Free Knight Life by Peter David Page A

and leave the guh-guh-guh that preceded it to more formal occasions,” Penn said, deadpan.
    Â Â Â Â  Then she saw him smile again and managed a nod, saying wryly, “That’d be fine.”
    Â Â Â Â  She realized that Arthur was staring at her, but he did not look away, continuing to gaze at her in a manner that was wonderfully open, and unembarrassed. “Forgive me for staring so,” he said, “but you remind me a great deal of someone I once knew—”
    Â Â Â Â  “Arthur,” said the boy warningly, “what were we just discussing?”
    Â Â Â Â  “Merlin, please,” sighed Arthur in obvious irritation. “My apologies, Gwendolyn. I am Arthur Pendr—Arthur Penn. My associate”—he chuckled slightly on the word— “is Merlin.”
    Â Â Â Â  “Last name?” asked Gwen.
    Â Â Â Â  “Last one I intend to use,” snapped Merlin.
    Â Â Â Â  “As you know,” continued Arthur, “I am in the market to hire a personal assistant. This may not seem necessary now, but I assure you in the months to come this office will become quite busy. I would like to know all about your background, everything you’ve done in the past several years. We have several people to see, so I’ll tell you right now that it may be a week or two before we can let you and your agency know for certain. Stop glowering, Merlin. You’ll get crows’ feet. Remember the last time that happened, you couldn’t walk properly for days.”
    Â Â Â Â  Gwen laughed, but Arthur stared at her with an upraised eyebrow and said, “Was something funny?”
    Â Â Â Â  “No. Not at all. I understand. Find out about me, more people to see, a week or two for response. Got it.”
    Â Â Â Â  “Right. After all, any decisions we make along these lines must be thoughtful and considered,” he said, tossing Merlin a glance. If he was waiting for the boy to nod inapproval, he was going to be disappointed. The boy simply sat there like a disapproving statue. Clearing his throat, Arthur said, “Fine then. Let’s begin.”
    Â Â Â Â  Arthur pulled around a comfortable chair for Gwen and seated himself across from her. He leaned back, steepled his long fingers, and said, “So, miss … I’m sorry, Gwen, I didn’t catch your last name.”
    Â Â Â Â  “Queen,” she said. “Gwen D. Queen. The D is from my mother’s maiden name, DeVere. So it’s Gwen DeVere. But that’s probably more than you needed to kn—”
    Â Â Â Â  “You start on Monday,” said Arthur.
    Â Â Â Â  Merlin, seated on the desktop, moaned.
    W HEN GWEN DEVERE Queen returned home, the apartment seemed a little less gloomy, and as she marched in the door she called out, “Lance, I got it!” She stood in the doorway, dripping little puddles at her feet, uncaring of the fact that it had been pouring outside. She had a job, she had a feeling of self-worth for the first time in ages, and she had some celebrating to do.
    Â Â Â Â  There was no response. She sighed, the wind slightly taken out of her sails. She should have known. Lance only went out when it was a downpour such as this. He got inspiration from foul weather, he said. He had once filled a cup with rainwater, held it in front of her and informed her that an entire allegory of mankind could be found in that glass of precipitation. When she’d said she only saw rainwater, he’d emptied the contents on her head.
    Â Â Â Â  Friends told her that she should have walked out right then. But they didn’t understand him the way that she did, didn’t understand his temperament. Didn’t understand that she had really brought it on herself, why ... it wasn’t his fault at all. It was hers, purely hers, and she had to be willing to take