Noble finished and finally looked at me. It was not a kind look.
I didn’t say anything. What could I say? “I forgive you” would have sounded stupid. “I’ll never forgive you” was even worse.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“What is it you don’t understand?” Tabaqui the Jackal interjected immediately.
“Anything.”
“But would you have some coffee with us now?” he asked coyly.
Really persistent, he was.
I wheeled back to the table and took the cup off the tray.
“This isn’t right,” I said. “This isn’t how it goes. You are breaking the rules. No one ever apologizes to a Pheasant. No one. Not even after knocking his head off.”
“Where is that written?” Tabaqui said. “I have never heard of this rule.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Same place as all the other rules, I guess. But it’s there, whether written or not.”
“That’s rich!” Tabaqui was looking at me with what seemed almost like awe. “Look at him! He is teaching me the House rules. Me! The nerve!”
Noble was fiddling with the cup of Moon River, studying it.
“What do they make it from?” he asked. “What’s in it?”
“I don’t know,” Tabaqui snorted. “Some say toadstool extract, others, Vulture’s tears. I guess it is possible that Bird Daddy cries bitter green poison. Who could really tell? But it is poisonous, all right. Those of a romantic persuasion insist that it’s just midnight dew collected at a full moon. But dew is unlikely to have sickened so many people. Unless it’s been collected in the sock of a Bandar-Log, of course.”
“Give me a bottle or something,” Noble said, putting out his hand.
Tabaqui frowned.
“Want to off yourself? Get some rat poison instead. It’s more certain. And much more predictable.”
Noble was still waiting with his hand out.
“Oh, all right,” Tabaqui grumbled, digging in his pockets. “Go ahead, drink whatever you want. Who am I to say anything? I’ve always been one for freedom of choice, you know.”
He handed Noble a tiny vial. We observed Noble carefully transferring the contents of the cup into it.
“What about you?” Jackal turned to me. “You’re awfully silent. Tell us something exciting. They say that all the recent Pheasant assemblies were dedicated to you.”
I sprayed a mouthful of coffee on my shirt. “How did you know? I thought no one cared what we did.”
“You thought a lot about us that is strange.” Tabaqui giggled. “We strut like stuck-up peacocks, never noticing anything that’s going on around us. From time to time we knock someone’s head off but never notice that either. Our shoulders are heavy with the White Man’s Burden and our hands are weighed down with this thick tome of House Rules and Regulations, where it is written, Attack the weakest, kick a man when he’s down, spoil what you cannot get, and other such useful advice.”
That was actually pretty close to what I thought of them, and I couldn’t help smiling.
“There,” Tabaqui sighed, “just as I thought. I was not far off, then. But if you had even a smidgen of tact, you wouldn’t have demonstrated it so openly.”
“What are those assemblies you’re talking about?” Noble said and tossed a pack of Camels over to me. “I’ve never heard of them.”
Tabaqui went momentarily speechless with indignation. I laughed.
“See! This is how you and those like you besmirch our image!” Jackal screeched and snatched the cigarettes from under my nose. “It is because of you that we are perceived as stuck-up peacocks! You have to be a complete nitwit not to know of the Pheasant assemblies. Please don’t judge us by him,” he said, turning to me. “He hasn’t been here for more than a couple of weeks and is really quite ignorant.”
“Two years and ninety days,” Noble said. “And he still calls me a newbie.”
Tabaqui reached over and patted his arm.
“Sorry, old man. I know this grates on you. But if you were to compare your two with my twelve, you’d understand that I have every right to call you that.”
Noble scrunched up his face as if all his teeth had started aching at the same time. Tabaqui seemed to enjoy that. He even pinked up a little. He lit a cigarette and looked at me with the all-knowing smile of a veteran.
“So . . . We haven’t really learned anything new except how much learning Noble has ahead of him. And still you’re silent.”
I shrugged. Good coffee. Funny Tabaqui. Friendly Noble. I relaxed and decided that it wouldn’t be too dangerous to tell them the truth.
“They threw me out,” I confessed. “By a unanimous vote. They drafted a petition to Shark and he agreed. I’m being transferred to another group.”
The wheelers of the Fourth put their cups down and exchanged glances.
“Where to?” Jackal said, trembling with anticipation.
“I don’t know. Shark never said. Claims it hasn’t been decided yet.”
“Asshole,” Noble spit out. “Lives like one and will die like one.”
“Now wait a minute!” Tabaqui frowned, made some quick calculations in his head, and gaped at us. “It’s either us or the Third. No other way.”
They exchanged glances again.
“That’s what I thought too,” I said.
We were silent for a while. Rabbit must have really liked saxophones. The boombox on the counter was wailing continuously. The paper lanterns swayed in the breeze.
“So that’s why you went asking for Moon River,” Tabaqui mumbled. “I see now.”
“Have a smoke,” Noble said in a pitying voice. “Why aren’t you smoking? Tabaqui, give him the cigarettes.”
Jackal absently proffered me the pack. He had very long fingers, like spiders’ legs. Very long and very dirty.
“Right,” he said dreamily. “Either/or. Either you find out the color of Vulture’s tears, or we all witness the lamentations of Lary.”
“You think Vulture’s going to cry?” Noble said.
“Of course. Copiously! Just like Walrus when eating the Oysters.”
“You mean he’ll eat me,” I clarified.
“But with deep sympathy,” Tabaqui said. “He in fact possesses a very gentle and tender soul.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Very comforting.”
Jackal wasn’t deaf. He sniffled and reddened a little.
“Well . . . That was by way of me exaggerating. Slightly. I like scaring people. He’s actually a nice guy. A bit out of his head, but only a bit.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You know what? We should invite him over to our table!” Tabaqui exclaimed suddenly. “Why not? It’s a good idea. You can get to know him better, have a little talk. He’d like that.”
I looked around nervously. Vulture wasn’t here in the Coffeepot. I knew that for certain, but I still got scared that I might have been mistaken, or that he’d appeared while I wasn’t looking, and now Jackal was going to ask him over to meet me.
“Why are you so jumpy?” Tabaqui chided me. “I told you, he’s really nice. You get used to him quickly. Besides, he’s not here. I meant to invite him over through Birds,” he added nodding at the next table, where two of the sour-faced mourning brigade were playing cards.
“Tabaqui, stop it,” Noble said. “Leave Vulture alone. Our chances to land a new one are much better than the Third’s, so if you are really in a hurry go invite Blind.”
Tabaqui scratched himself, fidgeted, grabbed a roll, and swallowed it whole.
“Drat,” he said with a full mouth, showering himself with crumbs. “So much anxiety . . .” He picked up all the dropped pieces and stuffed them in too. “I am so anxious! How, oh how would Blind react?”