CHAPTER FIVE

The White Ford

By the time Ariane got home to Wallace Street, she was more exhausted than she could remember ever having been in her life. Her determination to explore her strange new power and think seriously about how she could use it to fulfill the Lady’s quest – and use it to find her mother – had given way to an even stronger determination to go straight to bed.

Nevertheless, for some reason the College Avenue intersection drew her tired attention. She stared at it, frowning. For a moment, nothing moved. Then a white Ford Focus turned the corner. It drove slowly past her, and as it passed, she caught a glimpse of its driver, a middle-aged man with a graying beard and ponytail. He didn’t see her – he was looking at something in the passenger seat. The car continued down the street and turned left at the next intersection.

Ariane stared after it. She’d never seen that car in the neighbourhood before. There was nothing particularly odd about that. The driver could be visiting someone. He could have been looking down at a map in the driver’s seat. But still, something about the car and the driver felt wrong in a way Ariane couldn’t quite put her finger on. The Lady’s power, warning me about something?

She shook her head. Most likely, Aunt Phyllis’s paranoia about prowlers was starting to rub off on her.

Pulling her house key from her pocket, she walked by the tipsy garden gnome and back up the front steps she had dashed down in fury just an hour ago. The outer door was unlocked, and she stepped into the little entryway. But she paused before unlocking the inner door, gathering her strength to confront her aunt yet again.

She knew she needed to talk to Aunt Phyllis, to smooth things over, but right now what she needed most was sleep. She would have to convince her aunt to put off their heart-to-heart until tomorrow. Wouldn’t it be better to talk after they had both had a good night’s sleep? Silently composing her argument in her head, Ariane took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and opened it.

No one called out to her. In fact, she could hear nothing but the muttering voice of some CBC commentator on the radio.

Ariane crept forward and looked through the French doors into the living room. Aunt Phyllis sat in her favourite chair, head thrown back, face slack and mouth slightly open. For a horrible moment, Ariane thought she was dead, that their argument had triggered a heart attack or a stroke. Then she saw Aunt Phyllis’s chest rising and falling. She must have dozed off waiting for me to come home.

Sleep had smoothed some of the lines in Aunt Phyllis’s face, and Ariane could see a hint of her mother’s features there – a strong enough hint that her breath caught in her throat. “Mom,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

The moment passed. The woman in the chair was just Aunt Phyllis: a small, vulnerable woman, trying to do her best in a horribly difficult situation. Ashamed of her earlier outburst, and resolving to put things right in the morning, Ariane pulled a pink and green flowered afghan from the couch, spread it over her aunt, and then tiptoed up to her room.

She spotted Pendragon asleep on her bed just as she was about to close the door, so she left it open a crack to keep the cat from waking her up in the middle of the night scratching to be let out. She pulled her dirty clothes out of the shopping bag and stuffed them down the laundry chute. The leather jacket was a write-off, but she couldn’t quite bear to throw it away yet; instead, she tossed it over her desk chair. She stripped off the clothes she had borrowed from Felicia, wadded them into a lump and kicked them into a corner, then tugged on her warmest flannel pajamas and climbed into bed, careful not to disturb Pendragon.

She was so exhausted she expected the night to zip by in deep, dreamless slumber. And with Pendragon’s solid little body providing a comforting warm lump against her back, she fell asleep almost instantly.

But in the middle of the night, she dreamed a new dream...

A lake the color of copper. The sun a blood-red ball, low in a sky thick with smoke and fog. Fires burning up and down the shore. Red-tinged water lapping red-tinged mud, and in the mud, the broken bodies of men: slashed, dismembered, disemboweled, headless. Wind moaning through barren trees and dying men moaning in the mire.

Out of the mist lurched a man in chain mail, white tunic torn, armour, clothes, face, long golden hair and thick blond beard splattered with mud and blood. More blood welled over the fingers of his left hand, pressed tightly to a wound in his side. His right arm dragged a sword that gleamed silver and gold even in the dim, hellish light.

The wounded man staggered through the churned mud, weaving through and stepping over the bodies of men and horses, until his feet splattered water. He took a deep breath, then another, then drew himself up and turned. He spun once, twice, three times, and the third time released the sword, falling to his knees as the blade hurtled out over the lake.

It flew an impossibly long distance, as though something in the lake were pulling it. But Ariane could no longer see the scene on the shore. She was suddenly underwater, rising toward the surface. Her arm, clad in white damask filigreed with silver and studded with pearls, reached into the cold air. The sword whirled toward her, flashing in the light. Her fingers closed around the red leather and fine gold wire that wrapped the hilt, and she drew the blade into the water. She sank into green-tinged darkness, holding the sword at arm’s length, but even as the light faded, the sword gleamed silver and gold, as brightly as if the noonday sun shone upon it.

Ariane woke with her heart racing. She lay in the darkness for a moment, staring at the ceiling, then sat up. The light from the hallway no longer shone through the crack in the door. Aunt Phyllis must have gone to bed.

She recognized the dream from her library research. The wounded man must have been Gawain, or Bevidere, or whatever his name had really been, the last of Arthur’s knights left standing after Mordred dealt the King his deathblow at the battle of Camlann. At the King’s command, he had thrown Excalibur into the water, returning it to the Lady of the Lake.

My ancestor, Ariane thought. She remembered the blast of black muddy water rolling Felicia across the parking lot like a rag doll. And now me.

But something else was tugging at her mind, a strange sensation, almost like an itch. Something’s happening outside...

Unable to help herself, she went to the window and peered through the blinds.

The white Ford Focus was parked across the street. A vivid blue glow filled the front seat, and against the glow, she saw the dark silhouette of the ponytailed man.

Pendragon hissed, and Ariane looked down to see the cat standing in the windowsill, back arched, every hair standing on end, glaring at the blue-lit car with shining green eyes.

The glow vanished. A moment later the Focus’s lights illuminated the empty street, and it drove away.

Pendragon sat down and began to lick himself furiously, flattening his ruffled fur. Ariane watched the car’s taillights dwindle toward College Avenue, then turn left. The driver didn’t bother signalling. Someone knows, she thought. Someone knows I’ve seen the Lady.

And she could think of only one someone who it could be: Merlin. Was that ponytailed figure in the front seat the ancient wizard himself?

In a Ford Focus? she thought, bemused. Wouldn’t he at least go for a...a Jaguar? Or maybe that car James Bond drives – an Aston Martin?

She shivered despite her flannel pajamas and went back to bed, pulling the covers up over her head as she had when she was little and thought monsters lurked in her closet. For a long time she lay awake, listening to her own heartbeat, wondering about the man in the car and what would happen next...but she was worn out from the day’s events, and, slowly, she slipped back into sleep, where no new dreams troubled her.

When she woke up and pushed away the covers, she saw sunlight falling on the spruce tree in the front yard. She’d slept late: this time of year the sun didn’t reach the spruce until ten-thirty or eleven in the morning. She could hear the faint sound of radio voices downstairs. Aunt Phyllis was up and about.

First things first. She took off her pajamas, belted on her dressing gown, and made her way to the bathroom. She hesitated for just a moment before washing her hands, afraid of what might happen when she touched the water, but the only result was her hands got wet. She soaped, rinsed and dried them, then started the shower. Again, she hesitated before stepping into it, but again, nothing happened.

Has the power left me?

But – no. She could feel it, coiled deep inside her, ready to spring to life. And she knew, somehow, that now she was in control. She exerted a small portion of that power, and the water curved away from her body, forming a curtain of falling droplets around her. She relaxed her control, and the water streamed down her skin again. She repeated the exercise, marvelling at the sheer impossibility of it. I wonder what else I can do? For the first time, she almost relished the thought of finding out. She finished her shower and got dressed, then took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

Aunt Phyllis was loading the dishwasher, her back to the door. She had just lifted a coffee mug from the sink when Ariane stepped into the kitchen. The floor creaked beneath her weight. Aunt Phyllis froze. Then, without turning around, she finished putting the mug in the dishwasher and reached for a dirty plate.

“Aunt Phyllis.” The words came out in a croak. Ariane cleared her throat and tried again. “Aunt Phyllis?”

Aunt Phyllis stilled, but didn’t turn. “Yes, Ariane?”

“I...I want to apologize, Aunt Phyllis. For arguing with you. I didn’t mean what I said. I know you love me, I know you love Mom, I just...it’s been...it’s been a rough few days.”

Aunt Phyllis looked around at last. Her eyes glistened. “A rough few months, you mean,” she said in a low voice. “I’m sorry too, Ariane. I never should have suggested your mother wouldn’t be proud of you. I know she would. But Ariane, fighting...”

“I know.” Ariane still didn’t want to tell Aunt Phyllis why she had hit Shania. “I’m sorry. She said something that set me off, and I...”

Aunt Phyllis smiled a little. “You have the Forsythe temper, that’s all. I have it too. Which is why I lost it last night.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“Will you forgive me?”

They had spoken at the same instant. Ariane and her aunt looked at each other and laughed.

“Come here.” Aunt Phyllis opened her arms.

Ariane went to her, meeting her aunt’s hug with one of her own. She closed her eyes and for a moment allowed herself to imagine she was hugging her mother again. You’re never too old to need a hug, her mother had said to her once when Ariane was heartbroken over some stupid boy. She squeezed Aunt Phyllis a little tighter. That had been just before her mom disappeared.

They let go and smiled at each other shyly. “Am I still grounded?” Ariane asked hesitantly. “I know I deserve it, but it won’t happen again...”

Aunt Phyllis’s eyes narrowed, and Ariane thought she knew what was coming. But her aunt surprised her. “We’ll call it a suspended sentence. Any more fighting this school year, and this grounding gets added to the one you deserve for the new incident. But stay out of trouble, and the sentence won’t be carried out.”

“Fair enough.” Ariane took a huge breath, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “What’s for breakfast? I’m starved!”

“Cold cereal, I’m afraid.” Aunt Phyllis closed the dishwasher door. “And you’ll have to fix it yourself. I’m due at a Friends of the Library meeting downtown in half an hour. Then some of us are going for lunch, and after that I’ve got a lot of errands to run – I probably won’t be back until dinner time.” She took her car keys from a hook by the door leading to the back porch. “Put your dishes in the dishwasher and run it when you’re done breakfast, won’t you, sweetie? And don’t forget to clean your room! I’ll see you later.”

She grabbed her coat from a peg and stepped onto the back porch. Pendragon slipped inside as she opened the door. “Mrrrr?” he said, rubbing her ankle. “Mrrow!”

Aunt Phyllis scratched him behind the ears. “Too cold for you, old man?” she said. “Ariane, can you make sure he’s got food? He went out first thing this morning – I don’t think he’s eaten yet.”

“Will do,” Ariane said. As if he understood, Pendragon came in and gave her ankles a quick polish in turn. She watched Aunt Phyllis go down the back walk and enter the garage. A moment later she heard her ancient Oldsmobile driving away.

Feeling much, much happier than when she’d run out of the house the previous evening, Ariane fed Pendragon, ate her Shreddies, drank a large glass of orange juice, and then ran upstairs to her room. She owed someone else an apology too.

She had a Facebook account that she almost never used, and after all the crap she’d gone through at every school she’d attended in the past couple of years, she was too wary to leave her profile public. But she was willing to bet Wally had no such qualms. Ariane did a quick search and a moment later, his friendly, homely face was grinning at her from the screen.

She clicked Message, and typed, I’m sorry I ran out like that. What happened when Felicia came home? Email or call, don’t Facebook. Here’s my email address and phone number. Whatever you do, don’t let Flish get hold of them...although maybe I deserve it after leaving that mess in her room. I hope she didn’t blame you.... She added her contact information, then got up from the computer.

She didn’t even make it to the door before a bell-like tone announced new mail.

Wally probably lives at his computer on weekends, she thought, returning to her desk. She opened the message.

Thanks for nothing, she read. When I said you could borrow Felicia’s clothes, I didn’t expect you to trash her room! OF COURSE she blamed me for it! She went postal on my butt. You’re lucky I’m not a grease spot on the kitchen floor.

I don’t know what she and her fellow hags were up to last night, but she came in wetter and muddier than you and I were, and with a big ugly bruise on her chest. She’s lucky Mom and Dad weren’t home or she’d be a grease spot on the kitchen floor.

Ariane didn’t bother trying to suppress her smile of satisfaction.

We’ve got to talk. But don’t call. Stick to email. I don’t want Felicia to know anything about this.

Wally.

Ariane clicked REPLY. I’m home. She typed in her address. Come see me. Call first. She clicked SEND, then went to her bookshelf and pulled out an old children’s book: The Adventures of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. She lay back on her bed, intending to bone up some more on the legends she seemed to have become a part of somehow.

The sound of the doorbell playing the first six bars of “God Save the Queen” woke her. Something sharp was digging into her side. She had dozed off while reading and rolled over onto the book. She grimaced at the pain. Then, “God save our gracious Queen...” started up again, and she hopped to her feet and ran downstairs.

“Coming!” she shouted. Just to be safe, though, she looked out through the peephole in the door before she opened it.

Wally stood on the porch. He leaned in toward the peephole – which had a most alarming effect on her view of his face – gave her a lopsided grin, and said, “May I come in?”

Ariane unlocked the door and opened it wide. “Did you try to call?” she said as he stepped past her into the hall. “I didn’t hear the phone...”

“I didn’t call. I didn’t want my darling sister to hear me talking to you.” His grin turned into a frown. “I really did think she’d kill me when she saw what you’d done to her room. And I really thought she’d kill you. But when she came in last night, it looked like you’d gotten the better of her. So what happened? Give!”

“I’ll tell you the whole story,” Ariane promised. “Come into the living room and sit down. You want a drink?”

“Sure.”

Ariane used the time it took to pull two Diet Cokes from the refrigerator to debate how much she would tell Wally. There were parts of it, mostly the parts where Felicia and her friends were trying to strip her in the parking lot, that she’d just as soon gloss over. Especially with a boy.

He doesn’t need to know everything, she told herself as she took the Cokes into the living room. So as she started describing what had happened, she didn’t intend to tell him much. Except...

...except, it felt so good to be able to talk to someone about it. Someone who had also seen the Lady of the Lake. Someone who wouldn’t think she was crazy. Even if that someone was Wally. And so, in the end, she told him everything, even the embarrassing parts.

Besides, she told herself, he’s your partner in this quest thing. The Lady said so. And he’s Felicia’s sister. He needs to know what his sister is capable of...and what I’m capable of, too.

Wally’s eyes widened as he listened. “Wow,” he said when she finished. “No wonder Flish looked like a wet cat – and was madder than one.”

Ariane grinned.

“So you can make water...do things,” Wally said. “That makes sense, I guess, if you’re the Lady of the Lake. And at least if we ever do come face to face with Merlin, maybe you can save our butts.” Wally gave her another of his lopsided grins. “But I still don’t see how we’re going to find the shards of Excalibur before a wizard does!”

Even with her new determination to carry out the Lady’s quest, Ariane felt embarrassed to hear their goal stated so baldly. It sounded like bad dialogue from a straight-to-video sword-and-sorcery flick. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe the Lady would have told us, if she hadn’t been pulled away so suddenly. But I’ve got an idea. When I...connected...with the lake, I could kind of sense everything in it. The fish, the rocks, even the trash. And the Lady said I would hear the…um, ‘song of the sword.’ So maybe if I try, I can figure out how to, you know, see...or feel...or whatever...the shards. Somehow.” I don’t even know the right words to talk about magic! “But I’m not sure how to start.”

Wally looked thoughtful. “What you need is a séance.”

Ariane blinked. “What, with spirits rapping on the window and levitating the table? Get real.”

“I think we can do without the rapping spirits...although that would be a great name for a hip-hop group in Harry Potter’s wizarding world...”

“Wally!”

“Sorry.”

“Séances are for communicating with the dead. How is that going to help me? I don’t want to talk to any dead people.”

“Did I say anything about dead people?

“But a séance –”

“So don’t call it a séance. Look, the way I understand it, the point of a séance, or a crystal ball, or any of that other psychic mumbo-jumbo, is to help you concentrate. Even though most of the ‘mediums’...” He frowned. “Or should that be ‘media’? Well, anyway – even though most people who do this stuff are frauds –”

“Most?”

“– that doesn’t change the fact that sitting in the dark, holding hands, and concentrating on a candle is a great way to focus your mind. You – we – need to explore your power. There’s just the two of us to do for Excalibur what all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t do for Humpty Dumpty. We have to know what abilities you have. And we’re definitely going to have to know where to look!”

“Even if we figure out where to look, I don’t know how we’re supposed to get there,” Ariane said. “Unless you happen to have a private jet stashed away somewhere, we’re pretty much stuck in Regina.” She paused. “You don’t, do you?”

Wally laughed. “Afraid not. Well, one thing at a time. What do you say? A séance? Tonight?”

“Why not now?”

“I think it will help if it’s dark. And besides...” He blushed. “I have to be home by four to clean my room. Ms. Carson made me promise.”

Ariane laughed.

“Hey, a promise is a promise!”

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you.” It was almost the truth. “I’m supposed to clean my room too. It’s just – it’s all so silly. We’re on a quest to find a mystical sword and save the planet from the most powerful sorcerer of all time – but we can’t get to it right now because we have to clean our rooms!”

Wally’s scowl turned to a grin, then to a laugh. Ariane joined in, and in a moment both of them were laughing so hard that Ariane’s laugh turned into the unfortunate snorting sound she’d never been able to control – and that just made them both laugh harder.

“Well, you two seem to be having a ball!” Aunt Phyllis’s voice cut through their mirth. She was standing in the French doors that connected the hallway to the living room, holding a bag of groceries with both arms. “Who’s your friend, Ariane?”

Aunt Phyllis’s tone made it clear that Ariane was on shaky ground. She realized two things at the same time. First, Wally was a boy. And second, though her aunt and she had never discussed the rules about having boys over, Ariane was quite sure the rules would be strict. She hurried to make introductions before Aunt Phyllis got entirely the wrong idea. “Aunt Phyllis, this is Wally Knight. Wally, this is my Aunt Phyllis.”

Wally stood up, wiped his hand on his jeans, and held it out to Aunt Phyllis. “Pleased to meet you. Oh...sorry.” Apparently realizing belatedly she couldn’t shake his hand while she was holding groceries, he awkwardly withdrew it again.

Ariane watched Aunt Phyllis’s face, and felt relief when her aunt smiled. “Nice to meet you, Wally.”

Struck by sudden inspiration, Ariane said, “Aunt Phyllis, can Wally come for dinner?” She really should have asked Wally first, but it made sense. “That way we can get started on our...um...homework project even sooner.”

“You two are partners?”

Wally, after one startled glance at Ariane, caught on quickly. “Yeah,” he said. “Partners.”

“What kind of project is it?”

Oops. “It’s...um, a kind of, uh, cross-grade, cross-curriculum thing. Younger students working with older ones. We’re supposed to combine, um, history and, uh, English. We need to do some research. On my computer. On the Internet.”

“Mine’s broken,” Wally put in.

“Oh. I see,” Aunt Phyllis said, in a voice that made it clear she didn’t – not entirely. She made her way into the living room, still holding her bag of groceries. “What are you researching?”

“King Arthur,” Ariane said.

Aunt Phyllis stumbled. Ariane jumped to her feet in alarm, but her aunt had already caught herself. A can of tomatoes fell out of her bag and hit the carpet with a thump.

Wally picked it up and put it back into the bag. Aunt Phyllis hardly seemed to notice. She was staring at Ariane, her face so pale Ariane worried she might be getting sick. Ariane was about to say that maybe dinner wasn’t such a good idea when Aunt Phyllis blinked a couple of times, then seemed to gather her wits. She looked at Wally and smiled, though it looked a little forced. “Thank you for picking that up, Wally. Honestly, sometimes I think I have two left feet.” Her smile grew warmer and more sincere. “Now, about dinner. How does six-thirty sound?”

“That’ll be perfect!” Wally said, with a grin. “I’d better go now and get started on my room. I’ll see you for dinner, Ariane, Mrs....” He stopped, and blushed. (He blushes at everything, Ariane thought. It’s kind of sweet.) “I’m sorry. I just realized I don’t know your last name.”

“It’s Forsythe. The same as Ariane’s. But it’s not Mrs....I’ve never been married.”

Wally didn’t say anything, but Ariane felt she had to explain. “My mother didn’t change her name when she got married. And since my father didn’t stick around long enough to see me born, she wasn’t about to give me his name.”

“Oh.” Wally obviously didn’t know how to respond. “Well. Uh, thank you, Mrs….Ms....Forsythe. For the dinner invitation. I’ll see you at six-thirty.” He gathered up his coat and went out, whistling the theme to Star Wars.

Aunt Phyllis gave Ariane another odd look. “Homework partners?”

Wally wasn’t the only one who blushed easily. “Homework partners,” Ariane said firmly. “That’s all.”

“Researching King Arthur.” Aunt Phyllis’s eyes moved away from Ariane to the mantelpiece. Ariane followed her gaze – and found herself looking at a photograph of her mother when she was only a little older than Ariane, laughing against the backdrop of a sunny lake.

“Yes.” Ariane frowned. “Why?”

Aunt Phyllis didn’t answer. She looked at the photograph for another moment, then turned away as if she hadn’t heard. “I’d better put the groceries away.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

Ariane got up from the couch and went to the mantle. She’d seen that photo of her mother all her life. Oddly, she never felt sad when looking at it. Maybe because it had been taken ten years before Ariane was born. Looking at it was almost like looking at a stranger...but a nice stranger, a girl Ariane felt she would have liked to have known.

The refrigerator door slammed in the kitchen, and then Ariane heard Aunt Phyllis say a most uncharacteristic swear word. A moment later she emerged into the hall, face flushed. “Would you believe I forgot to buy milk? Ariane, would you mind running up to the 7-Eleven?”

“Uh...sure.” Ariane went into the front hall and pulled on her spare jacket, already missing her ruined leather one. She was more than a little surprised at her aunt’s language. Aunt Phyllis might have “the Forsythe temper,” but she didn’t actually seem angry. It was more like she was on edge. Ariane would’ve asked what was going on, but Aunt Phyllis had already returned to the kitchen.

Ariane unlocked the inner door, crossed the porch, and stepped through the outer door into the chilly air. She was glad to have the excuse to slip out for a few minutes, not only because she needed some fresh air and to stretch her legs, but because it would give Aunt Phyllis a chance to calm down.

Was it Wally? she wondered. Maybe she’s worried we’re going to be more than friends...or already are. Though why would Aunt Phyllis care? You’d think she’d be happy if I found a boyfriend.

Well, maybe. But I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want me to invite him to my bedroom.

She shook her head as she crossed the yard. As if there could be anything like that between her and Wally. He wasn’t exactly handsome, he was a year and a half younger, he was a head shorter than she was, he was a geek, his sister was her mortal enemy, and...

...and it had felt really good to laugh with someone like that.

Not a chance, she told herself firmly. Not...a...chance!

She strode north along Wallace Street to College Avenue. As she jaywalked across the street, a car turned south behind her. On the north side of College, she glanced back, just in time to see the car make a U-turn halfway down Wallace and park in front of her house.

It was a white Ford Focus – just like the car she’d seen with the mysterious blue glow inside the night before. It was facing her, engine still running, lights on.

Ariane picked up speed, not exactly alarmed, but definitely weirded out. She walked a block west to Winnipeg Street, then turned north to walk the four blocks to Victoria Avenue and the 7-Eleven which did a brisk business selling junk food to the students from the two nearby high schools. Today, though, she ignored the racks of potato chips and candy bars and went straight for the refrigerators in the back. She bought a two-litre container of one-percent milk, and headed outside.

As she ran back across Victoria Avenue, she again saw a white Ford Focus, this time parked on Winnipeg Street half a block from the intersection, facing her. Its lights were off and there was no one inside that she could see, so she kept walking toward it. There are lots of Ford Focuses. She frowned. Ford Foci? That didn’t sound right, either. She shook her head. Anyway, this isn’t necessarily the same one. Still, as she reached it, she glanced at it as casually as she could.

What she saw made her stumble a little. It had a corporate logo on the door: gold letters in Old English script spelling out ECS.

Below the letters was the image of a golden sword.

She couldn’t help looking over her shoulder every few steps all the way back to her house. The car stayed parked, and by the time she got home she’d managed to convince herself she was just being silly. It probably had nothing to do with her. She delivered the milk to Aunt Phyllis – who seemed to be her usual self again – then settled down in front of the TV for a couple of hours of mindless entertainment.

When Ariane saw that the movie channel was playing Monty Python and the Holy Grail, she sighed. It figures, she thought, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch while she watched. It figures.

~ • ~

It didn’t really take Wally long to clean his room, because it wasn’t very messy to begin with. (He knew he was unusually neat for a teenage boy. It kind of worried him.) At around five o’clock, with an hour and a half to kill before he was due back at Ariane’s house for supper – Ms. Carson had raised no objection to his going; in fact, she seemed rather glad to be rid of him – he sat down at his computer to find out everything he could about King Arthur and his contemporaries.

An hour later, he’d had his fill of Arthur, Lancelot, Guinevere, The Lady of the Lake, Merlin, Mordred, Morgan le Fay, the Knights of the Round Table, the whole murderous, adulterous, incestuous, backstabbing lot of them. It wasn’t that he couldn’t find any information: he found thousands of pages of it. But it was all contradictory. There seemed to be a hundred different versions of every Arthurian legend – a thousand, if you counted all of the novels and plays and movies and TV shows and even musicals, for crying out loud, from Camelot to Spamalot – and nobody had anything definitive to offer on what had really happened. Or even if it had really happened. Those who believed Arthur had existed thought he was some kind of British war leader who managed to stave off the ongoing Saxon invasion of England for a few years, within a century or two after the departure of the Roman legions. Merlin might have been some sort of shaman – or might not have existed at all. And the Lady of the Lake was either some kind of pagan priestess, or as mythical as Merlin.

Except he’d actually met the Lady of the Lake...

...or someone claiming to be the Lady.

He frowned, wondering why the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. Just because she said she was the Lady didn’t mean she was. And just because she said that Merlin was evil and they had to stop him didn’t make those statements true, either. After all, in most versions of the legend Merlin was a good guy and it was the Lady who was shifty and unreliable, pursuing her own hidden agenda.

The clock at the bottom right corner of his screen flicked to 6:04. Wally, who was pretty sure his sister searched his room regularly in search of blackmail material, cleared his browser history and re-opened his home page, a news site. He bent over to pick up his runners, which he had kicked off under the desk when he sat down. He glanced over the headlines as he put on his shoes. Suicide Bomber Kills 12...Civil War Looms in Famine-Plagued Country...Terrorist Threat Considered High...Habitat Loss Threatens Endangered Species...

Wally wasn’t very interested in politics, but he’d heard his parents arguing about it often enough. His mother supported one party, his father another, and over the course of his short life both parties had been in power. But the one thing he’d taken away from his parents’ arguments was that no matter who was running things, no matter how big the majority, the government could never get everything done that needed to be done. His mother wanted fines for polluting companies, his father wanted a reduction in the size of the civil service, and both of them hated the fact that the prime minister couldn’t simply issue decrees and make things happen, but instead had to deal and cajole, “caving in to special interests!” as his mother put it or, in his father’s words, “bribing the public with their own tax money!”

Maybe the whole world would be better off with one strong leader in charge, he thought as he pushed his chair away from the desk and headed out the door. Someone who actually knows what he’s doing. Just like England was better off under King Arthur.

Twenty minutes later, he stepped through the open outer door into the porch of Ariane’s house, and rang the doorbell. “I’ll get it!” he heard Ariane shout, and a moment later the front door swung open. “Come in!” she said, stepping aside to let him enter.

As he did so, a savory smell set his mouth watering. “Mmmmm. Something smells good.”

“Mustard-smeared protein,” Ariane said.

“Huh?”

Ariane laughed. “That’s what Mom used to call it. Smear any kind of meat or fish with mustard, sprinkle on a few herbs, stick it in the oven. Works every time.”

Wally smacked his lips. “Yum! And tonight’s protein is...?”

“Pork tenderloin,” said Aunt Phyllis, coming to the door of the kitchen. “And it’s almost ready. Ariane, could you set the table?”

“I’ll help,” said Wally, earning a surprised glance from Ariane.

A few minutes later, they were seated before a feast of “mustard-smeared protein,” peas, rice, and salad.

“Your mother didn’t mind you missing dinner?” Aunt Phyllis asked, pouring teriyaki sauce on her rice. She handed the bottle to Wally.

When in Rome, he thought, and anointed his rice likewise. “My parents are both away right now. Ms. Carson, our housekeeper, is fixing our meals and sleeping over. And the way Flish and I have been at each other’s throats lately, I think Ms. Carson was relieved I was going out.” Wally handed the teriyaki sauce to Ariane, then looked back to catch Aunt Phyllis’s bemused face. “Um, I probably shouldn’t have said that...”

“Never mind, dear.” Aunt Phyllis delicately cut a slice off her pork. “And Flish is...?” She popped the pork into her mouth.

“My sister. Felicia.” Wally took a bite of teriyaki-laced rice. Not bad! Not bad at all.

“Younger?”

“Older. By almost four years.”

Aunt Phyllis nodded sympathetically. “That’s an awkward difference in age during the teenage years. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be best friends when you’re a few years older.”

“Maybe,” Wally said. Sure. And the Devil will be hosting skating parties in Hell. “Maybe.”

~ • ~

Ariane, thinking about what she and Wally planned to attempt after dinner, hardly heard the small talk. But she refocused in a hurry when Aunt Phyllis asked, “So you and Ariane are working on a project on King Arthur?”

Ariane glanced sharply at Wally. His face gave nothing away. “Looks that way.”

“Even though you’re in different grades?” Aunt Phyllis took a bite of peas.

Ariane decided to jump in. “It’s a sort of...mentoring program. To foster school spirit. Get the kids in different grades to know each other. That kind of thing.” You’re babbling...

“How unusual.” Aunt Phyllis sipped from her water glass. “But why King Arthur?”

“He’s just interesting,” Ariane said. “Camelot, Guinevere, Merlin, all that stuff. Knights in shining armor. It just sounded way better than, like, researching coal mining in Wales or something.”

“Not to me,” Aunt Phyllis said. “King Arthur is a myth. And a pretty silly one. Magical swords. Round tables. I’d think you’d find it awfully childish.”

Ariane gave her aunt a surprised look. Aunt Phyllis almost sounded annoyed again, like she had before she’d sent Ariane out for the milk.

 “Aren’t you both a little old to be wasting your time on fairy tales?” Aunt Phyllis continued, lifting another forkful of rice.

“We’re not that old,” Wally put in. Ariane saw him looking anxiously from her to her aunt, as though he could sense the building tension. “Weren’t you ever interested in King Arthur, Ms. Forsythe?”

“When I was a child,” Aunt Phyllis said “But I grew out of it.” She smiled at Wally, or at least tried to. It wasn’t very convincing. “Don’t mind me, Wally. Of course you can do your report on whatever you like. King Arthur just...wouldn’t be my choice.”

Ariane frowned. It felt like Aunt Phyllis was hiding something. Something about Mom. Something about King Arthur. The Lady said Mom refused her power. Does Aunt Phyllis actually know about that? She was dying to ask. But if Ariane asked too many questions, Aunt Phyllis might start asking questions that she didn’t want to answer.

So she dropped the subject, and Wally followed her lead. The rest of the meal passed without a mention of King Arthur. Instead, Ariane found herself learning a lot more about the social dynamics of the school fencing team than she felt she really needed to.

Knowing what they were planning to attempt, she began to chafe at the delay as time ticked by and the small talk continued. Wally didn’t seem to share her anxiety: he helped himself to seconds, and then to thirds. Simultaneously amused and frustrated, Ariane wondered how a boy his size could eat so much.

Eventually even Wally was finished. But then they had to clear away the dishes. Wally, who had astonished Ariane when he helped set the table, astonished her again by offering to help load the dishwasher.

Finally, Aunt Phyllis let them go upstairs. “You two go work on your project now. I’ll look in a little bit later with some cocoa and sweets.”

And to make sure we’re not fooling around, I’ll bet, Ariane thought. But there was no point in stating the obvious or fighting the inevitable – though she hoped their “séance” would be over before Aunt Phyllis knocked...if she knocked.

Two minutes later she and Wally were in her room and free to talk. “Do you think your Aunt Phyllis knows?” Wally said, his eyes wide. “That your mom met the Lady of the Lake? That’s wild.”

“I don’t know,” Ariane said. It was hard to imagine, Aunt Phyllis believing in the Lady. Short of asking her outright, she didn’t know of any way to find out, either. “Anyway, never mind that. Let’s get on with the…thing.”

“The séance?” Wally laughed and held up his hands when he saw her expression. “Sorry! How about... um...‘meditation ritual’? Or maybe...‘self-hypnosis session’?”

Ariane snorted. “Not much better. How do you know so much about them, anyway? Don’t tell me you’re a medium.”

“More like an extra-small.” He spread his arms and looked down at his scrawny body, and Ariane laughed. He looked up again, grinning. “I read a lot, that’s all. And, uh...” He reddened a little. “And I saw Flish try it once. With her gang. Which is why I like to call them the coven.”

“You saw her? She let you watch?”

“Not exactly. But I overheard what they were planning as they went into her room. So I spied on them. Through the keyhole. See, uh, witches, when they do magic, sometimes they, uh....” His voice trailed off.

Ariane remembered something she’d read about witches. “Don’t tell me they were naked!”

“No...” Wally sounded a little wistful, and must have realized it, because he turned even redder. “No. But they stripped down to their underwear.” Now he was so red Ariane thought he might spontaneously combust. “I mean, I’ve seen Flish in her underwear before, no big deal, but Shania is...I mean...look, just forget it, OK? The point is, I kind of know how it works.”

Ariane felt a pang of...though she hated to admit it...jealousy. When Mr. Stanton had broken up her fight with Shania, his eyes had been all over the other girl. He’d hardly glanced at Ariane until he took her to the office. And now Wally, too? Boys! She grimaced. “Sorry I asked. Let’s get on with it.”

Wally nodded. He’d brought a backpack with him. He opened it and took out a candle. It was fat, round, and white, about ten centimetres in diameter and twenty centimetres tall. Ornate silver lettering wound its way around the candle’s circumference. It looked perfectly suited to an arcane ritual – until Ariane picked it up to get a better look. “Happy New Year 1998?”

Wally shrugged. “It was all I could find.”

Ariane laughed. “So where should we put it?”

“Somewhere we can’t accidentally set fire to the place?”

Ariane looked around. The only good-sized bit of open floor in her room was at the foot of her bed, where a round pink throw rug covered the oak floorboards. “Help me move the rug.”

Together they rolled it up and shoved it under the bed. Then Wally put the candle on the floor, took a book of matches from his pocket, and lit the wick. “Turn off the light,” he said.

Ariane clicked off the switch while Wally settled himself cross-legged on one side of the candle. Now the only illumination came from the blue-green glow of the computer’s aquarium screen saver and the candle’s yellow flame, flickering in the slight draft from under the door.

Ariane pointed to the monitor. “Should I turn that off?”

“No, leave it on. If the candle doesn’t work, you can always try concentrating on the virtual fish.” He grinned. “Come to think of it, that might be more appropriate for the Lady of the Lake.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Princess of the Pond? Maiden of the Mud? Miss Teen Watersprite of Twenty...OK, OK, I’ll shut up.” Her phaser-like glare had finally penetrated his shields of obliviousness. He indicated the floor on the opposite side of the candle from him. “Come on, let’s give this a try.”

“We don’t have to take off our clothes, do we?” Ariane said innocently, folding her legs under her.

“Very funny,” Wally muttered, blushing again, and Ariane grinned. But her grin faded as the strangeness of what they were attempting sank in. She looked around uneasily. The wavering flame made shadows dance in the corners, giving Ariane the unnerving feeling that strange, living things slithered, skulked, and skittered just on the edge of her vision.

Too much imagination...

“What do we do now?”

“First, hold hands.” Wally held out his, and Ariane took them. They were warm and dry and not unpleasant to touch. Thanks to Aunt Phyllis, the thought crossed her mind that this whole thing might just be a scheme of Wally’s to hold hands with a girl, but she shoved the notion aside.

“Now what?”

“Stare at the candle, and concentrate on...whatever it is you have inside you. This ‘power’ you feel. Don’t look away.” Ariane focused on the leaping flame while he continued to murmur. “Watch the flame. Reach out for the power. It’s there inside you. Look for it. Reach for it. Watch the flame...”

The candle flame swelled to fill her vision, and Wally’s voice seemed to fade into the distance. She looked past the glowing corona of hot gas into the darker, cooler centre. It looked almost like a tunnel, like a doorway...a passageway to something else, some new level of concentration...

...some new level of power, some new facet of the Lady’s gift...

The dark centre of the candle flame rushed toward her – swallowed her. But in that darkness, she heard a song. Not the song of the water this time, but something different, harsher, colder, and harder...

And then light, as bright and white as lightning, banished the darkness and cast everything into sharp relief. Ariane and Wally jerked apart and stared at her desk. The light was blazing from the computer monitor. As they watched, it darkened and turned a deep blue. Something swirled in the centre of it, coalesced, and became an image of a bloodstained sword – gripped by a mailed fist.

A voice boomed from the speakers, deep and powerful enough to rattle the window. “The sword is not for you. Abandon your quest, or face the wrath of Merlin!”

Wally’s grip on her hand tightened. Ariane felt grateful for the human contact.

“Merlin grants you this warning because he is merciful. But his mercy is not unlimited. Do not expect it again!”

The image of the sword vanished. The blue changed to the blazing white light that had startled them a few moments ago. Wincing, Ariane threw her hand across her eyes. And then the light was gone, and the monitor once again showed computerized fish swimming in a virtual aquarium. In the sudden hush, Ariane heard the sound of a car starting up outside. She leaped to her feet, knocking over the candle, which splattered hot wax across the floor before sputtering out. “Watch it!” Wally cried, but Ariane hardly heard him. She raced to the window, jerked up the blinds, and peered out into the night just in time to see a car pulling away from the curb...a white Ford Focus.

Wally joined her. “Who was that?”

“Someone who was trying to scare us.” And succeeding.

“But...how?” Wally walked over to the computer. “How could he...reach inside your computer like that?” He sounded tense...even frightened, though Ariane doubted he’d ever admit that to her. “I’ve never seen a monitor light up like that before. Something would have to be short-circuiting and arcing inside...but the thing is still working. Nice trick.” He managed a smile. “And it sounded like he got James Earl Jones to deliver his lines. Mr. Darth Vader himself.” The smile faded. “Do you think he was spying on us? Was that Merlin outside your house?”

 “I don’t know,” she said. “But whether that was him, or someone who works for him…he knows who I am now.” She felt a chill. “And where I live. I’ve seen that same car several times. It was parked on Winnipeg Street this afternoon. I walked right by it. It even had a sword on the door. If it belongs to Merlin, he’s practically advertising.”

Wally looked up sharply. “What?”

“Not a real sword. A picture of a sword. And some letters. ECS.”

Wally’s mouth fell open. “Oh, wow. Wow.”

Ariane stared at him, irritated. “Wow what?”

“ECS. It stands for Excalibur Computer Systems. Rex Major’s company.”

“Rex who?”

“Rex Major!” Wally said. “He’s like…Bill Gates and Steve Jobs, all rolled into one. One of the richest men in the world. His Excalibur server software is everywhere. The whole Internet practically runs on it.” He gasped. “My phone – remember the way it lit up in the underwater chamber? Just like this computer. It was a smartphone – connected to the Internet.” He leaned forward, excited. “If Merlin is still alive, he wouldn’t be calling himself Merlin anymore, would he? He’d have to have a disguise, become someone else – something other than a wizard. What if Rex Major is Merlin? What if he’s combined his magic with his computer software? He could extend his power anywhere the Internet reaches. And that’s almost everywhere.” His eyes widened. “And his name!”

“Rex Major?”

“It means High King in Latin!”

“But Merlin’s not a king.”

“But if the Lady was telling us the truth, he wants to be one. That’s why he wants Excalibur – to take over the world.” He looked at the window. “Rex Major wouldn’t have been out there in person. But he’s got offices everywhere. That must be one of his…” he grinned suddenly, as if he couldn’t believe he was actually getting to use the word, “…minions.”

Ariane felt a chill. “But…how are we supposed to beat someone like that?”

“The Lady said you could do it. With the power she gave you.” He looked down and nudged the fallen candle with his foot. “So do we try again?”

 Ariane thought about it, recalling what had happened the first time they’d tried it, and suddenly she realized something: the strange new song she had heard in the mystical darkness still echoed in her mind. She shook her head. “No need,” she said in wonder. “It worked.”

“Really?”

 “Really.” Ariane spread her hands. “I can hear the song of the sword. I know where to find the first shard of Excalibur.”