Thieves' Carnival Part 3

Without moving, Old Ciaran s.h.i.+fted. In the nightmare light, the flesh of his face became taut, plump. The lines disappeared. He grew younger. Younger. Suddenly a slim youth lay next to Mouse, downy-faced and supple of limb. A stripling scarcely into the first pulsebeats of manhood.

Mouse bit her lip. She had to break the spell.

"Wake up! Ciaran, oh, please wake up."

Desperately, she shook him. But he lay like one drugged, slack in her arms, head lolling to the side, unresponsive to her cries.

Mouse, slapped him. Then slapped him again. As she pulled back for the third blow, Ciaran's hand shot out and caught her wrist.

"Is that how you thank me for a good time?" he asked ruefully, rubbing his jaw. He looked restored. Normal.

Mouse collapsed on his shoulder, sobbing.

"You were different. Changing. Old. Young. A skeleton."

"And you just had a bad dream." He patted her shoulder.

"No. It was the Cube. It was floating."Ciaran reached down and kindled the lamp. Its flame spread his shadow along the wall.

"Sure it was. And both of us with it."

Mouse looked up. The light in the room was normal. Where was the Cube? She grabbed up her waist pouch and found the relic within it, just as she'd left it.

"But it really happened," she insisted. "First, I was having a nightmare. Then I woke up. But the nightmare went on."

Ciaran gave her an indulgent look and ran his finger along her upper arm.

"I know something that will banish all bad dreams," he said slyly. His lips traced the path his finger had followed.

Willingly, Mouse sank down with him onto the pallet.

The next day the two thieves walked through Third Quarter, careful to avoid pa.s.sing bounty hunters and guardsmen. At midday they found themselves in the Weirders'

Market, a half circle of ragged tents and strange wares. Mouse surveyed the place uneasily.

"Kiri, let's get out of here."

"Nervous?" Ciaran flashed her a scornful look. "When we first met, I thought you were anxious for Weirders' company." A band of Weirder children tugged at Mouse's tunic, begging for coins. Shuddering at their green skin and scaly fingers, she waved them away.

"Why do we have to be here?" she demanded.

"Because half the city's looking for us. Or had you forgotten that little detail?" He shook his head. "You didn't have any problem with Big Las.h.i.+o."

"That was just one Weirder in a street full of thieves."

"Well, now we're just two thieves in a street full of Weirders. Hold your tongue, Mouse. There's a trader here I want to talk to."

Ciaran strode past a dusty display of opalescent Weirder gla.s.s and entered a green tent whose bill promised "Trading and Divining." He greeted the green-skinned tradesman heartily.

"Luca, I have business for you," he said.

The Weirder blinked his single green eye and stared at Mouse.

"Ciaran the Harpist. Who's your friend?" he asked. His voice was high, tinny, and completely at odds with his large, fleshy body.

Ciaran pulled Mouse forward and forced her to shake the merchant's six-fingered hand.

"I'm called Mouse," she said quietly. Her black hair hung over her face, not quite masking the angry glint in her dark eyes.

Luca frowned as their hands touched, his one great eyebrow wiggling like a fuzzy worm across his forehead. His eye closed for a moment. Opened.

Slowly, he spoke.

"I cannot take the Portal Cube."

"What? Why not?" Ciaran demanded.

"How did you know we have it?" Mouse cried.

The Weirder grunted. "Easy to see for those who know how to look." He turnedaway. Dismayed, Ciaran and Mouse stared at each other. Then Ciaran hurried after the trader.

"Luca, wait! What do you mean you can't take it?"

"Once stolen, it is no good to me or anybody. No good for you, especially."

"But this is the Portal Cube," Mouse said. "It's legendary."

The Weirder nodded sadly. "True. But impossible to trade it now. And no use for it either."

Ciaran snorted. "No use? Cut it up! Grind it for gem dust. Look at it, man. The fabulous Portal Cube of the Black Cathedral."

Mouse pulled the relic from her purse and held it so that it caught the light of the sunb.a.l.l.s.

Luca stared a moment, caught in fascination by the amber and blue fires radiating across the surface of the thing. Then, shaking his head, he closed his eye.

"Is the Cube," he agreed. "Beautiful. Dangerous. Be careful." "Don't worry about the bounty hunters," Ciaran said scornfully. "We can outwit them."

"Not bounty hunters I speak of. Cube itself. Must go now." Luca retired behind the private curtain at the rear of his tent.

"Put it away, Mousie," Ciaran said. His voice was low, dispirited. "This is getting more complicated than I expected."

Together, they wandered the marketplace, unspeaking. In a dark corner, they sank down near a gurdy wagon and watched the masked players listlessly. But their bellies were empty, and they had no money left with which to purchase food. In desperation Mouse palmed a handful of gora seeds from a grain merchant. Dividing the meager pile in half, she munched her share and watched Ciaran do the same.

"We'll starve by inches, stealing grain from the market," he said sourly.

Mouse wiped her mouth, wis.h.i.+ng for real bread. "We can't stay in Third Quarter, Kiri. The bounty hunters will get us sooner or later."

"No Quarter is safe. By now, the Cators will have warrants in every corner of Bergamel."

Mouse took his hand. "At least we could hide in Fourth for a while. And their gate is closest to the border lands. I've heard there's better living out there."

The harpist sighed. "All right, Mouse. Let's go."

Through subterranean tunnels they made their way to the farthest Quarter of the city.

Blinking, they emerged into the warmth of the sunb.a.l.l.s' light. The streets were filled with the maddening aroma of roasting meat. Mouse felt saliva fill her mouth. She turned to Ciaran. He was staring up, face working in horror.

"The sky," he gasped. "Blue and white. One sun. How?"

She looked upward but saw only the familiar red glow of the sunb.a.l.l.s.

"Kiri?"

Mouse felt dizzy for a moment. The sun-b.a.l.l.s faded. In their place, one terrible, white, burning orb glared down at her. Around it, the sky was a soft blue, filled with thin white clouds.

The red walls of the Fourth had vanished. She stood with Ciaran upon bright yellow sand. Green water lapped at their feet. Mouse began to laugh hysterically. Beside her, Ciaran gaped. With a thunderous commotion, the ground began to shake. Hugeshadows moved toward them, resolving into strange, four-legged creatures, huge and scaly. Each leg was as wide around as a tree. Two by two, the gray beasts lumbered past, pausing at intervals to crane snakish necks topped by tiny heads and peer with dull red eyes at the two thieves. Biting down on her inner cheek, Mouse stilled her panic. She pulled Ciaran out of the path of a mammoth, three-toed foot moments before it flattened him.

"Kiri, where are we?"

The harpist shook his head.

"d.a.m.ned if I know," he said.

"Perhaps Luca put a spell on us."

"He's not that kind of Weirder," Ciaran said. "G.o.ds, have you ever seen such monsters?"

The last of the beasts pa.s.sed them and the herd moved down the beach, into a stand of trees with black, spadelike leaves, and out of sight.

"I don't think we're in Fourth anymore," Mouse said.

Now it was Ciaran's turn to laugh. Clutching his stomach he hooted and capered, tears steaming down his cheeks.

"Not in Fourth anymore?" He gasped, his tone mocking. "Not in Fourth?"

Mouse's eyes burned with anger. For a moment, she endured his j.a.pery. Then she kicked him, hard. The harpist's laughter subsided. He sat down heavily on the warm sand, holding his knee. When his voice returned, it was somber.

"Have you ever seen such a sky as this? Such a sh.o.r.e?" he demanded. "I've heard tell of such lands, the Atlantean coast and such. But even in my travels, I've never seen them."

"And I've never been out of Bergamel." Mouse said. "But what does that mean?

Where are we?"

"I don't know," Ciaran said. "Nowhere familiar. Perhaps nowhere known." Mouse sank down next to him. "And how did we get here?"

"You're asking too many questions, Mouse. I'm a minstrel, not a sage."

With a loud rumble, Mouse's stomach announced that it was empty and had been for too long. She stood up, peering at the odd trees that rimmed the beach.

"I'd wager those are nuts in the crowns of those trees." she said. "I wonder if we can eat them?"

She trotted up to the nearest st.u.r.dy trunk and s.h.i.+mmied up its smooth, ruddy surface. It was quick work for a limber thief to knock two of the dark, oval nuts to the ground. Mouse threw in a third one for good measure. By the time she'd reached the sand, Ciaran was sh.e.l.ling one of the large green pods with his knife. The nut opened easily, coming away in three parts. The meat within was a creamy pink color with a mild aroma. The harpist took a generous mouthful. He chewed it for a moment. Then he spit as hard as he could.

"Aagh," he said, gagging. "Like rotten mead."

Mouse swore with disappointment. They had to find something to eat soon. She cast about, up and down the beach. Nothing. Mouse turned toward the water, Ciaran was was.h.i.+ng his mouth with the green, briny liquid. Perhaps they could catch fish?

The ground shook. A shadow fell, cutting off the warmth of that eerie, lone sun.

Mouse turned. And screamed. A horrible monster stood slavering over her, a fullseven lengths above, with a head as large as a trestle table and a mouth filled with cruel, knife-edged teeth. It walked upright on huge muscular legs. Two small withered arms ending in claws hung down in front. The thing regarded Mouse with wild yellow eyes and roared. Mouse felt Ciaran grab her hand and yank her backward. Floundering, she staggered into the warm water as the monstrous lizard came after her. The waves broke against her knees, then against her thighs. As she began to float, Ciaran towed her farther out, still. Salty water filled her mouth.

I can't swim, she thought. But better to die here, hand in hand, than alone in the jaws of that horror. Mouse closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was standing, soaked to the skin, by a white stone bench in a garden filled with verdant bushes topped by bell-shaped flowers. The air was soft and balmy. Ciaran sat on the bench wringing out his tunic.

"G.o.ds," Mouse said. "What now?"

"Perhaps we're both asleep and having the same nightmare," the minstrel replied.

He eyed his dripping harp ruefully. "I hope."

"Kiri, the flowers. Look!" The crimson blooms stirred, petals turning toward the two thieves as though following the sun. Stamens waggled like tongues. Slowly, the flowers began to open and shut, like pink haakon beaks. Like hungry mouths.

Mouse turned her back on the obscene things.

"This will make a wonderful song," Ciaran said.

She glared at him. "Later," he added. The sky above them was hazy, indistinct, with a white glow to it that hurt the eyes. Something glinted in front of them. Mouse blinked, leaned forward, and felt her nose hit an invisible barrier. "Ouch!"

Eyes tearing, Mouse pulled back. And gasped. A tan, rubbery face, elongated with saucerlike eyes and no ears, swam upward into view. It was attached to a thin neck that, in turn, connected to a thin body whose arms and legs appeared soft and jointless. The thing hovered beyond the invisible barrier, staring. Then another joined it. And another. Mouse snarled at them. "Get on with you!" Ciaran roared. "What are you staring at anyway?" The humanoids turned to one another, twittered, turned back to stare some more. Mouse stuck her tongue out at them. They twittered again.

Her stomach rumbled. Hunger made her bold.

"Do you have anything to eat?" she yelled at the apparitions.

This time, a great deal of twittering and gesticulating went across the barrier.

"Hey!" Ciaran yelled. "It worked. Look!"

Mouse turned to see a pedestal materializing on which two platters of pellets, some green, some black, were piled.

"Do you think we can eat these?" Mouse asked.

"I'm sure as h.e.l.l going to try." The harpist scooped up a handful of the strange pebbles and tossed them into his mouth. Chewed. Reached for another handful.

Mouse grabbed the pellets and chewed greedily. They tasted of peppermint and cloves, of sugar and curry and a few other things she couldn't identify. She swallowed and grabbed for more pellets. For a long time, neither thief said anything.

They even forgot the others watching them. Finally, Ciaran leaned back and burped.