By Simon R. Green
John Taylor, P.I., has come into ownership of the mythical Excalibur. to determine why, he'll need to seek advice the final Defenders of Camelot, a gaggle of knights who stay in a spot extra scary than the Nightside: London. John has been there in years-and there are stable purposes for that...
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Extra info for A Hard Day's Knight (Nightside, Book 11)
Can you even tell me that it is as good and true as it was fifteen years ago when we entered the profession? Look at what’s happened, for Christ’s sake! We are bogged down in a morass of legislation and regulation that reaches from here to China, and even the judges and lawyers don’t understand half of it. We used to be able to call ourselves general practitioners—now we are lucky to be competent in one or two fields, simply because of the updating we must constantly do in order to keep ourselves current.
He could. When did he wish to see Mr. Meeks? Tomorrow morning, if possible. He was visiting from Chicago for a few days only. Would tomorrow morning at ten o’clock be satisfactory? That would be fine. Ten o’clock sharp, then? Fine. The line went dead. He stared at it for a moment, then hung up. He went down to the lobby, bought a Times, drank several scotches—Glenlivet and water over ice, as usual—and went in to dinner. He ate with the paper before him, scanning its sections without interest, his mind elsewhere.
But of course he was questioning himself now. He was the one considering. He had been standing there, drinking his drink and thinking about how he didn’t belong; and when he had picked up the Wishbook, the item on Landover had caught his attention right away. He was the one who felt himself the outsider in his own world, who had always felt himself the outsider, who was seeking always a way to escape what he was. And now here was his chance. His grin broadened. This was crazy! He was actually contemplating doing something that no sane man would even think twice about!