faery lands because you’ll be forever trapped there.”
Embarrassed, Catie turned to face the speaker.
Like the artesian well, he was beautiful, a blond-haired angel dressed in polished silver armor. A broadsword with a prominent crosspiece hung from his hip. He carried his helm in on arm, his gauntlets in one hand. His china blue eyes regarded her with interest.
“Lady,” he said softly, “my humble apologies for startling you.”
“That’s quite all right.” Catie found herself tumbling easily into the flowery speech patterns of the game. “I didn’t mean to offend. There were no signs.”
The man smiled. “As if that many people in these times could read.”
“They say King Arthur expects much from his knights.”
“From his knights, yes, but there are many common people here this day, too.”
Catie followed the knight’s gaze around the large room. A winding staircase made of the same darkly veined brown stone as the castle looked like a wide river moving sedately up to the second floor.
A chandelier covered over with a thousand or more burning tapers hung from the center of the ceiling above, augmenting the natural light that came in through the large windows. Banquet tables set up with meats, breads, and fruits looked as if they should have bowed under the immense weight. The stone floor was immaculate, made of huge flagstones carefully fitted together. Hundreds of guests stood around, talking in groups and sampling the fare from the tables.
“It’s all so beautiful,” Catie said.
“Of course it is,” the knight said with a small smile. “It is Camelot. How could it be anything else?”
“I don’t know.” Catie shook her head in wonder. Legend of the Lake was an Arthurian fantasy, but now she felt guilty for having given the game description only cursory inspection.
“And on the day when the king officially chooses his queen,” the knight said, “this room had best be filled with gaiety and laughter.”
“Or else?” Catie couldn’t help asking, then realized the comment was anachronistic to the time frame of the game.
The knight glanced at her briefly. “Or else,” he agreed.
Catie laughed, taken with the moment, forgetting all the weirdness that had happened last night. “You’re not from around here.”
The knight grinned and shook his head. “No. And neither are you.”
“I’m Catie.” And in keeping with the game’s design, she curtsied. She loved the way the long dress she wore fit her. The gossamer green material felt like silk and was artfully beaded with rubies and yellow amethysts.
“Roger,” the knight replied, “and I’ll be your Lancelot for your stay.” He bowed effortlessly despite the armor.
“Lancelot is a big role,” Catie commented.
“I like big roles. I like girls, too.”
Catie laughed.
“Do you want to go talk somewhere? A private chatroom in Hotel Camelot, maybe?” The little boy’s leer on the angelic face looked totally out of place.
“Sorry, that wasn’t on my tour itinerary.”
“Hey,” Roger said, “I’m Lancelot.”
“Maybe on the outside.” Catie turned and walked around the huge cistern to put room between her and the amorous knight.
Roger followed. “I’ve got a big part in this game. The Lady in the Lake gets attacked, and Arthur and I have to go save her.”
“I’m sure there’s plenty of adventure to go around,” Catie told him.
“Yeah, if you’re into subplots instead of the main event,” Roger said. “I’ve kind of always been a main-event kind of guy.”
“As I recall,” Catie said, still on the move, “Lancelot wasn’t a lech.”
“You have something against bloodsucking invertebrates?”
“That’s a leech.” Catie considered. “Although I guess the line between the two does blur a little. I can see how you’d be confused.”
Roger scowled, twisting the handsome Lancelot proxy’s face into a distortion. “Hey, I got the cheats for this game from a place I know on the Net. This demo normally only runs a general audiences loop, but I can access the adult programming. Wanna play?”
“Anybody ever tell you that you are pretty when you are angry?” Roger tried another Lancelot grin.
“Have you ever heard of Morgan Le Fey?” Catie demanded.
“She was a witch trained by Merlin,” Roger answered. “If you know your King Arthur stuff, you know about her.”
“Well, I’m her,” Catie said, “and unless you want to spend the rest of the demo as an armored toad clunking around on your tiny tin rump all covered in wart pimples, I’d stay away from me if I were you.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” Roger said, but he didn’t sound so sure. “I’ve got a big part to play. I’m a hero. Without me, the evil sea hag menacing the Lady in the Lake won’t get killed.”
“I think we’d manage.”
Roger narrowed Lancelot’s china blue eyes. “You’re bluffing.”
“Ribbit,” Catie croaked tauntingly.
“I’m too important to the game,” Roger went on, gathering his courage. “I’m the hero. I’m going to save —”
“A dragon!” someone yelled.
Catie spun and glanced out the nearest window, following the line of people that suddenly formed there. She peered through the glass and spotted the dragon. It was impossible to miss. From the description Matt and Maj had given she felt certain that she’d found their missing dragon. She ran forward, trying to get a closer look.
The dragon flew straight for the castle, quickly passing overhead and out of sight.
“There aren’t supposed to be any dragons in this game,” Roger said at her side.
“You’d think there’d be a law against creeps, too.” Catie looked across the great hall, trying to spot another window that would allow her a view of the dragon as it passed over.
“I’m not a creep,” Roger protested. “I’m the greatest hero in all of Camelot. My bravery is renowned, a legend throughout the whole—”
“Trolls!” someone shouted. “We’re under attack by giant armored trolls!”
Before Catie could do more than start to turn, the wall exploded and the sound of an incoming round filled the great hall in the next moment. The concussion knocked her to the ground and sent man-sized blocks spinning from the wall. Several of them crushed the banquet tables as well as the guests seated around them.
“To arms!” a regal voice bellowed. “To arms, my knights!”
Glancing up, Catie spotted King Arthur standing at the second-story railing, peering down over the wreckage that had once been the palace’s great hall. His flowing red hair reached his shoulders and his beard curled out imperiously. Two pages helped him pull his armor together, and he raised the mighty sword Excaliber.
Clanking noises sounded as the first of the armored trolls arrived.
Instead of some medieval giant in hammered plate, the troll appeared to be a forty-foot-tall futuristic robot equipped with lasers and rockets. It strode into the room through the hole left by the explosions. A machine gun mounted on its shoulder fired a steady stream of blistering death across the great hall.
“For Arthur!” a knight cried, charging at the new arrival with his sword raised high. “For Camelot!”
The machine gun swept across him, stitching him with heavy rounds that knocked him from his feet. The knight flew backward and disappeared, logged off in mid-flight.
“Forget it!” Roger yelled, pushing himself to his feet and hurling himself out of the line of fire.
