“I know. I’m just curious.”
Jackal imitated a coughing fit and looked at me significantly, as if to warn me about something.
“It would be better if you weren’t just curious.”
I didn’t have time to ask why before Noble climbed up to the communal bed. I admired the precise movements. Where Tabaqui crawled, Noble hurled himself forward. He tossed his legs in front of him and then hopped after them on his hands. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant sight in itself, and would border on creepy if slowed down, but not from the point of view of a paraplegic. Besides, Noble was so fast that such deconstruction was often impossible. I was enthralled and I envied him bitterly, fully aware that this was way beyond me. I was no acrobat. Tabaqui moved just as fast, but he was half Noble’s weight and he had some control over his legs, so looking at him crawl did not make me depressed.
Once on the bed, Noble stared at Jackal with a sort of vicious anticipation. It was clear that with one more ahoy things would get really hairy for Tabaqui.
“Why are you so jumpy today, Noble?” Tabaqui said apologetically. “That was the end of the song.”
“Thank god,” Noble snorted. “Or it would have been the end of you.”
Tabaqui feigned shock.
“Horrible, horrible words! And because of such a trifle! Come to your senses, dearest!”
His turban settled down over one eye again. He hoisted it back up and puffed on the extinguished pipe.
The coffeepot on the floor sounded like it was about to boil. I pushed apart the backpacks and bags that were hanging on the bars of the headboard.
On the floor on the other side of the bars, Blind was sitting. His black hair fell over his white face like a curtain. The silvery eyes glowed coldly from behind it. He was smoking and looked totally limp. The hand searching for the chess pieces was almost done. It did not appear to have anything to do with him. While I was watching, it decided to return, and Blind appreciatively patted it with the other hand. I didn’t dream this, it really happened.
The door slammed.
I heard a clatter of heels.
My mood crashed. This noise could only mean one thing—Lary had returned. I dropped the bags back in their place, obscuring Blind again, and tried to make myself inconspicuous. I didn’t hide, of course, just froze. I wasn’t exactly scared, but Lary’s presence drained all energy out of me. He invariably blew up whenever I showed any signs of life.
Thin, cross eyed, and disheveled, he came up to the bed and stared at Jackal. He looked so miserable that Tabaqui choked on his pipe.
“Heavens, Lary!” he squeaked anxiously. “What happened?”
Lary’s gaze was acerbic.
“Same old, same old. Which is quite enough for me.”
“Oh.” Tabaqui calmed down instantly and adjusted his turban. “And here’s me thinking there was something we didn’t know yet.”
Lary grunted. It was a very expressive grunt. Blatant, even. Noble, who detested all sudden noises, asked if Lary would mind keeping it down.
“Down?” Lary demanded as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You mean even more down? If we were any more down we’d be six feet under! We’re not making waves! We are the masters of quiet! We’re so quiet we’re going to grow moss any day now.”
“You’re overreacting.” Noble frowned. “And by down I meant you personally. At this particular moment.”
“Oooh, I see!” Lary jumped at the opportunity. “The particular moment, that’s all we care for. Only the moment, never before or after. Nothing can ever be worth anything except for the precious moment. We can’t even wear watches, or someone might try to think more than two minutes ahead!”
“He wants a fight,” Tabaqui explained to Noble. “A bloody massacre. He needs to fall down by the bed insensate and not have to worry about anything.”
Noble paused in the careful filing of his nails and said, “This can be easily arranged.”
Lary stared at the nail file and did not like the sight of it for some reason. He seemed to have second thoughts about the fight.
“I’m not overreacting,” he said. “Walk the corridors like I do, you’d react the same. You have any idea what kind of atmosphere is out there right now?”
“Lary, enough,” Sphinx said. “We’ve had it up to here with your atmosphere. Stuff it.”
Lary was shaking all over, and the bed was shaking with him. I could not understand why they wouldn’t just let him speak. I would’ve thought that could calm him down a little. It’s not a pleasant experience to be sitting next to someone who’s shaking from some unexplained emotion. Especially if that someone happens to be a Bandar-Log.
Alexander appeared next to the bed, an obsequious shadow in a gray sweater. He distributed cups of coffee from the tray and disappeared again. Either crouched down on the other side of the headboard or flattened against the wall. The cup was boiling hot and I turned my attention from Lary to the coffee, so it was a complete shock when he turned his to me.
The long nail of his trembling finger was pointing right at the middle of my forehead. “There! This entity here is the reason we’re all knee deep in shit! And he’s having coffee in bed instead of wearing a concrete suit!”
Tabaqui gasped in delight.
“Lary! Lary, what are you prattling about?” he squeaked. “What is this nonsense, my dear boy? How would you go about it? Where would you get your hands on that much concrete? Where would you mix it? And then how do you propose dunking Smoker in it? And what were you planning to do next? Flush the block down the toilet?”
“Shut up, you pipsqueak!” Lary howled. “Keep your mouth shut, just for once!”
“Or what?” Jackal wondered. “You’ll call upon your Log brothers to deliver a barrel of mixed concrete and a convenient footbath? Answer me this, buddy: if you’re so handy with all this stuff, how come you still can’t even cook a plate of spaghetti?”
“Because . . . shove it up your ass, you freaking idiot!”
Lary’s screeching swept Nanette off the locker. She landed on the table. And other things did too. Our crow liked to butcher old newspapers in her spare time, and the pieces of the newsprint puzzle flew into the air and settled down like a short, dirty blizzard. Two scraps ended up in my coffee.
Then Lary’s face, with the viciously squinting left eye, was right next to mine, and then a lot of things happened at once.
The coffee scalded my hand. My shirt collar twisted and squeezed my neck. The ceiling started spinning. With it spun the yellow kite, the empty birdcage, the wooden wheel, and the last pieces of the newspaper snow. This spectacle was so sickening that I closed my eyes to avoid seeing it. Miraculously, I managed not to throw up. Then I was lying faceup on the bed, gulping saliva mixed with blood and desperately trying to hold on.
Tabaqui helped me sit up and earnestly inquired how I was feeling.
I did not answer. I brought the faces around me into focus as best I could. Lary’s wasn’t among them. I had no doubt that this time he did break my jaw. I couldn’t hold back tears, but the pain was nothing compared to the sweet concern everyone was showing. They behaved as if something heavy had just happened to fall on me.
Tabaqui proffered another one of his miracle pills. Sphinx told Alexander to get a wet cloth. Blind appeared from behind the bed and asked if my head was still spinning. Not one of them had intervened when all of that was happening. Or even told Lary what a bastard he was. This kind of treatment made me lose all desire to talk to them or answer their questions. I tried not to meet their eyes. I crawled to the edge of the bed somehow and asked for my wheelchair. I don’t think the words came out right, but Alexander immediately brought it around. Then he helped me into it.
Once in the bathroom I washed my face, trying not to press on the tender spots, and then just sat in front of the sink. I didn’t want to go back. A familiar feeling. I used to have it a lot in the First, except there, no one was allowed to be by himself for long. Here nobody cared about stuff like that. Anyone was free to wander anywhere he wanted, deep into the night.