chapter TWO
The causeway that runs along and then across McKay Bay goes by docks the shrimp boats use and berths where freighters put in for maintenance and repairs. Surrounded by gantries and scaffolding and all lit up, the big ships glowed like ghosts in the dark.
No Eyes had me stop at a spot where there were no docks or boats, small or big, just a narrow strip of sand and pebbles leading down to the black water. We walked down to it, and I stood looking out while he muttered words I didn’t understand. He picked open one of the scabs on his cheek and flicked drops of blood at the channel.
I had no idea why he’d wanted to come here, or why he was doing what he was doing. Which may have meant that I was stupid to stand around while he did it. But my brain was on overload.
While the fairies were attacking, I’d been too busy trying to cope to think about how crazy everything was. But once we got away, I kind of went into shock. And when the old man told me to drive him to the causeway, it was easier to do it than ask questions. I only insisted that we stop at a 7-Eleven along the way for disinfectant, Band-Aids, gauze pads, and tape.
But I regretted being so cooperative when the thing rose out of the water.
At first, all I saw was the dark bulb of a head as big as a fat ten year-old, and the oily gleam of black, slanted eyes. Then, splashing in the shallows, coiling, clutching, and pulling, the octopus’s tentacles hauled it onto the shore.
I yelped and tried to drag the old man backward. He resisted and snapped, “Calm yourself! This is the being I was calling.”
Well, of course it was. How dumb of me not to have realized. I took a deep breath, and, against my better judgment, held my ground.
“Murk,” the old man said.
“My lord Timon,” Murk wheezed, like it was hard for him to breathe out of the water. There was a tiny clicking, too, that his beak made opening and closing. “Someone hurt you.”
The old guy frowned. “It’s trivial. And I killed several of them.”
“If you say so.” The octopus’s eyes shifted in my direction. “Is this for me?” His tentacles stirred.
I started to backpedal, my shoes crunching the sand and stones. Timon raised a grubby hand to reassure me.
“I have a use for him,” he said. “He’s helping me get around.”
“Then this is a rude, miserly sort of summoning,” said Murk.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Timon said.
“You’re well known for making such promises. Not so well known for keeping them.”
“I said, I’ll make it up to you! Meanwhile, it is what it is, and I am who I am.”
Murk grunted. “That’s for sure. What is it you want?”
“There’s a tournament underway.”
“I know. The Twin Helens told me.”
“My injuries make it impossible for me to continue. I need a champion.”
“You surely don’t mean me.”
“My old friend, who else would I even consider? You’re powerful and cunning. If not for bad luck, you might already be a lord yourself.”
“If not for my master holding me down, you mean.”
Timon frowned. Another drop of blood oozed from his right eye socket; he’d refused any of the bandages I’d clumsily used to patch myself up. “If you want your freedom, and a piece of the bay to call your own, you can have them. All you need to do is win.”
Murk laughed. It sounded like a muted trombone—wah-wah-wah—played by someone running out of wind. “What I want, my lord, is to see you broken.”
Timon looked genuinely surprised. “Why? I haven’t treated you so badly. Any of the others would be worse.”
“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t let spite stand in the way of your own best interest.”
“It’s not in my best interest to let myself be blinded or worse, now is it? I know who your opponents are.”
“Then have it your way, coward! I’ll get Festering Sam. See how you like it when he’s a lord, and you’re still kowtowing to me.”
“He won’t represent you, either. No one will. We all talked about it.”
Timon stiffened, and when he spoke again, it sounded choked. “Are you saying that every single one of my minions is a traitor?”
“No, my lord. I’m saying that even vassals and thralls have rights, and we’re exercising them. That’s all.”
“When I’ve sorted this out, I’ll give you a thousand years of nightmares.”
“Then it’s a good thing I don’t need a lot of sleep.” Murk’s eyes shifted back to me for a moment. Then he hauled himself back out into the water and slipped beneath the surface.
Up until then, Timon had held himself straight and defiant. Now, his whole body slumped. For a second, I thought he might fall down.
Like I said, I was dazed and bewildered. Yet even so, I’d figured out that there wasn’t much about the old guy that was likable. Still, I felt sorry for him. Maybe it was because we’d just come through danger together.
“It could be,” I said, “that Murk was just trying to rattle your cage. You may still have some… vassals who are willing to help you.”
Timon shook his head. “No. What he said had the ring of truth.”
“What did you do to them all, anyway?”
He showed me that a person can glare without eyes. “Nothing I didn’t have a right to do! Nothing that caused any harm! So what if they suffered a few terrors and humiliations in their dreams? Dreams aren’t real! Isn’t that what your people say?”
“I guess.”
“Any of the others would do worse. As the ungrateful scum will find out in due course. Unless… ” He cocked his head. “Tell me about yourself.”
“I’m just a regular person.” Even as I said it, I realized that regular people don’t create “wards” and drive cars during out-of-body experiences. But it felt true. “Tell me about you. About all of this.”
He shook his head. “You first.”
“You know what? To hell with that. I’m not one of your stooges—”
“Actually—”
“—and I’m done letting you boss me around. Answer my question, or I’ll get back in the car and drive away.”
That might be the smart thing to do anyway. But I didn’t want to, and not just because I felt bad for him. The things I’d seen were terrifying, but fascinating, too. How could a person suddenly discover that his own hometown was full of monsters, and that he himself had some kind of half-assed superpowers, and not want to find out more about it?
Timon sniffed twice, like his nose could tell whether I really would follow through on my threat, and then he scowled. “Have it your way. I assume you know at least a little bit about folklore. Demons, witches, and the like.”
“Well, I saw the Lord of the Rings movies. The first and the third one, anyway. And you’re telling me that all those things are real?”
“You’ve already met some of us. Do we seem real?”
I swallowed. “Yeah. But then why doesn’t everybody know about you? Why haven’t I ever seen you before this?’
“We prefer to keep our society apart from yours, and just dip into your world when we need something. It’s easier that way.”
“Okay.” Interested as I was in what he was saying, his funk was burning my nose again. I took a step back so I could inhale less of him and more of the saltwater smell of the bay. “And in your ‘society,’ there are lords who run everything. And you are one.”
He smiled a crooked smile. “You sound skeptical.”
“No offense, but you look like a homeless person.”
“I spend some of my time living like one. But that’s perfectly acceptable, because I’m not human. Something that seems unpleasant and degrading to one of you doesn’t have the same effect on me.”
“So you’re okay with dumpster diving and never bathing or changing your clothes.”
“Believe me, I have joys and luxuries you can’t even imagine. It’s just that I partake of them in the mansions and gardens of the inner world.”
“Meaning, other people’s dreams.”
He gave me a nod. “You understand.”
“Not really, but let it slide for now. A bunch of you lords are having a tournament? What’s that all about?”
He hesitated. “It’s complicated. To be a lord is to own one or more fiefdoms—”
“What, now?”
His mouth tightened like he wasn’t used to being interrupted. “Property. Pieces of the earth and all they contain. Lesser beings who live there do so with the lord’s permission, and owe him tithes and duties.”
“When you say ‘lesser beings,’ are you talking about your own kind?”
Timon hesitated. “I was, but not because the system doesn’t encompass humans. It’s just that you’re at the bottom of the ladder. Possessions, not subjects.”
The way he said it gave me a chill. I tried to snort the feeling away. “Well, I guess you can look down on us all you like, as long as you aren’t really trying to control us.”
“But we are. We do, like gods. You just don’t perceive it.”
“Why? I mean, what do you want from us?”
“It depends. As you’ve already seen, we vary from one to the next, and so do our needs. But most of us rely on you in one way or another.”
“You mean, you’re parasites.”
“Were you a ‘parasite’ on the swordfish I smell on your breath?”
“Is that comparison supposed to make me feel better?”
“I don’t mean that we literally eat you. At least, not all of us, and not in great quantities.”
“And what do you do? You, personally?”
“I already told you, more or less. Did it sound so very horrible?”
It sounded kind of like mental rape, but I realized I still had the same options as before. I could run away from all of this, or I could find out more. And I was still curious.
So I took a breath, and then said, “You were going to explain about the tournament.”
He nodded like he was glad to change the subject. “Yes. The tournament. My people love games and gambling. You might even call it a mania. And when lords play, we often risk a portion of our dominions. Lesser stakes don’t have a lot of meaning.”
“And when the stakes don’t mean anything, you don’t get the same rush.”
He smiled, showing teeth that looked stained and crooked even in the dark. “I had a hunch you’d understand.”
“Yeah. I pretty much do. Pablo—the steroid addict with the tire iron—was after me because I owe money to a loan shark. I borrowed it to shoot nine-ball.”
“And it didn’t go well?”
I grinned. “Actually, I crushed the guy. It was the gin game three nights later that was the problem. But anyway, you’re in a tournament, and one of your opponents sent the fairies after you so you wouldn’t be able to continue? You must be pretty good.”
“I’m very good. But understand that while my adversary’s ploy was heavy-handed and gauche, it wasn’t exactly cheating. What happens away from the table is part of the game, too.”
“Then you guys play rough, and maybe you’re better off out of it.”
Timon shook his head. “That’s the problem. I can’t afford to be ‘out of it.’ Even the finest gamblers have losing streaks, and I’ve been on one. I’m playing for the only fief I have left, which means I’m playing for my freedom.”
“Why the hell would you bet that?”
“Why did you win big at nine-ball and immediately go broke playing gin?”
I sighed. “For the action. I get you.”
“Actually, there’s even more to it than that. A noble who won’t play looks timid and contemptible.”
“Chicken.”
“Yes.”
“Well, at least nobody will call you that.”
“They’ll call me ‘my lord!’ because I am not sinking back down to live as a commoner. I’m going to win, and you’re going to help me.”
I blinked. “Come again?”
“The others have no choice but to accept you as my proxy. You have gifts—unplumbed and untrained, but still—and you live in my dominions.”
“Maybe, but—”
“In addition to which, you’re a born gambler. That, too, is our blood coming out in you. It might even be my blood.”
I glared. “I know who my father was.”
“What about your great-great-grandfather? I’ve been around a long time.”
It was still a disgusting idea, but I realized it wasn’t the main issue. “Whatever. The point is, I haven’t volunteered to stand in for you.”
“But you’d be a fool not to, because I’ll reward you. How much do you owe?”
“A hundred and fifty thousand.” It wasn’t really quite that much, but I needed a little something leftover for myself, didn’t I?
“You’ll have it.”
I took another look at his rags and filth. “Are we talking about dream money or real money?”
“I told you before, don’t be misled by my appearance. Few things are easier than acquiring human cash.”
“Well… damn it, no!” What the hell was I thinking? “If I get involved in this, then the same person who sent the fairies after you will sic them on me.”
“Actually, I doubt you’ll see the brownwings again. Even if they’re still game, sending the same agents twice would be an extremely uncreative move, and detrimental to one’s reputation.”
“Is that supposed to be a good thing? At least we got away from the brownwings. The next creatures could be worse.” I pictured the orcs, Ringwraiths, and the rest of the Dark Lord’s crew from the Frodo movies. I wondered which ones were real, and roaming around in the night.
“I’ll be there,” said Timon. “I’ll protect you.”
“So far, hasn’t it been me protecting you?”
He waved that detail away. “My knowledge will protect you, assuming you even need protecting. You may not. Players don’t assault each other constantly, and your human blood, and lack of reputation, should cause the others to underestimate you.”
“Maybe you’re overestimating me. You haven’t even told me what game it is you’re playing. Maybe I’ve never even heard of it.”
The old man smiled. “It’s No Limit Hold ’Em. Does that ring any bells?”
“Well… yeah.” The truth was, I was a good poker player. I sometimes imagined myself really committing to the game, studying it, grinding away at it sixty hours a week, building up a bankroll, until I was ready to play against Brunson, Negranu, Helmuth, and the rest of the pros you see on TV. But so far, like all my big schemes, I hadn’t done anything much about it. Since my dad died, and I lost Victoria—my ex-fiancée—it was hard to get motivated.
“Well, then,” Timon said. “You’ll be in your element.”
“Sure. Right at home with the pixies and the talking calamari.”
“But that is where you belong! You have a birthright. I explained that humans are chattel, but you don’t have to be. This is your entry to a nobler condition.”
“I’ve never minded being human. I sure haven’t seen anything from your world that I’d rather be.”
“Then you’ll be happy to close the door on your gifts and never use them again?”
I started to tell him yes, but then I realized that would be a lie.
“It will take a while to assess your strengths and limitations,” Timon continued, “but I can already tell you have the potential to become quite powerful. Maybe powerful enough to live forever. Certainly powerful enough to laugh at humans swinging clubs.”
Well. When he put it like that.
Really, I don’t know what finally decided me. Maybe curiosity, or the chance to get the Martinezes off my ass. Or maybe it was the prospect of a whole new kind of action. During our last and worst fight, when I guess I’d finally pushed her too far, Vic called me a “degenerate gambler,” and maybe she was right.
“Okay,” I said, “I’m in.”
“Excellent! In that case, you’d better tell me your name.”
For a second, I didn’t want to give it, like that was the thing that would really seal the deal. Then I told him it was Billy Fox.