Tal sneered at the old man and kept pulling. The drunk laughed until he coughed, pointing at the ludicrous sight. The laughter stopped with a sudden hiccup when the old fellow saw the bars bend, ever so slightly.
Encouraged, Tal pulled harder. No matter how he strained, the iron bars would bend no farther. When it felt like he would tear a ligament, Tal let go. The bars flexed back into their original positions, looking as straight as ever.
"I know you've been getting stronger," said Chaney, "but dark and empty, Tal! Those are almost as thick as the bars on Quickly's cage."
"Been practicing, have you?" The old man scratched under his beard and whistled through a gap in his brown teeth.
"I hate being in here," said Tal, lowering his voice and turning his back on the old drunk.
"I thought you'd be used to that by now, with all the time you've been spending in the cage at home."
"It's not the same," said Tal. "When I lock myself up, it's my choice. I can't stand it when someone else decides for me."
"Oh, please," said Chaney. "I thought you were done with all that everybody-wants-me-to-be-what-they-want-me-to-be whining."
"Whining?"
"Yeah, whining, crying, belly-aching… whatever. I've put up with it ever since we met, but I don't want to hear it now-not when we're both locked in this stinking cell and you're about to turn all teeth and claws and fur and all kinds of horrible man-eating things."
"I don't whine," said Tal, trying not to think about the other part of what Chaney said.
"Of course you do," persisted Chaney. "That's why Sivana and Ennis were making fun of you with the wolf mask. All you saw was the wolf bit, because you were so afraid of your secret getting out. Well, that's not going to be a problem after tonight, is it? What's really ridiculous is all your complaining about not getting your way all the time."
"You don't know what it's like," said Tal. "Everything I do, Thamalon criticizes because it's not what he would do. Even after everything that happened this winter, Mother still looks down her nose at the playhouse. And don't get me started about Tamlin and-"
"Oh, spare me. You have more freedom than anyone I know," said Chaney. "Thamalon let you have the tallhouse, didn't he? And no matter what she says about the playhouse, your mother hasn't stopped you from acting. You can't say they're making you do what they want. All you can do is complain that they don't approve of the choices that they let you make for yourself."
"How's that any different from you?" said Tal. "You don't even talk about your family, and I've never seen you spend any time at the house."
Chaney stared at Tal, incredulous. "There's a reason for that, you lunkhead."
"And I suppose it's better than my reasons for avoiding Thamalon."
Chaney laughed at him. "You could say that." "What are you talking about?"
"You know how I'm always saying my father disowned me?"
Tal nodded.
"I wasn't speaking metaphorically." Tal cocked his head, confused.
"He threw me out three years ago," said Chaney. "Drew up legal documents to make sure I never have any claim on the family money. He had the Scepters drag me out of the house and into the street, where a magistrate read the pronouncement."
"What are you talking about? I thought-I mean, where do you get your money?"
Chaney laughed. "Mostly from you. You're pretty quick to pay wherever we go or to let me stay at the tallhouse when we've been out late."
"But I don't always pay," said Tal, "and you haven't been wearing the same set of clothes for three years, that lucky jacket aside. You've got money coming from somewhere, right?" "Well," said Chaney, "for a while my Aunt Verula was slipping me a little now and again, but the old man found out, and there was a big row. I've been totally cut off for about two years."
"I can't believe you didn't tell me." "I must have told you a hundred times. You laughed, like it was a joke."
"I thought it was a joke." "Did you now?" said Chaney dubiously. "Of course I did. What else?"
Chaney shrugged and plucked a long straw from the cot. "I figured you didn't want to hear about my problems," he said. "You've always been so wrapped up in your own." "What are you saying?" demanded Tal. "That I'm so self-centered I don't care about what's happening to my friends?"
"No," said Chaney. "You care all right. You just care more about yourself."
"That's a rotten thing to say about someone who's supported you over the past three years."
"You didn't even know you were doing it! Besides, I don't need your charity. I can get by on my own, thanks very much."
"Sure, that's why you've leeched off me instead of getting a proper job. At least I work at the playhouse. What do you do?"
"I don't think you want to hear what I do," said Chaney. "It might offend your honorable sensibilities. After all, you didn't ask too many questions when I took care of the little problem with Alale Soargyl last year, did you?"
"I didn't ask because… well, because…"
"Because you didn't want to get your own hands dirty," said Chaney. "You like to talk about how you're different from the rest of the Old Chauncel, but when it comes to getting your hands dirty, you're glad to leave it to others. You're just like your father."
Before he knew what he'd done, Tal backhanded Chaney, knocking him into the cell bars.
Shame burned his face, but anger still buzzed in Tal's head. He stepped close and grabbed a handful of Chaney's shirt, easily lifting the smaller man off the floor.
Chaney remained limp, and Tal hesitated. Before Tal realized the ruse, Chaney shot his knee into Tal's groin. The pain shot flares through Tal's already spinning head. He glared through a red haze and growled at Chaney before slamming him against the bars. He both felt and heard the cracking of ribs.
"What's going on in there?" yelled a guard through the cellblock gate.
"Help!" cried Chaney. "He's gone berserk-he'll kill me!"
Tal felt dizzy and confused. What was he doing? Murdering his best friend for a few criticisms? He had to calm himself, or else what happened at the theater might make the moonrise redundant.
"Nice try, Foxmantle," called the guard. "I been to the playhouse once or twice." He slammed the shutter closed.
Tal gently lowered Chaney to the floor, then helped him to the cot.
"Great gods," said Tal. "I'm sorry, Chane."
"Just my luck," gasped Chaney, gingerly lying down on the straw tick mattress, "the guard thinks you're a great actor."
"You were baiting me on purpose, you idiot! Weren't you?"
Chaney grimaced through the pain. "Maybe."
"You really had me fooled," said Tal. "Not that it's any excuse…"
"Yeah," said Chaney. "Tricked you real good."
"It was very realistic," said the old drunk from across the aisle. "Especially the rib cracking."
"You shut up," said Tal.
"Why should I?" said the old man. "Until you manage to bend those bars, I'll say anything I like. Ratbreath. Maggot-eater. Arse-licking son of a-"
Tal showed his teeth and growled. The old man shut up.
"Here," said Tal, rolling his shirt into a pillow. "Let's get you comfortable."
"Just let me rest," said Chaney. He waved his hand at the other side of the cell. "Go, over there. Leave me alone a while."
"I can't tell you how sorry I am," said Tal.
"Yeah," said Chaney. "Me neither."
Chaney remained quiet for the rest of the afternoon. Tal spent his time brooding by the narrow window. Several times he resolved to apologize again, but when he started to speak, Chaney turned his face away.
"Lover's spat" cackled the drunk. "Always the worst. Ye'll be sleepin' on the floor tonight."