A Hard Day's Knight (8 page)

Oliver took his hand away from his mouth, staring at the messenger with revulsion. “I never knew,” he said. “I never even realised things like this existed. What good would it do, to die for my children, if it let things like this into their world? Can you stop this, Mr. Taylor?”

“Oh,” I said, smiling easily. “I’m sure I can find a way.”

I raised my gift, and it only took me a moment to find the dimensional rift that had let the messenger manifest in our reality. It took a complicated lattice of strange energies to hold the rift open, and it only took me a moment to find a fatal flaw in their arrangement. And then it was the easiest thing in the world to hit those energies in exactly the right place, and the whole thing collapsed. The messenger shrieked once, in shock and horror and surprise, and the collapsing rift sucked it back through and out of our reality. There was nothing left in the mall corridor but bright lights everywhere and the last vestiges of a really nasty smell.

I smiled confidently at Oliver and let myself relax a little, reaching for my psychic second wind. I really hadn’t thought it would be that easy.

I took a deep breath and clapped Oliver on the shoulder. “Okay, I’ve got an idea. If you are going to blow yourself up, there might be a way you could do it for the best.”

“Maybe I don’t want to blow myself up,” he said slowly. “Now that I’ve seen what that would lead to.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I really was, “but you’ve been made into a soulbomb. I don’t think that can be undone. And since an oracle on the way here told me that you were going to detonate no matter what, I think the man who paid for you to be made over into what you are probably installed a fail-safe, to take the decision out of your hands after a certain time. So that even if you did have a failure of nerve, you’d still go off. But even if you can’t decide not to explode, you can still choose when, and why. I need you to detonate when I tell you; and I will channel the blast away through this.” I showed him the gold pocket-watch. “I know, it doesn’t look like much, but it contains a Portable Timeslip under my control. I can find the dimensional rift the Outsiders will use to come through and turn your detonation away from the other dimensional doors, so that all the energies blast right through the rift as it opens. A soulbomb explosion is enough to hurt even Things from Outside. You can use your death to strike a blow against them. Won’t be enough to kill them, but it’ll hurt them, and make them back off and think again. How does that sound? You could be remembered as the man who saved the Nightside. How’s that for making a difference?”

“How does that help my children?” he said bluntly. “If I don’t do as I’m told, my children won’t get the money.”

I thought quickly. “How about this? I sell your story to the
Unnatural Inquirer
. All right, it’s a rag, but they love stories like this. They’ll pay top money; and I’ll see it all goes to your children. I’ll guarantee the paper does right by them.”

“How can you guarantee that if I blow up, and you’re still here? You can’t teleport out; the Outsiders would stop you, wouldn’t they?”

He was right. I’d been thinking I could escape the blast through the Portable Timeslip, but the Outsiders would have access to the dimensional short cut I travelled through. After the explosion, they’d be too busy with their own problems to worry about me, but until then ... I thought some more, then I remembered, and smiled.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry, Oliver; I’m protected. I carry the sword Excalibur.”

He looked at me. “Where? Do you have one of those sub-space pocket things?”

I reached over my shoulder, took hold of the hilt, and drew the sword. The long, golden blade flashed brightly. Oliver’s eyes widened.

“It’s ... beautiful. Everything I ever thought it would be. Can I touch it, hold it?”

He reached out a hand towards the sword, then immediately stopped and drew the hand back again.

“No. It wouldn’t be right. Not with what I’ve made of myself. Nonetheless, it is good to know that there is still wonder in the world. There is still glory.”

“Are you ready?” I said. “I don’t mean to rush you, but there’s no telling how much time we have left, before ...”

“I’m ready if you are,” he said steadily. “Let’s do it.”

“One last thing,” I said. “Who set this up? Who planned all this and made you into a soulbomb?”

“Bijou de Montefort,” he said. “One of the business owners in the mall. Do you know him?”

“Oh yes,” I said. “I know him.”

One of the Emporium’s biggest success stories, de Montefort came from nowhere to make himself one of the richest men in the Nightside. He specialised in awakening demand for things people didn’t even know they wanted, then selling it to them for ten times the price they would have paid if it hadn’t suddenly been fashionable. But he’d come adrift with his last great idea: the Cloned Celebrity Long Pig franchise. Eat the celebrity of your choice! But he really should have asked permission first; a whole bunch of celebrities got together and sued him over unauthorised use of their image and identity, and they won big. Cleaned him out. Overnight, de Montefort’s business empire collapsed, his credit rating was run out of town on a rail, and he was on the brink of losing everything. At which point, one assumes, he was contacted by a messenger from Outside, who offered a bargain. And he accepted, the fool.

I realised Oliver was looking at me. Bad time to be wool-gathering. “How did he expect to profit from this?”

“He didn’t tell me. All he said was that my death would make him King of the Nightside.”

“Idiot. Outsiders never keep their bargains. They don’t have to.”

“I think we should do it now,” said Oliver. “While I’m still ... firm in my resolve. Good-bye, Mr. Taylor. When you see my children, tell them ... some comforting lie.”

“Yes,” I said. “I can do that.”

He closed his eyes and seemed to relax completely, as though finally putting down some terrible burden. He gave up the last thing that held him together, and when the explosion came, it was too big to see or hear. A light too bright to bear, and a sound that filled the world. I held Excalibur out before me, between my body and the blast, the point on the floor, the hilt before my face, my hands gripping the cross-piece. When the soul detonated, all I could do was hang on to the sword, blinded and deafened, torn at by forces I could barely recognise. I concentrated on my link to the gold watch in my pocket, using all my mental strength to funnel the energies through the Portable Timeslip and throw them at the Outsiders’ dimensional rift. It wasn’t difficult: once I started the process, the watch did most of the work. Otherwise, I’d never have been able to do it.

I clung to Excalibur as the storm raged round me, hanging on like a drowning man to a raft. The raging energies seemed to keep on coming, destruction without end, power beyond belief, and myself only the smallest mote in an angry god’s eye. But the blast did end, eventually, and the world slowly came back into focus round me. I could see and hear again, left trembling and shaken by the storm that had passed. It took me a long moment to unclench my hands from Excalibur’s cross-piece and look slowly round me. The mall seemed perfectly normal, undamaged, safe and sane again. The light was very bright, and there were no shadows anywhere. I reached into my pocket and closed the gold watch.

The Outsiders had been thrown back into Darkness, and Humanity had been saved because one man had given up his soul to do it. But he shouldn’t have had to. My mission wasn’t over yet. There was still justice to be administered. Justice, and vengeance.

I made my way back through the Mammon Emporium, then took a moment to compose myself before strolling outside to give the waiting crowd the good news. They all looked pretty relieved; presumably, they’d heard something of the explosion inside. I put their minds at ease with a few well-chosen words, and when I told them it was safe to go back inside again, they actually gave me a loud cheer before rushing right past me into the mall to resume their interrupted shopping.

Business as usual, in the Nightside.

As the onlookers in the crowd began to disappear, I raised my voice.

“Is Bijou de Montefort here?”

Everyone looked round, sensing that the evening’s excitement might not be over yet. A small group of business owners came forward, half encouraging and half driving forward one Bijou de Montefort. He was an average-size, average-looking man, nothing remarkable about him at all, save perhaps that he was better tailored than most. He looked entirely defiant as he was brought to a halt before me and shook off the encouraging hands.

“I had time for a nice little chat with the soulbomber, before he went off,” I said pleasantly. “He had a lot to say about you and how you planned to profit from his suicide. Did you really think you could bargain with the Outsiders and hold them to their agreement? Were you really ready to see us all die, so you could be King of Shit Heap?”

“You can’t trust anything that man said,” de Montefort snapped. “He was clearly mentally disturbed, or he wouldn’t have made himself into a soulbomb.” He met my gaze unflinchingly and actually seemed to grow in confidence as he listened to himself. He still thought he could talk his way out of this as he always had before. “You have no proof, Taylor, and no evidence, now that your only witness is dead. And I would advise you to choose your next words very carefully. I can afford the very best lawyers to protect my good name.”

“Lawyers?” I said. “We don’t need no stinking lawyers! Haven’t you heard? I’m the new Walker. And this is Excalibur!”

I drew the sword, and the long blade appeared immediately in my hand, its golden light flaring brightly in the night. Everyone watching gasped and cried out. I slammed one hand onto de Montefort’s shoulder and forced him to his knees in front of me. I brandished the sword above my head, and the crowd cried out in awe and wonder. Many of them dropped to their knees. Some of them were crying. De Montefort looked up at me, all the colour dropping out of his face.

“No! You can’t do this! It’s not fair!”

“It’s justice,” I said.

And I brought Excalibur round in a swift arc and cut his head off.

The sword sliced through his thick neck as though it were air. For a moment, de Montefort just knelt there, eyes wide; and then blood ran down from the long red cut. He convulsed, and his head snapped backwards and fell away. Blood fountained from the stump of his neck. He fell over sideways, his hands clutching spasmodically at nothing. I looked at Excalibur. There wasn’t a drop of blood on the blade. I put it away, and immediately both sword and scabbard disappeared, invisible again. Some of the onlookers cried out again, in voices thick with loss and disappointment.

I walked straight at them, and the crowd fell back and split apart, opening up a wide aisle for me to walk through. I kept moving, not looking at anyone. I was considering what I’d done. I have killed before, in my time, when I absolutely had to; but I’m not an executioner. I’d killed de Montefort coolly and calmly, without even thinking twice about it. And that wasn’t like me. It was what Walker would have done ... but I never wanted to be like him. I had to wonder whether the impulse might have come from somewhere else. Whether merely possessing the sword Excalibur was enough to affect my mind, influence my judgement. I realised I’d come to a halt, and was frowning so hard my forehead ached. People were actually backing away from me. Apart from the one who wasn’t.

“Hello, Julien,” I said. “Come to see how it all turned out?”

“You killed that man,” said Julien Advent.

“Executed him,” I said.

“In cold blood.”

“You know I don’t do things like that. I’m thinking that the sword executed him and used me to do it. I think the sword is changing me ...”

“Could be,” said Julien, unexpectedly. “There are many stories about Excalibur that didn’t make it into the traditional tales of King Arthur. May I see the sword?”

I drew the blade and held it out before me. Julien looked at it for a long moment, his eyes full of the golden glow of the sword. I would have let him hold it if he’d asked because of who and what he was; but he didn’t.

“No,” he said finally. “I’m not worthy.”

“Hell with that,” I said. “You’re a lot worthier than me, and I’m holding the bloody thing.”

“Put it away,” he said, and I did. He sighed heavily. “It is tempting; but a man should know his limitations. And not test himself. You need to know more about the sword you bear, John; and you can’t learn it here. You’re going to have to leave the Nightside, go out into London Proper, and speak with the London Knights.”

“That was the plan, before I got interrupted,” I said. “The whole replacing-Walker thing will have to wait till I get back.”

I was expecting an argument, but Julien nodded slowly. “I understand. It’s not an easy thing, to bear a legend like Excalibur. The London Knights ... are an interesting group. You could learn a lot from them. And, possibly, they might learn a few things from you. If you don’t kill each other first. I did work with them a few times, back in the day. Though they’ve changed a lot since Victoria sat on the Throne.”

“Could I get a letter of introduction from you?” I said. “Saying,
This is a good man, despite everything you may have heard, done a lot of good things, please don’t kill him
?”

“Ah,” said Julien. “I have to admit that the knights and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms these days. They don’t approve of me since I took up residence in the Nightside. They think I’ve fallen from the straight and narrow path, and I think they’re a bunch of arrogant, stuck-up prigs. But they do know their stuff. They are the last defenders of Camelot, after all.”

“No offence, Julien,” I said, “but I think I’ll pass on the letter.”

Julien looked at me seriously. “Watch yourself, John. The London Knights have done a lot of good in the world but strictly on their own terms. They see things very much in black and white, and have no time for any of the shades of grey.”

“Then I’ll just have to educate them,” I said cheerfully.