Knight Life (20 page)

    
“A thousand years is enough to pick up a variety of skills, highness,” Percival said modestly.

    
Arthur's voice took on a more serious tone. “And Percival, I can only imagine what it was like for you, all these years. I was in isolation ... but, I suspect, of the two of us, it was harder for you.”

    
“Why, highness?” asked Percival, unable to keep a hint of bitterness from his voice. He was standing now, but unmoving, like a storm hovering just off the coast of a town. “Just because any relationship I undertook was doomed from the start? Because after the first couple of times watching a woman I loved age away from me, I swore never to let myself love again? Because I never sired a child ... and even if I had, I would have had to endure the same wretched loneliness of immortality? Because I had to watch mankind, capable of achieving greatness, spend its existence engaging in pointless war and violence,
over and over, as if we're all condemned to repeat a cycle of insane self-destruction? Because there's no greater loneliness than being alone in a crowd? Because of all that, highness?”

    
Arthur found that there was nothing to say to that, and so, very wisely, he said nothing. He simple clapped Percival once on the shoulder and then called, “Miss Basil! I'm waiting for you to get Gwen on the phone!”

    
Basil appeared at the door. She didn't walk over to it and stand in it; she just seemed to appear there. “I tried,” she said tersely. “She said she couldn't come in. That she didn't know when she'd be in. And if you wanted to fire her over it, she'd understand.”

    
Arthur was now utterly perplexed, but the lines of his face quickly settled into a certainty of his next action. “Get me her address. I'm going over there.”

    
“No. You're not,” said Merlin.

    
“Yes, I am, and what business is it of yours?” Arthur turned to face him, his arms folded across his chest.

    
“Arthur,” Merlin said with as much patience as he could muster, “Don't you go after her.”

    
“She's in trouble, Merlin. I can sense it.”

    
“This is the 21st century, Arthur. If a woman's in trouble, she has options other than waiting for a hero to come rescue her.”

    
“That's true, highness,” Percival said.

    
“See?” Merlin pointed at Percival, clearly grateful for the backup.

    
Continuing to think out loud, Percival said, “Of course ... there
are
women who are trapped in abusive relationships and are unable to do anything about it, for any number of deep-seated psychological reasons, ranging from a misplaced belief that they can change the man to self-esteem problems that compel them to believe that they deserve—”

    
“All right, that's more than sufficient help, Percival,” Merlin said.

    
Arthur had heard enough. “Miss Basil, Gwen's address. Now.
I saw that!
”

    
“Saw what?” Basil said quickly.

    
“You looked to Merlin for confirmation as to whether you should do what I say. Merlin is not in charge here. I am. You will do as I say, and you will do it now. Is that clear?”

    
Basil started to reply, then saw the look in Arthur's face and clearly thought better of it. “I'll be right back with it,” she said, and turned on her heel.

    
“Arthur,” Merlin began.

    
“Don't say it, Merlin.”

    
“I will say it, Arthur. If Gwen is having a problem, give her time. She's going to have to deal with it herself.”

    
Arthur looked at him uncertainly. “My every instinct—”

    
“Your instincts,” Merlin said, not ungently, “have been known to cross you up every now and again. Arthur, I've never known a man of a more decisive, unyielding nature than you—except where it came to women. They are your fatal flaw. Especially this—” Then his eyes widened and he stopped talking.

    
Too late.

    
“What ... do you mean?” Arthur said slowly. He was walking slowly toward Merlin, regarding him as if truly seeing him for the first time.

    
“Nothing. I was going to say, ‘Especially this time.'”

    
“No ... no, you weren't,” Arthur said, looming over Merlin, who was, surprisingly, backing up. “You were going to say, ‘Especially this one,' weren't you?”

    
“I was simply trying to say—”

    
“Merlin, from the moment I laid eyes upon her, I knew, I sensed in my soul, that there was something about her. Perhaps it's ridiculous to believe in reincarnation, but is it any more unlikely than believing in an ageless wizard, a king kept alive by sorcery, or the powers of the Holy Grail granting immortality?”

    
“It's not her! I swear to you, Arthur, if it was Gwen's soul, brought back to you in a brand new package, I would know! I would know, and I would tell you!”

    
“Would you? Look at me, Merlin,” and his gaze seemed to bore straight into the wizard. “Would you? Or would you try to do exactly what you've done? Discourage me from having anything to do with her. Tell me not to hire her, tell me to keep away from her, denigrate her.”

    
“She's a harmless, normal, nonreincarnated woman!” Merlin said desperately.

    
“Then she poses no threat, and you won't care that I'm going over.”

    
“
No!
”

    
Suddenly Arthur turned to Percival and said, “Percival, my understanding is that drinking from the cup of Christ, in addition to giving an uninjured person immortality, also gives one substantial protection from magiks ... especially magiks that have base in darkness. True?”

    
“So I am told, highn—Mr. Penn,” said Percival.

    
“Good. Break Merlin's neck for me, would you?”

    
Both Percival and Merlin gaped at Arthur. “What?”

    
“I am your liege, lord,” Arthur said sharply, although he never raised his voice, “your king, to whom you swore undying fealty and obedience. You are alive, as am I. That oath is still in force. Do as I command.”

    
Without hesitation, Percival took two quick steps forward, lifted Merlin off his feet and slammed him back against the wall, placing his hands in such a way as to snap the young mage's neck like a twig.

    
And in a voice filled with fury and fear, Merlin screeched, “
Yes! Yes, damn you! It's her! But you don't need her, Arthur! She's going to bugger the whole works, just like she did last time! She's the eternal screwup!
”

    
“I don't care if she's the eternal bloody flame,” Arthur snapped. “We belong together!”

    
“You belong in an asylum!” Merlin's legs pumped furiously. “Tell him to put me down!”

    
“Release him, Percival, but not gently.”

    
Percival obediently drew back his arm and flung the boy wizard the length of the office. Merlin slammed into the large sofa and rebounded onto the floor. He lay there, moaning.

    
Without another word Arthur turned and stormed out of the office, pausing only to snatch the address of Gwen's apartment off Miss Basil's desk. Basil, for her part, had come to the door of the office when she heard the commotion and was staring at Merlin, who was staggering to his feet and rubbing his throat. He glared at Percival who returned the look impassively. “I scrape you up off the gutter ... and this is how you repay me?” he croaked.

    
“I repaid you by doing what you wanted me to do: serve Arthur Pendragon,” Percival pointed out calmly. “I can't help it if he gives me orders that run contrary to your interests.”

    
“Should I try to stop him, Merlin?” inquired Basil.

    
Merlin shook his head and winced at the pain that the gesture inflicted.

    
“Uh, Merlin ... I know I'm not your favorite person just now, but if it's okay, I'd like to offer a piece of advice.”

    
Slowly Merlin turned his head to Percival. “And what ... might that be?”

    
“If Arthur convinces Gwen to come back with him, I wouldn't get in his way if I were you.”

    
“Point ... taken, Percival.”

    
At that moment Buddy and Elvis burst in, stumbling over each other in their excitement. “We got it,” crowed Buddy. “We have got freakin' it!”

    
“What?” asked Merlin impatiently.

    
“Signatures, kiddo!” They waved sheaves of paper in their filthy hands. “We got enough! All you need and lots more. Arthur, the guy with the Day-Glo sword, is now officially a candidate for mayor of New York!”

    
They stood there, arms spread wide, as if accepting thunderous applause. There was dead silence.

    
“Well,” grumbled Elvis, “don't thank us all at once, y'know.”

C
HAPTRE

THE
E
LEVENTH

G
WEN HAD MANAGED
to stop crying, but her face was still tear-streaked as she fumbled in her purse for her apartment keys. She breathed silent invocations, thinking,
Please, please, please let him still be asleep
.

    
She fished out her keys, unlocked the door, and stepped inside the dimly lit apartment. She glanced around at the empty living room and sighed with relief. She didn't know where he was, and she didn't care. At least he wasn't at home. After getting the call from Miss Basil, wanting to know where she was, she had to get out for just a few minutes. She'd felt as if the walls were closing in on her, and she knew that if she stayed there a moment longer, she would just start screaming and never stop. That would certainly wake Lance, and he wouldn't be happy about that at all. But if he woke up and discovered that she'd gone out, that would also infuriate him.

    
Lance stepped out of the bedroom, his hands on his hips. “So. You came back, did you?”

    
Gwen moaned and moved away from the door. She pulled the sunglasses off and tossed them carelessly on the
floor, as she staggered over to a chair and sagged into it. “I just went down to the corner for some beer,” she said.

    
“So where is it?”

    
“They were out,” she replied tiredly, too mentally exhausted and aching to come up with anything even approaching a decent lie.

    
Lance walked over to her, laughing loudly, and took her chin in his hand, turning her head one way and then the other. “Quite a shiner you got.”

    
“I know. It's the birthday present you forgot to give me last month, right?”

    
“Now, now,” he said and swaggered away. “There's no need to get bitter. After all, you brought it on yourself.”

    
“Me!” She lurched to her feet, feeling the familiar sting of tears at her eyes and fighting them off. “You're the one who came home drunk last night. Boozing and ... and sleeping with whores. God knows what germs you picked up.”

    
“Whores!” His voice went up an octave. “How can you say that? How can you say I was getting laid by strange women?”

    
“You reeked of cheap perfume.”

    
He snorted. “I can't help it if women cling all over me.”

    
“Lance, your pants were on backward! Why did you come home to me with your pants on backward?”

    
“It was a joke, for chrissakes.”

    
“No, Lance.” She shook her head furiously, thinking about the job that she had probably lost, and thinking also of the man for whom she worked ... the man whom she felt as if she'd known all her life. “This whole relationship is a joke. And I'm the punch line. Especially when you came home the way you did last night, and you wanted to make love to me all reeking and disgusting. And when I refused you did this to me.” She pointed at her eye. “You did this. Not me. You!”