"And they lived happily ever after," said Anna.

Brenden snorted derisively. "Like Hell. Then taxes came due, and the Zoning Commission got on their cases about the enchanted lake, and the trade unions boycotted them because the pixies who built the Fairy Castle were scabs and..." Brenden went on in this vein until he ran out of breath. Montgomery, picking at half-healed scabs, chuckled.

Shiro chuckled. "What? You've survived four years of War and better than six weeks waltzing through lands replete with dysentery, cholera, plague, and unwashed ruffians attempting to manually insert large hunks of steel into your tender anatomy, and now four days of grandstanding by the local politicos is going to do you in?"

Anna spoke. "Silly me. I sort of expected a hero's welcome, maybe a parade, the keys to the city. You know, the usual. We did, after all, do the impossible. Now the border barons are whining, and the bishops waffling, and nothing is getting done! What really steams me are these closed door sessions. We're out of the loop!"

"Well, you are, anyway." Shiro grinned and pulled something small from his ear. "The barons are being stupid again. These people really have no idea how to conduct negotiations."

"You didn't." Anna paled.

"On the underside of that circular conference table, in fact. Someone has to look out for our interests."

"Why didn't you tell us before?"

Shiro's grinned widened. "Picture the scene: I walk into your suite and say, 'Anna, would you mind terribly much if I entered the king's conference room and secreted a listening device?' How would Conn take to such a proposal? Alain? It is usually better to ask forgiveness than permission. Besides, have you not noticed my occasional winces? Though it is not nearly as difficult as making a rocket work properly, there is some effort involved."

The others stared open-mouthed, wondering what to do, when the door to their apartment swung open, and Alain entered. Her mood was buoyant, a sharp contrast to the past few days; she had moped over not getting a chance to rifle the alchemical laboratory at the castle where Merlin was imprisoned. The cause of her good mood was immediately apparent. Merlin was a mere pace behind her, and he looked like the powerful wizard and wise counselor of men of the tales. The four Storm Knights rose.

Merlin chuckled a wise chuckle. "Well, I think the king's faithful vassals have had sufficient time to tell each other how important they are. It is high time they were educated in the true standing of matters. You would care to join me?"

"Yes. Yes, of course," exclaimed Anna. "Does anyone know where Conn is?"

"Kitchen," wagered Brenden. "Either out of honest hunger or a desire to, ah, collect intelligence; it adjoins the Hall of the Round Table." Brenden and Shiro shared a knowing look.

"We will collect him along the way. Let us be off!" Alain's impatience was shared by them all.

Conn heard the thundering of determined feet and fell into place, still wielding a drumstick. Such was Merlin's mien and carriage that he obtained the Hall of the Round Table without check or challenge. The Storm Knights rode on his coat tails.

Arthur looked up and smiled in greeting. The lords of the realm might not have looked as kindly on the intrusion, but they held the canny old sorcerer in awe that bordered on dread. After observing the formalities, the Storm Knights appropriated six uncomfortable chairs along the wall. In a ripple that took thirty seconds to cross the room, knights of lesser standing were displaced by their betters. In the end, the six knights with the least stature were standing, save for one whose dignity would not brook the insult. He left the room in a snit. His stature would not be rising any time soon.

"Ah, Merlin. We have been discussing the how best to act upon the entreaty of these brave people's queen." There was a playfulness to Arthur's voice. This was not the broken old man the party had met before. Nor was he yet the legendary leader of men again, but he was getting there. Arthur absently gripped the hilt of Excalibur.

"Indeed, my King? What have your most learned and wise councilors determined?" Merlin's tone, too, had something in it.

Bedlam erupted. Knights and nobles all spoke at once, then redoubled their volume to be heard over their neighbors. "Brigands strike at my peasants! If I summon the ban, their will be no crops this year and we will all starve!" "Morganna wages war on us even as we speak! We must defend our own!" "So many of our best are questing. Some have gone to God already, and we know not when we shall see the remainder safe."

Merlin let it go on for a handful of seconds before he hissed, "Quiet," with such power in him that the squabbling lords fell still almost against their wills. When the only sound in the room was the crackling of the hearth, he continued. "You interrupt your king. No honor becomes you for that," he scolded. He began to circle the Round Table, and his voice was a hypnotic sing-song. He was the undivided center of attention.

"Would you know what awaits you? I saw many things while I was imprisoned. Cycles and cycles..." he tailed off for a moment, then transfixed one noble with his stare. "My Lord Earl, would you know how you die? Alone and forsaken, your household given over to Mordred's treachery and your peasants howling for your blood to placate the old gods. You, Sir Knight. You die well, defending your king, but it is for naught, for when the final battle is over, only one of the king's host still stands. Is this victory?" He went on like this for several minutes, and even the proudest and sternest withered before Merlin. He was terrific; that is to say, he terrified.

Merlin worked to a mesmerizing climax. "You have but two choices. If you, in your wisdom fail to help these worthy foreigners, then the dooms of which I bespoke will come to pass. Unless these people fall. Then we fall, too. Utterly. Not even memory of us will be left. Perhaps it is the nature of things, or perhaps it is the Judgment of God for failing our duty, but as these folk go, so goes the realm."

Only Arthur was able to speak, but he had been spared the worst of Merlin's terrible prophesies. "What, then, old friend, if we do ride to help those who sought us out in their need?"

Merlin seemed to shrink as he answered, "I do not know. The second sight fails."

"Well, then," Arthur began. "It is good that we had decided to aid the Lady Anna and her people, is it not? Perhaps we will fail, but we are doomed if we do not try. But then, perhaps we will not fail and this will be to our honor and God's glory. Is this not so, my lords?" His eyes blazed as he looked at the lords of the realm. They bowed their heads meekly.

Sir Kay, quiet until now, spoke calmly. "In good sooth, yes, Sire." Others nodded slightly or mumbled their assent.

"Lady Anna, please," King Arthur beckoned. Anna stepped forward and began to curtsey, but Arthur stopped her by gently taking her hand. He pressed a sealed roll into that hand. "You have the word of the Pendragon. We will come. Know, however, that what my knights and nobles have said is true. Morganna and Mordred now make war upon us. We will have to set the realm to rights before we may ride to your succor. But ride we shall, and in such numbers as not seen since the Roman War in the first days of my rule. For the nonce, mayhap some of the Round Table might find their calling to quest in your land?"

Anna nodded with relief. "My people will rejoice to hear this. If any of your knights come to us, it will do wonders for our morale in the meantime."

The king nodded. It was settled. They had done it! They would take the news back. Back to the War, back to food rationing, back to the long, grinding struggle, but they would go with light hearts. Six storm knights beamed uncomplicated smiles of success.

One knight of the Round Table worked up the courage to ask, "Lady Anna, have you news of the Holy Grail?"

Brenden stepped forward to answer that one. "Yes. Yes, indeed. There is news of the Grail in my world." Brenden recalled a Most Secret briefing from just before they departed London. How do I explain about the Insidious Wu Han and a CyberPapal warlock matching wits with a seven hundred year old Templar and some other friends? Well, leave that story for another time.

There was a stir. By the looks of it, Arthur's knights would be coming soon.