Song of the Sword (11 page)

Except he’d actually
met
the Lady of the Lake...

...or someone
claiming
to be the Lady.

He frowned, wondering why the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. Just because she
said
she was the Lady didn’t mean she
was
. And just because she said that Merlin was evil and they had to stop him didn’t make those statements true, either. After all, in most versions
of the legend Merlin was a good guy and it was the
Lady
who was shifty and unreliable, pursuing her own hidden agenda.

The clock at the bottom right corner of his screen flicked to 6:04. Wally, who was pretty sure his sister searched his room regularly in search of blackmail material, cleared his browser history and re-opened his home page, a news site. He bent over to pick up his runners, which he had kicked off under the desk when he sat down. He glanced over the headlines as he put on his shoes.
Suicide Bomber Kills 12...Civil War Looms in Famine-Plagued Country...Terrorist Threat Considered High...Habitat Loss Threatens Endangered Species...

Wally wasn’t very interested in politics, but he’d heard his parents arguing about it often enough. His mother supported one party, his father another, and over the course of his short life both parties had been in power. But the one thing he’d taken away from his parents’ arguments was that no matter who was running things, no matter how big the majority, the government could never get everything done that needed to be done. His mother wanted fines for polluting companies, his father wanted a reduction in the size of the civil service, and both of them hated the fact that the prime minister couldn’t simply issue decrees and make things happen, but instead had to deal and cajole, “caving in to special interests!” as his mother put it or, in his father’s words, “bribing the public with their own tax money!”

Maybe the whole world would be better off with one strong leader in charge
, he thought as he pushed his chair away from the desk and headed out the door.
Someone who actually knows what he’s doing. Just like England was better off under King Arthur.

Twenty minutes later, he stepped through the open outer door into the porch of Ariane’s house, and rang the doorbell. “I’ll get it!” he heard Ariane shout, and a moment later the front door swung open. “Come in!” she said, stepping aside to let him enter.

As he did so, a savory smell set his mouth watering. “Mmmmm. Something smells
good
.”

“Mustard-smeared protein,” Ariane said.

“Huh?”

Ariane laughed. “That’s what Mom used to call it. Smear any kind of meat or fish with mustard, sprinkle on a few herbs, stick it in the oven. Works every time.”

Wally smacked his lips. “Yum! And tonight’s protein is...?”

“Pork tenderloin,” said Aunt Phyllis, coming to the door of the kitchen. “And it’s almost ready. Ariane, could you set the table?”

“I’ll help,” said Wally, earning a surprised glance from Ariane.

A few minutes later, they were seated before a feast of “mustard-smeared protein,” peas, rice, and salad.

“Your mother didn’t mind you missing dinner?” Aunt Phyllis asked, pouring teriyaki sauce on her rice. She handed the bottle to Wally.

When in Rome
, he thought, and anointed his rice likewise. “My parents are both away right now. Ms. Carson, our housekeeper, is fixing our meals and sleeping over. And the way Flish and I have been at each other’s throats lately, I think Ms. Carson was relieved I was going out.” Wally handed the teriyaki sauce to Ariane, then looked back to catch Aunt Phyllis’s bemused face. “Um, I probably shouldn’t have said that...”

“Never mind, dear.” Aunt Phyllis delicately cut a slice off her pork. “And Flish is...?” She popped the pork into her mouth.

“My sister. Felicia.” Wally took a bite of teriyaki-laced rice.
Not bad! Not bad at all.

“Younger?”

“Older. By almost four years.”

Aunt Phyllis nodded sympathetically. “That’s an awkward difference in age during the teenage years. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be best friends when you’re a few years older.”

“Maybe,” Wally said.
Sure. And the Devil will be hosting skating parties in Hell.
“Maybe.”

~ • ~

Ariane, thinking about what she and Wally planned to attempt after dinner, hardly heard the small talk. But she refocused in a hurry when Aunt Phyllis asked, “So you and Ariane are working on a project on King Arthur?”

Ariane glanced sharply at Wally. His face gave nothing away. “Looks that way.”

“Even though you’re in different grades?” Aunt Phyllis took a bite of peas.

Ariane decided to jump in. “It’s a sort of...mentoring program. To foster school spirit. Get the kids in different grades to know each other. That kind of thing.”
You’re babbling...

“How unusual.” Aunt Phyllis sipped from her water glass. “But why King Arthur?”

“He’s just interesting,” Ariane said. “Camelot, Guinevere, Merlin, all that stuff. Knights in shining armor. It just sounded way better than, like, researching coal mining in Wales or something.”

“Not to me,” Aunt Phyllis said. “King Arthur is a myth. And a pretty silly one. Magical swords. Round tables. I’d think you’d find it awfully childish.”

Ariane gave her aunt a surprised look. Aunt Phyllis almost sounded annoyed again, like she had before she’d sent Ariane out for the milk.

“Aren’t you both a little old to be wasting your time on fairy tales?” Aunt Phyllis continued, lifting another forkful of rice.

“We’re not
that
old,” Wally put in. Ariane saw him looking anxiously from her to her aunt, as though he could sense the building tension. “Weren’t you ever interested in King Arthur, Ms. Forsythe?”

“When I was a child,” Aunt Phyllis said “But I grew out of it.” She smiled at Wally, or at least tried to. It wasn’t very convincing. “Don’t mind me, Wally. Of course you can do your report on whatever you like. King Arthur just...wouldn’t be my choice.”

Ariane frowned. It felt like Aunt Phyllis was hiding something.
Something about Mom. Something about King Arthur. The Lady said Mom refused her power. Does Aunt Phyllis actually
know
about that?
She was dying to ask. But if
Ariane
asked too many questions, Aunt Phyllis might start asking questions that
she
didn’t want to answer.

So she dropped the subject, and Wally followed her lead. The rest of the meal passed without a mention of King Arthur. Instead, Ariane found herself learning a lot more about the social dynamics of the school fencing team than she felt she really needed to.

Knowing what they were planning to attempt, she began to chafe at the delay as time ticked by and the small talk continued. Wally didn’t seem to share her anxiety: he helped himself to seconds, and then to thirds. Simultaneously amused and frustrated, Ariane wondered how a boy his size could eat so much.

Eventually even Wally was finished. But then they had to clear away the dishes. Wally, who had astonished Ariane when he helped set the table, astonished her again by offering to help load the dishwasher.

Finally, Aunt Phyllis let them go upstairs. “You two go work on your project now. I’ll look in a little bit later with some cocoa and sweets.”

And to make sure we’re not fooling around, I’ll bet
, Ariane thought. But there was no point in stating the obvious or fighting the inevitable – though she hoped their “séance” would be over before Aunt Phyllis knocked...
if
she knocked.

Two minutes later she and Wally were in her room and free to talk. “Do you think your Aunt Phyllis knows?” Wally said, his eyes wide. “That your mom met the Lady of the Lake? That’s wild.”

“I don’t know,” Ariane said. It was hard to imagine, Aunt Phyllis believing in the Lady. Short of asking her outright, she didn’t know of any way to find out, either. “Anyway, never mind that. Let’s get on with the…thing.”

“The séance?” Wally laughed and held up his hands when he saw her expression. “Sorry! How about... um...‘meditation ritual’? Or maybe...‘self-hypnosis session’?”

Ariane snorted. “Not much better. How do you know so much about them, anyway? Don’t tell me you’re a medium.”

“More like an extra-small.” He spread his arms and looked down at his scrawny body, and Ariane laughed. He looked up again, grinning. “I read a lot, that’s all. And, uh...” He reddened a little. “And I saw Flish try it once. With her gang. Which is why I like to call them the coven.”

“You saw her? She let you watch?”

“Not exactly. But I overheard what they were planning as they went into her room. So I spied on them. Through the keyhole. See, uh, witches, when they do magic, sometimes they, uh....” His voice trailed off.

Ariane remembered something
she’d
read about witches. “Don’t tell me they were naked!”

“No...” Wally sounded a little wistful, and must have realized it, because he turned even redder. “No. But they stripped down to their underwear.” Now he was so red Ariane thought he might spontaneously combust. “I mean, I’ve seen Flish in her underwear before, no big deal, but Shania is...I mean...look, just forget it, OK? The point is, I kind of know how it works.”

Ariane felt a pang of...though she hated to admit it...jealousy. When Mr. Stanton had broken up her fight with Shania, his eyes had been all over the other girl. He’d hardly glanced at Ariane until he took her to the office. And now Wally, too?
Boys!
She grimaced. “Sorry I asked. Let’s get on with it.”

Wally nodded. He’d brought a backpack with him. He opened it and took out a candle. It was fat, round, and white, about ten centimetres in diameter and twenty centimetres tall. Ornate silver lettering wound its way around the candle’s circumference. It looked perfectly suited to an arcane ritual – until Ariane picked it up to get a better look. “Happy New Year 1998?”

Wally shrugged. “It was all I could find.”

Ariane laughed. “So where should we put it?”

“Somewhere we can’t accidentally set fire to the place?”

Ariane looked around. The only good-sized bit of open floor in her room was at the foot of her bed, where a round pink throw rug covered the oak floorboards. “Help me move the rug.”

Together they rolled it up and shoved it under the bed. Then Wally put the candle on the floor, took a book of matches from his pocket, and lit the wick. “Turn off the light,” he said.

Ariane clicked off the switch while Wally settled himself cross-legged on one side of the candle. Now the only illumination came from the blue-green glow of the computer’s aquarium screen saver and the candle’s yellow flame, flickering in the slight draft from under the door.

Ariane pointed to the monitor. “Should I turn that off?”

“No, leave it on. If the candle doesn’t work, you can always try concentrating on the virtual fish.” He grinned. “Come to think of it, that might be more appropriate for the Lady of the Lake.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Princess of the Pond? Maiden of the Mud? Miss Teen Watersprite of Twenty...OK, OK, I’ll shut up.” Her phaser-like glare had finally penetrated his shields of obliviousness. He indicated the floor on the opposite side of the candle from him. “Come on, let’s give this a try.”

“We don’t have to take off our clothes, do we?” Ariane said innocently, folding her legs under her.

“Very funny,” Wally muttered, blushing again, and Ariane grinned. But her grin faded as the strangeness of what they were attempting sank in. She looked around uneasily. The wavering flame made shadows dance in the corners, giving Ariane the unnerving feeling that strange, living
things
slithered, skulked, and skittered just on the edge of her vision.

Too much imagination...

“What do we do now?”

“First, hold hands.” Wally held out his, and Ariane took them. They were warm and dry and not unpleasant to touch. Thanks to Aunt Phyllis, the thought crossed her mind that this whole thing might just be a scheme of Wally’s to hold hands with a girl, but she shoved the notion aside.

“Now what?”

“Stare at the candle, and concentrate on...whatever it is you have inside you. This ‘power’ you feel. Don’t look away.” Ariane focused on the leaping flame while he continued to murmur. “Watch the flame. Reach out for the power. It’s there inside you. Look for it. Reach for it. Watch the flame...”

The candle flame swelled to fill her vision, and Wally’s voice seemed to fade into the distance. She looked past the glowing corona of hot gas into the darker, cooler centre. It looked almost like a tunnel, like a doorway...a passageway to something else, some new level of concentration...

...some new level of power, some new facet of the Lady’s gift...

The dark centre of the candle flame rushed toward her – swallowed her. But in that darkness, she heard a song. Not the song of the water this time, but something different, harsher, colder, and harder...