I looked at the scabbarded sword; but all sense of its presence was gone, vanished the moment I sheathed it. It looked like any other sword now. But Excalibur was the kind of sword men would kill and die for, for any number of reasons. Suzie came warily back into the kitchen.

“So, does this mean you’re the rightful King of all England now?”

“No,” I said. “I’m pretty sure that was a one-time-only thing.”

“Does it mean you’re King of the Nightside, then? Or was the sword sent to you by someone who thinks you should be?”

“I had the chance,” I said. “And I turned it down. I’m not about to change my mind. As to who sent it: I have a horrible feeling this might be Walker’s last gift to me, taken from the late Collector’s legendary collection.”

“Hold everything,” said Suzie. “The ‘late’ Collector? He’s finally dead?”

“Haven’t you been watching the news?”

“I’ve been busy,” Suzie said defensively. “Aimless lounging round won’t do itself, you know. What happened to the Collector? Who killed him? I take it somebody did finally kill the thieving old scrote?”

“Walker killed him,” I said. “He walked right up to his oldest friend and stuck a knife between his ribs. I was right there, but there was nothing I could do.”

“I’ll not shed a tear for the Collector,” said Suzie. “How many times did he try to kill us? All right, he was a colourful rogue, or a treacherous little turd, depending on how you look at it, but I think the whole Nightside will sleep more peacefully, now that he’s gone. You could always rely on the Collector to stir things up, and rarely in a good way. But ... why did Walker finally kill him, after all these years? I thought they were friends again, after working together during the Lilith War?”

“They were,” I said. “It’s ... complicated. Friendships often are.”

“Hold everything, part two,” said Suzie. “You said ... Walker’s last gift. Don’t tell me ...”