Morlock Night by K.W. Jeter Page B

serves the most wretched pale stuff."
    Â Â "A fine idea." I said with all the heartiness I could muster. "On to the public house." My hand reached for the brass knob of the door–
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    He watched the movements of his opponent's hands with interest. "Castling?" said Dr. Ambrose in smiling reproach. "Surely that's a time-wasting defensive move, uncalled for at this point in a game. You should press your advantage. I'm already down two pawns."
    Â Â  Merdenne tapped his fingertips upon his king and one rook. "I must confess," he said, "that by strict logic you are correct. The nagging hunch I act upon is completely irra tional. But all through the game I've had this compulsion to safeguard the king." He moved the pieces about to their new positions. "In the Orient, though, I learned that not all is dictated by logic." He leaned back in his chair and regarded the board.
    Â Â  A moment of silence passed in the room, empty except for the two chess-players, then Merdenne stiffened bolt up right, his pale face contorted in rage. "The king!" he shouted. "You've deceived me! Your accomplices–"
    Â Â  "Perhaps," said Ambrose mildly, "like your old friend Suleiman, you need to learn the value of pawns."
    Â Â  With a choked cry Merdenne leaped to his feet and dashed his fist to the centre of the chessboard, scattering the pieces in all directions. The diners at the nearest tables looked with shocked amazement at the reappear ance of the two men. Merdenne's chair crashed backwards as he ran toward the door, knocking aside a waiter in his path.
    Â Â  Ambrose drained the last of the Latour from his glass before he stood, dropped several bills upon the table, and followed his double out of the restaurant.
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    But even as my hand reached for the knob, the door burst into flames. Arthur, Tafe and I drew back as one. The unnaturally bright, devouring heat of the blaze revealed its origin. "Too late!" I cried. "Merdenne is upon us!"
    Â Â "The window," said Tafe. She let go of Arthur's arm, pushed the massive wing chair to the wall, lifted and toppled it through the glass in an explosion of glittering shards. I tugged loose one of the long drapes and knotted one end to a bent section of the now empty window frame.
    Â Â As though from old habit, Arthur took command. "You go first," he said to me. "I'll need your assistance below."
    Â Â Glad to be free of the stifling heat – the one entire end of the room was by now in flames – I stepped over the sill and rapidly lowered myself down the drape, then let go and fell the last few feet to the ground.
    Â Â Arthur tossed the bundled Excalibur down to me, then half-clambered, half-slid down the drape. I caught and steadied him when he dropped the last distance. Tafe was only halfway down the drape's length when the knotted end burned free from its mooring. She fell heavily upon her back in a shower of sparks.
    Â Â I helped her to her feet and she nodded to indicate that she was all right. The three of us hurried away from the inferno that Merdenne had made of his clinic in a vain attempt to trap us. Behind us, the walls of the building began to collapse, sending gouts of dizzying heat across the red-lit lawns.
    Â Â "Here!" A voice shouted to us, carrying across the hubbub of the crowd that had gathered around the iron fence. I spotted Ambrose signalling and pointed him out to Arthur and Tafe. We turned our steps toward the spot and soon were separated from him by only the iron bars of the fence.
    Â Â A group of good-hearted young Londoners, always ready to participate in any excitement, extended their hands through the bars like steps and helped us mount over the top railing. One by one we dropped down into their midst, then were collared into a group by Ambrose. As we began to work our way from the scene of the holocaust one of the cheerful mob shouted after me. "Hey, mate! You forgot your parcel!" The fellow tossed the bundled