Jane Carver of Waar (17 page)

We reached Eggplant. He gave me a once over. “You go out like that?”

I looked down at my self. “Like what?”

He rolled his eyes. “Amateurs! You lose half your mystery before you start.” He called to one of the freaks. “Stiltwalker, lend this giant infant a cloak.”

The guy tossed Eggplant a long, green cloak, and Eggplant threw it at me. “Mystery. You see?”

I didn’t really, but I put the thing on anyway as he turned and waddled up the stairs. We followed his double-wide behind up two flights into a huge, steaming kitchen. The ceiling was as low as the mess hall. The cooks ran around with their heads hunched down, sweating into hot tub-sized kettles. At least it smelled nicer up here. Whole carcasses turned on spits in fireplaces bigger than New York apartments. Pots boiled on charcoal grills and nearly-naked serving girls took heaping platters of fancy grub from the cooks and ran out through a curtained door.

Eggplant waved us on. “This way. This way.”

We tiptoed through the chaos, dodging trays and carts and meat cleavers. I got a few stares along the way and heard one of the cooks say “fell in the flour bin” when he thought I was out of earshot.

I was too worried to take much in. What the hell were we going to do? I’ve never been real good in front of big groups of people. I’ve got no problem racing bikes or riding rodeo. That’s different. That’s a contest. I don’t think about the crowd. All I worry about is beating my opponent or the eight second bell. Here I was supposed to entertain people. I got the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it. I mean, I can be the life of the party and tell a joke or two when I’m with people I know, but this... I had to pull a whole circus act out of my ass on the fly, for Christ’s sake.

And as if that wasn’t enough pressure, it had to be good too. If we just stood there with our faces hanging out somebody might peg us as fakes and, hello ki-tens. Even if that didn’t happen, Eggplant would probably boot us back down the cliff so fast we wouldn’t get a chance to try our sneak.

Eggplant led us out of the kitchen and across a wide hall to another doorway. Orange light came around the sides of a curtain and we could hear voices and laughter. He turned to us. “Wait here. I shall return for you when it is time.” He stepped through the curtain.

Sai and I looked around, there were guards posted at both ends of the corridor and serving girls walking through constantly. I shrugged. “Not yet.”

We peeked through the curtain. I shouldn’t have. My insides turned to ice. Through the door was a big room with high ceilings and too much decoration. Armor and weapons cluttered the walls along with animal heads out of an acid trip—chupacabras, jackalopes, flying purple people eaters, you name it, they were all there. And anywhere there was any leftover space there were big murals of studly guys hunting more unlucky livestock.

Below the tapestries the place was wall to wall people, all lying down on couches and stuffing themselves from little tables set in front of them. The couches were laid out in a big “U,” three deep on the two long sides with a single row on a raised platform at the curve, all facing into an open area in the center.

The platform was where all the big shots sat—sorry, lay—and looked down on all the not-so-big-shots. Everybody there was
some
kind of big shot. Even the guys furthest away from the platform were duded up like Mardi Gras floats. Over half the guys were navy brass, decked out in dress kilts and capes, with chests inches deep in medals. The women either wore the usual Oran bikini loincloth if they had the bod for it—or at least thought they did—or a less revealing toga deal if they needed to cover up.

Men and women shared couches. Most of the time the guy would lie with his head at one end and the gal with her head down the other so they could both reach the grub and watch the show, but some of the younger couples laid side by side and I could see a lot of groping going on in the dark.

The crowd was watching a couple guys in the center of the “U” who were doing a goofy Three Stooges sword fight act. There was a lot of butt-smacking and eye-gouging and snappy patter going on. They ate it up, laughing every time one guy’s harness dropped around his ankles and he fell flat on his face, or the other guy got a cut on his finger and cried like a baby. I cringed at the thought of having to go out there and follow them.

Sai pulled his eye from the curtain and looked at me, upset. “She is not there!”

“Who?”

“Wen-Jhai. I fail to see her.”

I looked again. I’d been so freaked by the size of the crowd that I’d forgot to search for our target. I found Kedac easy enough. His teeth were the brightest thing in the room. He was front and center on the platform, on an extra-fancy couch. Wen-Jhai wasn’t with him. There was another broad sharing his loveseat, a sultry, Sigourney Weaver type, tall, slinky, and as cold-looking as Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS.

I raised an eyebrow at Sai. “Who’s the dragon lady?”

“Pardon?”

“The ice queen. Sitting with Kedac.”

He looked again. “Yes. Kedac’s cousin, the Dhanshai Mai-Mar. She runs his household. She...” He stopped and squinted. “How odd.”

“No shit. If this knees-up is all for Wen-Jhai, what’s Kedac’s cousin doing in the place of honor?”

Sai kept his eye to the curtain. “Eh? Yes, that too is odd, but there is something else. Why is my future brother-in-law here?”

“Wen-Jhai’s brother?” That didn’t sound so odd, considering.

“No no. My sister’s betrothed, Vawa-Sar. He sits just left of Kedac. What does he here? And dressed like an Ormolu dandy?”

I took a gander at the guy, a decked-out drip with trying-too-hard written all over him. His hair was too oily, his moustache too thin, his harness loaded down with too much gold. If he’d just relaxed he would have been decent looking. He was plenty tall and buff, but right now he looked like the guy who thought it was supposed to be a costume party.

“Uh-huh. He’s a dude alright.” I didn’t really care who he was. I just wanted to find Wen-Jhai and get this cluster-fuck over with. “But listen, Wen-Jhai not being here is a good thing, right? If she’s somewhere else in the castle it’ll make it a hell of a lot easier getting her alone for a little heart to heart.”

“You speak the truth, mistress, but none the less I am concerned. Could she be unwell? Hurt?”

“Maybe she’s got a couple of black eyes.”

Sai stared at me. “Mistress Jae-En, Kedac may be my rival, but to suggest that any Oran Dhan...”

“Yeah yeah, forget it. She probably just has gas or something.”

Sai looked like he was ready to slap me, but just then a wave of clapping and cheering came from behind the curtain and Eggplant poked his head through. “’Tis time, coincatchers. Do not make me regret my charity.”

My heart did a flip-flop. I’d almost forgot that we were supposed to go on. Eggplant held the curtain open and the two sword clowns stumbled into the hall, flushed and grinning. Their hands and hats were full of coins. Sai started forward, but I couldn’t move. Eggplant waved impatiently. “Come on, come on.”

Sai touched my shoulder. “Mistress Jae-En?”

It broke the spell. I blew out a breath like a horse and followed him out, heart hammering.

The crowd got quiet as Eggplant pushed us to the center of the “U.” I heard whispering all around me. “Demon.” “Giant.” When he got us into position before Kedac’s couch, Eggplant stepped in front of us and raised his arms. “Dhans, Kir-Dhans, Dhanans and Dhanshai, and most benevolent, generous Kir-Dhanan, we present to you now a surprise; an oddity so unique as to verge on the fictitious.”

The audience chuckled.

“And yet she exists. She waits eagerly to astound you with her extraordinary powers. Munificent Kir-Dhanan and nobles all, I give you Mistress Jae-En, demon giantess of far Oompaloo, the strongest being, man or woman, on all Waar!”

The applause from the crowd was just polite. They were going to wait and see. Eggplant turned to us. “Luck, coincatchers. The Seven be with you.” He stepped between us and headed for the curtain.

I stood there.

Sai stood there.

I stood there some more.

A woman giggled out in the darkness.

Sai elbowed me. “Do something.”

I nudged him back. “You do something. You’re supposed to do the talking.”

“Oh. Oh yes.” He coughed and stepped forward. “Er...” He stopped. Somebody else giggled. Sai blushed. I could see it even from behind him. It covered his whole back. He tried again. “Dhan’s and Dhanshai, Noble Kir-Dhanan, may I present to you Mistress Jae-En, the demon, er, the
terrible
demon giantess of far... of far...”

I hissed out of the side of my mouth. “Oompaloo.”

“Of far Oompaloo. The strongest woman, or man for that matter, on all Waar!”

Silence. Some joker spoke up. “Yin-Yir said that already. And better.”

Sai was sweating buckets. He swallowed. “Er... yes. Well... then the time for words it done!” He turned to me, holding out his arms like Vanna White showing off a leatherette livingroom set. “Mistress Jae-En, show us your strength.”

The whole room looked at me, wondering what I was going to do. I was wondering that myself. Well, first of all, I was boiling in the damn cloak Eggplant had saddled me with. I untied the strings from around my neck and shrugged it off.

The crowd gasped. I stopped. Oh yeah, I forgot. I was a freak. I didn’t need to do anything to make an impression. Now I got what Eggplant had been saying. Mystery. I’d been standing there letting the crowd wonder what I looked like without even knowing what I was doing.

Well, I could probably kill a few minutes just letting them look at me. I stood up straight and turned around. I felt like a bodybuilder. Ah-ha! Idea! I was still ripped from all the slave labor Queenie had put me through. I made a bicep. The crowd ‘oohed.’ I made the other one. The crowd ‘ahhed.’

My brain raced, trying to remember all the bodybuilding poses. One of my biker boyfriends had been into that shit—making up for other shortcomings—and I’d gone to a few of his contests: double biceps, side triceps, lat spread, front quads. I ran out way too fast. I could hear the crowd getting restless when I started going into reruns, so I ended it with the Schwarzenegger “drawing-the-bow” pose and the Steve Reeves victory pose. The crowd clapped, but I could tell my novelty was wearing off fast. I was going to have to actually do something.

“Sai, come here.”

He looked suspicious. “Mistress?”

“Just come here, damnit.”

“For what purpose?”

I growled. He was pissing me off. “You told them I did a strong man act. I gotta lift something, don’t I?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Come on.”

“I... I don’t care to.”

I made a swipe for him. He danced away. “But it hurts.”

The audience chuckled.

That gave me another idea. I hissed at Sai. “That’s good. Keep away from me. Pretend you’re scared.”

“Pretend?”

He dodged another swipe. I made my grabs bigger, tripping and cursing when I missed. Sai skipped away from me like a bunny, his sleeve-mask flapping around behind him. I couldn’t tell if he was acting or not. Whichever, the audience ate it up. I played it for as long as I could, then made a real grab and caught Sai around the neck. He yelped.

The crowd laughed. I swatted him on the head. They laughed harder. “Hold still!” Another swat. Another laugh. Sai didn’t move. I think I may have dazed him.

I raised my free hand like a gymnast before a routine, grabbed Sai by the belt, then hoisted him one-handed over my head.

The crowd gasped. They’d been pretty sure I was going to lift him eventually, but they weren’t expecting that.

Sai squealed and squirmed. I was losing him. I set him down fast. He bounced. The crowd cheered. Sai crumpled to his knees, clutching himself. The crowd loved it. After all, what’s funnier than a guy getting it in the nuts?

I was feeling better. I knew how to play this now. These guys had all the class and sophistication of rubes at an Arkansas cooch show. As long as I was smacking somebody around or making a fool out of somebody they’d eat out of the palm of my hand.

I looked at the crowd. “Not heavy enough.” I shaded my eyes like I was searching for a victim. The audience laughed. Everywhere I turned people shrank away, waving their arms like they were fending me off.

I spotted a guy one row back who would make an impressive lift: a burly marine with a forest of medals hanging off his harness. He looked about six-two—tall for a purple guy—and two-fiftyish—at least that’s what I figured he’d weigh on Earth. Here it would feel like he weighed half that. I wouldn’t be able to lift him one-handed, but I’d benched his earth-weight in my time, so I’d be able to do something with him.

But I didn’t want to lift him right away. If I did, I’d have to come up with something else after that. I needed a way to kill time. That way I could end the act with him and get the hell out of here.

I hauled Sai up and clipped him on the noggin again. His knees buckled. The crowd laughed: bloodthirsty sons-of-bitches.

Sai whimpered. “Please, Mistress Jae-En, desist with this abuse.”

“Sorry, Sai. They love it. You’re knocking them dead.”

“Precisely what you do to me.”

“Don’t be a wimp. Now come on. I want you to bring me three guys. The last guy is that big marine with the broken nose. You see him?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The other two should be smaller than him.” I raised my voice so the rubes could here. “Now go! Find me a big man! Big!”

I shoved him. He stumbled forward and scanned the crowd. They laughed and pulled away from him like he had cooties. I stood with my arms folded like Mr. Clean until he finally found a guy and dragged him off his couch. The crowd hooted and gave the guy shit as Sai brought him in front of me.

I gave the guy the once over like I was in a meat market, then shook my head. “Too small. Throw him back. Bring me a bigger one.”

The crowd laughed. The guy looked relieved. Sai took him back to his couch and hunted around again.

We went through the whole deal again with another dude, this one a little bigger than the one before, and again I waved him off. “Still not heavy enough. Aren’t there any men here?” That got another round of laughs and Sai went searching again.