Jerry held out a hand to Carlo, who obviously suspected a trick.
Jerry said, “Straight up! I want to shake your hand. That was marvelous! It’s about time somebody did that to Killer.” He finally convinced the puzzled lad that he was serious and shook his hand.
“I thought you were his friend?” Carlo said.
Jerry almost broke down into laughter again. “Oh, I am! But he needed that. And don’t worry about him— he’ll be crawling around you on his knees, begging for lessons.”
“What’s this mayhem thing, then?” Carlo asked. “Why did he want me to referee?”
“It’s a game, so-called,” Jerry explained, avoiding Ariadne’s eye. “No holds barred. The winning team is the one that scores the last goal. That means that the whole of the other team has fled or been crippled.” Ariadne shuddered.
Jerry grinned. “One rule they don’t tell you until the game is about to start is that the first goal is scored with the referee, not with the ball.” Carlo stared unbelievingly, looked at Ariadne, and then said, “Bull!”
“True!” Jerry said. “A referee would be useless anyway in mayhem, and that’s more fun than tossing a coin for kick off. I was referee once— two broken legs, a dislocated shoulder, and a crushed kidney. I was lucky.”
“Craziest thing I ever heard of,” Carlo said.
Killer crawled to his feet without looking up and went limping off down the slope toward the hospital. He staggered a lot and was clutching a bleeding ear.
Jerry hesitated, smiled apologetically at Ariadne, and asked Carlo, “Do you need a bed for the night, until you find somewhere? I’ve got a couch in the library that would fit you.” Carlo shook his head, but he actually smiled. “The Oracle said someone would come and fetch me and put me up for a day or two. Some mouthful of a name beginning with ‘Itti.’ ” Jerry whistled and rolled his eyes. “She’s a little Hittite girl. Very nice!” He grinned at Ariadne. “One of Killer’s favorites. Could be very enjoyable hospitality, Citizen Carlo!” Carlo said, “No foolin’?” and looked impressed. Then he glanced around to see where the others were and turned to Ariadne.
“Ma’am?” He paused and looked at his feet.
“The Oracle told me,” she said quickly. “But it didn’t happen, and I’d rather not hear any more about it.” Startled, he studied her eyes for a moment and then nodded. “That Oracle sorted my cards for me.” He scowled. “I’ve been very dumb.”
“We all have, Carlo,” she said. “It sorted my cards, too.” Carlo had probably had little choice but to stay in Mera— where else could a penitent terrorist be safe?
“I suppose I need to find a trade now,” he said. “That’ll feel funny.” Jerry shook his head. “Not necessarily. Killer has none, but unofficially he’s commander-in-chief of the Meran army. He has no authority except his own personality, but you could join his group. He’s always on the lookout for good men.”
“So I’ve noticed,” Carlo said.
Jerry turned pink again, in that shy way of his. “You don’t have to… I mean, that isn’t necessary.” Carlo shrugged. “So I have something he wants— I can set a price, can’t I?”
“No. you can’t!” Jerry snapped. “That won’t work with Killer, any more than your fancy judo would work on demons.” He glanced uneasily at Ariadne and then said, “Listen! The last time I played mayhem, I was on the other team. I got to Killer, and he had a broken wrist, so that helped the odds, and there were about eight guys on top of us. I gouged one of his eyes out— just before he broke my neck.” She was horrified. “No! Jerry! Wanton brutality!” But Carlo nodded. “He was testing?”
“All the time!” Jerry said. “Can you take it, can you dish it out? The games, the hunting trips, the fights, the mayhem— they’re not just senseless rowdyism. He learns, trains, teaches, and tries things— and tests.
It’s how he has survived so long and rescued so many, many people! Hell, there are dozens of men in Mera that would give their large and small bowels to be invited out on a rescue by Killer, but he doesn’t think they have the guts to start with and he won’t trust his back to them.”
“Gotcha,” Carlo said thoughtfully “A challenge, Mr. Howard?” It was a new view of Killer, and Ariadne recalled the cheering welcome in the streets.
Jerry had embarrassed himself with his own vehemence, but was saved by an interruption. He smiled over Ariadne’s shoulder. “Here comes your landlady. You come and see us tomorrow.” He introduced Carlo to a very pretty girl, who blushed and stammered; but in a couple of minutes Carlo had her giggling, and his arm was around her as they walked away.
“See that?” Jerry demanded, astonished. “Give that kid ten years, and things will get very interesting! I wonder if Killer has finally met his match?” Or his successor— but Ariadne did not say so.
That left Graham and Maisie. They were sitting on one of the benches, gazing into each other’s eyes. Maisie looked ready to melt, quite sickening. Jerry scooped up the Cretan helmet from the bench where he had left it and led the way over.
“I hate to interrupt,” he said, “but I was instructed to lead you to the harbor.” Graham looked at him, then Ariadne, and then smiled.
“Congratulations,” he said.
Was it so obvious? Did it matter? “Thank you, Graham,” she said.
He blushed— he actually blushed! “Ariadne… I think I’m now what they call ‘born-again’. Jerry, we need that Oracle of yours in the States; we could dispense with a lot of psychiatrists and policemen and.., yes, and lawyers and priests, too. Ariadne, I owe you an apology, more than I can…” It should really have been very funny. Five days ago she would have probably gone into hysterics. Now she felt more sorry for him than anything else. It was embarrassing, for Graham penitent was as hard to shut up as Graham rampant, and suddenly damnable likeable again. As the four of them started off down the steps towards the Hospital, she managed to edge next to Maisie and leave Jerry to handle the enthusiastic breast-beating of the born-again Graham.
Maisie was not much better. Her session with the Oracle seemed to have been very short and quite sweet, although she was very insistent that she must see her confessor as soon as she got back. But in the next breath she said that the Oracle had told her she would remember nothing of Mera when she returned— that the whole affair would be wiped from her life. How one could confess what hadn’t happened was beyond Ariadne’s comprehension.
They strolled down Hillside Path. She would have to learn all these names. And then a long staircase…
How did one get back to Colorado on a ship, Ariadne asked. That sounded like quite a feat, even for the Oracle. Maisie turned pink and said that they would have a cabin and could sail on as long as they liked and she had always wanted a cruise in a sailing ship. And the third time they made love, the Oracle had told her, they would wake up in their own bed at the ranch, on the day before Ariadne had achieved the kidnapping— which now would not happen.
It sounded very sugary, especially designed for Maisie.
Musn’t be Catty! Maisie had been through a lot and had certainly earned a reward. Perhaps the Oracle had decided wisely, but the way Maisie and Graham had been clinging to each other, it might be a short voyage.
Woodworkers’ Wynd… Brewers’ Mews… she tried to take note of the quaint little stores, the delicious-smelling cafes and bake shops, the flower-encrusted open spaces for sitting, the jewellike miniature parks, but Jerry was continually introducing her to people as proudly as though he had invented her.