Blood Red Road (31 page)

What was that fer? he yells.

Fer kissin me! I yell. An don’t you dare do it agin!

Oh don’t you worry about that, he says, I’d rather throw myself over that waterfall!

He picks hisself up.

I’d rather sleep naked in a nest of scorpions! he says.

He stomps off, leadin Ajax behind him.

I follow with Hermes.

My lips is tinglin.

The faded sign creaks on its hinges. The painted head of a man glares down at us, a bloody hole where one of his eyes oughta be.

Here we are, says Jack. Welcome to the One-Eyed Man.

The dark stone tavern hunches, low an mean-lookin, into the side of the mountain. Rain sheets down its saggin roof an pours over the edge. A pale thread of smoke trickles outta the chimley.

It don’t look too welcomin to me, says Ash.

I don’t like it, says Emmi.

Yer jest cold an tired, says Jack. Once you git a bowl of Ike’s rock squirrel stew inside you, things’ll look a lot brighter.

We lead the horses to a lean-to. There’s a few horses there already, includin a big piebald mustang an a sturdy little gray donkey huddled together fer warmth. They flick their ears an whicker softly as we tie our horses next to ’em.

See? says Jack. We ain’t th’only ones here. We’ll git settled in first, then we can deal with the gear an the horses.

There’s a candle burnin in th’only window, a narrow slit set halfways along the wall. Jack rings the bell beside the battered old wood door. Right away, the candle goes out.

Looks like yer friend Ike don’t want company, I says.

Probly heard you was comin, says Jack, all sour faced.

He tries the rusty latch. It don’t move. He bangs on the door with his fist. Thud thud thud. Thud thud thud.

Ike! he shouts. Ike Twelvetrees! It’s me! It’s Jack! Let me in!

Nuthin.

Hey! Open up! I yell an pound on the door. I go to try an shoulder it open, but Jack holds me back.

Hang on, he says. There’s a knack to it. He leans back, lifts his leg an gives the door a almighty kick. It flies open. He goes in an we trail behind.

We see ’em right away.

I snatch my crossbow an take aim.

Beside me, Ash an Epona do the same.

Hold fire! says Jack.

My heart pounds wildly. We keep our crossbows up, bowstrings drawn, arrows ready to fly.

We stare at the men who face us, their weapons at the ready. There’s at least twelve of ’em. On their feet, with blades, bows an flintsticks pointed straight at us. They’re the most scurfy lookin pack of villains I ever seen in my life. A knife scar here, a eyepatch there, busted noses, missin ears, three fingers. They make the low-life scum of Hopetown look sweet as spring clover.

I do a quick sweep of the room. Take everythin in. It’s one long room with a low ceilin. The fireplace in the center’s got a blazin fire goin. In front of the fire, there’s a large table with a stewpot in the middle an stone drink kegs.

Wooden benches lay on their sides. Kicked over when they all jumped up.

There ain’t no sound but the cracklin fire an the rain poundin down on the roof.

Hello boys, says Jack. Nice to see y’all.

Jest then, a man comes through a door in the corner that I didn’t notice before. He’s tall, at least six five, six six. He’s got a huge platter of roasted meat hefted onto one shoulder. He don’t even look our way as he goes over to the table an dumps the platter down. Then he starts over to us.

Ike! says Jack. He steps forwards, smilin a big smile an holdin out his hand. Hey man, long time no see!

But Ike don’t smile back. An he don’t take Jack’s hand.

He walks straight up to him an punches him in the face.

Jack goes sprawlin on the floor.

Jack’s down. Hurt. The red hot rips through me. I ain’t felt it since Hopetown.

I aim my bow at Ike an walk at him—fast—till he’s backed aginst the wall with his hands on top of his head. I press the arrowhead into his throat. He gulps.

There’s a quick rush of feet an the men surround my back. Without takin my eyes offa Ike, I can feel their weapons pointed at me. Hear their breathin.

It’s all right, Saba, Jack calls. Don’t kill him. I deserved it.

Tell these dogs to stand down, I says to Ike.

Weapons down, boys, or supper’s off, he says. He don’t move his eyes from mine.

There’s a pause, then a clatter as guns an bows an knives hit the floor behind me.

Epona? I says.

Yer okay, she says. It’s all clear.

I step back from Ike. Lower my bow. He feels his throat. Grins an shakes his head.

Gawdammit, he says. I bin waitin fer a woman like you my whole life. Jack, I think I’m in love.

Ferget it, Ike, says Jack. She’s far too dangerous fer the likes of you.

Oh, says Ike, it’s that way, is it?

He goes over to Jack, reaches down a hand an gives him a tug up. Jack rubs his jaw where Ike punched him.

Don’t worry, says Ike, I didn’t do yer pretty face no harm. I should of though. After what you done to me.

He glares at Jack an Jack actually looks shame-faced. Ike jabs him in the chest with a big meaty finger.

You left me, you sonofabitch, he says, hangin upside down, stark naked, with all them women in their—

Jack grabs his hand. Not now, Ike, he says. We’ll talk about it later.

Not to mention the time you was supposed to meet me at
Pat O’Dooley’s an I waited there like a stooky fer two months, with that little dog of his that’s always bitin at yer ankles, an all the time you was off with that—

Ike! Jack yells, pointin at the villains at the table. Look! He’s takin seconds!

Oh no, he ain’t! Ike rushes off.

Jack grins at me. Poor Ike, he says, tappin the side of his forehead. Crazy as a coot.

Somehow I don’t think so.

The men mutter among theirselves as they sit back down at the big table an git to work on their meal. Ash elbows through ’em an fills three trenchers fer her, Epona an Emmi. The one with the eyepatch tries to slide his arm around her an she gives him a sharp rap over the head with the stew ladle.

Then they pull three chairs close to the fire an tuck in. Both Ash an Epona keep their crossbows close. Nero perches on the back of Emmi’s chair an sets about dryin hisself an puttin his feathers into some kinda order. He hates gittin wet.

I roll the stiffness outta my shoulders, let the warmth of the room soak into my cold bones.

Jack motions me over to join him an Ike at a table in a dim lit corner. It looks like the kinda spot where plots git hatched.

I pull up a stool an sit down.

No hard feelins? I says to Ike.

Naw, he says. I like yer style.

Ike’s got a big head to match the rest of him. With a bushy beard an moustache an straight black hair down to his shoulders. His eyes is dark an set deep. His voice rumbles from somewhere down near his toes.

Ike, this is Saba, says Jack.

I hold out my hand fer Ike to shake but he grabs it, lifts it to his mouth an gives it a big wet smack of a kiss.

Marry me, he says. I got all my own teeth, I wash twice a year an I’ll cut you in fer half the business here.

My cheeks flame hot. No thanks, I says. I try to pull my hand away, but he clutches it tight to his chest.

Maybe not right away, he says, but once we git to know each other. A week or so. I don’t mind a little wait. Jest don’t keep me simmerin too long, sweetheart.

I don’t really think I … uh …, I says.

I shoot Jack a help-me-out-here-yer-friend’s-crazy kinda look but he don’t even look at me. He leans back in his chair with his hands behind his head an his legs stretched out.

Will wonders never cease, he says. Ike Twelvetrees finally
caught in the net of love. I gotta hand it to you, Saba. Name the first boy after me, will you?

The first—! I shove back my stool an jump up. I ain’t marryin Ike! I ain’t marryin nobody! What the—?

Then I catch the look that passes between ’em. Jack’s mouth twitches an they bust out laughin. I glare as they hoot an slap each other on the back like a couple of idiots. Bloody Jack. There he goes agin, makin me look like a fool.

Very funny, I says. Couple of hyenas. Go on, laugh it up.

I turn to leave but Ike’s long arm shoots out an grabs my wrist. Aw, don’t, he says, wipin his eyes. Stay. We don’t mean nuthin by it, do we Jack? It’s jest us havin some fun. You don’t hafta marry me … not until yer ready to, that is.

I guess that’ll be never then, I says.

He clutches his heart. Wounded! he says. He drags my stool back to the table. Sit, he says. Have a drink. Tell me what brings you to the One-Eyed Man.

He lifts a jug an pours a clear liquid into three chipped mugs.

I stand there with my arms folded over my chest.

What’s the matter? says Ike. You got a face on you like a slapped polecat.

I don’t like people makin fun of me, I says.

Dangerous an prickly, says Ike. You got yerself quite a handful here, Jack.

I ain’t his handful, I says.

She sure as hell ain’t, says Jack.

Ike raises one shaggy eyebrow. You sure yer sure about that? C’mon, he says to me. Siddown. Drink.

I sit.

Jack lifts his mug. Me an Ike do the same.

To Molly Pratt, says Jack.

Ike scowls at him. Watch yer mouth, he says.

Jeez, Ike, says Jack. All I’m sayin is … to Molly Pratt.

Ike looks sly. Leans in an waggles his eyebrows. To Molly Pratt, he says, an her frilly red bloomers.

One helluva woman, says Jack.

One helluva pair of undies, says Ike.

Then they throw their drinks down their necks.

I take a sip. Fire races over my tongue, down my throat. Tears spring to my eyes.

Jack pounds the table with his fist. Gasps like a landed fish. That’s smooth, Ike, he says. What is it?

Pine sap vodka, says Ike. Down it in one, he says to me. That way you cain’t taste it.

I take a deep breath. I down it in one, like he tells me to. The fire hits my belly an starts a slow burn.

Now, says Ike, let’s git down to business. I know you, Jack. You only ever show up when you want somethin. What is it this time?