Nathan steeled himself and rapped on the door. It swung open before he’d even finished knocking.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Dr. Cain said, ushering him in. The Pendragon looked much the same as always, though she’d cut her hair and was female today.

The two stared at each other for a long moment, then Dr. Cain folded her arms. “You told me decades ago that you needed to speak to me sometime. I am assuming this is that time, so speak.”

Nathan opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Something dark deepened Dr. Cain’s black eyes. “Whatever it is, it must not be good, else you would not have waited until after you abdicated to come tell me. What is it?”

“It’s about your son.” Nathan’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Dr. Cain froze.

“He set off on a quest, intending to find something and bring it back home. He died on the return trip, but he succeded in his quest.” Nathan reached into the pocket of his overcoat and removed a small cup. It fit easily into Nathan’s hand and was made of a paper-thin crystal that caught the light.

Dr. Cain said nothing, but her eyes never left the cup.

The silence stretched.

“Why bring this here?” Dr. Cain said, her voice low.

“Your son set out to find it for you. Seeing that you got it is the least I can do.”

“The least you could do?” Awan hissed, and then realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. “Galahad was in the city you destroyed.”

Nathan bowed his head, still holding out the Grail. Mordred Pendragon took it, looked in its depths, and smiled.

Galahad’s version of hair care went something like this: shave head. Wait until head resembles a woolly caterpillar; start from top. His approach to facial hair was pretty much identical.

God only knows where he got his clothes from. Nothing matched. Most of it didn’t even fit him. Fortunately, he mostly just wore his hermit’s robe. It was fun seeing what he’d wear to court the few times he bothered to show, though.

The west wall of his hut kept falling down, too. Not that Galahad cared, much. He said it gave him something to do. The only time it ever really irritated him was when it landed on him in his sleep. He had a nice cellar, though. It’s where he kept all his books, which he also scrounged from around the city. A substantial portion were on such refined matters as tatting lace.

All in all, Galahad had to be the most unkempt knight of the Round Table, and certainly one of the strangest. Percival, the holy fool, probably edged him out for the title of strangest knight, but only just.

Lancelot, when asked, insisted that Galahad took after his mother. Since no one at court had ever seen her, most people accepted this.

Galahad knew better, though.

The trial was held, like every other trial, in the Rotunda, in the presence of a quorum of knights. Kai looked around the room and sighed. Nearly everyone had shown up. Even Galahad had hunted down some knightly garb for the occasion, though he still looked like a country bumpkin playing dress-up.

Kai looked around again, counting empty seats. Nine. Four would not be filled until replacements were found. Kai had to remind himself not to glance at the remaining Lothian brothers. Sir Alexander and Sir Palomedes were out questing; they would not hear the news for days, at least. Lancelot had vanished, though he would not have had a seat at the table anyway. That left Gawain and Mordred.

Kai looked at his brother. Arthur had clearly noted their absence as well and looked, for the first time that day, faintly hopeful. After all, without the key witness, there could be no trial.

Kai refused to look at Guenevere.

Then the doors opened, and Gawain walked in, guiding Mordred. Kai winced; Lancelot had certainly done a number to the younger knight. The whole left side of Mordred’s face was one solid bruise; his left arm was in a sling. As he hobbled to his seat, Kai could see that he wasn’t resting his weight on his right foot, either.

Gawain clasped Mordred’s shoulder briefly before taking his own chair. Arthur’s eyes sought his champion’s; Gawain’s return stare was faintly challenging.

Mordred just leaned forward, blind eyes staring vacantly at the table, too tired to even pretend to sight.

Arthur cleared his throat. “You are all gathered here today as judges in a matter of grave import. The Queen has been accused of adultery; Sir Lancelot of adultery, murder of a fellow knight, and assault of another fellow knight. Lancelot, as you all can see, is not here at present, so this trial is solely of the Queen.”

Kai watched the others. Galahad leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded, looking for all the world like a lazing lizard. No way to tell what he was thinking, or even whose side he was on. Gawain was still staring at the king; his two remaining full brothers were blank with shock. Kai would bet a year’s income that they weren’t even fully aware of their surroundings. Bors and Lionel were staring at Mordred. Bedivere was watching Kai watch the crowd; Kai spared him a smirk.

Arthur paused. “How, then, shall we go about this?”

Lionel’s voice rasped out into the sudden stillness. “With the only witness, of course.”

Mordred did not even twitch. In a dull monotone, he asked, “Did anyone remember the truthspell?”

Everyone paled. Guenevere looked about to faint – something she’d never, to Kai’s knowledge, actually done before.

“Is it really necessary?” Arthur asked, looking ill himself.

Surprisingly, it was Percival who answered. Kai hadn’t even known he’d been paying attention. “It is demanded by the law, Your Majesty, if we are following the strict form.”

“It will take a while to track down a wizard capable of rendering it,” Arthur said, “and it is also necessary under the law to conduct trials speedily.”

“I could render it,” Mordred rasped, “but none of you would trust it if I did. Just as none of you will trust my word without it, and I will not trust Her Majesty’s without it, either.”

“Mordred…” Arthur began.

“Besides,” Mordred continued, “while the law does insist on a speedy trial, it also insists on several things to make it a just trial.”

Kai was tempted to find a pin and drop it, just to test the silence.

“Are you impinging the honor of this company?” Bors asked in his slow manner.

Mordred laughed. “You dare ask me that? Do you forget whose trial is still pending?”

Bors reared back as if slapped. “You insolent…”

“It’s rendered.”

Every head turned towards Galahad. He raised an eyebrow. “You were waiting on a truthspell?”

Okay, so maybe spending all his free time in a little hut with esoteric texts had paid off for Galahad.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Now that that matter is seen to, what next?”

Lionel opened his mouth, undoubtedly to repeat his earlier statement, but Mordred spoke first. “Question the accused.” His voice was as flat as if he were reading from a legal text.

No one spoke.

A dark grin curved Mordred’s lips. “I see. None of you wanted it to go there, did you? No truthspell, so she couldn’t be compelled to testify; now that there is a truthspell, no questions… Very well.” He turned more or less in the Queen’s direction. “Your Majesty, you stand accused of committing adultery with Sir Lancelot, repeatedly over a period of several years. Is this accusation true?”

Guenevere remained silent, but her face was growing gray.

“Your Majesty, it is unwise to resist a truthspell. You will eventually be compelled to speak anyway, but you may be mindless when it happens. Please answer the question; did you commit adultery with Sir Lancelot?”

“…Yes.”

Arthur closed his eyes.

Mordred didn’t even blink. “And this had gone on for…?”

“…At least a decade. I don’t remember exactly.”

Mordred paused for a long moment.

“Mordred…” Arthur began.

“You do not have to remind me. Only questions pertaining to the Queen’s charges, right?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.” Was that mockery tinging Mordred’s voice? “No further questions, Your Majesty.”

Lionel had grown more and more flustered throughout this exchange. “And what prompted you to go to Her Majesty’s quarters, Sir Mordred?”

“I am an investigator,” Mordred replied, completely unruffled. “I was investigating a crime.”

“And you frequently investigate crimes involving people’s private arrangements?”

“They are still crimes,” Mordred said flatly.

“You hypocrite,” Guenevere hissed. “You have been trying to get the adultery laws overturned for years.”

Mordred’s eyes burned green as he turned to stare at her. “Yes,” he replied, still in that flat voice, “but you were the one who passed that law in the first place. It’s a nice bit of poetic justice, wouldn’t you say, that you are now suffering from it?”

Arthur massaged the bridge of his nose. “We could change the law.”

“No.”

Arthur, Guenevere, and most of the rest all stared at Mordred. His flat denial seemed to ring in the air.

Kai found himself watching Galahad. Galahad was toying with a rosary and smirking to himself, the only one in the room unsurprised by Mordred’s refusal.

“‘No’?” Arthur repeated.

“No. You would not repeal the law when I asked in the past. No matter how many cases I brought before you, no matter how many examples I gave of just how this law was hurting people, you refused to change it. ‘Adultery is oathbreaking, and oathbreaking is the heart of dishonor.’ Isn’t that what you said, the last time I mentioned it?” Mordred leaned back with a dry chuckle. “But now it’s hit a little too close to home, hasn’t it? It’s become personal, hasn’t it? It hurts you, and suddenly it’s worth changing?”

Even Gaheris and Gareth were staring at Mordred.

Mordred, oblivious, said, “I burned an adultress three days ago. I lit the pyre myself. She died begging to be returned to her children; her husband, the man she’d betrayed, was too distraught even for that. I lit the pyre myself,” he snarled, “remembering that the last time I’d spared an adultress, you ordered her tracked down and burned anyway. You dare ask to change the law? Now?“

No one could think of a thing to say. Arthur was staring at his hands; Guenevere was staring at Mordred. Everyone else was trying to ignore him.

“Be that as it may,” Arthur began, “does it really matter why I come to see that a law is wrong, so long as I do? I-”

“Tell me, Father, how it is you managed to get such a reputation for justice when you allow yourself complete freedom from it?”

And Kai realized, with the suddenness of a knife to the back, that Mordred wasn’t talking about Guenevere anymore.

He really hated the south of France. Fucking Pyrenees.

Dr. Cain scrabbled up another cliff, his head pounding from his magically-induced eyesight. He barked his shin on an outcropping, cursed, and kicked it again just out of spite. It hurt his toe, but it made him feel better.

Times like this, he wished he’d never been given the ability to make his eyes work. Then he could’ve told Francis to fuck off.

Dragon talons did come in handy for scaling mountains, though. Dr. Cain wheezed out a laugh. Kathleen had told him he climbed like a gecko. Not strictly true, but amusing nevertheless.

Dr. Cain pulled himself onto what was more or less the mountaintop and curled up in the brush, blending in seamlessly. Being able to turn “green as spring grass”, as his brother had put it, had moments of usefulness.

All in all, thought the scientist, he had too many useful traits. If he were more boring, he’d never have been sent on this damn fool errand.

He poked his watch irritably. “Francis.”

The watch twitched. “What?”

“Why am I breaking into your family’s ancestral castle, again?”

The watch sighed. “Because I’m holding your laboratory hostage.”

“Besides that.”

No response. Dr. Cain poked the watch again. “Francis. If you don’t tell me exactly what’s going on, I’m going to jump off this mountain and go home.”

“Most people ask before they leave, you know,” Francis muttered irritably. “And I told you. Something weird’s up there. I don’t know what, and I can’t exactly scale a mountain, and I don’t exactly trust the rest of my family to check it for me.”

“That’s really a sad commentary on your family,” said a third voice as its owner hunched down next to Dr. Cain.

Dr. Cain promptly punched him.

Or tried to, anyway. The stranger ducked back and got to his feet in one smooth motion.

Something tugged at the back of Dr. Cain’s mind.

The man twitched his disheveled robe straighter, ran a hand over his cropped white hair, and half-grinned down at the green man.

“So, Mordred, has anyone ever told you you climb like a gecko?”