Serrin saw a ghost of pain in the troll's eyes and knew damn well that Tom lived with it every minute just like
the well-oiled old blues beginning to crank out from the battered speakers around the bar.
"But how did it happen? Do you want to talk about it?" Serrin had half-forgotten he was here to hire someone who'd saved his neck in the Barrens years ago. It was a different person before him now. He wanted to know who Tom had become.
"It's hard to describe… Don't have those fancy words," the troll said slowly. "You remember Anna?"
The elf nodded. Tom had been head over heels for the crazy, wild troll woman who fought for the folks in the Jungle day and night and then one day been caught in the crossfire of some senseless gang fight. That was when the troll's drinking, always heavy, had exploded into binges of days at a time when he'd go through enough beer and whiskey to kill half a dozen men. Most people had figured he'd stop sooner or later. After all, it wasn't like they'd been a hot item or anything. Anna had never been anything more than friendly to Tom, who was quite a bit younger. But the drinking didn't stop. Instead it got worse and worse.
"Once I thought I saw her again. Early in 'fifty-one. I went ape, chasing after her, thinking she'd come back from the dead. I had a belly full of booze and a heart full of desperation and when I sobered up, I saw things awful clear. Anna never loved me, and I'd been drowning myself in drink over a dream."
"Anna cared for you," Serrin muttered. "That ain't the same thing. I realized I'd been a fool, and there wasn't anything left. Worse than that, I'd killed a lot of people for the money."
"Not when I knew you, you didn't. I never heard of you icing anyone who hadn't taken a shot at you first," Serrin said, surprised.
"Some things I don't get public about. Anyways, you know how bad it got. After you left, I stayed barely alive for a few months, and then it got real bad. You don't want to know the details." The troll hunched forward over the table and looked Serrin in the eyes. It was desperately uncomfortable for the elf, but he was spellbound by the troll's whispered words.
"Found myself face down in a gutter in the Jungles without a cent in my pockets. I got up and killed someone for the small change in his pockets the price of a bagful
from a liquor store. Chummer, I drank so much I didn't have DTs; they had me. Back in the gutter somewhere, I don't remember. I do know, damn well, that I was going
to die. I was falling down a black tunnel and didn't see no light at the end of it. It was hell, chummer. Now, you know and I know we got some fancy words for what's out
there in the astral, and there ain't no demons or devils.
But there's something we might as well call hell, 'cause you know that's what it is if you ever go there. That what's left of your soul will burn there forever."
At that moment Serrin felt that Tom was a shaman, that he had at least something of the Power. It was there in the look on his face, in the unmistakable aura around him. The troll had changed indeed.
"That's when Bear appeared. Between me and hell. Took me into her arms before I died. Like I say, I don't really know how to talk about it. I pick up fancy words from smart folk now and then, but I can't stitch them together into something that does justice to it somehow.
"Let me try to put it so you can feel a piece of it," the troll went on slowly. "In a way that would make sense to you. Imagine you get wrapped up in someone huge, and warm, and simple and kind. Imagine she says to you, you have pain in you because your parents were blown to bloody pieces out of the blue when you were eleven years old. You got to ID them in the morgue because state law says ID gotta be done by a blood relative if possible, and you were the only one to hand. You got pain every day because your leg's mangled up. And you don't forget about that blind girl in Lafayette when you went back there hoping it could be home again, and you got pain from that too."
"How the hell do you know all that?" the elf said almost angrily. He was sure he'd never told Tom the whole story about his parents or anything about the one love of his adult life.
"Don't matter. Important thing is, you're feeling the hurt right now, so you can understand me. Now, these
pains you're always going to carry around. You don't have any choice. But imagine this presence says to you, you know you can't change these things. You might try to forget, but if you do, you're just impoverishing yourself. And lying to yourself. And it don't work anyway. But then she says to you and you know it because it pours into you like a flood that you don't have to hurt so bad. You know you can trust yourself a bit more than you do. And you don't have to hate yourself so much anymore. "But it's scarier than anything you can think of. Because you have to open up to her, chummer, and there's every little lie and deception coming back to you, everything you ever did to someone because you were cowardly or afraid; that, mostly, rather than when you really used someone deliberately, because Bear doesn't often take someone really into that. Every humiliation you ever suffered, every time you were vulnerable and got fragged over, every time you tried to use your sensitivity and love and it went to waste, just like it does so often, and you ended up with nothing but yourself and it seemed like another piece was chipped away and lost forever. You fall into Bear's arms on an ocean of hurt, Serrin. It's too much for anyone to handle, I promise you.
"Then she holds you tight and it heals you, brother. I don't really have any fancy words for that at all."
The troll's huge hands wrapped themselves around those of the elf. "And, you know, I see you need something of that. You wouldn't shake like you do if you didn't. But I ain't no preacher and I ain't gonna push you," Tom said with an edge of sadness to his voice.
Serrin couldn't speak. It was all he could do just trying to keep his emotions under control. He wasn't used to having everything brought to the surface so quickly.
Tom leaned back and finished the last of his mineral water. "But it ain't that you turn into a perfect specimen or nothin'. I still got some of my illusions. These days, I do a lot of work for the folk down in the Jungles and beyond. Just like Anna used to. So I suppose there's still some drek in my head, chummer. The thing is, if you're not so damned hard on yourself all the time it's a lot easier to be worth something to someone else."
"Yeah," the elf replied, slowly, still shaken. "There might be something in that."
"Well, that's my life in five minutes." The troll suddenly broke into a grin. "Now it's your turn. What are you doin' looking me up after all this time? Mind, I can wait if you don't feel like saying right out. We can just chew the fat awhile if you'd rather."
Serrin found that prospect too intimidating. "It's pretty simple, Tom," he said. "Someone's got a hit out on me. I'm almost certain it's a magician. Among other things, I need a bodyguard, and someone suggested looking you up. But I guess that's not your kind of work these days."
The troll rubbed his chin and stood up. "Hmmm. Maybe, maybe not. The money could be useful to a lot of folks down here; I live cheap. Pass on anything extra. I owe you one, I reckon. Let me buy you a beer and you can tell me more. I ain't going to say no to an old friend before he's said his piece. Anyway, I want to hear about you these past five years. We been hearin' some weird drek, Serrin. All about you bein' a hero and last year hangin' with them kings and queens in England "
Tom ordered two more of the same and was halfway back to their table when the doors opened and someone who obviously had never been in Redmond before walked through them. Every head turned to look at the man.
He was just over six feet, very lean, with tanned skin and the kind of mop of bleached blond hair that had gone out of fashion in the days when people realized that sunlight gave you cancer. It was the clothes that had everyone really staring, though. Legs the length a fashion model would have killed for were encased in perfectly creased gray flannel pants, ending at real leather shoes that must have cost more than anyone in the bar earned in a month. The silk shirt was perfect, and the tweed jacket combined eccentricity with elegance. The silk cravat, with its gold pin, topped the whole thing off. Everyone gawked and wondered where this creature could possibly have come from.