too far. A few years back, one young man spent far too much time watching American television, and began enthusing about the benefits of organised productivity. He drew up plans for cubicle farms, and efficiency officers, and piped Muzak. He works in the sewage-disposal area now, for the good of his soul, and he’ll stay there until he’s learned the error of his ways.”

Sir Gareth finally led us up a long, winding stair inside a tower, opened a locked door at the very top, and ushered Suzie and me into a richly appointed study, with walls of books, tables covered in computers and monitor screens, and one very big heavy-duty Victorian desk, covered with piles of paper. He sat down behind the desk and gestured for Suzie and me to make ourselves comfortable on the visitors’ chairs set out before the desk. They were surprisingly comfortable. I was also surprised that Sir Gareth’s chair didn’t collapse under the weight of his armour, but I supposed all chairs in the castle were heavily reinforced, as a matter of course. Sir Gareth looked at me thoughtfully.

“Are we waiting for someone?” I said. “Only I thought you were supposed to be taking us to meet the Grand Master of the London Knights?”

“I have,” said Sir Gareth. He moved his left hand in a certain gesture, and his illusion spell collapsed. The young and easy-going Sir Gareth disappeared, replaced by a much older man with a very familiar face. It was Kae, Arthur’s stepbrother, last seen by Suzie and me in the sixth-century Strangefellows. Kae grinned at us, his eyes cold and commanding.

“Were you really expecting someone else?”

A large, blocky man, Kae now wore a simple but expensively cut grey suit. But I knew that under the suit lay the functional, compact musculature that comes from constant hard use and testing rather than regular workouts in the gym. I knew, because I’d seen it at close range back in the sixth century, when he and I went head to head, and he did his best to kill me and Suzie. He had a square, blocky, almost brutal face, marked with scars that had healed crookedly. Sitting there behind his desk, he had an almost overwhelming air of authority; of a man who could enforce his decisions through sheer brute strength, if necessary. His smile seemed friendly enough, but his eyes were watchful.

“Where did your armour go?” I said, just to be saying something.

“It disappears with the illusion,” Kae said easily. “It’s only there when I need it these days. I prefer suits. Nothing like wearing plate armour for centuries to make you appreciate well-tailored clothing.”

“And what happened to Sir Gareth?” I said. “Is he ... real?”

“Real enough. He’s me. A more approachable me that I developed to deal with outsiders.” Kae grinned again. “So much less intimidating, you see. And it makes things easier for dealing with everyday matters. Even a knight bloodied in battle can still get surprisingly bashful and tongue-tied round a survivor from the original Round Table, a man who actually knew Arthur and grew up with him. So I pretend to be Sir Gareth, and everyone else pretends it isn’t me, and we all get along swimmingly.”

“What was Arthur like, as a child?” said Suzie.

“A real pain in the arse,” said Kae. “Always running after his older stepbrother, wanting to be involved in everything, and throwing major sulks when he was excluded. Best student I ever had, mind. I taught him everything he knows about fighting.”

He stopped for a moment, as one of his computers chirped politely, and he took time out to run through his latest e-mails and make notes.

“The work never stops. Though computers do make things easier. You have to keep up with the times, especially when you’ve lived through as many as I have.”

“How ... ?” I said.

“How did I become immortal? Ha! It’s a long story, but I think you’ll enjoy it. If only because it’s steeped in irony. I was made immortal by that bad old, mad old sorcerer, Merlin. All his idea. I never asked for it. I happened to be present at Strangefellows when Merlin died, and yes, John Taylor and Suzie Shooter, of course I remember you. You made quite an impression. Partly because not many have fought me and lived, but mostly because you bashed my head in with my own mace. Luckily for you, I don’t bear grudges.” He looked at Suzie. “I also remember destroying your face. I felt bad about that afterwards. I’m glad to see it’s been repaired. Anyway, the story ...

“After you left, I woke up to a splitting headache and a hell of a thirst. I found a bottle behind the bar, and only then noticed Merlin, dead in his chair, with his chest split open and his heart missing. Cheered me up no end. I still blamed him for betraying Arthur by not being there when he was needed, at Logres. I leaned over to spit in his dead face; and his eyes snapped open. I all but shit my britches. I jumped back and let out a yell they could have heard on the Moon. Merlin rose to his feet and smiled at me. He was dead, but he was moving. I never knew he could do that.