by Peter David
"From another time," said the woman slowly. "Another life. However, I won't take it as a personal affront that you don't recall me. My name is Morgan."
Gwen blinked. "Morgan. Morgan ... Le Fey?"
Morgan inclined her head graciously.
"Arthur's sister?"
"Half sister, if you please, my child."
"I ... I thought you were dead. A long time ago." Gwen felt a weakening in her knees, and she rested one hand against the wall to support herself. She saw the look in Morgan's eye when Arthur was mentioned, and for the first time that she could ever recall, she actually feared for her life. She wanted to run screaming from the apartment, but some instinct warned her that backing down from Morgan now would most certainly mean her end.
Morgan shrugged. "That is what was believed. Of me. Of Arthur. Of Merlin. But it's difficult to extinguish pure good ... or pure evil." She laughed. "Tell me, Gwen ... do I look evil?"
"I'm not... no. That is... I'm not sure."
"Looks can be deceiving," said Morgan pleasantly. "I'll tell you a secret, my child-good, evil, it's all subjective. No one really knows what good and evil is, except that those in charge invariably judge themselves good, and those who are not are judged evil by those who have judged themselves good. Do you see? And if I were in charge, I would be able to label as evil the actions of those whom I did not like, and I would be considered good. And who would there be to say me nay?" She gestured for Gwen to come toward her. "I have something to show you."
But Gwen didn't move from the wall. "Why haven't you then? Tried to put yourself in charge, I mean?"
Morgan smiled. "Oh, my darling, if you could only have seen what I've seen all these centuries. When Arthur was first locked away in that cavern, after his near-fatal wound in battle, I could scarcely believe my good fortune. Arthur was gone. Merlin was already long gone. The world was easy pickings for me, or so I thought.
"The problem was, I had spent much of my life's work on Arthur's destruction. It had become such an obsession for me that, once he was out of the way, I found myself then facing the rest of the world. It was, to put it mildly, daunting."
She sat up, tucking her long legs under her. She patted the couch next to her, but Gwen still kept her distance. Morgan shrugged. "Oh, I had my followers. I had demons upon whom I could call for assistance. But many of these were susceptible to cold steel-very susceptible.
In any sort of pitched battle my forces would have been slaughtered, and not all my mag-icics could have prevented it. So I appeared at courts, but my name and image were already well-known. Many kings and landowners would not even let me in to their homes, and those who did, did so only under feeling of obligation to their departed liege, Arthur. And they kept quite a close eye on me, I can assure you.
"So I became a wanderer, plotting as I wandered how I could possibly, as you said, assume the power that I sought. My wanderings led me to some incredible discoveries . . . the infinite prolongation of life, for one. Astral projection, a feat that had been beyond me during Arthur's lifetime. And the most depressing discovery of all-that time was against me. The world was growing, my pet. Beyond my meager ability to control it.''
She got up from the sofa, then, with a little huff of impatience, and walked over to Gwen. She stroked Gwen's cheek gently, and Gwen shivered with horror at the coldness of the woman's touch.
"Oh, I kept my hand in, of course. At the time I was very embittered, you see. I had been given a world that was free of Arthur and Merlin, and yet that world had not become the easy pickings I thought it would be. I admit I had considered no further than what would happen once those two blights were gone. Once they were, I had nothing. So I vented my frustration.
I like to think I cut my own swath through history. A plague here, a disaster there. A normal man who inexplicably begins slaughtering helpless innocents. A demon cult arising, performing ritual sacrifices. Fortunes lost, lives destroyed." She shook her head. "But one can only have random fun for so long before it begins to pall on you.
"And finally, after uncounted years, my anger began to turn to a sense of helplessness.
Inflicting misery on others can only bring happiness for a time. And the unspeakable happened-I started to reminisce for the good old days. The days when my goals were clear-cut. Destroy Arthur. Destroy Merlin. Thwart their horrendously humanitarian intentions, bollix their plans at every turn. Bring about the downfall of everything my accursed half brother held dear. Those were pleasant times, and I wanted them back.
"So I waited. Oh, I could have set Merlin or Arthur free, I suppose. But that would have destroyed the spontaneity. Besides, knowing those two, they would have gone back into seclusion, contending that they would come out when they were damned ready."
"So I became a sentinel. Keeping vigil. Waiting for the time when they would leave or escape their imprisonment, and the battle for supremacy could begin anew. But century after century passed, and I began to despair of their ever returning."
She turned away from Gwen and folded her arms. "A year ago, my sweet, you could not have recognized me. I shudder when I think of what I became. But it's all behind me now."
There was a long silence, and Gwen swallowed. "Where's Lance?"
Morgan faced her, a wolfish smile on her face. My God, she looks like Arthur, thought Gwen.
"I was wondering when you would ask that. Come here, my sweet. Come and see."
Slowly, haltingly, Gwen walked to the television set and looked on the screen. Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle a scream.
Lance was on the TV. He was naked, chained and spread-eagled against what appeared to be the wall of a dungeon. His head lolled against his chest.
The image was there for a moment only, before the screen abruptly went blank, but it had seared itself into Gwen's mind. She spun on Morgan, her fists clenched. "Why?"
"Because," said Morgan easily, "I want Excalibur."
Gwen stepped back, aghast. "I... I don't know what-"
Morgan raised a cautioning finger. "Now, now, love- don't try lying to someone who is infinitely your superior when it comes to lying. You know Excalibur. Where does Arthur keep it?"
"With him. All the time."
"All the time?"
Gwen blinked a moment, not understanding, and then she colored. "You mean, like when we're-"
"That's right."
"Oh, no. No, I couldn't."
Morgan crossed to her quickly and grabbed her by the wrist. Her pleasant demeanor disappeared as she spat out, "Then your precious Lance dies."
Their gazes locked, and then Gwen said as levelly as she could, "So kill him."
Morgan released her in surprise. "What?"
Gwen flounced across the room, her stomach churning as she said, "Kill the bastard if you want. It doesn't matter to me."
Morgan smiled then, that same wolfish smile. "Very good. Oh, that's very good. I wasn't expecting that." She started to walk toward the door. "Very well, my queen. As you wish. Lance is as good as dead."
She got to the door, opened it, and then Gwen came up behind her and slammed it shut before she could exit. Morgan turned, and the two women faced each other, glaring.
"You kill him," said Gwen slowly, "and Arthur will hunt you down and kill you."
"Are you sure?" said Morgan quietly. "There's no love lost between Arthur and your former beau. Are you willing to gamble Lance's life that that threat will keep me in line-particularly since I believe it to be without substance?"
They stood there for a long moment, neither moving, neither willing to bend an inch in will or spirit. Then Morgan said, "Lance has spoken of you recently. I must say he's taking being chained up very well." Morgan walked back into the room with a jaunty little bounce to her step. "When I told him I'd be seeing you, he asked me to ask you for forgiveness. If you must know, his exact words were, Tell her not to worry about me. Whatever happens, I deserve it.'
"
Gwen's features crumbled momentarily, but s
he managed to quickly compose herself.
"Look, Morgan," she said, trying to sound reasonable, "even if I waited until after Arthur and I had . . . you know . . . and tried to get away with his sword, it would never work. He's so attuned to it that the moment I lay a finger on Excalibur he'd snap awake and want to know what the hell I was doing."
Morgan regarded her, her eyebrows arched, and said, "You may be right, my love. Very well then. I believe we can hit upon a compromise, if you are amenable. Provide a minor distraction for me, and I in turn will release your precious Lance as soon as the deed is done."
"He's not my precious Lance," said Gwen tautly. "I have no feeling left for him. I-I can't allow an innocent to be injured as a result of all this. And I want you to know that what you're doing is despicable."
"Yes," agreed Morgan. "It's nice to know I haven't lost my touch. Now here, my darling, is what I want you to do____"
Lance slowly raised his head as he sensed her nearness. Morgan smiled at him, standing several feet away. Lance pulled against his chains, then, his hands flexing frantically as he said, "Morgan! Oh, please, no, not again!"
She nodded slowly, smiling. She reached behind her back as she said, "I just saw a friend of yours."
"Friend?"
"Yes. Barely an hour ago." Her hand made some motion and her black gown dropped to the floor. She stood naked before him. "Your friend was very concerned about you."
"Morgan, please! I'm telling you, I can't...."
She pressed her body against his. The smell of her was intoxicating to him, and he trembled even as, much to his shock, he felt himself becoming aroused again.
"Didn't think you could again, eh?" said Morgan, nibbling at the base of his neck. "You might be interested to know, your friend wants me to let you go."
Lance moaned. "No! Please don't! Please don't let me go. Morgan, please ..."
"Hush, my love." She placed a finger against his lips. "No need to worry. Morgan is going to take care of everything." She ran her fingers along the length of his body, and drifted toward his groin. "Everything ..." she said languorously.
Chaptre the Fourteenth
The renovated storefront now had a huge banner draped across it, reading Arthur penn for mayor headquarters. Situated several blocks away from Arthur's main office in the Camelot Building, the move had been made due to space needs, not to mention higher visibility.
Arthur and company now had 1200 square feet, and although at first that seemed like a staggeringly large amount of room, it had become filled up pretty quickly.
Arthur had laughed the first time he saw campaign posters with his picture plastered on them at bigger-than-life size. Below his picture was the tag line, Arthur Penn-Common Sense. Over the months Arthur's prevailing attitude of "Don't bother me with countless facts, they only get in the way of making decisions" had become fashionable. Arthur had rapidly become a candidate with broad appeal. His no-nonsense attitude was refreshing, and his self-possession came across superbly both in person and on camera.
It was eight a.m. now, and he sat hunched with Ronnie Cordoba, a list of meetings and appearances between them. Arthur was shaking his head in despair. "Are these all really necessary, Ronnie?" he was asking. "Why can't I just continue as I have been?"
"Because you need more concentrated media exposure," Ronnie was saying. He leaned back in the creaking wooden chair. "Your earlier tactics were fine, Arthur, in terms of basic introduction. But the Democratic and Republican primaries are just around the corner, and the election only two months after that. We're just kicking into high gear now."
"Just kicking into high gear? Ronnie, look at this schedule." He slapped the piece of paper.
"Appearing in front of groups I've never heard of to discuss subjects I know nothing about."
"It would help if you had a speech writer and standardized talks," said Ronnie reasonably.
Arthur stood and hooked his thumbs into his vest. "Now we've been all through this. I don't want to hire somebody to write for me what I'm going to say."
"But everyone else does!" complained Ronnie.
"Yes, and they all sound homogenized-that's the word, isn't it? Gwen used it the other day."
"Where is Gwen anyway?" asked Ronnie.
Arthur shrugged. "She's had something on her mind the past few days. I've tried not to pressure her about it. I've generally discovered with women that it's not a good idea to try to make them talk when they don't want to. They'll generally come around."
Merlin walked in, dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt. "Morning all," he said. "Percy's right behind me-he's stopping to get a bagel." He shook his head. "Fascinating thing, a bagel."
"Merlin, what do your folks think about your involvement in politics?" asked Ronnie. "I mean, are they going to make you cut back on your time when school starts?"
Merlin glanced at Ronnie, then back at Arthur. "Oh. That's right. We haven't told him, have we?"
Ronnie glanced around curiously. "Told me what?"
"About Merlin," said Arthur. "He's lived-"
"Alone," said Merlin quickly, shooting a poisonous look at Arthur. "Alone, for quite some time."
"Really? Merlin, do the authorities know?"
"Not if we don't tell them. Right, Ronnie?"
Ronnie looked at Arthur in confusion. "Arthur, are you sure we should have . . . well, a minor, as a part of this campaign?"
"I'd be lost without him," said Arthur simply.
"Besides, don't get yourself in an uproar, Ronnie," said Merlin. "I'm living with someone now. Percy's moved in with me."
"What, there's room in your apartment?"
"Apartment? Oh, no. I have a house out on the Island. I commute."
"Oh," said Ronnie, nodding in understanding. "Long Island?"
"No. Bermuda."
Percy walked in carrying a small brown bag. "Morning, everyone." He cocked his head.
"Ronnie, man, you okay? You look pale."
"Me? Naaah," said Ronnie. "Merlin, he was just kidding around with me, that's all."
"Oh, I see. You know, Ronnie, you've been workin' real hard. You should come out to Bermuda. Get some rest."
Ronnie nodded slowly, then leaned over the agenda for the day. "Ooookay. Arthur, most of this stuff is routine. You've got a women's group in the morning, senior citizens lunch, a citizen's watch group in the early afternoon, and then you're meeting with a group of Jewish community leaders in late afternoon. Then we've got the fund-raiser tonight-"
"Oh, right! I'm very upset about that, and I'm not going."
Merlin turned in surprise. "What are you talking about? Our money is starting to run low . . .
you have to get more for your campaign fund. I can't continue to be the main funder for this race...."
"There he goes again," said Ronnie. "Where did you get the money to back Arthur, eh, Merlin?"
"Stock market investments. I bought into IBM and Xerox back when they were still using abacuses and carbon paper, respectively. But Arthur, I don't understand. Why-"
"There are limits as to what I will do, Merlin. Gwen told me about this dinner tonight. She said I'd have to wear a monkey suit. Now if you think for one minute I'm going to dress like an ape simply to get votes, then, my little wizard, you have quite another think coming."
He sat there, arms folded resolutely, eyes smoldering. Ronnie and Percy looked at each other, trying not to snicker. Merlin rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
"Someone is going to have to talk to you, long and hard, about slang," he said.
* * *
The banquet hall was filled with men and women dressed formally, seated at large round tables, finishing their Chicken Kiev and assorted vegetables. And although the conversation at the tables was lively, attention kept returning to the long dais at the front of the room.
There were seated Arthur, Gwen, Percy, and several known and respected celebrities in New York. For all of them it was their first lengthy meeting, and they fou
nd themselves, as always, charmed by Arthur's openness and frank manner of discussing issues.
Merlin was seated at a table close to the front. Arthur had wanted him to be at the dais but Merlin had deferred, observing that they didn't want or need endless speculation as to who the young boy seated with all the dignitaries was.
Seated in the middle was a former head of the United Nations General Assembly--a distinguished looking man who now stood and rapped his fork briskly on the side of his glass. Slowly, conversation throughout the room quieted. In the back of the room TV news cameras focussed.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for coming this evening," he said. "I hope that you all enjoyed your dinners- usually these things seem to have meals made from Styrofoam."
There was agreeing laughter. "However, trust to our host to be more concerned about the welfare of his patrons than that. As have many of you, I have been fascinated by Mr. Penn's rapid rise to the public awareness in the past months. As have you, I have found myself impressed by his straightforward thinking, his unflinching addressing of any problem. While other politicians seem to delight in straddling both sides of the fence, Arthur Penn is unafraid to speak his mind. To those people who agree with him, he is a sound ally. To those who disagree with him-well they respect him nevertheless and know, at least, that if Arthur Penn tells them something, it comes from the heart, and it's not going to be changed to cater to whims or political expediencies.
"Let me give you a little background on the Independent candidate for mayor of New York City..."
As he spoke, the waiters in the room, who had been scattered at random points throughout, slowly began to work their way forward. No one noticed it. Who pays attention to the movements of waiters?
Merlin felt a faint warning. He wasn't sure what it was- some bothersome feeling in the back of his head, like an angry gnat, letting him know that something was not quite right.
He looked around his table. The eleven other people seated with him seemed harmless enough, attentive enough. He looked at the other tables, but saw no cause there for alarm.