A not-inconsiderable arsenal was laid out on Brenden's bed. He contemplated how best to stow it. While he did not normally carry all his ordnance at any one time into the field, where they were going, there would be no opportunities for replacements and resupply. After some contemplation, he adjusted his shoulder rig so he could wear it over his short coat of mail. Put the grenades in the saddle bag? Yeah, that'll work. Now, is it worth putting the Glock in its usual place? No way I can reach it if it's under the mail, but it'd be really hard to lose. Man with firearm usually beats man with pig sticker, Conn excepted. Trick is to have the firearm when you really need it. A knock at his door frame interrupted that line of thought. He turned. "Anna. Come in."

Anna picked her way over and around various gear and deposited herself on an unclaimed chair. "Did the BAOR have a fire sale? Between you and Shiro, the market should be about cornered. He's going for the bigger stuff, though. Fancy that."

Brenden smiled, noting for not the first time that Anna sometimes babbled a touch under stress. "Something like that. The armory is looking a touch bare now that I've checked out all my gear. I was wondering how to test the Fugu darts."

"Well, I could dig up an atropine injector. You might survive. If I'm feeling generous, maybe."

"Thanks, boss lady. Look, I was planning an ammo run this evening. Need anything? I'm sure I can get a good bargain." There were several Kanawa-sponsored black market arms dealers operating in London who could supply some of the Storm Knights' more unusual requirements. While operating in a war zone carried greater risk, the profit margins were correspondingly greater. As a result, there was never a shortage of up-and-coming young execs willing to take chances to steal a march on their peers for the next promotion. Most of the dealers had enough experience haggling with Brenden to know it was a lost cause. For the most part, they wrote it off as a promotional expense or otherwise cooked their books to save face. One had gone legit, figuring the tax man couldn't do worse to him.

"Shiro was able to spare me a few clips, but I can use some more nine millimeter. But that's not why I stopped by. Time to render assistance. What's the deal? You've been to Avalon?"

"I guess you Need To Know now. About seven months ago, I got posted to what should have been a simple recon mission. There were rumors of something brewing up west of York. York's important. It's the only area in northern England under our firm control. We had rumors that the Scots might raise a ruction, so keeping up morale and keeping in touch was important."

"That was just before the rest of us got to go on another lovely jaunt to Indonesia. You drew the soft duty, huh?" There was no heat in her voice; Orrorsh was pretty much at the bottom of everyone's travel wish list. After all, everywhere else, the worst that could happen to you is you'd be killed.

"No such luck. Remember all the fun just before my wedding?" Anna shuddered. She did not care to recall her ill-fated romance with Lord Dalming, in truth the vampyre Victor Manwaring. Her next boyfriend, at whatever distant future date he came along, would have to tread very lightly. "We never did track down the wraith and that damned shadow demon. I guess we hoped we could forget about them and they'd go away. We should have known better; things Orrorshan never get better on their own. Anyway, that's what was causing the stir. I didn't go to Orrorsh, but it came to me all the same.

"We found the shadow demon was draining the souls from the people of a whole town, incubating more of its kind. We did the sensible, logical thing; we bugged out. Of course, we were going to come back, but we had to figure out what to do. We were riding back to York when we found ourselves facing the wraith and more Ayslish gospog than you could shake a stick at. We rode hell-bent for leather and ended up outside three barrows. We got in one, even managing to jolly the horses along. Guess gospog terrified them more than dark, musty, close tunnels. Funny thing was, the tunnel we took led down, to a four way intersection, three directions of which corresponded to the barrows. We took the fourth tunnel and ended up in another barrow. When we exited, we looked back and saw four barrows in a square and no ravening horde.

"We searched the area. We found a wounded knight. He spoke like something out of Canterbury Tales, and claimed his liege was King Lot of Orkney and that he was on a quest. We definitely weren't in Kansas. We got tangled up in a local mess involving a black knight, a curse, and some nasty sorcery. The biggest wheel we met was the local baronet, who was pretty poorly informed about goings on in Camelot. Arthur is king, and the Knights of the Round Table exist. Merlin, too, but no one had a firm fix on his doings.

"Anyway, eventually we helped right a few wrongs and along the way picked up what we needed to deal with the shadow demon. That was trickier. When we got back, I wrote a report, but the ink hadn't dried before it was labeled Code-Word Most Secret. As far as I know, the barrow is still there, and I could probably find it."

"What's the fifty-words-or-less summary?" asked Anna.

"Hmm. It's a lot like Aysle. Somewhere in mood between Malory and Tennyson, I guess. Some printing, but books are very, very rare. The baronet was proud of his two books: a bible and a family history. They speak Middle English, or something close enough for jazz and the learned also speak Latin. How'd you do with Chaucer in college?"

"B plus. Two semesters of Latin, too. Helps with the nomenclature."

Brenden shrugged. "I wasted my time with history and poli-sci. Still, I picked up enough of both while I was there to manage." Brenden usually did.

"I can't believe you held out on us, Brenden. Shiro, maybe, but you?"

"I had to. It was the hardest secret I've ever had to keep. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops! I was in Avalon! Even if it was only the boonies. Sorry. Well, we'll all have our chances for the big leagues now, Lady Shaffer."

Anna nodded, placated. She moved on to the other subject weighing on her. "So, can we trust Shiro? I mean, this won't exactly be his style."

Brenden considered for a moment. "As long as our interests coincide, he'll be there. And he's pretty damn good. Can you imagine trying to hold a castle he wants in? I know he's, um, ethically challenged, which is quite an admission when you consider my background, but he's on the side of the angels, even if only as a free lance. He turned down the Gaunt Man's offer, didn't he? After that, what sort of inducement could anyone possibly offer him to go over to the 'Dark Side?'"

"I don't know. I really don't know." Anna sat in contemplation for a dozen heartbeats. "I guess you're right. On a lighter note, I just saw Montgomery cornering Alain in the courtyard. Y'know, he's never seen her in action. Toss me the binocs, would you?"

Brenden grinned, tossed her a pair, and brought out the parabolic mike. Sure enough, the non-com and elf stood arguing in the courtyard.

Montgomery Black's voice grew more strident with every syllable. "But why must you go ma'am? This is serious business, not some bloody sightseeing tour for women who scream at a single corpse."

"I am quite aware of that, sir." Anna grinned at Brenden. Alain could be quite impressive. "Primus: Anna, Brenden, and Conn are as blood kin to me. Secundus: that creature owes me for Ziggy. Terce:" an elm sapling vanished in a fireball, "I am not a helpless maiden."

Black blinked. "So you really are a witch? You do know you are damned to hell, don't you?"

"Father David Hardy and I argued this no end. He's a reasonable man, for a Sacellum Priest. He saw no reason to cross himself around me -- neither should you. I fear not for my soul. Not all magic is Occult ritual." Although Alain picked up some of that from David, too, thought Brenden with a smile. But let's not complicate matters for our stalwart Victorian friend just yet.

"It's still not a good idea. What say these Arthurian chaps don't take womenfolk seriously?"

"Then you menfolk will correct them." Alain smiled sweetly. "Lest Anna and I lose our tempers."

"Quite right, milady." Surprising himself, Black returned a predatory grin. "That most certainly would not do. One thing still confuses me: Queen Elizabeth is certainly more fragile than yon tree. Why were you permitted at the audience last night?"

Sharper than he seems, thought Alain. "Remember the tiara? I could not work magic with it upon my brow. And now, we both have work to do. Excuse me."

Miraculously, neither Brenden nor Anna was injured while rolling in laughter about the crowded room. Finally, Brenden calmed down. "Well, we've got, what, thirty hours before we leave? There's so much to do. Let's get cracking."

Wending her way back to the door, Anna turned and asked, "I wonder if Sergeant Black knows I'm a better shot than you?" Fortunately, Brenden didn't have anything dangerous inside his pillow.

"Don't twit me over that," said Brenden with a theatrical grimace. Brenden, who had given Anna her first instruction in firearms use, had lost to Anna five times running at the range.

Anna tossed the pillow back at Brenden as she left the room. "I guess there is a lot to get done. Later, My Lord Viscount."

"Later, My Lady Countess."