I suppose. I was so drunk I can barely remember.”
“If you’d been there”—Boudica pointed at Barley—“and if you’d been sober”—she shifted her finger over to the stoat—“you wouldn’t need to ask.”
“But I was drunk,” Bonsoir responded, “so you’ll have to tell me.”
Boudica cocked her head back at the fire, and at the salamander quietly sitting there. “You ever notice, however much he drinks, he never gets drunk? When they came through the door he was the only one sober enough to do anything about it. Put down Alphonze the hedgehog, both of the Squirrel twins. Put them down like they was nothing. If it wasn’t for the Dragon, the Captain would be dead, and I’d be dead, and you’d probably be dead too.”
They chewed that over for a while. Then Bonsoir spat it back out. “That proves nothing. The cold-bloods, they aren’t like us. They kill just for the fun of it.”
“You kill for fun,” Barley responded.
“Not like he does.”
“Wasn’t Cinnabar,” Boudica said again, though this time she seemed less certain.
Chapter 27: With the Jugs Half-Empty . . .
Barley and Bonsoir were standing a ways out from the main campsite, pissing with the wind.
“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me,” Bonsoir said.
Barley laughed, but he wasn’t.
Chapter 28: As the Stocks Grew Low . . .
“I figure it wasn’t the Captain,” Boudica said. “And if it was Gertrude we’d all be dead.”
“Coulda been Elf,” Bonsoir said.
“It wasn’t Elf.”
“No,” Bonsoir agreed. “It wasn’t Elf.”
Chapter 29: At the Bottom of the Kegs . . .
“You sure it wasn’t Boudica?” Bonsoir began.
“Not really,” Barley said.
“I know who it was.” Neither Bonsoir nor Barley had any idea the owl was there in the moment before she spoke, so perfectly did her feathers blend in with the night, and so utterly silent were her movements. Elf raked them back and forth with eyes that were like talons. “I do,” she said, before hobbling back off into the darkness.
Bonsoir turned back to the badger. “I believe her.”
“Me too.”
Chapter 30: A Smoke Before Sleep
It was just the two of them, as it often was lately, as it had been in the past. The fire had burned down to its embers, and the night had overtaken everything. Cinnabar lit a cigarette and handed it off to Gertrude, then started rolling another. “Were you surprised?”
“When they betrayed us?”
“Yes.”
“I was.”
“That surprises me.”
“No one is as smart as they think I am. No one is as anything as they think anyone is.”
“No, I suppose they aren’t.”
“Except you. You’re exactly as fast as they say.”
A match sparked. Two dots of light bobbed in the dark. “Why did they do it?” Cinnabar asked.
“Why do you think they did it?”
“I’m not as smart as you.”
“Still.”
“The usual reasons,” Cinnabar suggested. “Greed, lust, revenge, power, boredom. The Captain is unlovable.”
The one light was all by its lonesome. “Yes.”
“If they’d bothered to ask me—”
“Let’s not go down that road.”
“No. I was surprised at the Quaker, though. If ever two things loved each other . . .”
“What is love against instinct? We’re all animals, after all. How long can a thing go against its nature?”
It was completely dark. “And what is our nature?”
But the question was too obvious to need an answer.
Chapter 31: An Expected Reversal
Mephetic did not get angry when word came that Zapata had failed. He had figured Zapata would fail. The armadillo was loud, and the armadillo was hard, and the armadillo was even mean, so far as that went. But the armadillo was no match for the Captain. Still, it had been worth a try. Even the toughest bastard can catch a bullet in the back of the spine.
He had tripped up the last time, hadn’t he? Five years they’d gone back and forth, tearing apart the kingdom during the War of Two Brothers. An inaccurate name, one he wouldn’t
“If you’d been there”—Boudica pointed at Barley—“and if you’d been sober”—she shifted her finger over to the stoat—“you wouldn’t need to ask.”
“But I was drunk,” Bonsoir responded, “so you’ll have to tell me.”
Boudica cocked her head back at the fire, and at the salamander quietly sitting there. “You ever notice, however much he drinks, he never gets drunk? When they came through the door he was the only one sober enough to do anything about it. Put down Alphonze the hedgehog, both of the Squirrel twins. Put them down like they was nothing. If it wasn’t for the Dragon, the Captain would be dead, and I’d be dead, and you’d probably be dead too.”
They chewed that over for a while. Then Bonsoir spat it back out. “That proves nothing. The cold-bloods, they aren’t like us. They kill just for the fun of it.”
“You kill for fun,” Barley responded.
“Not like he does.”
“Wasn’t Cinnabar,” Boudica said again, though this time she seemed less certain.
Chapter 27: With the Jugs Half-Empty . . .
Barley and Bonsoir were standing a ways out from the main campsite, pissing with the wind.
“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me,” Bonsoir said.
Barley laughed, but he wasn’t.
Chapter 28: As the Stocks Grew Low . . .
“I figure it wasn’t the Captain,” Boudica said. “And if it was Gertrude we’d all be dead.”
“Coulda been Elf,” Bonsoir said.
“It wasn’t Elf.”
“No,” Bonsoir agreed. “It wasn’t Elf.”
Chapter 29: At the Bottom of the Kegs . . .
“You sure it wasn’t Boudica?” Bonsoir began.
“Not really,” Barley said.
“I know who it was.” Neither Bonsoir nor Barley had any idea the owl was there in the moment before she spoke, so perfectly did her feathers blend in with the night, and so utterly silent were her movements. Elf raked them back and forth with eyes that were like talons. “I do,” she said, before hobbling back off into the darkness.
Bonsoir turned back to the badger. “I believe her.”
“Me too.”
Chapter 30: A Smoke Before Sleep
It was just the two of them, as it often was lately, as it had been in the past. The fire had burned down to its embers, and the night had overtaken everything. Cinnabar lit a cigarette and handed it off to Gertrude, then started rolling another. “Were you surprised?”
“When they betrayed us?”
“Yes.”
“I was.”
“That surprises me.”
“No one is as smart as they think I am. No one is as anything as they think anyone is.”
“No, I suppose they aren’t.”
“Except you. You’re exactly as fast as they say.”
A match sparked. Two dots of light bobbed in the dark. “Why did they do it?” Cinnabar asked.
“Why do you think they did it?”
“I’m not as smart as you.”
“Still.”
“The usual reasons,” Cinnabar suggested. “Greed, lust, revenge, power, boredom. The Captain is unlovable.”
The one light was all by its lonesome. “Yes.”
“If they’d bothered to ask me—”
“Let’s not go down that road.”
“No. I was surprised at the Quaker, though. If ever two things loved each other . . .”
“What is love against instinct? We’re all animals, after all. How long can a thing go against its nature?”
It was completely dark. “And what is our nature?”
But the question was too obvious to need an answer.
Chapter 31: An Expected Reversal
Mephetic did not get angry when word came that Zapata had failed. He had figured Zapata would fail. The armadillo was loud, and the armadillo was hard, and the armadillo was even mean, so far as that went. But the armadillo was no match for the Captain. Still, it had been worth a try. Even the toughest bastard can catch a bullet in the back of the spine.
He had tripped up the last time, hadn’t he? Five years they’d gone back and forth, tearing apart the kingdom during the War of Two Brothers. An inaccurate name, one he wouldn’t
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