Carnival of the Soul Page 11

  Halla was still waiting for an answer, and Isthil could only shrug. "I'da know. Time will tell."

  Something else Halla'd said came back and Isthil added, "And in case no one's told ye, dinnae eat anyone around here. You'll cause trouble if'n ye do."

  Halla frowned at that, but both Mila and Yuri glanced back in alarm, and Yuri said, "Halla, please. They do not serve meat here, but I will arrange to purchase livestock for you. If it speaks, do not eat it."

  "But ... they're all over the place. Surely they wouldn't miss one or two?" Halla said, gesturing around. "I'd have gone hunting last night if I didn't have to carry Laina back."

  The group had stopped, and Mila turned to face Halla and lifted a finger as she said, "No hunting people!"

  Halla's eyes narrowed slightly and she clicked her teeth meaningfully at Mila, which caused the tigress to jerk her finger back with a wince as Halla said, "Now listen here, you two. You don't point at me like that, and you don't give me orders. You seem nice, but you ain't in charge. I could stomp you both flat. Boss is in charge."

  After a moment's hesitation she added, "I'll ask him first though."

  Glancing around, Halla scowled as she said, "It's nice having friends. I'd rather not lose 'em if I don't have to."

  Isthil withdrew the hand she had positioned behind Halla without the oni noticing, and lifted an eyebrow as she looked at Mila, who glanced at her before saying to Halla, "I am sorry. It is just that it will make things easier for Boss. I also know him well enough to know that he would not want you to eat anyone."

  "So you say, but you ain't one of his bonds. Why?" Halla asked.

  "Actually, I am as of yesterday, but this is not the place to talk about such things," Mila said, her tail lashing once as her ears flattened out to either side.

  Isthil glanced at Yuri, gaging his reaction. His ears were forward, his face bore no particular expression, but his tail was unnaturally still as the tiger kin siblings turned and the four of them resumed their walk.

  No wonder, that. Haven't met a brother yet that was comfortable with talk of his sister's sexual goings-on.

  Two hours and several impressive haggling sessions later, the four of them stood around a high table. They all had beer in front of them, and Isthil had ordered an oatmeal flavored with raisins and cinnamon. Just because her principle sustenance was the stuff of nightmare didn't mean she couldn't enjoy common fare every so often.

  As she set to, Yuri glanced at Halla and said, "I promise we will be buying livestock next, and not just for you. Tauren are certainly willing to put out a decent spread, but only if you like ... grass. I personally like the bread. They make a special kind covered with cheeses, herbs, and sauce, but that stuff always gives me gas. Would you prefer dog, sheep, horse, llama, or camel meat?"

  "Uh ... I've never had any of that. Which is best?" Halla asked as Mila laughed at her brother, then glanced over at Isthil as she said under her breath, "It is the worst. I will not let him eat it unless we are going to be sleeping outside, and even then ..."

  The tiger woman wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

  Isthil laughed and found herself smiling as she joined in the banter. She personally preferred sheep to the various meats the others were discussing. She ate vegetables and animals in equal measure when she was hungry. She had been with the Dust Lord for almost eight hundred years, and had never lacked for nightmares to feed on. Even those of his bonds and servants who chose to adopt his religion with the sort of fanaticism required to be — if not happy — then at least content with life in the zone had dark dreams. As long as she did not drain anyone to excess she was welcome to feed on whomsoever she chose.

  There were so many dreamers in this camp that even now she could feel nightmares in the early afternoon. Yet she was sated, and not at all tempted by the banquet around her. Terry had not one single fond dream last night, and rather than encouraging and then siphoning off bits and pieces as was her habit, she had consumed each of them wholesale. Each time she did this, his mind sank back into the deeper stages of sleep.

  If it truly is as bad as all that every night, I'll have to allow some of his nightmares to play out. No mortal kin survive for long without dreams of some sort.

  "Do ye mind if'n I ask how you got involved with Terry?" Isthil asked, glancing from Mila to Yuri.

  The two glanced at each other, then Yuri said, "It is not a flattering story."

  "Not for my brother in any case," Mila said with a slight smirk. He turned and stared at her until her smile faded. She admitted, "Perhaps not for any of us."

  Satisfied, Yuri turned back to Isthil. "We accosted him at a table in a tavern by the docks in Florence. He was sitting alone, it was crowded, and I thought he would be easily intimidated into moving. We were wrong."

  "What happened?" Isthil asked, setting her elbows on the table and glancing between them.

  "Long story short, the tavern keep owned a fighting pit, and Terry and I wound up across from each other."

  "So ... ye weren't simply inflatin' his reputation this mornin'?"

  Mila shook her head gravely and said, "Had I not been a healer, my brother may not have survived. The fight was brutal."

  "And short," Yuri said bitterly. "I have never experienced anything so one-sided. He moves like water, strikes like a snake, and hits like a Jotun. I could not even touch him."

  "So ..." Isthil raised a hand to indicate the pair, and left the obvious question hanging.

  Mila chuffed and sipped her beer, then said, "After it was over, he came to us and offered his room at the inn and a bottle of Laina's milk. He seemed genuine. We made the decision to take him with us to Monsoon because we needed an extra man."

  Yuri nodded and set his mug down, shaking his head as he wiped the froth from his whiskers. "He was on the verge of falling apart for the duration of the dungeon complex, but he never broke. In the end, he saved us all."

  He started to chuckle and shook his head, then laughed outright as he said, "You could say he beat the mistress of Monsoon with just one finger."

  Mila strangled a chuckle and slapped her brother's shoulder with the back of her hand then winced, shaking it out. She was still trying not to laugh though as she said, "Finger. Pfa! And it was not funny at the time."

  "No, it was not. But we are alive now to laugh, and he promised to help us. Two thousand miles and more in the journey, yet there was never any doubt he would keep his word. He is just that kind of man."

  "What kinda man is that then?" Isthil asked.

  "A slut," Yuri deadpanned, then ducked his sister's swing without even looking as he laughed. She sucked her teeth at him, but when she looked back at Isthil there was a glimmer in her eyes that hadn't been there before. She said, "A good man."

  Isthil nodded, looking down into her beer. She lifted it, took a long pull, then set it down, still lost in thought.

  She had a lot to think about.

  9

  Rule of Law

  Terry sat in his own section of the yurt, alone. Euryale and Prada were in the central portion, just in case anyone walked in, but he had insisted on a little bit of time to himself.

  A single candle augmented the diffuse light coming in through the felt of the yurt, and shadows flickered around him as he slowly wrapped his hand with the airy cotton cloth that would serve him as fight tape.

  He tucked one end under, then made a fist and slapped it into his opposite palm, not even looking. He'd wrapped his hands so many times that he could quite literally do it in his sleep.

  What am I doing? he wondered as he began unwrapping his hands again. Why can't I just learn my fucking lessons?

  A representative of the Firestompers had come by half an hour ago to tell them that they had 'found' a pit, and that the match was scheduled to take place just after sunset.

  For the first time in years, Terry wasn't pumped for what was about to go down. Instead, he wondered if there was any way to get out of it. Prada would be on him, and between
her and his bond gifts, it just wouldn't be fair. There was no way for Law to win, and while he might be nothing more than a punk kid — and a giant asshole as far as Terry personally was concerned — he still deserved a fair shot. Terry had made a fool of him, and that hadn't been fair. While he was okay with that given what the man had said about Laina, this was different. Law wanted a straight-up fight, a chance to claw back some of his lost reputation. Terry wanted to give him that chance ... he just couldn't.

  That was what bothered him. He was so pumped up and augmented with all the bond gifts that it was a wonder he still looked human at all.

  I wouldn't, actually, if I took Halla's gift back from Prada.

  He rubbed a hand over his head as he tried in vain to think of a way out of this. He'd been struggling to come up with something all day. There were rules against spell-craft, which meant he couldn't cast a spell to limit his powers, and he couldn't shed Prada because that would make an already big mess even bigger, even if he wore Shy's mask. With all the disparate women surrounding him, the mask might hide his identity, but it couldn't conceal what he was. So far he only had one idea that was even kinda workable.

  Unfortunately, that idea went against everything he had fought for all his life. It would tear a piece of his heart out ... but at the moment, it was all he had.

  Terry was seriously considering throwing the fight. The how of it wasn't even on his mind. He could do it, the question was, what would all the possible consequences be?

  Would his women lose respect for him? Some of them certainly might. Asturial would for sure, and Laina as well. She might sympathize with his wanting to make the fight fair, but she would never agree to deliberately losing. It was flat out dishonorable. Shy would probably understand. Prada certainly wouldn't, but for her it wouldn't matter either way. Euryale wouldn't care.

  He wasn't sure how Mila would take it, or Isthil.

  Then there was the possibility of him being found out. If he couldn't make it convincing because Law was just too clumsy ... how would the tauren react?

  But if I go ahead and stomp him, I'll ruin his life. He's just a stupid kid, and he caught a beatdown for doing stupid kid shit. He'd be harmless if his daddy didn't have so much pull, but now he's put himself in a situation he can't get out of on his own. How many times did I say something shitty about someone else when I was a kid and get away with it? He was unlucky, but it shouldn't cost him more than it already has.

  He'd been told that Law had been brought to this carnival to find a new herd. He'd just reached adulthood, and he had his whole life in front of him. He'd unwittingly placed that life in Terry's hands.

  So what do I do?

  He was still wondering fifteen minutes later when he heard the door, low murmuring outside, and then, "Husband? It is time."

  "Come on in, Prada."

  She stepped in and looked at him pensively as he stood up. He noted absently she had blue eyes this time.

  "Shy is worried about you," she said quietly. "What's on your mind?"

  "You'll know when you touch me."

  She frowned and said, "If that's the way you want it. I know when you get like this you don't like us inside your head, so I thought I would give you the chance to tell me in the ordinary way."

  "Cover me up. Let's get this shit over with," he muttered.

  He spread his hands and she stepped into him. They kissed, and she flowed into and onto him. He closed his eyes and let it happen, holding himself physically and mentally still until the change was complete.

  Once it was done, he put on the green silk he'd worn for his fight with Asturial. It was essentially a sleeveless gi without any ostentation. That done, he began wrapping his hands again as he stepped out into the main area of the yurt. Shy waited there, and he said without preamble, "It's fine."

  The dryad was having none of it though, and with hands on hips said, "It is not. Tell me."

  He gave her a frustrated frown and said, "I don't think you'd understand, Shy, but fine. I'm about to go out and ruin this kid's life because he's too stupid and stubborn to back down. There was a time not so long ago when I was just like him."

  Shy tilted her head, gazing thoughtfully at him for a moment. He wasn't sure what she was seeing, because his face was that of a minotaur, heavy and animalistic features had replaced his own. What emotions could she see, or was she not even bothering with that, and simply using the bond between them to 'look' at him?

  Though she had a sense of him when he was anywhere within a few miles, they could only share thoughts when in physical contact. She stood five feet away and made no move toward him as she finally said, "You're right, I do not understand. I think you're drawing false comparisons. You were never that arrogant."

  "I was," Terry said through gritted teeth. Talking about this had broken a dam in him, and now there was no stopping it.

  "By the time I met you though, I'd learned my god damn lesson."

  He tapped the blaze of scar tissue that — along with his hair and eye color — were his only recognizable features. "I attacked four men packing heat with my bare hands, Shy. How the fuck do you think I got here? If I'd had even a little common sense, I'd have just let the police arrest those assholes and gone on my merry fucking way. My frustration and rage literally got me killed!"

  He pointed out toward the carnival as he seethed, "I was just like him. He feels wronged and he's doing what he thinks he needs to. What he feels he has to. Well, I put him in that position. I used him ... and now it's only going to get worse."

  He spread his hands, showing off his impressive physique as he said, "You think that's what I built all this for? To be a fucking bully?"

  He shook his head and said, "Worst part of this is that I went looking for someone like him to pick on, to make a point. I was just thinking of helping Laina, give her an opportunity to show off what her milk can do. I never once thought about what I'd be doing to the other guy."

  "You were also motivated by a desire to punish what you consider to be wrong thinking, Husband," Prada said, speaking from his sash.

  He nodded, accepting it as he said, "And that only makes it worse. I'm not staying with these people. Why do I give a shit what they think of me, Laina, or anyone else? We didn't need the money, we didn't need anything. I just went out and used Laina to pick a fight."

  Shy had listened patiently while he spoke, and when he was done she waited a moment more, then asked, "So what will you do?"

  "I don't know."

  "Laina has had four representatives from various interests come to her asking for prices on her milk, Tee. She wrapped her first sale fifteen minutes ago, for all the milk she'd stored over the past few days. Does it help to know that your plan worked as intended?"

  "I'm happy for Laina. I don't regret wanting to help her, but she didn't want me to pick that fight, Shy. I didn't listen."

  Shy's lips pursed and she said, "Tee, by now you should know that everything you do has consequences. I, for one, am glad that you did what you did. Given how happy Laina is right now ... she is too. Law is not your responsibility. We are. Tend to us. Once you beat Law a second time, doors will open for us here. We might not be able to see what those opportunities may be, but they will come. A ruler cannot be more concerned for his enemies than his allies. Law is not your ally."

  "He's just a kid!"

  "A kid who has yet to learn his lesson. So teach him. Beat him."

  She came to him and draped her arms around his hips as she looked into his eyes. "Just don't kill him. Don't cripple him. Leave him alive so that he can learn and grow. Do what you always do when circumstance allows. Beat him down, then help him up. If he accepts, guide him. If he does not, leave him to his fate. Those are his choices to make, not yours."

  She kissed his distorted face, then leaned back and smiled. "There was a time not so long ago when I asked you why you didn't just kill the people who got in your way, do you remember?"

  Terry nodded, and she said, "Now I know.
I understand, and I approve. Perhaps you shouldn't have started this fight. What I or anyone else thinks of what you did is irrelevant. It's what you do now that matters. The past is a memory. The future is an illusion. Live now. Be the best man you can be now."

  Terry smiled, or tried to. He had no idea how it looked. He didn't care. "Thanks Shy. I needed that."

  "I know. You would be a mess without us. Now go out there and do what you love. I have it on good authority that there are some hefty wagers being made, and believe it or not, the money isn't all on you."

  He quirked a brow at that. "Oh really? What are the odds?"

  "Two to one. Against. The word being spread around is that you're a shrimp, he was drunk, and you beat him with a cheap shot. Apparently, Law is well-known as a fist fighter."

  At Terry's incredulous look, Shy leaned in and whispered, "Euryale, Laina, and even Yuri have all put sizable bets down on you. Throw the fight, and you may never hear the end of it."

  "I thought you couldn't do more than read what I'm actively thinking," he said.

  "I can't. Prada told me."

  She leaned back and pointed, and Terry glanced down to see that his sash had wound itself around Shy's thigh.

  "You little shit," he muttered, but there was no force in it, and he could feel Prada's smug sense of self-satisfaction as a warmth in the back of his mind.

  Taking a deep breath, Terry let it out slowly and said, "All right. Let's get this over with."

  Stepping outside, he saw everyone waiting for him. As he scanned the faces of his friends and lovers, he realized that there was no way he could throw the fight. As much as he might want to give Law a bit of redemption, Shy was right. He had his own people to worry about.

  "You ready, Boss?" Laina asked.

  "Yeah. I'm ready." He smiled for her, then hesitated and asked, "Do I look like an idiot when I smile or what? My face is all fucked up when I've got Prada doing this for me and I have no idea how it looks."