He continued on to the other end of the field and turned. When he had, he saw that the hollow knight, now headless, was doing the same. And beyond him, he saw two standing figures, where moments before there had been but one.

Morgan Le Fay, clad in a white robe, red hair un- bound and blowing in the wind, faced Merlin from across his pattern. It seemed they were speaking, but he could not hear the words. Then she began to raise her hands, and they glowed like cold fire. Merlin's staff was also gleaming, and he shifted it before him. Then he saw no

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more, for the hollow knight was ready for the second

charge.

He couched his lance, raised the shield, leaned for- ward and gave his mount the signal. His arm felt like a bar of iron, his strength like an endless current of elec- tricity as he raced down the field. The rain was falling more heavily now and the lightning began a constant flickering- A steady rolling of thunder smothered the sound of the hoofbeats, and the wind whistled past his helm as he approached the other warrior, his lance cen- tered on his shield.

They came together with an enormous crash. Both knights reeled and the hollow one fell, his shield and breastplate pierced by a broken lance. His left arm came away as he struck the earth; the lancepoint snapped and the shield fell beside him. But he began to rise almost immediately, his right hand drawing his long sword.

Launcelot dismounted, discarding his shield, drawing his own great blade. He moved to meet his headless foe.

The other struck first and he parried it, a mighty shock running down his arms. He swung a blow of his own. It

was parried.

They swaggered swords across the field, till finally

Launcelot saw his opening and landed his heaviest blow.

The hollow knight toppled into the mud, his breastplate cloven almost to the point where the spear's shaft pro- truded. At that moment, Morgan Le Fay screamed.

Launcelot turned and saw that she had fallen across the pattern Merlin had drawn. The sorcerer, now bathed in a bluish light, raised his staff and moved forward.

Launcelot took a step toward them and felt a great pain

in his left side.

Even as he turned toward the half-risen hollow knight

who was drawing his blade back for another blow, Laun- celot reversed his double-handed grip upon his own weapon and raised it high, point downward.

He hurled himself upon the other, and his blade pierced the cuirass entirely as he bore him back down, nailing him to the earth. A shriek arose from beneath him, echoing within the armor, and a gout of fire emerged from the neck hole, sped upward and away, dwindled in the rain, flickered out moments later.

Launcelot pushed himself into a kneeling position.

Slowly then, he rose to his feet and turned toward the

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two figures who again faced one another. Both were now standing within the muddied geometries of power, both were now bathed in the bluish light. Launcelot took a step toward them, then another.

"Merlin!" he called out, continuing to advance upon them. "I've done what I said I wouldi Now I'm coming to kill you!"

Morgan Le Fay turned toward him, eyes wide.

"No!" she cried. "Depart the circle! Hurry! I am holding him heret His power wanes! In moments, this place will be no more. Go!"

Launceiot hesitated but a moment, then turned and walked as rapidly as he was able toward the circle's perimeter. The sky seemed to boil as he passed among the monoliths,

He advanced another dozen paces, then had to pause to rest. He looked back to the place of battle, to the place where the two figures still stood locked in sorcerous em- brace. Then the scene was imprinted upon his brain as the skies opened and a sheet of fire fell upon the far end of the circle.

Dazzled, he raised his hand to shield his eyes. When he "lowered it, he saw the stones falling, soundless, many of them fading from sight. The rain began to slow im- mediately. Sorceror and sorceress had vanished along with much of the structure of the still-fading place. The horses were nowhere to be seen. He looked about him and saw a good-sized stone. He headed for it and seated himself. He unfastened his breastplate and removed it, dropping it to the ground. His side throbbed and he held it tightly. He doubled forward and rested his face on his left hand.

The rains continued to slow and finally ceased. The wind died. The mists returned.

He breathed deeply and thought back upon the con- flict. This,-this was the thing for which he had remained after all the others, the thing for which he had waited, for so long. It was over now, and he could rest.

There was a gap in his consciousness. He was brought to awareness again by a light. A steady glow passed be- tween his fingers, pierced his eyelids. He dropped his hand and raised his head, opening his eyes.

It passed slowly before him in a halo of white light. He removed his sticky fingers from his side and rose to his

294 .

feet to follow it. Solid, glowing, glorious and pure, not at all like the image in the chamber, it led him on out across the moonlit plain, from dimness to brightness to dimness, until the mists enfolded him as he reached at last to em- brace it.

HERE ENDETH THE BOOK OF LAUNCELOT,.

LAST OF THE NOBLE KNIGHTS OF THE.

ROUND TABLE, AND HIS ADVENTURES.

WITH RAXAS, THE HOLLOW KNIGHT,.

AND MERLIN AND MORGAN LE FAY,.

LAST OF THE WISE FOLK OF CAMELOT,.

IN HIS QUEST FOR THE SANGREAL.

QUO FAS ET GLORIA DVCUNT.

STAND PAT, RUBY STONE.

I wrote this in a hurry for complicated reasons involv- ing The llliisiraled Roger Zeiazny, and then the reasons evaporated and it got published in a different place than was originally intended, but everything worked out okay.

When it was agreed that we would marry, the three of us went to Old Voyet of the Long Legs to select a stone signifying the betrothal. This was to be our choice alone, as was the custom.

Kwib favored one the color of passion itself, bright blue, looking as if it were a solid drop of the great ocean.

I preferred a jewel the color of fire, representing peace and stability in the home. Since our beloved agreed with me, the ruby stone, a more expensive gem, was selected and Old Voyet of the Long Legs made the incision in our beloved's brow, set the stone there and bandaged it in place. Our beloved, thenceforth to be known as Ruby Stone, was very brave. He held us and stared at the ground, unmoving, throughout that terrible little ritual.

"Never hurts me a bit," Old Voyet of the Long Legs remarked, "and I've done the Woods know how many over the returnings."

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We did not reply to the crude humor, but made ar- rangements to see her paid before the ceremony.

"Will there be a Bottom-Top settlement for all to see?"

she asked.

"No, we believe in privacy in these matters," I an- swered, perhaps too quickly, for the look I received in reply showed that it had been taken as a sign of weak- ness. No matter. The walker with the mitteltoth knows its wilpering best.

We bade one another farewell and departed in the three directions, to remain at station houses until Ruby Stone should heal sufficiently to be fit for the ceremony.

I rested and practiced thorn-throwing while I waited for the joggler. On the tenth day it came napping to my door. Before I slew it, I took its message and learned that we would be wed two days hence. The joggler's in- nards augured a mixed destiny but its flesh was tender.