Into Eden: Pangaea - Book 1 (23 page)

After a while the serving girls came out bringing platters of breaded beef that the locals called, “chicken-fried steak.” Considering that it had no chicken Jesse couldn’t really make sense of the name but it was extremely tasty.

The girls themselves wore clothing that would have made Meroni blush. Their skirts went halfway up to their knees and their blouses dipped so low in the front as to expose an immodest amount of bosom. One of the girls leaned over to place a platter of chicken-fried steak on the table and when she did the man with the “Stoopid” tattoo grabbed her on the backsides. Seeing this, Jesse went for his sword. Before he could draw it, however, Seth grabbed his wrist and leaned in close.

“Sheath it, boy. Remember where you are!”

Just then the girl who had been grabbed backhanded the groper, sending him flying backwards off the bench and onto the floor.

She yelled at the man as he lay there, “You wanna grab my arse?! You pay like the rest!” With that she stormed away to get another platter.

Jesse was blushing. What type of place had he wandered in to? What type of world existed outside of his sheltered Foothills home? These people had no honor, no shame. Not even their women! He went back to his chicken-fried steak but suddenly realized that he was no longer hungry. It was then that he noticed that two an-nef had entered the now-crowded common room. They were two large bull-heads, armed with broadswords strapped to their backs, and they swaggered across the floor like they owned the place. Jesse had been told that there were an-nef in River Bend, but seeing them started his heart racing. The only time that he had ever seen an an-nef was the night that they had burst into his father’s bedroom and murdered him in his bed.

Seth must have seen Jesse staring at the two, for he leaned over to Jesse, “No cause for alarm. They are probably the bouncers. Bull-heads make very good bouncers for places like this.”

The bull-heads went over and spoke briefly to the innkeeper who pointed to the groper with the “Stoopid” tattoo and the bull-heads came over and spoke to the man, “Get out! We don’t need idiots like you causing trouble!”

The man looked up at the towering an-nef, “You can’t make me! I paid for this meal and I’m gonna eat it!”

Without further conversation, the two bull-heads grabbed the man—one on each arm—and dragged him to the door. All the way the man was complaining, “Stop! Put me down! You’re hurting me! It’s not fair!”

They threw him out into the street and slammed the door behind him. Then, like politicians looking for votes, the two bull-heads started to walk the floor, working the crowd.

“How’s it goin’ tonight, Akan?” they asked one. “Good to see you again, Herc,” they said to another. When they got over to Jesse and Seth’s table, they looked down with their massive, cow eyes and asked, “You two new in town? Don’t believe that we’ve seen you here before.”

“Why yes,” Seth answered. “Just in town for the evening. Catching the coach to Mountain Shadows in the morning.”

One of the bull-heads slapped Seth on the back, “Well, come see us the next time that you’re in town!” With that he moved on to the next patron, “How’s the chicken-fried steak tonight?”

When the meal was concluded, “the lady” got up on the stage to sing. She was introduced as, “Empress.” Empress was attractive, but quite a bit older than the girl that had played the harp and sang in Whitehurst; and looking at her you got the impression that time had not been kind to her. The crows-feet at the corner of her eyes should have been on a much older woman. And when she sang she had the raspy quality in her voice of a woman that had consumed too much liquor over the years. Empress was accompanied by a man who played an instrument that Jesse had never seen before—what the locals called a “guitar.” And despite the loud and unruly nature of the crowd, Empress seemed to be able to belt out her songs loud enough that all could hear. As she sang she swung her hips as if dancing and occasionally swung her upper-half as well. When she did the men in the room would whoop and yell, and cat-calls could be heard from the back. Jesse was shocked to hear that all of her songs were suggestive in nature, and again he found himself blushing at the unladylike behavior of a member of the gentler sex. She concluded with a song that everyone (including Seth) in the inn knew (except, of course, for Jesse), and they all sang it with her at the top of their lungs.

“All my lovers live in Atlantis, that’s why I hang my cloak in the territories!”

The song concluded with more whooping, whistling, and yelling, and when Empress gave an immodest bow the inn began a second round of cheers and whistles. As if Empress’ performance had not taxed Jesse’s sense of propriety to the limit, what was to happen next pushed it over the top.

As soon as Jesse and Seth got up from the tables, the serving girls and two bull-head bouncers started turning the large, rectangular dining tables on their side. They were quickly aided by many of the patrons, who stepped in immediately to assist in their nightly sporting activity. Empress never left the stage, but the man that had been playing the guitar found her a small table and chair, and sat the table down on the edge of the stage. With the rest of the tables arranged on the floor to form a large wooden rectangle, the two bull-heads stood on either side of her, relinquishing their roles of bouncers, and taking up that of bodyguards. Empress brought out a small scroll, an inkwell, and a quill. All the men in the room (except for Jesse and Seth) crowded around the table.

From a back door a man led in a large, gray and white muscular dog, which the patrons quickly made way for. The poor animal was covered with scars, and it barked incessantly.

“This here’s Dragon-slayer,” its owner announced as he led it into the makeshift arena.

A minute later another dog-owner entered from the same door. Bigger than Dragon-slayer, and solid black except for a small white patch on his chest, this dog was also covered with battle-scars and had only one, blood-shot eye. This animal growled and snarled and leaped at the end of its chain and its owner was fighting with all his might to keep from being dragged along.

“This is ‘Powder-puff,’” its owner announced.

Immediately the men mobbed the table on the stage, and Empress began writing down names and wagers as the men laid down denari, Mountain pounds and Eden marks. One after another they declared, “Powder-puff!” The only difference in wagers was the amount. “Two denari, five pounds, ten marks,” they yelled. Jesse had seen enough. He wasn’t going to stand around and watch some poor animal take another poor animal’s life for the entertainment of these men.

“I’m going back to the room,” he told Seth. “This is disgusting.”

“I don’t blame you, but I doubt that you’ll be able to get much sleep as long as this is going on.”

“Someone should stop this,” Jesse spoke in low tones to Seth. “Isn’t there any law in this town? Isn’t there someone…”

Before Jesse could finish his words, a commotion broke out in the room. Powder-puff had finally broken loose from his master and charged Dragon-slayer. Dragon-slayer, it seems, was no fighter, but he was a good jumper, and before anyone knew what was happening, he had cleared the nearest table, with Powder-puff in close pursuit. For the next few minutes men ran for their lives as the two dogs raced around the upended tables like horses in a chariot race. Powder-puff was just about to catch up with Dragon-slayer when the front door to the inn opened a crack and the man with the “Stoopid” tattoo stuck his head in and peered around, looking—no doubt—to see if the bull-heads were still on duty. Dragon-slayer (who still had the use of both of his eyes) immediately spotted the cracked door as the perfect escape route and darted between ‘ol Stoopid’s legs and out the door with Powder-puff in close pursuit. Too big to fit between Stoopid’s legs, Powder-puff lunged at the man, knocking him on his back as he ran out the door and down Robber’s Row in pursuit of Dragon-slayer. Before Stoopid could get back up the dogs’ two owners ran over him shouting for their prize-fighting pets.

“Well, boys,” one of the bull-heads bellowed, “guess that’s it for the night! We only had one fight planned, so form a line and Empress will refund your wagers!”

The men in the room started to grumble. “He’s the one to blame!” someone yelled, pointing at the man with the “Baki is Stoopid!” tattoo, who was still stretched out in the doorway. One of the bull-heads approached the man, who was just starting to get back on his feet.

“What’s your, name, mister?” the bull-head demanded.

“Baki.”

“Well, Baki, I don’t ever want to see your face around here again, is that clear?”

Baki nodded, hung his head dejectedly and walked back down the street.

Jesse and Seth went back up to their room, to find Enoch “guarding” their belongings while fast-asleep. Jesse barred the door a bit louder than he should of, and Enoch stopped snoring, snorted, and then opened one eye.

“You bring my leftovers?” Enoch asked.

“No! I’m sorry! I forgot!” Jesse confessed.

“Is the kitchen still open?”

“No. It closed over an hour ago.”

Enoch snarled at Jesse, and then asked, “The animal-cruelty session over?”

“Yes. Well. It was rather brief.” Jesse told Enoch what had happed, and when he got to the part about the bull-head asking the man what his name was, Enoch began a sputtering little cough.

“Will he be okay?” Seth asked, concerned.

“He’s fine. Dog physiology isn’t meant for laughter. That’s just how it comes out.”

Enoch continued to cough, and rolled over on his back, putting one paw over his eyes. “Baki is Stoopid!” Enoch said through the coughs. “And I thought humans were supposed to be the higher animals!”

That night Jesse lay in the bed a long time unable to sleep. He thought about his fear of the bull-heads, who meant no harm to him. It’s just that…well…they weren’t like him. They were more like the jackal-heads that had killed his father and brother, but surely they had no ill-will toward him. Still he feared—and yes, hated—them for who they were, not for what they had done. And then there was the dogfight. What a cruel, awful thing that these people were doing! To treat those poor animals so inhumanely! How evil! And yet, deep down inside of him he knew that there was a part of him that was secretly attracted to the violence. Part of him wanted to stay in the common room and see what happened. That was, he thought, a part of evil that had its hands on him, and he must shake it off. Evil, Jesse thought, is not shunned as it should be because it’s attractive in some base, primitive way. It didn’t matter if it were the bloodlust that encouraged the dog fights, or the serving girl who would sell herself to the men in the inn. Sin is attractive. Otherwise, he thought, no one would do it. With that profundity still in his mind he heard Enoch lying on the floor coughing again. He guessed that he knew what Enoch was thinking about.

Chapter 12
Mountain Shadows

The next morning the three of them were up early and were waiting on the coach to Mountain Shadows when it arrived. Jesse handed the driver the fare to the first night’s way-station for both of them and was climbing into the coach when the driver yelled down, “No dogs in the coach!”

Jesse handed the driver a couple more coins and the driver added, “Except when accompanied by a human!”

The three sat down in the coach, and Jesse was disturbed to find that the coach’s other passenger was a wolf-head. The wolf-head was finely dressed, wearing a white silk shirt similar to Seth’s, and a leather hat almost identical to Jesse’s except for the holes for his ears to stick through. Seth immediately introduced himself and Jesse and the two of them shook hands. The wolf-head, whose name was Lawrence, shook Jesse’s hand with a powerful grip.

“Lawrence,” Seth said. “If you don’t mind me saying so, that’s a peculiar name. I’ve never heard of a ‘Lawrence’ before.”

“It was my father’s name. Fairly common in some parts of Eden.” Lawrence had a deep, sonorous voice, and he spoke with a precision that they had not heard since they entered River Bend.

“And you? Where might you be from?”

“From all over,” Seth replied. “But for the past few hundred years I’ve called Mountain Shadows my home. I have a small estate some thirty miles south of the city.”

“I see. And you?” Lawrence asked, directing the question to Jesse.

“I’m from Atlantis. From the Foothills.”

“My. But you are a long ways from home!”

“You’ve been there?” Jesse asked, surprised.

“No. But my grandfather was from the Foothills. He would tell me tales of hunting lions and dragons in those days. But that was a long time ago—before the war. And what brings a young man such as you all the way downriver to River Bend?”

“I…ah…I have business. In Eden, actually.”

“Eden? Eden’s no place for humans, lad. They are not looked upon favorably. Best do any trading that you wish in Mountain Shadows. There are always an-nef such as myself that have contacts in Eden that can assist you. Myself, I trade in silk and rugs. Eden is known for the finest in both, you know.”

Jesse really didn’t want to talk to Lawrence. He might ask more questions that he didn’t want to answer, so he tried changing the subject, “And what brings you to River Bend?”

“I have a winter home here. Have to check up on it from time to time. The snows in Mountain Shadows are not a month off and I have to make sure that my house by the river is all ready for the winter months. It gets cold in winter in Mountain Shadows, you know.”

“So I hear.”

Jesse looked out the coach’s window and discovered that he was looking down on the city. The coach, pulled by three pair of horses was making slow, steady progress up a long grade as the road wound its way up the Fog Mountains to Mountain Shadows. It was a two-day trip of sixty miles, but Seth would be with them for only the first part of the journey. His estate was only a few miles from the way-station. Below he could see the sprawling city and the Elmer as it wound its way to the distant sea. The red roofs and palm-trees looked like nothing that he had ever seen in Albion. Once outside the city, though, farmhouses again adopted the thatched roofs that he was accustomed to back home. That thought made him homesick. He would rather be spending the day on his Foothills estate, and the evenings in Albion’s White Moose with Perez and Abijah, but that was a thousand miles and a world away.