Nightside 11 - A Hard Days Knight

sharply.
    “You do if they outnumber you thousands to one,” said Kae.
    “Oh well, in that case,” said Arthur. “Good to see you stayed awake during some of my strategy classes, Kae.”
    “You were a rotten teacher, Arthur. Rotten. And I really hated those snap tests.”
    “They were good for you.”
    “So is cod-liver oil.”
    “Do they still use that?”
    I glared them both into silence, then led the way into the shop. It hadn’t changed. The Doormouse came bustling cheerfully forward again, doing up the front of his white coat and checking that his pens were lined up in the proper order in his top pocket. Then he saw Suzie and me and stopped dead in his tracks. He made the sign of the extremely cross and started to say something really cutting; but then he saw King Arthur and Kae in their armour, and ran out of breath. His large brown eyes grew even larger, his back straightened, his long whiskers twitched excitedly ... and then he charged forward and threw himself into Arthur’s arms. The Doormouse hugged him tightly and rubbed his furry face against Arthur’s.
    “It’s you! It’s really you! You’ve come back, you’ve come back! We’ve been waiting so long for your return, Your Majesty! I mean, I’m just an old hippy in a mouse body, but I’ve read every book about you I could find. And seen all the films! Welcome back, King Arthur!”
    The Doormouse pressed his fuzzy face against Arthur’s breast-plate and looked up at him adoringly. Arthur clung to what was left of his dignity.
    “Does anyone happen to know whether this mouse I’m holding is male or female?”
    The Doormouse let go immediately and scurried backwards to bow repeatedly. “Sorry! Sorry! Got carried away there, a bit. Sometimes I can’t help feeling I’d have been better off as a badger. They handle their emotions so much more properly. King Arthur, what brings you to my humble establishment? Everything I have is yours! Except you can’t actually take anything with you, of course. The Doors don’t move. As such. Am I babbling? It feels like I’m babbling, and that big scary woman is growling at me again.”
    “Do you, by any chance, happen to have a Door that will transport us inside Castle Inconnu?” I said.
    “Oh poo,” said the Doormouse, his whiskers drooping. “Someone told you.”
    “It’s hard to keep a secret in the Nightside,” I said. “Though actually I was guessing. Jerusalem Stark had to get those elves into the castle somehow, and your Doors seemed the safest bet.”
    The Doormouse sighed. “Knew that one would come back to bite me on my furry arse. In my defence, he did pay me an awful lot of money.”
    Kae glared at the Doormouse. “You created a secret backdoor into Castle Inconnu?”
    “I build Doors for people,” the Doormouse said quickly. “What use they put them to is none of my business. I’m only a craftsman. Craftsmouse.”
    “You’re about to be a dead craftsmouse,” said Kae. “You’ll make an excellent rug for my office.”
    “No, Kae,” said Arthur. “He has agreed to help us. Haven’t you, Sir Mouse?”
    Kae was still glaring. “Where’s the Door?”
    “In the display area, of course. My Doors are always here. I make them, and people make use of them, but they never leave my shop. Far too dangerous. I do have scruples, you know, even if you can’t see them past all the fur.”
    “And when were you intending to inform the London Knights that you possessed a secret backdoor into their Castle?” said Kae.
    “I’m almost sure I would have got round to it,” said the Doormouse. “Eventually.”
    “Okay, that’s it,” said Kae. “It’s rug time.”
    “Take it easy,” I said to Kae. “You can’t expect morality from a mouse.”
    “Well quite,” said the Doormouse. “That’s why I became one.”
    “Take us to the Door,” I said.
    The Doormouse bobbed his head quickly, to all of us, and several times to King Arthur, then scurried away into the deeper recesses of his shop. The Doors were still standing there, in their ranks, waiting to be used. I kept an eye out for one particular Door I’d seen earlier and stopped before it. The others stopped with me. The Doormouse came hurrying back to see what we were all looking at. It was a Door like all the others, except for the brass combination lock in its centre.
    “This is the Door that leads to alternate Earths,” I said. “All the different histories, all the ways the Earth might have gone. Can it