I need to meet him. The thought is simultaneously a realization and a decision, and I am instantly impatient for his presentation to be over. It actually surprises me; very little has made me impatient in the last couple hundred years. Most things come and go with the fluid consistency of time, and I am content to let them appear and fade as they were meant to. Patience is another unavoidable lesson taught by immortality.
It takes another forty minutes for him to finish, and though the more sensible part of me recognizes that it was a brilliant presentation, I am relieved when he announces that he will be meeting people in the lobby for questions. I slip through the doors before most of the crowd has chance to get up from their chairs and wait anxiously for him to appear. I'm not even really sure what to say to him, but that's never stopped me before. If something is happening to gather the ghosts of my past together, I need to find out what it is- and the previous king of Camelot seems like a good place to start.
A delighted laugh cuts through the humming chatter of the gathering crowd, and I turn my head in surprise to see Gwen pushing through the clumps of people to throw her arms around a boy standing a little to my right. His back is to me, and he's wearing his hood up over his head so I can't see his face, but she looks so happy that I can't imagine it is anyone but Lance. What is she doing here? Did she attend the lecture too? Is it possible that she's responding to some ancient memory of herself, drawn toward the Arthurian legends despite the centuries between her two lives? Or is it just another bizarre coincidence?
I've become skeptical in my old age, but even I am not that jaded. Fate has controlled my life before, and there is no reason why it could not again. Perhaps it's time I met this Lance.
Across the room, Gwen giggles and hugs the boy again, and a stab of homesickness nearly makes me change my mind. The last time I saw Lancelot was when I'd set fire to his body after he and Guinevere betrayed Arthur's trust and voided his engagement to the blacksmith's daughter. Even then I was convinced that we were missing something; the action was so against Guinevere's character- and Lancelot's as well- that I had known something was wrong. But I'd never found proof, and since Arthur ended up forgiving her anyway I'd grudgingly let the matter drop. Lancelot had been one of Arthur's best knights, but he was also my friend. Even after all this time, I can't help feeling guilty that I'd never solved the mystery and cleared his name as he deserved.
Maybe now I'm being given the chance to set things right once and for all. All of my mistakes, all of my failures… maybe there's a way for things to end the way they were meant to all those lifetimes ago.
Before I have a chance to lose my nerve, I push between a pair of students and make my way toward Gwen and Lance. She has let him go now, and he's holding her at arm's length. I can see his hands on her shoulders, and my step falters.
His skin is the same flawless, deep shade as hers. It isn't Lancelot.
I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. I stand idiotically for a few more moments, watching as he releases her, waves goodbye, and continues past her to melt into the crowd and disappear from my sight. Belatedly I realize what I must look like and start to turn away, but she's already seen me. With an excited wave, she slips between the groups of students and bounces up to me, grinning.
"Hey!" she greets cheerfully. "Morgan, right? D'you go to school here too?"
"Uh- yeah," I lie. She's changed out of her work uniform into a pair of jeans and an asymmetrical t-shirt that hangs off of one shoulder. Her face is absolutely glowing.
"This is my lucky day," she announces. "I meet two new people who both show up a few hours later, I get to hear Professor Penn speak, and I get a surprise visit from-ˮ
"You're interested in Professor Penn?" I interrupt, deciding at the last second to focus on the coincidences rather than the inconsistencies.
If she is surprised by my rudeness, she doesn't show it. "Yeah, isn't he great?" she gushes. "His ideas are just so… original, I guess. But they make sense, don't they?"
"That magic was real?" I counter dully, unable to keep my disappointment about Lancelot from coloring my voice.
"Well, maybe," she answers. "I mean, it could have been science that they just didn't understand yet. But who knows? It's not like we have any eyewitnesses anymore. Just some half-destroyed records and accounts, and they all talk about magic."
My face must have betrayed me when she mentioned the eyewitnesses, because she gives me an odd look. "What?" she presses.
Abruptly I feel the weight of my disappointment and heartache, and I desperately wish she could be the friend she once was to me. "Do you believe in reincarnation?" I ask, half-surprising myself with the bluntness of my question.
She considers me for a moment, thinking through her answer before shrugging. "I dunno. I suppose."
"Well suppose- if it's true- that souls who knew each other in one life gravitate together again."
"Ok," she allows slowly. "So?"
"If they gravitate toward people, wouldn't they gravitate toward memories as well?"
"What do you mean?"
Please hear me, Guinevere, I pray silently. "You, for example. A girl named Gwen dating a boy named Lance with an interest in Arthurian legends."
That's when she laughs. "You think I'm the reincarnation of Queen Guinevere?"
I shrug, ready to play the whole thing off as a joke. "Why not? You believe in magic, don't you?"
"Alright," she says indulgently. "So if I'm Guinevere and Lance is Lancelot- Lance is Lancelot, right?- where's Arthur? Shouldn't Guinevere end up with Arthur?"
"Arthur's a little late," I murmur, losing my light tone. I force it back in time to add, "That's Arthur, though. He does things by his own schedule."
Gwen laughs again. "You know him?"
"I did."
"Oh?"
"Once. A long time ago."
Still smiling, Gwen asks, "So you're roped up in the reincarnation business too, huh? Who are you supposed to be?"
"Oh, Guinevere," I tell her sadly. "I'm Merlin."