In the next room, Fizban was becoming exasperated.
|
[Fizban] Come on Mnem, you're being unreasonable. [Mnemosyne] Oh of course, and wanting to take your girlfriend back in time to meet one of her heroes is perfectly reasonable. [Fizban] There's no need to be sarcastic. [Mnemosyne] That's never stopped me before. [Fizban] I don't see the problem. I just want to take Sonson back to the 1940's so she can play a duet with Charlie Parker. [Mnemosyne] You can't just travel in time willy-nilly. Time travel is tightly policed, it's only allowed when its necessary to preserve the time stream. [Fizban] So if I found a recording of Charlie Parker and Sonson playing a duet that would prove that it was necessary? [Mnemosyne] It would, but no such recording exists. I checked. [Fizban] Can't you at least put me in touch with Virgin? She took us back before. [Mnemosyne] That trip was necessary, the bonsai tree had to be created. This is just some fancy joyride. [Fizban] Can't you at least put me in touch with her, so she can decide. [Mnemosyne] You're being very persistant with this, why is this surprise so important? It's not an anniversary or birthday, is it? [Fizban] That's the point, it will make the surprise all the more unexpected. [Mnemosyne] Oh no! Don't you dare do this! Don't you dare try and appeal to my romantic side. [Fizban] Well just think how you'd feel if you loved one sorted out that sort of surprise for you. [Mnemosyne] OK, OK, I'll get Virgin to visit you. [Fizban] Thanks. [Mnemosyne] Manipulating bastard. |
"How am I doing now?" Sonson said gasping as she finished a set of moves.
"Not bad, I think you're close-"
"-to the point where you're ready to see a real sword," the plants replied.
"See one?" Sonson asked, incredulous.
"It's a very serious-"
"-matter, seeing your sword."
Sonson stifled a giggle as the dirtier parts of her mind noticed what was said. She struggled to keep them out of the conversation. "But why? Surely practicing with a proper sword forms much more of the learning than practicing with a wooden stick?"
"You might think so, but you asked-"
"-to learn our way, so you're learning our way," the plants explained.
"So I'm not going to get to use a sword until I'm good enough with a staff to slice someone's head off." Sonson shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, realising how sweaty she was from the exercise.
"Don't be snide, it doesn't-"
"-suit one learning swordplantship."
"I'm going to take a shower," Sonson said, putting down her staff and leaving the room.
As soon as Sonson was in the shower Fizban starting rifling through her wardrobes.
What are you doing? Larkin thought at him as he removed clothes from there by the armful.
"Shsh!" Fizban hissed, "It's a surprise."
Oh, like 'Surprise dear, I've stolen all your clothes!'?
"No, not like that. You'll find out when Sonson does."
I'll tell her!
"No, you won't, cause you know how much she likes surprises, and because even if my scheme seems a little strange at the moment, you do trust me."
Okay, you win, Larkin conceded. But the surprise had better be worth it.
"Oh it is. Larkin, whenever you have doubts about what I do, just remember who it was who rescued you from that card shop in Hull."
You didn't rescue me, you bought me. And you looked at several other bears first.
"Details, details," Fizban muttered as he left the room with Sonson's clothes. Minutes later when he had hidden them he returned with a white dress, which he hung in the wardrobe just as there was a knock at the door.
"Hi Virgin," Fizban said as he yanked the door open, hoping Sonson hadn't heard the knock.
"So, what's this about a trip back in time," Virgin asked as she stepped inside.
"You don't mess around, do you?" Fizban replied, disconcerted by Virgin's direct approach.
"No, I don't. Mnemosyne said something about you wanting to take Sonson on a romantic excursion through time."
"Well, yes. I guess that's about right."
"And what gave you the impression that I would agree to it?"
"Well, I thought I would do what I did with Mnem and try and appeal to your romantic side."
"I don't have one," Virgin replied.
"You don't? Isn't there a shred of warmth in your personality I could appeal to?" Fizban said, almost pleading.
"No. Fizban, I'm a bounty hunter. What's more, I'm one who travels in time and is sworn to preserve the timestream, there's not much room for warmth and friendliness in a job like that. I'm so cold I make absolute zero seem romantic."
"So how do I get round you then?" Fizban said, now feeling totally out of his depth.
"You don't. However, if you explain what you've got planned, I'll assess what effect your trip will have on the timestream and whether or not it's beneficial."
"Erm, okay," Fizban hesitated. "I want to take Sonson back in time so she can play a saxophone duet with Charlie Parker."
"Right," Virgin said, "And have you realised all the possible problems with this? Where is she going to get a saxophone from, for example?"
"That's a silly question isn't it? She'd take her own."
"Fizban, travelling through time is risky. Taking luggage with you, that's downright dangerous."
"Why? What can a saxophone do?"
"What if the saxophone is lost or stolen while you're elsewhere in time? Or worse still, what if it is lost while you're travelling the timestream? It could end up anywhere, anytime, and, well, not to put too fine a point on it, really fuck things up."
"Just a saxophone?"
"Just a saxophone. Taking objects through time is dangerous. And as for that bonsai tree of yours, well, forget it."
"Huh?" Fizban said, not entirely sure why the bonsai tree was relevant.
"Bonsai trees are not allowed to travel through time, or be taken through time."
"That's sounds a bit harsh. Why not?"
"A guy once took a bonsai tree through time, and lost it. Then, he thought he'd found it again, only he'd found an older version of the tree than he should of. Him and the older tree were pulled into a parallel universe, to where the lost version of the tree had ended up."
"Yeah?" Fizban said, not entirely sure he followed what Virgin was saying. "Then what happened?"
"Then," Virgin said, taking a deep breath, "Things got really complicated..."
|
They reached the cliff edge. It was quite obvious that a
fair amount of the city had been lost to the sea - along the shore were bits
of building, corroded vehicles, discarded cans of woodseal, and thousands of
Rubik's Cubes. A short way along the cliff edge was a building that seemed to
be completely intact. "Typical," Dragor said, "A whole city laid waste and
the only building left standing is an all night Kebab House." "I must feeling very strange," the bonsai tree said suddenly, its leaves shaking as if it was frightened, "and tingle." "That means we must be close," Virgin announced. "There!" Dragor squeaked, pointing at the ground just in front of the takeaway, "It's the other tree." "Good," Virgin replied, "let's just hope there's no backlash." The ground started to shake. The sea started to bubble, as if it was boiling. Large bits of rubble started falling from the taller ruins. "What's going on?" Dragor asked. "Backlash." "Should've known." "Drop the tree, quick." Dragor did so. Sparks of energy started appearing out of nowhere and moving towards both bonsai trees. The shaking got worse. Large columns of water started punching upwards out of the sea. The trees seemed to be absorbing the energy that was flowing towards them, both were glowing brightly. Suddenly there was a bright flash, as if a bolt of lightning had passed between the two trees. They both vanished. The rumbling and shaking stopped as quickly as it had started. Dragor stood staring, his jaw opening and closing without any words coming out. He pointed in turn at the places the tree had been. "Bugger!" Virgin exclaimed. "What happened?" "Backlash. The two versions of the tree cancelled each other out, a bit like matter and anti-matter." "Does that mean I'm stuck here?" "That's the least of our worries. We've just done to history what Jeremy Paxman does to politicians." "Oh fuck," Dragor muttered, realising she probably had a point. Then, suddenly, he smiled. "Well, at least I'm still in one piece." The ground beneath him was unable to ignore such a stupid remark, and gave way, falling towards the sea. Virgin lunged forward, throwing herself onto the ground at the edge of the drop, and grabbed his tie before he fell out of reach. Dragor grimaced, feeling himself start to slide downwards as his tie started slipping out of Virgin's grip. "Oops," he mumbled. Dragor's tie started to stretch as Virgin tightened her grip on it. "If I get out of this," he began, "You will promise not to remind me that I said something so stupid, won't you?" "After all the shit you've given me? You are joking, aren't you?" Virgin replied as she struggled to reach him. "I wouldn't worry though," she continued, "I don't think this universe is going to remain in existence long enough for me to take the piss." "Terrific," Dragor mumbled. Then his tie snapped, and he plummeted towards the rocks and rubble below. "Oh Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" he screamed, spinning over and over as he fell. He braced himself for the impact, even though he knew there was probably very little he could do to help his body survive crashing into freshly formed jagged rocks that were being buffeted by a raging sea. One of the possibilities that hadn't occurred to him was instigating temporal backlash so that the rocks, the sea, and in fact everything else that belonged in that universe ceased to exist. Luckily this had already happened, and by the time Dragor hit the rocks they weren't actually there. With no bang, no whimper, not even the sound of a wasp's fart, the universe ended, leaving Virgin and Dragor floating in a temporal void.
"Phew!" Virgin said to herself as she hung in nothingness. She pulled a small black box out of her jacket and tapped a few buttons on it. She vanished, then reappeared next to where Dragor was floating a few hundred metres away.
They materialised inside the Kebab House, just in front of the counter. There were ten or so tables behind them, two of them occupied by solitary figures who did not look at all happy. Dragor ignored them and started to read the menu on the wall behind the counter. A large sign above the menu read "Welcome to the Tanelorn Kebab House."
"Wow!" Dragor squeaked as he walked into the tracking room. "It looks like something out of an H. G. Wells novel." The room was full of antique looking equipment, although the intricacy of the controls gave away the fact that this was in fact incredibly sophisticated gear.
Dragor appeared outside his flat, and felt a little disoriented. Everything that had just happened had been very confusing, and even though he didn't fully understand how he had come to arrive where he was, his new surroundings were reassuringly familiar. Virgin plugged the computer keyboard into the large globe, then took a deep breath. Trembling, she held down the Ctrl and Alt keys, then pressed Delete. |
"Well," Beren said as he emerged from the mousehole behind Fizban's computer complex. "I doubt anyone was expecting that. I certainly wasn't."
"You didn't expect Virgin to let them go back in time?" Luthien asked him. "It would be a short story if she didn't."
"No, silly, I didn't expect an continuation of the long-standing cliffhanger from the old stories to appear in the middle of this one."
"I bet you'd been wondering what happened there though?"
"Well, kind of, yes," Beren said thoughtfully. "But I'd put it down as one of those mysteries that are never solved that no one really cares about. You know, like why a tour of all the charity shops in any given town will always turn up a Thompson Twins twelve inch and a copy of Jason Donovan's 'Ten Good Reasons', or why that bloke from Travis is so obsessed with some fib he told when he was seventeen."
"You really are a cynic, Beren."
"It's the only way to survive in this house," he muttered.
Minutes later, Sonson came downstairs in the white dress Fizban had left in her wardrobe. She didn't look happy about it. "What the hell is this?" she said, gesturing at the dress. As well as being white, it was low cut, and, for want of a better word, floaty.
"It's part of a surprise." Fizban said, as if that explained everything.
"Some surprise," Sonson snapped back. "I look like that Drusilla bint out of Buffy. What's the rest of the surprise? An ancient artifact that will turn me into some giant monster?"
"Er, no."
"And where are the rest of my clothes?"
"I hid them. It was the only way I could think of to make sure you wore the dress."
Sonson sighed as if she had the world monopoly on exasperation. "What ever happened to leaving an outfit on the floor with a note saying 'Wear this'?"
"I didn't think of that. Anyway, it's supposed to be a 1940's dress."
"I guess on a dark night it could pass for 1940's," Sonson said, looking down at herself. "What do I need a 1940's dress for?"
"We're going back in time to the 1940's, so you can play a duet with Charlie Parker."
Sonson looked at Fizban for a while, looking for signs that he was winding her up. When it became obvious that none were going to appear she smiled warmly, and threw her arms round him. "Cool!" she exclaimed.
"You'll need to take your saxophone along," Fizban explained. "Of course, this does all depend on us being able to persuade Charlie Parker to play a duet with you, but we're making the trip to try."
"That's wonderful!" Sonson said, now wearing the clichéd expression known as 'grinning like a cheshire cat'. "When do we leave?"
There was another knock at the door.
"Now, I guess," Fizban said, going to open the door.
A distinguished looking oriental man with greying hair stood on the doorstep. "Good evening," he said. "My name is Muentaquasabi Lintosaka, I will be your driver for your trip into the past." He shook Fizban's hand warmly, while Fizban did his best not to stare at the man's long thing moustache and goatie beard.
"I'm Fizban," Fizban replied, "Nice to meet you, I guess."
"And you're the young lady with the saxophone," Muentaquasabi said, turning to Sonson. "I must say my dear you look quite beautiful in that dress." Normally a man his age would be unable to say that to a young woman he had just met without sounding lecherous. Coming from Muentaquasabi it just sounded very polite.
"Thank you. I'm Sonson, by the way." Sonson half expected him to take her hand and kiss it.
"If you would like to fetch your saxophone, we can prepare it for the trip."
"Prepared!" Sonson exclaimed suddenly. "What do you have to do to it?" Her tone stated clearly that the answer to this question had better be good.
Muentaquasabi produced an aerosol from the folds of his outfit. "I just need to spray it with nanotracers - that way if by any misfortune your saxophone is lost in the timestream we will be able to trace it without any problem. It's just a precaution, it won't harm the saxophone at all."
Sonson exhaled, relieved. "Oh, that's okay then, I guess. I'll just fetch it then." She disappeared back inside.
"Wow!" Fizban said, noticing the taxi for the first time. "Cool wheels!"
"Indeed," the older man replied. "It's based on a design that will be rather popular in around thirty years time. Its top speed is somewhere around 250mph when airborne."
"Airborne?" Fizban asked in amazement.
"Yes, it can hover steadily at up to 200feet above ground level."
Fizban opened his mouth to speak, then stopped to think for a moment. "I guess you've heard all the Back to the Future jokes?"
"Several hundred times each, I believe."
"I won't try to come up with a new one then."
"I'm very grateful. If you can get through the whole trip without trying, you'll qualify for a 10% discount."
"I'll do my best," Fizban grinned.
Sonson returned with her saxophone. She held the case open for Muentaquasabi while he sprayed inside it, then shut it protectively. When the old man offered to carry it to the car for her, she clutched the case against herself and pulled a face, then walked to the taxi. The old man shrugged then followed her to the car, opening the boot to stow the saxophone for their journey. They all got in.
"I don't want to sound rude," Fizban said as they set off, "But Mutle... Menu..."
"Muentaquasabi Lintosaka?" the old man offered helpfully.
"Yeah, that," Fizban continued, "Is rather a long name. Is there anything shorter we can call you by?"
Muentaquasabi sighed wearily. "Where I come from we shorten our names by reducing them to the first syllable of each name. So you may call me Muh-Lin. I just wish that every once in a while I could have passengers who could handle my full name."
Fizban mumbled to himself while counting on his fingers before speaking again. "You've got to admit though, a ten syllable name is quite unusual."
"I know," Muh-Lin replied. "My parents were rather traditional though. Don't see what's so traditional about not being able to pronounce your own name until you're five though."
"Oh well, have you thought about-"
Fizban stopped suddenly as the view outside the car windows changed abruptly. They had turned off the main road a into what until a second ago had looked like the entrance to a field. There had been a sudden flash outside and the scene of a wide open field had been replaced with that of a long, single carriageway road extending off into the distance. On either side and above them was a strange iridescent mist. It was as if the road was inside a tunnel through the mist.
"Fucking hell!" Fizban exclaimed.
"It's the timestream," Muh-Lin explained. "It's best not to look at it directly for too long, unless of course you think you can handle overly vivid precognitive visions. Try to watch the road ahead or become preoccupied with the car's decor."
Fizban started to fidget with the air conditioning.
"What's this, Muh-Lin?" Sonson called from the back. She had found a long thin case, which was now resting on her lap.
A worried look crossed Muh-Lin's face. "It's my sword. The best sword ever made."
"What are you doing carrying a sword in the back of a taxi?" Sonson asked.
"Looking after it. Because the sword is so perfect, it's dangerous to leave it in the timestream. Anyone who got their hands on it would have a terribly unfair advantage. The safest place to keep it is inside a time machine."
"Would you mind if I had a look at it?" Sonson asked, trying not to sound eager.
"I would be quite happy to show it to you later," Muh-Lin said slowly as he concentrated on the road, which had developed a series of bends. "But I'd prefer it if you left it secure in it's- Oh fuck!" Muh-Lin exclaimed as a car coming the other way appeared round a bend in the middle of the road. He spun the steering wheel, swerving in an attempt to avoid the other car, but it clipped the back of the taxi, sending it careering towards the edge of the road. There was a quiet thumping sound from the back of the car as the boot door flew open. "Shit!" Muh-Lin said, swearing for the second time in his life as the car sped off the road and plunged into the timestream.
Arthur reached the shore of Lake Avalon panting and muttering curses to himself. He got even angrier when the panting got in the way of the muttering. Needing a vent for his rage, he grabbed a small stone and threw it out across the lake, then turned back to face the hill. He spun back to face the lake when he heard a huge splash, far too big to be the stone he threw. He was coated in spray, and saw large ripples eminating from about fifty metres away.
Sonson and Fizban started panicking as the taxi sank towards the lake's bottom. "Ohmygodwe'regonnadie!" they both screeched, slightly out of synch with each other.
"Calm down," Muh-Lin said. "Like any good time machine, this one is equipped to cope with terrible accidents. For starters, there are ejector seats. Sonson, ladies first. And hang on to that box, the sword must be kept safe."
"Okkkaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" Sonson replied as she was flung violently upwards out of the car.
"Hmmmm," Muh-Lin said afterwards, "Perhaps the ejector power is set a little too high. This should be more comfortable, Fizban."
Arthur watched in awe as a woman flew upwards out of the lake. The box she was holding fell open, and a magnificent sword tumbled out of it. The woman, the box, and the sword arced through the air towards the lake's edge. The woman and the box landed in some reeds just off the lake shore, and the sword plunged into a large boulder on the grassy beach.
"Fuckin' 'ell," Arthur muttered, and ran over the hill to tell his companions.
"Bugger," Sonson said, aching all over as she picked her way through the reeds to the shore. She looked at the sword, firmly esconced in the boulder. "Bollocks," she added.
Fizban surfaced and started swimming towards the shore. Once the water was shallow enough he stood up and waded the rest of the way. "What did you go and do that for?" he asked, looking at the rock. "Muh-Lin asked you to keep the sword safe."
"It came out of the box when he tried to put me in orbit," Sonson hissed at him. "He can look after his own weapon next time."
Fizban sniggered, and wondered if Sonson had realised what she had said. "Hey, I've got a cool idea." He started searching his pockets. "It could almost be the sword in the stone, don't you think." He found a marker pen in one of his pockets and started scribbling on the boulder.
"Whosoever yanks this sword out of this rock shall be the rightful King of England." Sonson read out, watching him. "I'm sure Muh-Lin will be very impressed with you for doing that." Sonson's brain started kicking into overdrive as she pieced several facts together, coming to a conclusion that left her not knowing whether to laugh or run screaming in panic.
Fizban grinned. "Looks cool, don't you think?"
Sonson noticed Muh-Lin emerge from the water, then spotted the figures riding over a hill beside the lake. "Fiz darling, I think we should hide," she said firmly.
Fizban opened his mouth and began to protest, but in the meantime his subconscious recognised Sonson's no-bullshit tone and assumed control of his legs. He followed Sonson into a wooded area beside the lake.
"See," said Arthur as he lead the Warlords up to the boulder. "A sword, in the stone. Just where the Lady left it."
"This would be the Lady of the Lake?" Lord Ender asked, sceptically.
"Lord Ender, I believe we have a problem," Lord Prize said, examining the other side of the boulder.
"I concur," said Lord Face, standing next to him.
Lord Ender wandered around the rock and read the lettering on it. He grunted. "Pulling swords out of rock is hardly proof of regality."
Lord Pass stepped forward. "Lord Ender has a point. However, we are looking at a sword mysteriously thrown from a lake and embedded in a rock by an elegant lady in a white dress. Furthermore, we see this proclamation on the rock, while we are ourselves on a journey to Camelot to settle the matter of the succession, following Uther's unfortunate accident during stunt topiary practice. I think we have sufficient evidence to declare this to be a sign."
"I second Lord Pass' motion to declare this string of events a sign," Lord Prize said. "All those not in favour cough noisily."
Silence followed.
"Right, settled then," Lord Pass said, after a brief wait. "All form an orderly queue, we'll take it in turns to try and pull the sword out."
Lord Prize (who had assumed he would be picked by the others to be King when they got to Camelot) decided his place was at the front of the queue. He stepped up to the boulder, and closed his armoured hand around the haft of the sword. As soon as he touched it, a series of blue sparks ran up his arm. He yelped and let go of the sword. "Fuck-a-doodle-doo!" he exclaimed. "That hurt!"
Lord Ender (who had made similar assumptions to Lord Prize) was next in the queue. He sniggered and strode forward to take his turn. As soon as his hand closed round the sword, a similar thing happened. As the electricity shot up his arm his muscles spasmed, flicking his hand upwards into Lord Prize's face. Lord Pass hurried forward and pushed the two warlords apart, hoping to avert any retaliation.
"What is the deal with that Sword?" Lord Prize asked angrily.
"It's waiting for the King to grab hold of it," Arthur said, milling around. "If whoever pulls it out is the rightful King it's hardly going to let anyone nab it, is it? I would've thought that was obvious."
Muh-Lin reached the boulder. "The boy shows wisdom," he said. "The sword is the most perfect ever made. Only a true swordsman may wield it."
"Are you saying I am not a true swordsman?" Lord Prize asked angrily. "I'm the best swordsman in the land. Who the sodding hell are you anyway?"
"My name is Muentaquasabi Lintosaka," Muh-Lin said somberly. He watched with amusement as the warlords muttered to themselves, trying to remember all the syllables in his name. After a suitable pause he continued. "But you can call me Muh-Lin. You say you are the best swordsman in the land. Being able to best others with a sword does not make you a true swordsman, it only makes you a better swordsman than those you defeat."
"'Ere," said Arthur, prodding Muh-Lin. "I saw you climb out of the lake, how come your clothes are dry?"
Muh-Lin coughed nervously. "Er, heating elements within the cloth help the fabric dry out."
"Witchcraft!" Lord Pass hissed.
"He can't be a witch," Arthur protested, "He hasn't got a pointy hat. Or huge tits."
"Oh yeah," Lord Pass said, lowering his head in confusion.
Lord Kit pushed forward to the front of the queue. "I'm gonna have a go. I've been struck by lightning five times, I think I can handle a few sparks." He grabbed the sword quickly, and managed to withdraw it from the stone a couple of inches before his eyes glazed over and he toppled forward, unconcious.
"Let me try," Arthur said, jumping forward. "I do have a destiny after all." He took hold of the sword, then raised it slowly.
Most of the Lords gathered around started gasping in surprise as he failed to receive any form of shock from the sword. Lord Prize, however, was less impressed. "Oh bollocks to that!" he spat. "He's not a fucking swordsman. He just cooks for us each night."
Lord Pass gave Prize a stern look. "You agreed to abide by the swords decision when you seconded my motion to declare this a sign." He turned to Arthur. "Sire, you have shown yourself to be the rightful King of England, by virtue of pulling a sword out of a lump of rock. We place ourselves at your disposal and will happily escort you to Camelot for your Coronation."
Arthur's posture had changed. He no longer slouched like a disgruntled teenager. There were only subtle changes, but with the minimum effort necessary his body had moved from a half-slouch to a regal stance. The inflection in his voice had changed too, in similar ways. Insistant whining had become the insistance of authority. "First I will knight you all, so that others shall recognise you as representatives of my authority." The boy appeared in his face again briefly, sporting a sly grin. "And know that you'll give their arses a fucking good kicking if you cross me." He raised the sword. "Kneel, Lord Pass."
Lord Pass knelt on the floor, solemnly. "I pledge my allegiance to you, my liege."
"Arise, Sir Pass." Arthur said, firmly. "Though you be the first of my knights, you shall not be first among them. All shall be equal. Step forward, Lord Ender."
Fizban edged out of the woods and sidled up to Muh-Lin. "That all seems to have worked out nicely," he said, in a similar tone to that a guilty six year old would use to say "I didn't do it, honest."
Muh-Lin turned to face Fizban. "Virgin said that about you when she sent me to get you. She said you had a streak of naive, innocent mischief running through you that had a tendency to set history in motion without realising it. All the same, don't ever do anything like that when you're travelling with me again."
Fizban nodded, and decided to stare at his feet for a while.
"It's the Lady of the Lake!" Arthur exclaimed, pointing at Sonson as she emerged from the woods. Several among the knights and warlords gathered around him started wolf-whistling and making other suggestive noises.
Fizban looked up. "Erm, Sonson dear, your dress has gone see-through."
Sonson looked down at herself. "Shit, I knew it was a bad idea to wear black knickers underneath this."
"Wearing a bra might've helped too," Fizban added.
Muh-Lin lead Sonson and Fizban away from the crowd. "It will take a day or so for the taxi's auto-repair systems to undo the damage from the crash. In the meantime, I suggest we travel with them to Camelot. I have a feeling it will be expected of us anyway."
"What about my saxophone?" Sonson asked sternly. "I'm not leaving it sitting at the bottom of a lake."
Muh-Lin squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, his masculine instinct telling him there was no good way to phrase what he had to tell her. "Your saxophone is not at the bottom of the lake. When the other car hit us the boot came open. The saxophone will have surfaced elsewhere in the timestream. We should be able to retrieve it within minutes of its arrival once the taxi is repaired, using the nanotrackers. Don't worry, my dear."
Sonson frowned, fighting the need to shout at Muh-Lin. "But..." she began.
Fizban took her arm. "Come on dear, lets go to Camelot."
They rode into Camelot Castle early the next morning, the excitement of the previous day having slowed them down. Sir Prize had riden ahead the night before to have the castle prepare for Arthur's arrival. Crowds of people lined the road leading up to the castle, cheering and singing. A small group near the castle appeared to have gathered to protest to the new King at the refusal of some Gaulish traders to buy their cattle, but apart from that everyone seemed to be in good spirits.
Arthur lead the party into the Castle, flanked by Sir Face, Sir Loin, Sir Mount and the drunken Sir Rosis. The other newly knighted warlords followed, with Fizban, Sonson and Muh-Lin bringing up the rear.
"I've never been in a parade before," Fizban said, unsure how to cope with all the attention.
"Want my saxophone," Sonson mumbled grumpily.
Muh-Lin sighed angrily. "That's all you've said all bloody morning. I told you, we will be able to get your saxophone back unharmed as soon as we are able to leave here."
Sonson turned to face the old man and stuck her tongue out. "Not talking to you," she muttered, "you lost my saxophone."
Fizban shook his head in despair, then noticed a group of seven knights riding about half a mile behind them. "Camelot has visitors," he said to the other two. "I'm going to go and see who they are."
Sonson looked round. "Be careful," she said anxiously, "You don't know if they're friendly or not."
"I'll be okay, they look pretty harmless." He reigned in his horse then turned and rode up to meet them.
"Ho there, friends!" Fizban called out. Years of reading fantasy novels had convinced him that this was the correct thing to say.
"Eh?" the lead knight asked.
"Hiya?" Fizban replied. "Hello? Aloha? Guten Tag? Bonjour?"
"Ah, you ah attempting to greet us."
Fizban rolled his eyes. "Who are you? Why do you visit Camelot?"
"We are from the town of Ess. We are the Guardians of the town's Sacred Club."
"Sacred Club?"
"Yes," the knight explained. "A two and a half foot weapon carved from solid granite. It gives anyone who wields it the ability to righteously splat their enemies."
Fizban thought for a moment. "Surely if it's made from solid granite and its that big, anyone who's able to pick the damn thing up already has that ability."
The seven knights regarded him with disdain.
"Sorry," he said hurriedly. "I meant no disrespect. What brings you to Camelot?"
"Uther charged us with the responsibility of crowning his successor before he died. We have come to perform the new King's Coronation."
"Oh," Fizban said with interest. "I've never been to a Coronation before. Is it a complicated business?"
"Nah," the knight replied. "We just take the crown out of its box and plonk it on his head. Then a priest, wizard or scholar, whoever has the lowest fee, will pronounce him king. Everyone will go 'hurrah!' and then get riotously drunk."
"Oh right, sounds fun. I'll ride back ahead and tell the others you're here." Fizban kicked in his heels and galloped forwards to catch up with Sonson and Muh-Lin.
"Who are they then," Sonson asked.
"Oh, just the Ess Club Seven," Fizban replied.
The Coronation was more or less as the Knight of Ess had described it. Muh-Lin had grudgingly agreed to pronounce Arthur as King for free. The new King had found it all a bit disappointing, up until the point where the gathered crowds had shouted 'Hurrah!' and the beer barrels had been rolled out into the hall. Along with the beer came huge plates of roasted game, racks of spit-roasted boar, and big bowls of bombay mix. It was not long before the Coronation Banquet was in full swing.
"Fizban!" Sonson exclaimed, "Don't you have any manners?"
Fizban was holding a rather extensive boar's leg in his hands and biting chunks of meat off it. "Mm m mmmm, mm," he replied, his mouth full of food.
"Pardon?"
He gulped down his mouthful. "In a word, no."
"Fair enough," Sonson said, grabbing a pheasant leg and attacking it noisily.
Arthur, who was sat at the main table, a few feet from the one that Fizban and Sonson occupied, seemed transfixed. Fizban followed the King's gaze, and saw a rather attractive young lady sat among a group of nobles. He waved his hand through Arthur's view, and when the King turned to look at him, he winked.
"Who is she?" Arthur called out to him. "She's got great norks!"
"Why don't you ask her?"
"Good idea," the King replied. "Bring her over, would you."
Fizban frowned, then stood up and made his way over to where the girl sat. "My lady," he said, clearing his throat. "The King bids you join him, he wishes to consult with you."
The girl blushed. "M-me? H-he wants to talk to me?" she asked nervously.
"So it would seem," Fizban replied, trying not to stare at her cleavage. "You have obviously enchanted him with your exquisite beauty.
The girl smiled disbelievingly, as if this could not possibly be true.
"If I am to introduce you to him, I should know your name."
"It's Gwendolyne, but everyone calls me Gwen."
"And where are you from?" Fizban asked, realising that chatting girls up was a lot less nerve-wracking when you were doing it on someone elses behalf.
"H-here. Camelot."
Fizban took her hand. "Come, my lady. 'Tis time for you to meet the King."
Gwendolyne stood up and allowed Fizban to lead her over to Arthur's table.
"Your majesty," Fizban announced, feeling he had found a new vocation in life. "May I present to you Gwen, of Here."
"Hi Gwen," Arthur said blushing. "My name's Arthur."
"I know," the girl replied.
Fizban shook his head and returned to his seat, leaving them to it.
Sonson nudged him as soon as he sat down. "You see that serving, erm, wench over there?" she asked whilst chomping on her third pheasant leg.
"Yes?"
"Don't you recognise her?"
"Erm, no," Fizban replied. "It's not Morgana Le Fey, is it? We haven't met her yet."
Sonson rolled her eyes. "How would we know what Morgana Le Fey looks like, silly? I think it's Virgin!"
Fizban stared at the woman in question, blinking a few times. "I think you're right."
Sonson gave him a look that his brain deciphered as "Of course I'm right you silly man."
"What's she doing here?" Fizban whispered.
"Keeping an eye on us, probably. Can't have people getting lost in the timestream."
Seeing that she had been noticed, Virgin approached their table with a pitcher of wine. She leant forward between them to fill Fizban's glass. "Right, everything's happened that needs to happen, come on, lets go, before Muh-Lin realises I'm here."
Fizban turned to look at the old man, sat at Arthur's side. He wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around him, all his concentration seemed to be going into picking carefully at the food in front of him. The new King's first proclamation had been to make Muh-Lin his advisor. The old man had not been impressed.
As Fizban and Sonson stood up to go with Virgin, Fizban knocked Virgin's head-dress off, exposing her face and long flowing hair.
"Sire!" Sir Come-Sighs called out angrily. "It is Morgana Le Fey!" He grabbed hold of Virgin's arm and drew his sword. "She was banished from Camelot by Uther on pain of death! I must strike her down here and now!"
Arthur looked up in alarm. "Is that really necessary?"
"It was Uther's command!" The knight raised his sword and brought it sweeping down towards Virgin's skull. Virgin side-stepped the blow, and grabbed hold of the sword blade in her bare hands. She leant sideways and jabbed her elbow into Come-Sighs' stomach. As he let go of the sword and grunted in pain she raised her knee and slammed the sword downwards, snapping it.
There was sudden uproar. Muh-Lin, Arthur, and half of the knights at their table all stood up and started pointing and shouting.
Virgin held up a bleeding hand, standing her ground and waiting to speak. Arthur motioned for the others to quiet down. "Your Majesty," she began, "It was not my intention to cause trouble, but you must understand my need to defend myself."
All of the youthful playfulness had left Arthur's face. "Continue," he said sternly.
"I mean you no harm," she carried on. "In fact, I promise you that if you allow me to leave here unharmed that I will return to help you in your hour of direst need. Our fates are entwined as thoroughly as if we were brother and sister. Whatever Morgana Le Fey may do to you in the meantime, I pledge that I will return. Just let me and my friends go, please."
Arthur slammed his fist into the table. "My lady, are you aware that in front of people such as are here, what you have just said is taken as solemn oath."
Virgin fell to one knee and bowed her head. "Yes, your Majesty."
His expression softened. "In that case, I must honour your request, in trust that you will fulfil your promise. But do not appear here again before you are needed."
"Thank you, your majesty." Virgin stood and curtsied.
"What was all that about?" Fizban asked as she hurried over.
"I'll explain later, let's just get out of here before that knight decides to avenge his honour," she replied hurriedly.
Sonson grabbed another two pheasant legs and then followed the other two out of the hall.
They rode hard through the night. Finally, after four or five hours, they arrived at Lake Avalon.
"Now would you like to tell us what happened back there?" Fizban asked. Virgin had not said a word since they had left the hall at Camelot and he had been brooding over the need to suddenly flee from copious food and alcohol.
"You'll be able to work it out for yourself soon enough," Virgin said grimly. "First we need to get away before the knights that Muh-Lin undoubtedly convinced Arthur to send after us catch up."
"Why would Muh-Lin do that?" Fizban insisted, determined to get at least one good answer out of her.
Sonson took Fizban's arm leading him away and leaving Virgin to sort through her things. "Muh-Lin would have knights sent after us because we're about to strand him in this time."
"Why?"
"Haven't you noticed certain similarities between his name and that of a certain legendary wizard? He has a part to play in Arthur's life, as his mentor. He probably doesn't like the idea, but he'll accept it once we've removed his means of getting away from it."
Fizban opened and closed his mouth several times. "That's just silly."
"You ought to listen to her," Virgin said. "She's right. And you, young lady, should be careful what trouble your deductions get you into. I might end up picking you to join me and Arthur."
Sonson turned to the other woman, puzzled. As she opened her mouth, Virgin dived into the lake. "Hm." she said, not knowing what else was appropriate.
Moments later, the taxi drove up out of the lake with Virgin at the wheel. All signs of the impact had vanished. "Quick, get in," she said as the passenger doors opened. The sound of galloping hoofs could be heard in the distance, getting steadily louder. Fizban and Sonson jumped onto the back seat, and Virgin started accelerating as soon as they were in. "Fuck knows where there'll be a gateway this far back, we'll have to make our own. This is going to be bumpy."
Fizban and Sonson clung to each other as the car thundered across the grass. Suddenly, there was a bright flash, and the scene outside changed subtley. The trees looked slightly different, the grass was a bit longer, and most importantly, it was daylight.
"What was that?" Fizban asked, shaking.
"About twenty-one years," Virgin replied. "If I've got it right, we've got about fifteen minutes before Muh-Lin and Bedevere get here with Arthur."
"Wuh?" Fizban and Sonson said together.
"An hour or so ago Arthur was mortally wounded at the battle of Camlaan. Muh-Lin will have realised what I meant when I made my promise to Arthur in the hall at Camelot and will be bringing him here with Bedevere as escort. What else do you need to know?"
"Why we're doing this would be a good start. Why that knight recognised you as Morgana Le Fey would be a great follow up," Fizban said, his mind straining to take everything in.
"It all comes down to role-reversal," Virgin explained. "In the universe I come from, I pulled the Sword from the Stone. I became England's Once and Future Queen. I sparred with Arthur's counterpart as he did with Morgana Le Fey. Then, as I lay dying after battling my own daughter's army, I was rescued, healed and trained to be a Guardian of the Timestream."
Sonson grinned. "So in your universe, male and female roles were switched?"
"That's right. People like Georgina Washington and Abigail Lincoln, Winifred Churchill and Dennis Thatcher shaped the history of that world."
"Dennis Thatcher?" Fizban asked incredulously.
"That's right. Britain's first male prime minister."
"Feared," Fizban shuddered.
A horse-drawn cart came over the hill beside the lake. Virgin got out of the car, and Sonson and Fizban quickly followed.
"Finally, you give me my car back," Muh-Lin said. His face was filled with anguish as he lifted Arthur from the cart.
Arthur opened his eyes and looked at Virgin. "Morgana," he coughed. Then he looked again. "Oh no, not Morgana. It's you, the other one. You took your time, you bitch," he smiled.
"I was Morgaine, not Morgana," Virgin replied. She took his hand and squeezed it.
Arthur wheezed, clutching his side. His wounds had been crudely bound but blood was beginning to seep through. "Time to go then," he said.
Virgin nodded, biting her lip. She touched a small box attached to her belt, and she and Arthur vanished.
The four remaining figures stood in silence for several minutes, all a bit taken aback by the events they had witnessed.
It fell to Sonson to break the silence. "Now can we go and get my fucking saxophone?" she blurted.