Alvarez was numb and relieved as he followed the trail of noise that splattered into the center of the drunken town. He stopped at the first inn and drank a flagon of ale without pausing to look at the raucous mob around him. He considered the great loss of recompense for only a moment, before the next flagon rinsed his concern away. Two inns later, the taste of the Oracle’s voice had washed away and he was ready for anything.
Follett was a good man and they had traveled together much over the years. Maybe he would keep part of the bounty for him. Maybe they would share it in taverns and on the road again. The thought made Alvarez grin and raise the mug in a concealed salute to himself.
As he lowered the mug, he saw a man laughing at him from the corner of the shabby room. It was another stinking caballista. This one was older than those he had witnessed being dispatched earlier. For some reason, the man was staring at him and then he began imitating Alvarez’s quiet salute, complete with whispered toasts and muttered oaths. This drunk was taking the piss out of his drunkenness, and that triggered a rage in Alvarez that was totally out of proportion to the guard’s oafish jesting. It was a great spite for the Oracle and what it knew about him. An unspent violence seething. It was also the wrath he had swallowed to give that disgusting, evil thing safe passage. Halted adrenaline sheathed and now infused with his lifetime contempt for all police and for the caballistas. The fury he had not shared with his comrades at the gatehouse curdled his expression and vibrated the air around him. The caballista mimicked this last face, then donned his helmet, emblazoned with a wreath of metal laurel leaves, and swaggered out the door. He stepped out into the bright sunlight and took a deep breath of the warm, fragrant air, sucking the glory of the world into the glory of his pride.
Alvarez was out of his seat with a speed that was surprising for one so awash with ale. He knew no one was near enough to stop him or take this cunt’s side. He rushed outside and, with all the force he possessed, drove his dagger hard into the guard’s lower back at an angle that ripped through his liver and worried the point up toward the bottom of his lungs.
Alvarez walked around to the face the guard and stood, sword and dagger in hand, making a comic impersonation of the man’s agonized face as his victim fell to his knees. Still wearing the mimicry, he raised his sword in a decapitating curve, but the sun caught the metal leaves of the helmet, and it seemed far too pure and desirable to be splattered in gore. Alvarez stepped sideways and raised the sword vertically, bringing it down parallel to the guard’s neck and through the gap in his collarbones, into the open top of his rib cage and straight down into his unprotected heart. The wound obediently closed, and the man bled to death without a drop marring the trophy, which Alvarez quickly retrieved. He knew he would look magnificent in the helmet, and any fortunate female who happened to see him would be overwhelmed by his grandeur.
The volume of the stink of Carnival aroused every Filthling within three leagues of Das Kagel. Even some creatures from the eastern side lifted their orifices out of smoke and torment to savor the distant breeze. The meeker Woebegots, which hid in the villages and farmlands, cautiously made their way along the riverbanks toward the city square. Some crawled in the hedgerows and woods, being careful to avoid both vindictive foxes and intolerant hermits. Some came up from the cellars and silos to discover why the Great Ones had become so loud in their odor. The long-winded plays and the short-breathed drinkers competed in their praise for and denigration of the street musicians who cursed the air with brass and strings. In so much confusion and noise, another band of mismatched grotesques marched unseen with their weapons and ragged skirts through the throngs of revelers.
Meg had pushed a tight metal bowl onto her oddly shaped skull, and its dull pewter glint reflected in the metal breastplate that was three sizes too big but which gave hollow space and protection to her ponderous, sagging paps. Her army of outraged wives was more traditionally dressed in long skirts and aprons. They had obtained all manner of weapons in their passage, having fleeced and knuckled the weaker men they crossed; their passion and their purpose engulfed them.
The bleary, shuttered metal visor that Alvarez was now wearing softened and compromised his focus, his desire, and reality itself. Drunk and adrenalized, he saw these women as active and wholesome. He saw only their curves and force, so he lurched toward them, waving his long black sword. He met Meg at the foot of the bridge. She was one of the tallest women he had ever seen. From her large flat feet to the beak of her raw, red nose, she was pure Lowlander, and an exotic urge filled Alvarez’s senses. He had never had such a long woman as this towering vision. Now was the moment for a bit of the strange: a lick of the abnormal, a different sweetness.
“How now, longshanks, wither thou goest in search of a man?”
Meg stopped midstride in total disbelief.
“Thou looks like a mare who might match my magnitude.”
She was just about to spit out her answer when she saw the green metal laurel on his helmet and instantly remembered the loudmouth who had taken her son and refused any mercy to either of them.
Alvarez swaggered forward and looked up at the swaying giant. He rested the point of his sword in the ground and placed his other hand on her thigh. Such a length of bone! She smiled without opening her mouth and leaned down toward him. He took his hand off her leg and started to undo the strap of the helmet; he wanted it off, ready to receive her stooping kiss. In his rapid fumbling, he did not see her hand dive to the top of her boot and retrieve her prized gutting knife. The helmet came off to a great shout of applause from the women, who were gathering around to watch, or maybe to join in.
A great warmth overwhelmed him, and all the colors of the world swam, splashed, and paddled before his bulging eyes.