by Peter David
Percy slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the ketchup and the salt and pepper shakers. Everyone in the coffee shop jumped except for Merlin. "All right! That's history, Merlin."
Merlin nodded once. "Fine. As long as we're both agreed on that."
"Agreed."
"Fine. For I have a new goal for you. The election of Arthur, your former king, to a position that will be his stepping-stone to creating a new order of peace and greatness for mankind. And you will serve as something very important, Percival." He stabbed a finger at him. "You're going to set an example for Arthur. So he won't get distracted."
"Distracted? By what?"
"There are," Merlin said with a sigh, "other aspects of the human condition which are eternally recreated. One such is evil, although if its personification exists reincarnated in this time, I have yet to find it. That worries me. But another aspect has already manifested itself.
And poses a threat."
"What would that be?"
With barely a trace of bitterness, Merlin said, "The eternal ability of the human race to make a muddle of the best laid plans. A shapely monkey wrench has entered the works, and Arthur has cheerfully put it into the toolbox." He shook his head in wonderment. "Sometimes I think there's just no understanding that man, no matter how many centuries I know him."
Chaptre the Tenth
Arthur was in tremendous spirits when he came into the office the next morning. "Good morning, Gladys!" he said cheerfully to the receptionist.
She looked up at him with less than a kindly expression. "I can't stand it."
"Gladys, my sweet, nothing is going to dampen my mood. Not even you." He leaned over her desk and whispered con-spiratorially, "But exactly what is it that you can't stand, hmmm?"
"First you have those two drug-addicted freaks out beating the drums for you-"
"Are you referring to Groucho and Chico, two of my most dedicated helpmates?" he asked archly.
"Right, the freaks. And then you hire that shrinking violet to be your personal secretary-"
'I heard that!" shouted an enraged Gwen, storming out of the alcove where her desk was situated. Her breast was heaving furiously in righteous indignation as she spat out, "Look, Gladys, you've been on my case since Day One. And if you're going to talk about me behind my back, the least you could do is do it when I'm not right around the corner." She turned on Arthur and pointed an angry finger at the receptionist. "Why is she such a shrew anyway?"
Arthur tilted his head and regarded her with a questioning stare. "I will answer your question, Gwen, if you will answer mine."
"What? What are you-"
"Gladys acts like a shrew because Gladys is a shrew," Arthur said reasonably. "We needed an immediate office worker, so Merlin transformed her. But the problem is that you can change a creature's basic appearance, but you can never change the basic nature of that creature. Once a shrew, always a shrew. Right, Gladys?"
Gladys glared at him and growled deep in her throat. Arthur smiled and turned back to Gwen. "Now my question-why are you wearing sunglasses?"
"What?" Gwen touched the shades that perched on her nose, obscuring her eyes. "Oh, right.
I felt like it. It's sunny out."
"Now why," said Arthur slowly, "do I have trouble believing that?"
Gwen laughed unpleasantly. "What, I'm supposed to believe you, with that cock and bull story about changing rodents into people? Get real, Arthur."
She started to turn, but Arthur abruptly whirled her around by the shoulder and yanked off the glasses.
"Good lord," he said softly.
Gwen's eye was blackened and swollen. And it was clear that it was just beginning to swell-it would be much worse before it got much better.
"Who did this to you?"
"No one. I walked into a door."
She tried to pull away, but he gripped her firmly by both shoulders. His face was only inches away from hers, and his voice was low and intense. "Who," he repeated with forced calm,
"did this to you?"
"I punched myself in the eye."
"You hit yourself?"
"Yes."
"In the eye?"
"That's right."
"Why in God's name would you do that?"
"I was aiming at my nose and I missed."
The door opened and Merlin marched in, Percy Vale in tow. "Arthur, we're back!"
Gwen took advantage of Arthur's momentary distraction to pull away from him and dash over to her alcove. Arthur started to follow her but she came flying back, her purse in her hand. She snatched the sunglasses from Arthur's hand and tried to jam them quickly onto her face. She succeeded only in poking herself in her right eye, and she moaned in pain.
"Gwen, for pity's sake-"
"Leave me alone!" she sobbed. "Don't you understand? I thought you'd be out again today for signatures! I didn't want you to see me like this! Oh, God . . ." and she ran out of the office, wobbling on her high heels.
Sensing what the king was about to do, Merlin said sharply, "Arthur! Don't you go after her."
"But Merlin-"
"Wart! Don't do it!" And then he softened his voice. "Give her time. She's going to have to deal with it herself."
Arthur was still clearly uncertain, and Merlin cursed inwardly. Never had he known a man of a more decisive, unwinding nature than Arthur-except where it came to women. And this woman, in particular. Remembering how he had resolved to solve this problem, Merlin said quickly, "Arthur, I'd like you to meet Percy Vale. Percy's the new accountant we were discussing."
"Oh. Right." He shook Percy's hand firmly. Percy smiled hesitantly until he realized that Arthur was staring intently at his eyes. "Is, uh, is something wrong, Mr. Penn?" he asked.
"What? Oh, no, nothing's wrong except . . . well, I could just swear I know you from somewhere." He looked at Merlin uncertainly. "Percy Vale, Merlin? Are you sure that-"
"It's coincidence, Arthur. Trust me." He spread his hands innocently. "Have I ever lied to you?"
"Probably," said Arthur reasonably. "I've just never caught you at it, that's all. Welcome to our little group, Percy."
"It's a pleasure to be here, sir. I'm sorry if I came at a bad time."
"Well, one can never know when the inappropriate times are going to occur."
The phone rang and Gladys promptly picked it up. "Arthur Penn's office," she said brightly.
She paused, nodded, then put the phone on hold. "There's a Mr. Dredd wanting to talk to you," she said.
Arthur frowned and turned to Merlin. "Dredd?"
"Yes," said Gladys. "Moe Dredd."
"Modred!" He pointed an accusatory finger at Merlin. "There is a pattern! There is reincarnation! And she is Guinevere, isn't she?"
"Now Arthur-"
With one quick movement he was standing before Merlin, and with another he was holding the startled wizard in the air by the scruff of the neck. "It's her, isn't it!"
"Yes! Yes, damn you!" Merlin screeched in a voice filled with fury and fear. "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. We belong together!"
"You belong in an asylum!" Merlin's legs pumped furiously. "Put me down!"
Arthur 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.
Percy moved toward Merlin, but the prone magician waved him off.
"Uh, Merlin ... I know I just got here and everything, but if it's okay, I'd like to offer a piece of advice."
Slowly Merlin turned his head to Percy. "And what . . . might that be?"
"If Arthur convinces Gwen to come back with him, I wouldn't get in his way. If I'm not out of line here."
"Point... taken, Percy."
Gladys bounded to her feet. Her wig bobbed on her head. "You can't mean that! I can't stand her! Everything about her is 'just so.' Her hair is just so, her dress is just so, her makeup is-"
Merlin staggered to his feet. "I get the picture, Gladys."
"No you don't! If she comes back, I'm leaving." Her voice rose in indignation. "I don't have to put up with this! I have rights! I-"
With pure fury in his eyes Merlin said, "Gladys, you don't have to quit." He clenched his right fist and then extended his thumb, index finger, and little finger, and pointed at Gladys. He spoke quickly, in a tongue that humanity had not heard in 73
fifteen centuries. Eldritch energy sparkled from his hand, bathing Gladys in its light, catching her in mid sentence. Within less than the blink of an eye, Gladys was gone.
Percy could not believe what he'd seen. And in the next second he couldn't believe what he heard-with an angry squeal a small, gray furry creature with a long nose darted from behind the desk, scampered across the floor and ran under the couch.
"You're fired," Merlin said to the rodent cowering under the couch. "I'm going down to the pet store right now and arranging for your replacement. You're going to love her."
Merlin smoothed out his brown hair and straightened his T-shirt. "Percy," he said, "mind things until I get back."
"O-okay, Merlin."
"I don't want any more bizarreness today."
At that moment Chico and Groucho burst in, stumbling over each other in their excitement.
"We got it," crowed Chico. "We have got freakin' if!"
"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 Groucho, "don't thank us all at once, y'know."
She had managed to stop crying, but her face was still tear-streaked as Gwen fumbled for her apartment keys in her purse. She breathed silent invocations, thinking, Please, please, please don't let him be at home.
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 relief. She didn't know where he was and she didn't care. At least he wasn't at home.
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. Lance walked over to her, laughing loudly, and took her chin in his hand, turning her head this way and that.
"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 oi 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. "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!"
"Yeah?" He got louder, angrier, and he advanced on her, his fist clenching and unclenching.
"And I can do it again. And again. I'm tired of your superiority attitude. I thought you understood me. But you're just ignorant, like all the rest. Ignorant! But I'm gonna teach you!"
He swung his fist back. Gwen shrieked, throwing up her hands to defend herself.
A hand closed around Lance's wrist from behind.
Lance moaned in surprise as he felt a bone bend under the sudden stress. Then he was spun around, and Arthur, shorter than Lance, glared up at him. "You've made your last mistake," said Arthur in a deadly calm voice.
Arthur pulled him forward quickly and rammed his knee up into the pit of Lance's stomach.
Lance gasped as the side of Arthur's hand slammed into his temple. Stars exploded before his eyes as he dropped to the ground, arms wrapped around his gut.
Arthur's lip curled in a snarl. "You piece of dirt. You don't deserve to live."
Gwen's eyes widened in shock as Arthur, still nattily attired in a royal-blue, three-piece suit, reached to his left hip under lais coat. For a moment she thought he was about to draw a gun. Instead there was the smooth sound of metal on metal as Excalibur was drawn from its sheath. In the dimness of the apartment the sword glowed with a life all its own.
Lance scuttled back, crablike, toward the wall, never taking his terrified eyes from the darkly furious face of the warrior king. Arthur knocked a lamp out of the way with a sweep of the sword, advancing on Lance until the frightened man could back up no farther. He pulled his knees up to his chin like a frightened fetus and tried to stammer something, but failed.
Arthur poised with Excalibur over his head and brought the sword whizzing down.
Gwen screamed.
The sword came to a halt with the cutting edge barely touching the top of Lance's head.
Arthur grinned wolfishly. "What's the matter, fellow? Can't you take a joke?"
He took two steps back and sheathed the sword. But there was no amusement in his voice as he said, "Consider yourself fortunate that you did not have a weapon. For although I would not slay an unarmed man, I would cheerfully have gutted you from sternum to crotch, given the slightest opportunity. If you ever come near this woman again, nothing will stop me from taking your life. Is that understood?"
Lance's mouth moved in the formation of the words "Yes, sir," but nothing came out.
"I'll take that as an acknowledgment of our understanding."
He turned and walked over to Gwen with a relaxed, easy step. "I-" she stammered.
"It's all right, Gwen."
"I thought you were going to kill Lance just then."
"Lance?" He turned slowly, with narrowed eyes. "Lance. Lance what? It wouldn't be Lance Lake, would it?"
"W-what?" said Lance from his place on the floor.
"Lake. Or something to that effect?"
"No. It's Lance Benson."
"Good. Lancelot du Lac deserved better than you. I'm glad you are not he."
He looked down at Gwen, who was sprawled on the couch. With infinite tenderness he leaned over and picked her up, cradling her in his arms. "Why?"
She couldn't look at him, but she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Why what?" she whispered.
"Why did you come back here?"
"I had nowhere else to go."
He basked in the warmth of her body, held close to him. "Now you do."
He walked with her to the door. He looked back at Lance, who still cowered in the corner, then smiled again and said, "Have a nice day," and left with Gwen in his arms.
They went down to the street, and Arthur called "Taxi!" to the first unoccupied cab he saw.
The cab swung over to the curb and the cabbie, a middle-aged Jewish man, looked out the window at them and said, "I think you'll have to put her down to get in."
"I believe you're right," said Arthur.
He let Gwen down to the ground and they popped into the back. As Arthur pulled the door shut behind them, Gwen said, "I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't believ
e when you whipped out your sword-"
"Heyl" said the cabbie angrily. "It's pretty obvious that you two are on your honeymoon, but let's keep the filthy talk to a minimum, okay?"
"Yes, sir," said Arthur meekly. He glanced over at Gwen and winked, and she smiled. It was her first real smile in weeks.
"So you two lovebirds want to tell me where you're going?"
"Yes," said Arthur. "Central Park."
"Sounds good." The car eased its way into the busy lunch hour traffic.
"Central Park?" said Gwen. "What's there?"
"My home away from home."
"Oh." She paused. "Thank you. About not hurting Lance."
Arthur turned and looked at her. "But he hurt you."
"I suppose in a way he was right. I had only myself to blame. Because I let him get away with it. But never again."
"That's the way I like my queen to talk."
She looked up at him dreamily. "I'm really your queen? You're really-"
"Yes. lam."
"And I'm really-"
"I think so."
"How can we know for certain?"
Arthur smiled. "I'll know."
Chaptre the Eleventh
Bernard B. Bittberg was accustomed to coming out of City Council meetings and being surrounded by the press. He smiled now into the cameras as they crowded around him on the steps of the big marble building he'd just left. Bernard struck a dramatic pose, one hand jauntily on his ample hip, his head cocked to one side, a smile plastered across his face.
Moe floated unobtrusively in the background.
Bernard waited for questions about his plans for his campaign, his opinions on the current hot issues, his plans for the city if elected. And it was a tribute to Bernard B. Bittberg's skill as a politician that when the first question out of a reporter's mouth was, "What do you think of Arthur Penn's chances in the upcoming mayoral race?" he did not turn and slug the questioner.
"He's made quite a splash with his soapbox speeches, Ber-nie," shouted the reporter from Channel 4 news. "And some of the proposals he's made are quite unorthodox. Do you have any comment on-"
Bernard waved off the question and managed to keep his smile glued on his mouth. "Now boys, I have all of Mr. Penn's proposals under consideration, and before I make further comment I'm getting the opinion of my advisors on the matter. That's all, that's all." And he brushed by the reporters with uncharacteristic abruptness.
