Free Sleepless Knights by Mark Williams

involving the fuel tanker Sir Gawain almost collided with. We emerged unscathed, but the damage in our wake is substantial.” I omitted the matter of my manoeuvres with the Jaguar, for in truth I was not at all sure what I had done, much less how I had managed to do it.
    â€œAnd what about him? Is he still committed to this fool’s quest?”
    â€œI have received no alternative orders. Although, much of the Master’s recent attention has been absorbed by a mild recurrence of his complaint.”
    Sir Lancelot shook his head. “First, the police stop you. And now this.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m hardly one to talk given recent events, but we aren’t doing a very good job of concealing our presence. I’m worried, Lucas.”
    â€œDo not fear, Sir Lancelot. Once the Master has consulted Merlin, everything will be back to normal.”
    â€œThat’s what worries me most of all. Come on, then. We’d better get going, and just pray that we haven’t used up all our luck.”
    â€œVery well, Sir Lancelot,” I said, and tried not to think about how much this whole matter of Merlin was worrying me, too.
    Â 
V
    The route to Cardigan was the kind of drive the Jaguar took to like a duck to water. Both the car and its driver relished the respite of wood-lined roads and tree-formed tunnels that filtered the midday heat down to a cool evergreen. So peaceful was the overall effect that our recent tribulations almost seemed to belong to the distant past.
    â€œThrough arteries of time, we flow back to the heart of things,” said Sir Kay, as if reading my thoughts.
    â€œThat’s not bad, Kay. You should write it down,” said Sir Perceval.
    â€œNot one of mine. Merlin, from his book of
Prophecies
.” He held up a very old volume, no more than a bundle of tied parchment, thick and brittle.
    â€œI thought we were using the guidebook to find Merlin,” Sir Perceval said.
    â€œThe guidebook tells us where we might
find
his last resting place. But funnily enough, it’s very quiet on the subject of ancient summoning spells. And that means magic.” Sir Kay thumped the book. I jumped at the wheel. The car wavered slightly on the road.
    â€œIs it wise to cast such a spell?” I said. “Even you, Sir Kay, with your great reading, cannot claim to be well versed in the literature of enchantment.”
    â€œHow else do you suggest we recall Merlin? Dig through the cliffs with our bare hands, then shout down the hole and hope he pops out to tell us to keep the noise down?”
    I confess I had been more concerned with where we seven were going to spend the night, and had given little thought to such matters. “Might there not be some form of written instruction on the cliff? Runes, perhaps?” I said.
    â€œYes, and a stone lever with a great big sign saying ‘In Case of Emergency, Release Wizard,’ ” said Sir Kay. “This is magic, Lucas, not some tawdry seaside attraction.”
    â€œLucas. Are we there yet?” said the Master, roused from his deep slumber. Sir Pellinore, who had been somewhat sedate since the unsuccessful rescue of the dog, perked up at the sound of the Master’s voice and pressed his nose against the window.
    â€œWe are going the wrong way!” he cried.
    â€œAt ease, Pellinore,” said Sir Kay.
    â€œBut this is not the best route.” His hands fumbled uselessly with the locked door handle, and he started to scrabble at the window-winder.
    â€œPellinore!” said Sir Perceval, trying to pull his hand away and getting an elbow in the cheek. “Kay, help me, he’s going for his knife again, I think he wants to stab the seat.”
    â€œThis is not the fastest way to Camelot!” Sir Pellinore wailed.
    At the mention of this word in front of the Master, all fell silent. I slowed the car and looked over at him, prepared for the worst.