arthurian

Then this is for you," Galahad said, and drew a knife from the pouch at his belt. It was an odd little thing, T-hilted and small enough to fit into a woman's hand. Its translucent blade, only an inch and a half long, was bound with scrolling bronze wire to the bone hilt. "Have a care. Obsidian is sharper than anything else in the world, sharp enough to make sunlight bleed.

He grinned. __o not fear. I am here to serve you, as I promised._ Despite the fit of schoolgirl giggles that had seized her in Carbonek when he first proposed to be her knight, his assurance annoyed her now. __ou inspire me with confidence,_ she said, honey-sweet. __ith a few more years and experience, you would make a capable guardian, I__ sure._ __nd you an amiable ward,_ he said, bowing again.

In the dim sunset Perceval looked the glade over and said, __oes your lady wife think so little of sending you out on deadly errands?_ Sir Gareth unstrapped the blanket from behind his saddle. __t__ our fourth child. I__e grown accustomed to it._ __f course,_ Perceval said with a grin, __ven dragonfire might burn less hot than my lady aunt__ temper._ Sir Gareth cuffed Perceval across the ear. __or that piece of insolence, youngster, you take the first watch. And be glad you are so tender in years that I dare not risk my honour upon you in single combat to prove my Lynet as sweet-tempered as she should be.

Blanchefleur felt a quick rush of affection for her. When the world frowned, Branwen went on smiling. There was a heart of steel under all that froth and bubble.

It was like listening to the universe in motion. Planets spinning on their appointed courses, the lives of men intersecting and parting, the unimaginable harmony of the human body itself in hierarchy and order, were all implied in the song, but something greater as well: the genius of the composer, which must surely approach the miraculous. Perceval closed his eyes and was lost in the weaving music.

Do not deceive yourself, Gawain. There are black places in the heart of every man.

How you must hate Logres,_ she said in a dry mouth. __ate Logres?_ He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. __here is an anger that is deserved, Blanche. Tell me. Look me in the eye, if you can, and tell me__o my face__hat Logres is without sin.

There was carpet under Blanchefleur__ feet and the scent of clean and delicate things in her nostrils__erfume, babies, soap, and tea. Homesickness hit her like a clenched fist; this was worse than memory.

That night she dreamed about the King again. She stood in a riverside meadow between greenwood and castle. Overhead the sun shone gilt in a sky like powdered lapis and struck golden sparks from the King's blood-red dragon banner.

I have fled from the wilderness fasting, with woe and unflagging travail,I have sought for the light on the mountain, and skirted the devilish dale. I have laid my mouth in the dust, and begged the Might to be kind,I have come to the feast, and I famish. Now grant me the Holy Grail.

I mean,_ he said, __hat by your own showing, the greatest threat to heaven comes from within the ranks of the angels themselves. Before you can prove to me that heroes can defeat villains with nothing but the purest chivalric ideals, you must convince me that heroes do exist, and that villains are not a fanciful tale for children. You must tell me, sir, if you dare, that you are incorruptible, and that your colleagues and commanders are as pure as you.

Perceval said to the Grail Knight: __ill you break a spear with me this day?_ He did not expect Galahad to look down on him from Lancelot__ immense height and say, gently, as if he knew it must disappoint, __ir, I cannot._ __o? Well, there are others to fight,_ said Perceval, trying not to show how vexed he felt to be denied the honour. __ot for any lack of love,_ Galahad added. __ut for the regard in which I hold you, Perceval of Wales.

The last declaration he'd made to me hung between us. The L word. The one that had nothing to do with like.

He had only heard of dragons, and although he had never seen one, he was sure they existed.

Plus, I happened to be a history nerd. Why else would I be interested in a guy born in the year 519?

The combination of razor-sharp wit (completely real) and his credentials (completely fake) had won them over in the end.

You'll get fired if anyone finds out about us!""So many rules in this century," Vane muttered.

Why did you wear heels? How are you supposed to fight a gargoyle in what you're wearing?