Nightside 10 - The Good the Bad and the Uncanny

who sleeps in doorways and eats food out of Dumpsters as a form of penance. He has a lot to do penance for.
    “What do you want, Eddie?” I said, tiredly. “Seems like everybody wants something from me today.”
    “You’re getting too chummy with Walker,” said Razor Eddie. “If you’re not one of us, you’re one of them.”
    “I’m not with anybody,” I said. “Except Suzie. I go my own way. You know that.”
    “You’ve been close to the new Authorities ever since they appeared.”
    “Is that so bad? They’re saying all the right things.”
    “The only way to stay uncorrupted by power is to turn your back on it. You should know that. Don’t let Walker convince you of the rightness of his path. Don’t be fooled into thinking you could take his power and not be touched by it. Not be changed by it. The Nightside does so love to break a hero. You can’t save the Nightside, John. You can’t redeem the Nightside. It doesn’t need saving or redeeming. It serves a purpose, just as it is. Or I’d have torn it all down long ago.”
    “Hasn’t stopped you killing a whole bunch of people,” I said carefully. “Often in inventively ghastly ways.”
    “There are always those who go too far. Bad people, who need killing. I’ll always be there, for them. But look what that kind of life has done to me. Honour can be a harsh mistress. You have a chance for a real life, with Suzie. How do you think she’ll feel when she hears about you sitting down with Walker?”
    “Tell me, Eddie,” I said. “Why have you never gone after Walker? You’ve always hated him and everything he stands for. Is it the Voice?”
    He smiled slightly, his pale lips hardly moving. “I can move faster than he can speak. No. I never touched him because ... someone has to be in charge, and better the devil you know. Walker may be a bastard, but he’s an even-handed bastard. He doesn’t take sides, so we can all hate him evenly.”
    “But, could you take him?” I said.
    Razor Eddie thought about it. “Maybe. Walker has his secrets; but then, don’t we all?”
    I decided to change the subject. “So what have you been up to lately, Eddie? Killed anyone interesting?”
    “No. I’ve been ... travelling.” Razor Eddie stirred uneasily in his seat. “Ever since Merlin Satanspawn finally passed on, I’ve felt ... restless. Disturbed. As though waiting for the storm to break. I’ve being spending time down in the subterranean ways, listening and learning. There are rumours in dark places, whispers in the shadows ... People, and others, have talked to me when they wouldn’t talk to anyone else. And definitely not to Walker.”
    “You trust them to tell you the truth?” I said.
    “Of course,” said Razor Eddie. “I’m a god.”
    “Of course,” I said.
    “I first heard the name on the Street of the Gods, passed from hand to hand and mouth to mouth like an isotope too hot to handle. I heard it again in the Moon Pool, and among the Openers of the Way. Something is coming to the Nightside, John, something very old and very powerful, enough to scare even me. It could change everything.”
    I leaned forward, caught up in his intensity. “How do you mean, ‘change’?”
    “Something that could save or damn us all.” He smiled briefly. “Whether we like it or not. Which rather begs the question: what could be powerful enough to enforce its will upon the whole Nightside and make it stick?”
    “My mother is gone,” I said steadily. “And she won’t be coming back.”
    “Well, that’s good to know. But I wasn’t thinking of her. This is a legend that made itself true, an artefact that can rewrite history. A weapon that could sweep the stars out of the sky.”
    “Does it have a name?” I said.
    “Oh yes. And it’s a name you’ll know. But don’t be fooled by the glamour. The stories were rewritten many times, to disguise just how terrible it is.”
    “Say the name,” I said.
    “Excalibur,” whispered Razor Eddie, Punk God of the Straight Razor.
    He got up and left before I could say anything, and I wasn’t sure what I would have said anyway. Twice now someone had dropped that name, and not in a good way. I brushed dead flies off the table-top, and thought about it. Could this be the real thing, lost for centuries, come back out of legend and into history again, its time come round at last? How had Puck known about Excalibur? Was there some connection between that ancient sword and the most ancient of