Amberville (15 page)

M
ay I go home now?”

Snake Marek sounded hopeful.

Eric Bear was sitting on a barstool at a minimal bar counter; Snake found himself on the same counter. All the Springergaast boutiques nowadays boasted this kind of bar, situated in the midst of an explosion of colorful boutique furnishings and advertising posters which some advertising-agency genius—perhaps employed at Wolle & Wolle—maintained stimulated sales. The bear and the snake had each ordered a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin. Around them packages of cookies and chips, bulk candies, soda pop labels, and even fresh fruit competed for attention. There was an aroma of fresh-ground coffee and baked croissants. Eric had chosen to move the meeting to Springergaast on Carrer Admiral Pedro, a few blocks from Yiala’s Arch, because he wanted to be alone with Snake. And few customers came to this boutique.

“Lay off,” he said.

“I didn’t think so,” sighed Snake with disappointment.

Yesterday evening all their plans had been upset. When
Eric saw Teddy’s name on the Death List it was no longer a question of simply saving Emma.

His first reaction was shock. But intuitively Eric realized that he couldn’t show any weak spots with Snake in the room, and therefore he was forced to act as if nothing over and above what was expected was on the list. If Snake hadn’t been there, if Eric had given his feelings free rein? Then he would have fallen apart.

“Have you thought about my request?” asked the bear.

“Which one?”

“Saving someone from a soon-to-be dead man’s death sentence.”

“If you think I’m smart enough to figure out something like that, surely you must realize I’m smart enough to understand what this is all about,” Snake answered with irritation.

Eric shrugged his shoulders.

“Presumably,” he said.

“Dove has threatened your sweet Rabbit. If the Chauffeurs get Dove, his gorillas fetch the rabbit.”

Eric shrugged his shoulders again. This was an acknowledgment.

“And?” he asked. “What do I do?”

“I have no idea,” answered Snake, sounding so uninterested that Eric had a hard time not letting himself be provoked, despite the fact that he understood that this had been the reptile’s intent.

“You could bribe the gorillas, couldn’t you?” suggested the long-tongued Marek.

“Bribe the gorillas?”

“Yes, what the hell do I know?”

“You’ve worked at Casino Monokowski, you’ve worked for Nicholas Dove, and you’re suggesting that I should bribe the gorillas?”

“Honorably stated and with all due respect, I don’t give a damn about either,” said Snake.

Eric sat silently. There must be a reason, he thought, for it was apparent that Snake was looking for a reaction. Perhaps, he thought further, it had to do with the Death List? Perhaps Snake, who was sensitive to the weaknesses of animals, understood that something had happened in the Order Room, something that had worsened the bear’s situation? And perhaps Snake was out to reveal this through his provocations? Both of them knew that you could never have too much information when power was concerned.

They each took a bite of blueberry muffin and pondered the next move.

“Do you think Tom-Tom can do anything?” asked Eric.

“What would that be?”

“He’s a crazy bastard,” stated Eric, “deep down inside. Perhaps he’d be able to make them see reason?”

“If you toss in the gazelle too, it’s not impossible,” said Snake.

They each took another bite; it was a suitably doughy yet flavorful muffin.

The gorillas had reason to fear a berserk crow. But even if Tom-Tom and Sam together might frighten away many gorillas on the way, they could never frighten them all off.

“If I know the dove rightly,” said Snake, “he has in addition promised an enormous reward to the one who proves that he took care of your Rabbit. An accountant in some shabby office somewhere in town is just waiting, with an authorization in his desk drawer, for someone to come in with proof. And that means it’s not just the crazy gorillas you have to take care of, but the bounty hunters as well.”

Eric sighed. That’s how it was of course, he’d realized it too.

“And the chance of successfully completing our assignment?” asked Eric.

“You mean removing Dove from the list?”

Eric nodded. Actually he wanted nothing better than to
tell about Teddy, but nothing positive would come out of such a confession. So he nodded again.

“I don’t know,” said Snake. “We’ve proved that there is a list. I didn’t think we’d succeed in that.”

“I knew there was a list,” said Eric.

“You didn’t know that at all,” said Snake.

“But removing someone, pardoning someone…?”

“Among all the legends about the Death List,” answered Snake, “there are a few that speak of something like that. And I’m not just thinking of that story about the archdeacon.”

While the coffee cooled and Eric ate up both his and Snake’s blueberry muffin, Snake told the story of Horse Carl and Admiral Pedro.

Horse Carl was the hero who, more than two hundred years ago, united the four parts of the city after almost a century of civil war, temporary alliances, and betrayed promises. Today all schoolchildren read about Horse Carl, but not many knew, said Snake in a tone of utter contempt, that as a reward for his efforts Horse was awarded the opportunity to pardon one animal each year from the Death List.

“No, wait,” protested Eric, “I’ve never heard anything about that…”

“As I said,” snapped Snake Marek, irritated by the interruption, “this is about legends, myths. There’s nothing that’s true or false. But I can understand if the authorities try to keep this type of story from being retold. I have a hard time seeing which department would benefit from the story of Horse Carl…”

And then he continued:

Horse Carl soon understood that the possibility of pardoning someone could be used in the power play that had arisen among the leading animals in the four parts of the city. Carl established a new tradition. A small selection of
judges, generals, highly placed politicians, and one or two truly significant landowners would get to vote each year for one of the animals on the Death List. The animal who counted up the most votes would be removed, and all those involved could enjoy the feeling of power: power over life and death even greater than what they’d had before the city’s unification.

Everything functioned according to Horse Carl’s plan up until the year when both David Owl and Admiral Pedro were on the Death List. For many years the admiral had been in command of the rather insignificant fleet in Hillevie, but he was still young, and that his name showed up on the list came as a complete surprise, both to him and to everyone else. Pedro was seized by panic, applied for and was granted discharge from the fleet, and then devoted all his time toward attempting to influence the animals who would be voting to cast their votes for him. When the day for the announcement of the pardon came, it proved, however, that Judge David Owl had nevertheless received more votes than the former admiral Pedro.

Pedro was furious. He demanded to meet Horse Carl. Carl granted the audience and expressed regret at the decision, but explained that he could do nothing about it. The judgment had fallen, the person who would be pardoned was David Owl, that’s how it was decided. Why couldn’t Carl pardon both of them, asked Pedro.

Horse Carl sighed heavily. It was impossible.

“Why was it impossible?” asked Eric Bear in much too loud a voice.

“It was just impossible,” repeated Snake Marek, once again irritated at having been interrupted.

Well.

Former admiral Pedro made the most logical decision of which he was capable, under the circumstances. He went with a military stride directly from the audience with Horse
Carl to David Owl and cut off the judge’s head with a saber. Then he took the head into the forest and buried it. In this way, thought Pedro, they should pardon the one who had received the next most votes.

But there former admiral Pedro was mistaken. Instead, the possibility of pardoning animals was taken away from Horse Carl with immediate effect.

“Taken away by who?” asked Eric.

“The story doesn’t say,” said Snake.

The Death List was classified as secret, no one knew in advance who was on it (and after a hundred years we didn’t even know if the list itself existed), and the routine with the Coachmen, later the Chauffeurs, was introduced.

Snake Marek fell silent. After a long while Eric said, “This indicates at least that someone decides, and therefore there must be a possibility of influence.”

“Perhaps one might see it that way,” nodded Snake.

“Now we’ll go home and decide how we proceed from here,” said Eric.

Snake nodded, and they slid down from barstool and counter and left Springergaast.

The night of the
eighteenth of May became another night of alcohol, cards, and bizarre notions in the kitchen at Yiala’s Arch. Just in time for the Evening Storm, the bottles were uncorked. Crow showed signs of dexterity as he shuffled the cards with his longest finger feathers, Snake wriggled up onto the kitchen table and made himself ready for the first deal while Sam stole into the bathroom to make himself a cocktail of pills before it was time to play. Eric lit the tea lights and poured drinks for everyone.

Tom-Tom Crow only pretended to get drunk. When the others weren’t looking, he stole away to the kitchen sink, pouring out the vodka and replacing it with water. Then he
cawed loudly and drunkenly for the sake of appearances. He couldn’t bring himself to drink; the last few days he’d felt strange, sensitive in a way he didn’t like; tonight he’d been awakened by tears running down his beak. He knew what was causing it, but he struggled to force the memories back into the deep ravines of forgetting.

Eric Bear, on the other hand, got drunk as a sailor. Drunker than he’d ever been. He’d intended to hold back, intended to guide his intoxicated companions through the night and direct them back up onto navigable paths of association when they slipped down into the ditch.

That’s not how it turned out.

When alcohol got the upper hand and Eric could no longer defend himself against his feelings, the bear disappeared first down into deep resignation, where he felt very comfortable because resignation excused him. What could he really do, asked resignation. He was fighting against death, and no mortal was victorious over death. Despite the fact that they’d gotten hold of a Death List, it felt just as unlikely as it had a few weeks ago that they would succeed in rescuing Nicholas Dove back to life. The only thing they had acquired was information about the Chauffeurs and the list that was mortally dangerous. It was of utmost importance that no one said anything, Eric observed anxiously. It was of utmost importance that these idiots for companions in Sam Gazelle’s kitchen could keep their mouths shut.

“Airybody,” attempted Eric Bear, “gotchto choosed. Now!”

But no one cared to try to interpret his slurring, and it was just as well. The two animals Eric loved most were at risk of dying, and he had only three days to do something about it. He felt inexplicably sorry for himself, and he thought he had the right to immerse himself in self-pity.

But the more he drank, the harder it was to hold on to this almost apathetic sorrow. The vodka heated him up. It
was so unfair, he thought. It was as though a higher power was playing a joke on him, as if someone truly wanted to see him suffer and therefore let him discover his brother’s name on the list. Dove can go to hell, the bear thought crossly, and the anger chased away the loneliness and caused him to feel strong. Dove can go to hell, he thought again, and fate can go to hell, too.

Eric got up from the table. His chair fell over and the crash caused the others to fall silent and look up. He had absolutely nothing to say. He looked at them, one after the other, and was filled with a powerful love. They were sitting here for his sake; they were loyal. His bear heart was transformed into a cleaning sponge, soggy with alcohol and sentimentality, and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. His friends. His confidants.

“Eric,” asked Tom-Tom, “what the hell are we doing now, actually?”

Eric Bear turned slowly toward Tom-Tom and tried in vain to focus his gaze.

“Yes, then,” repeated the crow, “I don’t get what the hell we should do.”

That swine, thought Eric, perplexed, and all his beautiful feelings evaporated. Does the big crow doubt my ability?

“I think we put Noah Camel up against the wall,” said Sam from over by the dish rack.

The gazelle was doing dishes? Eric squinted in order to make Sam out better. Indeed, he was standing there doing dishes. Wasn’t that overly zealous?

“Noah Camel?” asked Snake.

“He must have gotten the list from someone,” Sam defended himself, assuming that Snake thought badly of the idea.

“Was that camel bastard at the ministry?” asked Tom-Tom.

“You know who he is?” said Snake.

All of these retorts flying back and forth through the
room confused Eric Bear. He understood that something was about to happen, something important, but he didn’t know what it was. Noah Camel?

“Noah and I…know each other,” said Sam, adding hesitantly, “you might say…”

“And you’re just saying that now?” Snake Marek almost screamed.

His irritation knew no limits.

“But this is good, isn’t it?” asked Tom-Tom.

Three days might be enough, thought Eric.

can’t understand it can’t understand it can’t understand how someone can want to cause such pain such pain such pain and tears don’t help because I’m freezing ’cause it’s cold, it’s always cold cold but I’m not freezing because it’s cold, I’m freezing from fear, I’m freezing down to the marrow and stuffing and this cold hurts so bad it hurts so bad

saw Sam Gazelle coming, saw him coming from the window in the hall, saw him coming from the window in the hall and it made me a little happy even because even if I knew he was dangerous we were friends he and I we were friends he and I for we’d met once long ago and I knew he was dangerous for I knew who he was and what he liked to do but I thought that was just talk because there’s so much talk and there’s too much talk and I opened the door when he rang the bell and asked him to come into the kitchen and sit down and maybe have coffee or a beer for you’re supposed to be nice to your friends

he took a fork and poked it through my leg, through cloth and cotton, the metal teeth of the fork right through my leg from
one side to the other so I was stuck to the table and I can’t describe how much it hurt how horribly painful it was but still I almost didn’t feel the pain because I got so scared, so scared that my whole body started shaking but I didn’t scream even if I should have screamed but I wept silently and looked at Sam Gazelle who I thought was my friend and I didn’t understand I didn’t understand I didn’t understand a thing

he questioned me and threatened me and said that if I didn’t talk he would burn me, just like that he said that he would burn me and I saw in his eyes that he wanted to burn me whatever the hell I said and by then I was almost happy because I understood why he’d stuck the fork through my leg, he was after something, he wanted to know what I knew and that’s the kind of thing that happens all the time, it was understandable and I didn’t give a damn who killed who so I told him, told him everything I knew about where I’d gone before and where I went after I’d been up to the ministry and then everything was as it should be, then he’d gotten what he wanted and then he could go away again, leave again and I never wanted to see him again

but he didn’t go

he did things with me I can’t talk about ’cause they’re much too terrible to say with words, things that are so horrible you can’t even mention them and when I think about everything he did I go completely dark inside for I don’t want to tell what he did with me, Sam Gazelle, but he did it over and over again and he never got enough and I screamed and I cried and I fainted and dreamed and woke up and he was still there and said that he’d come up with something new that he wanted to try and sometimes he laughed and sometimes he was serious and I don’t know if he saw me at all and the pain was…the pain was so enormous that I
almost couldn’t feel it despite the fact that it was so great that it caused me to faint

but it wasn’t the pain that was the worst it wasn’t when he did what he did that was the most terrible but rather it was just before he was going to do it just before in the breath before he said that he wanted to try something new

can’t understand it can’t understand it can’t understand how you can want to cause such pain such pain such pain and tears don’t help because I’m freezing because it’s cold, it’s always cold cold down to the marrow and stuffing and it’s burning, the cold, it’s burning and it’s on fire and it hurts so bad it hurts so bad

and I screamed and screamed that I would tell everything he wanted to know and there was nothing that I wouldn’t tell if he only asked me to and I cried and screamed that I’ll do everything you want and I’ll tell everything you want if you just stop stop stop I’ll tell tell tell but he told me to shut up he told me to go to hell he didn’t give a damn what I had to tell, he said, and my desperation was greater than…

can’t understand it can’t understand it can’t understand how it hurt so bad so bad so bad and tears don’t help because I’m freezing because it’s cold, life is always cold and life will always remain that way until the fire catches up with me and ignites me and consumes me and eradicates me and only then will I stop freezing, perhaps I’ll stop freezing then perhaps