Nightside 11 - A Hard Days Knight

both inside the room, Suzie covering Jerusalem Stark and King Artur with her shotgun. Even though they were both wearing full plate armour, they stood very still. They really shouldn’t have taken their helmets off so they could shout at each other better.
    I shut the door behind me. It wouldn’t stay shut after what Suzie had done to it, so I leaned back against it. I smiled easily at Stark and Artur. They didn’t smile back.
    “Well?” I said. “Isn’t this nice? Old friends bumping into each other again. You ran away from Castle Inconnu, Stark, just as we were getting to know each other. Oh, this is my better half, Shotgun Suzie, also known as Oh Just Shoot Yourself in the Head and Get It Over With, It’ll Probably Hurt Less.”
    “Hi,” said Suzie.
    “You may have a shotgun,” Stark said finally. “But I have Excalibur.”
    “Bet my weapon fires more bullets,” said Suzie. “You even try and draw that sword, and what’s left of your head will be dripping down that wall behind you.”
    “Oh, I like her,” said Artur. “She’s got spunk.”
    Suzie looked at me.
    “Old-fashioned slang, for someone with guts, courage, knows their own mind.”
    “Ah. I thought I must have misunderstood,” said Suzie. “Now shut up, King, or I’ll blow your entitlements off.”
    “So delightfully vicious! Nice tits, too.”
    “Shut up, Artur,” I said. I gave Stark my full attention. “You have the sword, yes. But have you tried actually drawing Excalibur yet? No, didn’t think you had. Now you bear the sword, you can hear it, feel its influence. You draw Excalibur, and it will force you to do the right thing.”
    “I am doing the right thing,” said Stark.
    “You’re not worthy to bear Excalibur, and you know it,” I said.
    “Neither are you,” said Stark. “I know all about you, John Taylor. It’s a wonder touching the hilt didn’t burn your hand right off after all the things you’ve done. I could still control the sword long enough to kill you.”
    “Try,” suggested Suzie.
    “Don’t think you intimidate me,” said Stark. “I have fought barrow trolls and dire wolves, gone to war against dark armies and foul invasions.”
    “They’re not here,” said Suzie. “I am.”
    “I would risk anything, for love,” said Stark.
    “Let’s try talking first,” I said. “To see what happens.”
    “Oh, do let’s,” said Artur. “I’d really rather not die at the hands of that attractively appalling woman if I don’t have to. I have so many plans and ambitions, so many enemies to terrorise and slaughter when I return home in triumph. Sir Jerusalem, you seem to know these people. Would you be so kind as to introduce us?”
    “The man is John Taylor, thug for hire. She is Suzie Shooter, assassin and bounty-hunter. You can’t trust either of them.”
    “How very unkind,” I murmured. “I am the new Walker of the Nightside, given charge of keeping the lid on things and keeping situations from getting out of control. Suzie is in charge of whatever brutality and retribution I deem necessary.”
    “I thought I detected a hint of bias in Stark’s voice,” said Artur. He looked thoughtfully at Suzie. “So you’re the one who executed my fellow Exiles. And the reason why I’ve been forced to hide out in this dreadfully down-market accommodation.”
    “It was only a job,” said Suzie.
    “Oh, don’t think I necessarily disagree, dear lady. They were a most unpleasant assortment, for all their airs and graces. Did they by any chance suffer horribly at your hands before you killed them? Do say yes and warm the very cockles of my heart.”
    Suzie glanced at me. “Is he flirting with me?”
    “In his own horrible way, quite possibly. Leave the dangerous lady alone, Artur; she’s with me.”
    “But I am a King,” said Artur. “What woman in her right mind would settle for anything less?”
    “I don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of being in my right mind,” said Suzie. “You silver-tongued devil, you.”
    Artur smiled easily, apparently entirely unmoved by the threat of the shotgun still steadily menacing him. He did have a certain sleazy charm, born of centuries of courtliness and self-confidence. He was also still wearing his dark armour in his own room, which said something about his paranoia. The armour itself seemed to be made up of polished dark plates that moved slowly all the time, slipping and sliding round and over each other. They seemed almost alive.