A Hard Day's Knight (33 page)

I’d put my money on industrial-strength flame-throwers and napalm.

Julien Advent had his back to me, looking out over the Nightside streets, but I had no doubt he knew I was there. The great Victorian Adventurer had been dodging assailants and assassins for longer than I’d been alive. He could spot a ninja in a darkened room two houses away. I moved over to join him.

“Hello, John,” he said, not looking round. “So good of you to join me at such short notice. Hell of a view from up here.”

“Why are we here?” I said. “You know this place has bad memories for me.”

“This is where Walker died, isn’t it?” he said, still not looking at me.

“Yes,” I said. “He tried to kill me. I had no choice.”

“Did he die well?”

I thought about it. “He died in character,” I said finally. “He was himself, right to the very end.”

Julien shrugged. “I suppose that’s the best any of us can hope for. Look out there, John. Look what they’ve done to the Nightside.”

I looked down at the city, that great sprawl of blazing streets and hot neon. The night was full of fires and explosions, strangely coloured flames and magical flare-ups. Buildings were burning like bale-fires in the night, and every now and again an entire block would vanish, to be replaced by something worse. I watched barricaded holdouts detonate, sending burning shrapnel up into the night sky like so many fireworks. There were vivid lights and horrid sounds, and here and there certain landmarks quietly disappeared, running off to hide in some safer dimension.

“The elves have come to the Nightside,” said Julien Advent. “A whole army of the vicious little bastards, bursting out of new and old Timeslips, all across the city. I didn’t know there were so many elves left in the world. They’re killing everyone they encounter, butchering and slaughtering, and laughing all the while. I’ve got all of my people out on the streets, doing what they can; but things are bad down there. Almost as bad as the wars you started.”

“I did not start the Angel War, or the Lilith War,” I said, a bit tetchily. “I wish people would stop saying that.”

“If it quacks like a duck, stick an orange up its bum,” Julien said vaguely. “The elves are killing people, apparently to get themselves in the mood for their coming civil war. A chance to stretch their muscles and try out new weapons. They have a lot of new weapons, John—magical and scientific. Awful weapons, doing awful things. The elves are running wild in our streets, simply for the fun of it, looting ancient treasures and objects of power, and anything else that catches their eyes. We have to stop them, John. While we still can.”

“Do we know whose elves they are?” I said. “Which faction they belong to?”

“Does it really matter?” said Julien, looking at me for the first time.

“It might. We’ve always been able to negotiate with Oberon and Titania. Mab ... is another matter since she returned from Hell.”

“We don’t know whose elves they are,” said Julien. “They’re not interested in talking to us. The rest of the Authorities are down there now, fighting to regain control of the streets. Jessica Sorrow is walking up and down the Nightside, disbelieving in the elves till they disappear. The Unbeliever may be on our side now, but she still scares the crap out of me. Annie Abattoir has been using some really nasty magics, some so bad they even shocked the elves. And Larry Oblivion has been using his magic wand to good effect. Yes, I know about that. Please don’t tell him I know; it would only upset him. He likes to think he can keep things secret from me. And Count Video and King of Skin are working together, for once, doing really horrible things to all those elves who don’t get out of their way fast enough.

“They aren’t alone. I have a lot of people down there, fighting for control of the streets. But we’ve been through so much, lately, John; we’re all tired and worn-out. By the time we gain the upper hand and drive the elves from the Nightside, I’m not sure how much of the Nightside will be left. We’re still rebuilding from the last two wars. We’re not as resilient as we used to be.

“I should be down there with them, leading and inspiring the troops. But I wanted to talk to you first. They say ... you have Excalibur.”

“I did have,” I said. “I handed it over to the returned King Arthur. He’s back, Julien. King Arthur has come back to us.”

“Any other day, that news would have gladdened my heart beyond measure,” said Julien. “But what can one man, even such a man, do against a whole army of elves?”

“Well,” I said, “he may not have an army of his own, but he knows a man who does. In fact, I’ve had a really good idea. Do what you can to buy me some time, Julien; and I’ll come back with reinforcements that will really make your eyes pop.”

“Taylor!” said Julien, as I flipped open the gold pocket-watch. “Don’t you dare disappear on me! You’re the Walker now!”

But I was already on my way, back to Strangefellows.

When I reappeared in the bar, Kae was leading everyone in a really quite appalling drinking song, “’Twas on the
Good Ship Venus
.” Complete with hand gestures. Arthur looked like he was having the time of his life. Alex was beating out the rhythm of the song on the bar top with both hands. Suzie was doing her best to join in, even though she has a singing voice like a goose farting in a fog. Even the vulture was dancing excitedly on top of the till.

I did my best to get them all to shut up and pay attention, but when that failed, I had no choice but to give Suzie one of our little secret signals. She immediately stopped singing, drew the shotgun from its holster on her back, and fired both barrels into the air. The song cut off abruptly in mid verse. In the sudden silence, bits of the ceiling fell down. Arthur and Kae swung round to face me, their hands on the swords at their sides. Alex hid behind the bar, and the vulture hid behind the till. I gave Arthur my best I-mean-business glare.

“The elves have come to the Nightside. They’re out there right now, killing people, while you’re having a party. And these are not the elves you remember so fondly, Arthur. They’re hunting and butchering people for the sport of it.”

“Then we must stop them,” Arthur said immediately. “Kill them all for daring to war on Mankind. And to send whoever may be behind this invasion a very definite message. It’s always best to negotiate from a position of strength and vindictiveness. Kae, are your London Knights ready for battle?”

“Always,” said Kae. “Simply say the word, Sire.”

“The word is given, my brother. If the elves want war, we shall show them what war really is.”

“But I have to get back to Castle Inconnu, to raise my army,” said Kae. “And we don’t have time to go by any of the usual routes.”

Everyone looked at me.

“The Portable Timeslip won’t take us past all the protections you’ve put in place,” I said. “Which means, we’re going to have to ask a certain someone for help. A certain individual with a great many Doors ...”

“Oh bloody hell,” said Suzie. “Not the Doormouse again.”

Arthur gave me a hard look. “Am I to understand we have to beg assistance from a mouse?”

“He’s a very nice mouse,” I said.

Kae was already grinning broadly. “Oh, I think you’re going to like this one, Arthur.”

The Portable Timeslip took all of us to the Doormouse’s excellent establishment. Alex stayed behind, to lock up and barricade the bar against any passing elves who might decide they had a bit of a thirst on. The rest of us appeared right outside the shop, and Arthur looked round interestedly. He’d never seen the Nightside itself before. Half the street-lights had been smashed, and a few dead bodies lay here and there; but otherwise, it was pretty quiet. Many of the shops were closed and boarded up, but the neon lights still blazed brightly. It could have been just another Saturday night. Arthur sniffed.

“A bit gaudy, for my tastes.” He looked round sharply as a whole building at the end of the street exploded. His hand went to Excalibur on his hip.

“Let’s get the army first,” I said quickly. “And, let’s get inside before anyone sees us.”

“I do not run from the enemy,” Arthur said sharply.

“You do if they outnumber you thousands to one,” said Kae.

“Oh well, in that case,” said Arthur. “Good to see you stayed awake during some of my strategy classes, Kae.”

“You were a rotten teacher, Arthur. Rotten. And I really hated those snap tests.”

“They were good for you.”

“So is cod-liver oil.”

“Do they still use that?”

I glared them both into silence, then led the way into the shop. It hadn’t changed. The Doormouse came bustling cheerfully forward again, doing up the front of his white coat and checking that his pens were lined up in the proper order in his top pocket. Then he saw Suzie and me and stopped dead in his tracks. He made the sign of the extremely cross and started to say something really cutting; but then he saw King Arthur and Kae in their armour, and ran out of breath. His large brown eyes grew even larger, his back straightened, his long whiskers twitched excitedly ... and then he charged forward and threw himself into Arthur’s arms. The Doormouse hugged him tightly and rubbed his furry face against Arthur’s.

“It’s you! It’s really you! You’ve come back, you’ve come back! We’ve been waiting so long for your return, Your Majesty! I mean, I’m just an old hippy in a mouse body, but I’ve read every book about you I could find. And seen all the films! Welcome back, King Arthur!”

The Doormouse pressed his fuzzy face against Arthur’s breast-plate and looked up at him adoringly. Arthur clung to what was left of his dignity.

“Does anyone happen to know whether this mouse I’m holding is male or female?”

The Doormouse let go immediately and scurried backwards to bow repeatedly. “Sorry! Sorry! Got carried away there, a bit. Sometimes I can’t help feeling I’d have been better off as a badger. They handle their emotions so much more properly. King Arthur, what brings you to my humble establishment? Everything I have is yours! Except you can’t actually take anything with you, of course. The Doors don’t move. As such. Am I babbling? It feels like I’m babbling, and that big scary woman is growling at me again.”

“Do you, by any chance, happen to have a Door that will transport us inside Castle Inconnu?” I said.

“Oh poo,” said the Doormouse, his whiskers drooping. “Someone told you.”

“It’s hard to keep a secret in the Nightside,” I said. “Though actually I was guessing. Jerusalem Stark had to get those elves into the castle somehow, and your Doors seemed the safest bet.”

The Doormouse sighed. “Knew that one would come back to bite me on my furry arse. In my defence, he did pay me an awful lot of money.”

Kae glared at the Doormouse. “You created a secret backdoor into Castle Inconnu?”

“I build Doors for people,” the Doormouse said quickly. “What use they put them to is none of my business. I’m only a craftsman. Craftsmouse.”

“You’re about to be a dead craftsmouse,” said Kae. “You’ll make an excellent rug for my office.”

“No, Kae,” said Arthur. “He has agreed to help us. Haven’t you, Sir Mouse?”

Kae was still glaring. “Where’s the Door?”

“In the display area, of course. My Doors are always here. I make them, and people make use of them, but they never leave my shop. Far too dangerous. I do have scruples, you know, even if you can’t see them past all the fur.”

“And when were you intending to inform the London Knights that you possessed a secret backdoor into their Castle?” said Kae.

“I’m almost sure I would have got round to it,” said the Doormouse. “Eventually.”

“Okay, that’s it,” said Kae. “It’s rug time.”

“Take it easy,” I said to Kae. “You can’t expect morality from a mouse.”

“Well quite,” said the Doormouse. “That’s why I became one.”

“Take us to the Door,” I said.

The Doormouse bobbed his head quickly, to all of us, and several times to King Arthur, then scurried away into the deeper recesses of his shop. The Doors were still standing there, in their ranks, waiting to be used. I kept an eye out for one particular Door I’d seen earlier and stopped before it. The others stopped with me. The Doormouse came hurrying back to see what we were all looking at. It was a Door like all the others, except for the brass combination lock in its centre.

“This is the Door that leads to alternate Earths,” I said. “All the different histories, all the ways the Earth might have gone. Can it really open onto any possible Earth, Doormouse?”

“Oh yes. You just have to enter the right co-ordinates. Of course, many of the more extreme iterations are completely uninhabitable, but ... What kind of Earth did you have in mind?”

“A completely empty Earth,” I said. “An Earth where sentient life never did develop, in any form. A living breathing Earth, where only the beasts and the birds flourished.”

“Of course,” said King Arthur. “I see where you’re going. An excellent solution for a very tricky problem.”

The Doormouse produced an impressively large book from somewhere about his person and flipped rapidly through the pages with his furry paws, muttering querulously to himself. He finally stopped at one particular page, ran a fuzzy finger down a long list of entries, then squeaked happily. He made the book disappear and advanced on the Door, muttering a bunch of numbers under his breath, before spinning the brass combination lock back and forth with practiced dexterity, then flinging the Door open with a triumphant flourish.