K Jeter - Morlock Night

The Morlock's eyes grew even more saucer-like as he goggled at me. Under the onslaught of my barking he drew back the point of his bayonet and stood in mute befuddlement. His startled companions had fallen silent as well.

"The same goes for you, horse's ass," said Tafe to the one who had brought his bayonet up against her stomach. "Put it away or get ready to eat it." Her threat seemed clear to him despite his lack of English. With a much deflated expression on his pasty face, he took away his weapon and turned to the leader of his little troop for further orders or simple reassurance.

Standing in front of me, the wrinkle-faced one looked me over dubiously. Clearly we were not any of the men from the Lost Coin World. Who then, he was obviously wondering, could we be? And our behaviour was equally puzzling to him. Not only were we not visibly afraid, we were doing our best to seem imperious and disdainful of the whole ugly lot of them.

The mental effort proved to be too much for the leader of the Morlock patrol. I almost felt sorry for the creature as, with a frankly bewildered expression, he dispatched one of the group toward the light and noise farther along the tunnel's length.

"Very good, my repulsive friend." I nodded approvingly at the Morlock. "I trust the superior for which you sent has a greater command of English than you do."

"Ghrah?" He made the little beseeching noise deep in his wattled throat.

"That's right. You keep telling yourself that and everything will turn out fine."

"Look at this little toad over here," said Tafe. "Isn't he a beauty?"

"Lovely." The face of the one in question swung toward me as I spoke. "Reminds me of a Pekingese my maiden aunt once had."

Several minutes passed as we discussed the varied features of the motley crew surrounding us. We made no move to get past them, as Tafe and I agreed that such an attempt might cause panicky defensive measures on the Morlocks' parts. Better to wait and confront the personage for whom the wrinkled sergeant had sent.

As the time lengthened, though, doubts began gnawing my confidence from within. What if the band's superior refused to come and see, but simply issued an order to dispatch the unknown intruders? What if Merdenne had indeed escaped from Ambrose's trap and was here, already aware of our every intention? These and a host of vaguer fears moved through my thoughts. If the Morlocks managed to perceive them, our little confidence game would be over.

At last, footsteps and voices sounded from down the tunnel The Morlock who had been sent reappeared, jabbering excitedly as he trotted along at the side of a much taller, striding figure.

As this new entity approached us, I could see that Ambrose's information about there being different types of Morlocks was correct. This one, being taller, lacked the squat, toadlike body shape of the others. The same flaxen hair flowed down the neck, but the death-pale face had a higher forehead and thinner lips and nose. A marked degree of intelligence showed in the great round eyes as they flicked from my face to Tafe's and back again. Clearly this was a member of some intellectually superior variety of Morlock, fit for directing the activities of his brethren less gifted in mental capacity. As befitted his position of command, various insignia were displayed upon the shoulders and breast of a finely tailored uniform.

"About time you got here," I said sharply to the figure as the circle of Morlocks parted at his arrival. He stood in front of Tafe and me, his jack-booted legs spread wide as be looked us over.

I lowered my brows and returned his stare, curling my lips into a haughty expression of disdain. His eyes met mine and held for several seconds as his pale forehead furrowed in puzzlement over the enigma we presented to him.

At last he spoke. "Who are, you?" he snapped. "What are you doing here?" There was a heavy accent to his deep pitched voice, as though the inflections of our English were unsuited to his vocal mechanism.

"Come, come," I said in feigned exasperation. "Merdenne told me you people ran a slipshod operation down here, but this surpasses all my expectations. You mean to tell me you've made no preparations for our arrival?"

The Morlock's suspicious manner did not dissi pate. "You had best explain yourself," he said in his slow, grating voice.

"Of all the-" I shook my head and sighed in disgust. "Merdenne told you nothing of our coming here?"

"What do you know about Merdenne?"

"Apparently more than you, my good man. I am in possession of his latest instructions concerning your little, ah, manoeuvres down here, shall we say? And if you value your rank you'll bloody well pay attention to what we've come here for. There's quite a genuine little crisis going on, if you're not aware of it yet, and it's going to take some unusual measures to ward off disaster for us all. Do you understand my words?"

The procession of thoughts behind the Morlock's eyes was almost painfully obvious. He at last decided to fish for more information. "Please explain," he said in a slightly more polite manner, "what it is to which you are referring."

"My dear fellow," I said, "I'm not about to stand here surrounded by your little hooligans with their rusty pikestaffs, and try to explain a very complicated situation to you. My colleague and I have already tramped through miles of loathsome wet sewers to reach your wretched little camp. I'm not acquainted with the amenities of your colony, but we would both like large containers of hot water, soap if you have it, though that seems doubtful from the aroma of your platoon here, and as decent a hot meal as you can provide. I'm not expecting every refinement but damn it all, man, this invasion is a civilised business, and we should conduct ourselves accordingly, don't you think." I lifted my chin and gazed down my nose at him.

The word invasion evoked a noticeable response from him. For a moment the large circular eyes goggled a fraction of an inch larger at me. It was now clear to him that we were privy to the purpose of the Morlock's presence here beneath London. Were we indeed allies of whom he had heretofore been ignorant? Or simply well-informed adversaries? The possibilities moiled around behind his eyes.

"Well, come on then," I said impatiently. "When Merdenne gets back he won't be very pleased to hear of these uncalled-for difficulties you've put us through." A scrap of doubt was still visible in the Morlock's face. "Very well. I don't much care for waving this about among a crowd of underlings, but if there's no other way of convincing you…"

I unstrapped the bundle from my back, brought it in front of me and undid the cloths. The mob of lesser Morlocks stood on tiptoe to see, pummelling each other into silence. Across my outstretched hands lay the sword Excalibur, an awesome sight even in its weakened condition. The blade reflected the available light, gleaming like dark glass over the deepest fires of the Earth.

The Morlocks, after several moments of gorging their saucerish eyes, stepped back a respectful distance from Tafe and myself – all except the tall, commanding one. He stood facing us, a new element having entered the calculations running through his head. "How did you come to have that?" he said, after a few seconds.

I began wrapping up the sword again. "Well, well," I said, "now just how do you suppose it came into my possession? Do you think I'd have it if I wasn't very well supposed to have it? Merdenne put it into my keeping, obviously." I tucked the bundle under my arm and glared at our interrogator.

"Why did he do that?"

"See here," I ground out, my face rigid with anger. "I'm damn well sick and tired of your infernal timewasting inquisition. There's a bloody good reason for my having this thing, and it's going to be on your head if all our plans are fouled up. So just you trot along and lead us to the things I requested. There's a lot to be done."