Free Knight Life by Peter David

in.
    Â Â Â Â  The most curious thing she heard was the scolding tone of the young boy. “The main thing you have to do differently this time around is think things through! That was always your greatest failing, thinking.”
    Â Â Â Â  “I’ve had plenty of time to dwell on mistakes ...”
    Â Â Â Â  “Plenty of time may not be enough time. You have to promise me that you’re not going to be impetuous. That you’ll make calm, considered decisions, rather than impulsive notions from your gut.”
    Â Â Â Â  “Such decisions come from my heart, Merlin, wherein all true knowledge lies—”
    Â Â Â Â  “Oh, bollux! The heart is nothing but a glorified water pump, with about as much knowledge as a sofa cushion ... or for that matter, your gut. The only thing of use to you is your brain, Arthur, your brain!”
    Â Â Â Â  “Honestly, Merlin, sometimes you treat me as if I’m a child.”
    Â Â Â Â  Suddenly the young boy was glancing in her direction. “Arthur, we have a guest.”
    Â Â Â Â  “I am perfectly capable of making decisions and watching out for … pardon?”
    Â Â Â Â  “A guest.” The boy was skinny, his hands too large for his arms, his feet too large for his legs. His silken brown hair was longish in the back, and his ears virtually stuck out at right angles to his head. He was nattily attired in dark blue slacks, shirt, striped tie, and a blazer with a little sword emblem on the pocket. Bizarrely, the man’s clothing was identical, but the boy looked better in it. Penn turned, and the moment he saw Gwen, he appeared startled, as if he recognized her from somewhere. She couldn’t imagine from where that might be; he was a totalstranger to her. But he quickly covered whatever might be going through his mind and instead gave a broad smile. The kid he’d addressed as Merlin, on the other hand, frowned deeply.
    Â Â Â Â  Gwen found herself staring into Arthur’s eyes. She had never seen such dark eyes, she thought. Dark as a bottomless pit, which she would willingly plunge into …
    Â Â Â Â  She tore her gaze from him, swung it over to the boy he’d called Merlin, and stifled a gasp. It was like looking at two different people in the same body. The lines of the boy’s face were youthful enough, but his eyes were like an old man’s, smoldering with wisdom of ages and resentment when he looked at her. He seemed to have what could only be called an “old soul.” There was a wisdom, a depth in those eyes that was not only beyond what she saw in children, it was beyond what she saw in most adults. He frightened her terribly, and she stared down at her shoes.
    Â Â Â Â  Penn appeared oblivious to her thoughts. “How unforgivably rude of me,” he said. “You’re the young woman who was sent over by the employment office.”
    Â Â Â Â  “That’s right,” she said quietly.
    Â Â Â Â  Penn regarded her for a time and then said, “Is there something particularly intriguing about your feet, my dear?”
    Â Â Â Â  She looked up, her cheeks coloring. “I’m sorry. I just—” She laughed, somewhat uncertain. “Your, uh … your receptionist rattled me slightly.”
    Â Â Â Â  “Ah, Miss Basil. Yes, she’ll do that. What is your name, child?”
    Â Â Â Â  The boy had asked the question, and the phrasing was, at the very least, extraordinary. She gaped openly at him. “My what?”
    Â Â Â Â  “Nom de guerre. Moniker. Name.”
    Â Â Â Â  “Oh, name!”
    Â Â Â Â  Merlin let out a sigh, clearly not one to suffer foolsgladly. In the meantime she managed to stammer out, “G-G-Gwendolyn. “
    Â Â Â Â  “I’m sure you won’t mind if we simply call you Gwendolyn