Nightside 11 - A Hard Days Knight

might be a way you could do it for the best.”
    “Maybe I don’t want to blow myself up,” he said slowly. “Now that I’ve seen what that would lead to.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said, and I really was, “but you’ve been made into a soulbomb. I don’t think that can be undone. And since an oracle on the way here told me that you were going to detonate no matter what, I think the man who paid for you to be made over into what you are probably installed a fail-safe, to take the decision out of your hands after a certain time. So that even if you did have a failure of nerve, you’d still go off. But even if you can’t decide not to explode, you can still choose when, and why. I need you to detonate when I tell you; and I will channel the blast away through this.” I showed him the gold pocket-watch. “I know, it doesn’t look like much, but it contains a Portable Timeslip under my control. I can find the dimensional rift the Outsiders will use to come through and turn your detonation away from the other dimensional doors, so that all the energies blast right through the rift as it opens. A soulbomb explosion is enough to hurt even Things from Outside. You can use your death to strike a blow against them. Won’t be enough to kill them, but it’ll hurt them, and make them back off and think again. How does that sound? You could be remembered as the man who saved the Nightside. How’s that for making a difference?”
    “How does that help my children?” he said bluntly. “If I don’t do as I’m told, my children won’t get the money.”
    I thought quickly. “How about this? I sell your story to the Unnatural Inquirer . All right, it’s a rag, but they love stories like this. They’ll pay top money; and I’ll see it all goes to your children. I’ll guarantee the paper does right by them.”
    “How can you guarantee that if I blow up, and you’re still here? You can’t teleport out; the Outsiders would stop you, wouldn’t they?”
    He was right. I’d been thinking I could escape the blast through the Portable Timeslip, but the Outsiders would have access to the dimensional short cut I travelled through. After the explosion, they’d be too busy with their own problems to worry about me, but until then ... I thought some more, then I remembered, and smiled.
    “I’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry, Oliver; I’m protected. I carry the sword Excalibur.”
    He looked at me. “Where? Do you have one of those sub-space pocket things?”
    I reached over my shoulder, took hold of the hilt, and drew the sword. The long, golden blade flashed brightly. Oliver’s eyes widened.
    “It’s ... beautiful. Everything I ever thought it would be. Can I touch it, hold it?”
    He reached out a hand towards the sword, then immediately stopped and drew the hand back again.
    “No. It wouldn’t be right. Not with what I’ve made of myself. Nonetheless, it is good to know that there is still wonder in the world. There is still glory.”
    “Are you ready?” I said. “I don’t mean to rush you, but there’s no telling how much time we have left, before ...”
    “I’m ready if you are,” he said steadily. “Let’s do it.”
    “One last thing,” I said. “Who set this up? Who planned all this and made you into a soulbomb?”
    “Bijou de Montefort,” he said. “One of the business owners in the mall. Do you know him?”
    “Oh yes,” I said. “I know him.”
    One of the Emporium’s biggest success stories, de Montefort came from nowhere to make himself one of the richest men in the Nightside. He specialised in awakening demand for things people didn’t even know they wanted, then selling it to them for ten times the price they would have paid if it hadn’t suddenly been fashionable. But he’d come adrift with his last great idea: the Cloned Celebrity Long Pig franchise. Eat the celebrity of your choice! But he really should have asked permission first; a whole bunch of celebrities got together and sued him over unauthorised use of their image and identity, and they won big. Cleaned him out. Overnight, de Montefort’s business empire collapsed, his credit rating was run out of town on a rail, and he was on the brink of losing everything. At which point, one assumes, he was contacted by a messenger from Outside, who offered a bargain. And he accepted, the fool.
    I realised Oliver was looking at me. Bad time to be wool-gathering. “How did he expect to profit from this?”
    “He