Chapter 28 #2
When the mother saw her husband, the great warrior, was dead, she screamed and wept.
The neighbors came, and the son was taken away.
“Put him to death,” some said. “Cut off his hands,” others said.
But the mother pleaded, “Don’t kill him.
Don’t put him to death.” Then what? At that time, if you struck your father, your hands were cut off. If you killed someone, you were killed.
“What happened?” I’d asked.
“The mother said instead of cutting off his hands or killing him, they should break his legs, tear the nerves, and shrivel the muscles, so he could never walk again. Then the people could make him work for the rest of his life, and he would never be able to run or flea or escape. He would always be at their mercy.”
“Is that what they did?”
“Yes.”
“Is the son you?”
“Aren’t you smart?”
“What happened to your mother?”
He’d smiled. “That’s the joke.”
Jagger had interrupted then, and I’d never heard the punch line.
As far as I can tell, the punishment of cutting off a son’s hands for striking his father was in place in Babylon around 1750 BC. I’m sure it was around before, and for a good while after, but I’ve always wondered, was the Merchant nearly four thousand years old?
He positioned himself in front of me and grinned. Penrose was curled on his lap, pretending to sleep, and the Merchant rested a hand in his thick red fur.
“You’ll unfreeze in about thirty seconds,” he said in his cheerful radio-announcer voice.
“While I find your antics amusing, this is a place of business, and I don’t want my merchandise harmed.
You break it, you buy it, et cetera, et cetera.
And I don’t think you’re that wealthy. Not even you, Bard.
Or you, Lady Clark.” He tossed a grin over his shoulder.
The Merchant was almost always in a jovial mood, as if he’d just heard the funniest joke and he was still laughing about it.
“It’s funny—I never thought I’d see Bards, Clarks, and Hell Gate together.
It’s almost cause for celebration. Cake?
Cookies?” He snapped his fingers. “Brownies.”
I stumbled, tripping forward as my body unfroze and my muscles went lax. Luvic fell too, and we crashed into each other. He grappled with me, and I shoved him away.
I went for the door. The Merchant snapped his fingers loudly, once, and the door disappeared. Where it had been was only flat seventies-wallpapered wall.
I swung around.
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t.”
“Please.”
He shook his head, his smile still in place. “How long do you think you were in the Den?”
He waited while I calculated, stroking Penrose’s velvety ears.
Finally, I answered, “Half a day. Seven, eight hours.”
The Merchant nodded toward the window. It should’ve been night, the city a dark blanket lit by electric studs of light, but instead, it showed the hot glare of afternoon sunlight glinting off metal and glass.
“Two minutes twenty seconds.”
“What?” I asked, staring at the hazy blue sky.
“You were gone two minutes twenty seconds. From the moment the Den grabbed you to the moment you shot out. It felt like half a day to you, but here, it was only two minutes.”
A slow, creeping panic slid through me.
The Merchant looked at his watch. “You’ve been here now for four minutes forty seconds. In there, almost a full day has passed. Maybe more. Time there jumps around in fits and starts. It’s not stable like it is here.”
“He’s . . .”
The Merchant nodded. “Isn’t it funny?”
No.
No, it was not.
“He’s either dead already or wishes he were.
Or maybe he’s gone and joined the depraved.
Either way, you’re too late. You were too late the second you landed in my hallway again.
Anyway, on to business. What can I do for you?
What delights can I entice you with? How much money do you have, and how much can I part you with? ”
No.
Justice had experienced a full day.
Every four minutes that passed, he experienced another?
In there.
Alone.
The Merchant tsked, and Penrose swished his tail in annoyance. “I can see you’re distracted. Listen. You’re not going back. I won’t send you out that route. It’s bad for business if people die on my property. Forget about it.”
“Mari—” Luvic began.
But Last cleared her throat. “Excuse me. That short creature—that disgusting thing—it slipped out the window.”
Sure enough, the glass casement window the Merchant had pointed to was now partially open. A hot breeze fanned over us, scented with metal and baking concrete.
“Also,” she sighed, “do you mean to tell me, Mari, you’re upset because the creature was left in the Den?
Why? It was incredible there. I would live there if I could.
No Primus. No Principal. That one”—she pointed at Luvic and gave his bloodied face a disgusted lip curl—“was a big, fuzzy tabby cat. He couldn’t talk.
That’s a dream come true. All he did was bat at butterflies and carry me on his back.
” She turned to the Merchant. “Do you have an object that turns people into cats? He was almost bearable.”
The Merchant started to nod, then he noticed the violent look on Luvic’s face and shook his head. “Nope. Sorry.”
Last shrugged. “Oh well. I guess it’s back to plan A.”
Plan A involved killing Luvic as soon as she was pregnant. She gave me a conspiratorial smile.
“I’m sure your creature friend is happy there as long as he has plenty of people to kill,” she said, “since that is apparently his preferred pastime. Accept it. Move on.”
I narrowed my eyes.
Luvic cleared his throat and stepped next to me, putting himself between me and Last. Then he turned and gave the Merchant a bloody smile. “Thanks for seeing us,” he said.
And when the Merchant nodded, his expression filled with laughter, I realized I had to shove down my grief, let Jagger’s blood have free rein, and do what I’d been commanded.
“We’re here about a weapon,” I said.
Next to me, Luvic’s stance relaxed.
The Merchant leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. “A weapon? Then you’ve come to the right place. But first . . . tea.”
If you’re surprised, don’t be. This was the way of things with the Merchant.
If you came to buy, then you could expect to spend hours in his company.
It began with jokes at the entry. Then it progressed to tea. You’d better drink at least two pots. Hot, never cold. There would be finger sandwiches—cucumber, watercress, pimento cheese. There would be tiny tea cakes, little brownie squares, and floral-flavored ladyfingers.
I felt queasy even thinking about eating more dessert, but I forced myself to take a plate and nibble on the concoctions.
We talked. He laughed. We joked. Luvic bled and pretended he wasn’t bleeding.
I smiled and pretended I wasn’t raging inside because I’d left Justice in the Den alone.
Penrose lay curled in the Merchants lap and pretended he wasn’t listening.
Last sat silently and stared slack-jawed at the Merchant with something like growing infatuation, no pretending there.
Finally, when we’d finished our required two pots of tea and the plates of desserts, the Merchant said, “Now the pleasantries are over, what would you like? Armored vehicles, tanks, rocket launchers, grenades—”
“Don’t play games,” I said.
He laughed. “Weaponized sonar? A satellite laser? Gamma bursts? Something old-fashioned? A hydrogen bomb?”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Funny joke.”
Luvic’s eyes widened. Last set her teacup down with a loud clank. Neither of them had ever been to see the Merchant before. They didn’t understand.
“You know what I want.”
He grinned. “Good old-fashioned guns then.”
I scoffed. “I thought we were friends.”
He laughed even harder. “Uh-huh.” He wiped at his eyes, his cheeks reddening.
I waited for him to stop chuckling. “I know you have one.”
“Maybe I just sold it.”
“And maybe I’ll blow up your fun house.”
“And maybe I poisoned your tea and you’ll be dead before you can.”
“And maybe I poisoned you years ago and every time I visit I dose you with the antidote, and if I stop coming, you’ll stop breathing.”
He lunged forward and gripped my throat in his hand. I held still, but Luvic conjured a knife and held it to the Merchant’s throat. Last twisted her hand, and a swarm of killer wasps appeared, buzzing over her palm.
“Is it true?” the Merchant asked, squeezing my throat.
His voice was no longer cheerful. It wasn’t even radio-announcer-smooth. It was a guttural, angry hiss. Even his boyish face had twisted, so he no longer looked cheerful and benevolent.
I smiled blandly. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s a joke. You’ll only know when you’re dead. But it’ll be a funny death.”
His brown eyes burned as he searched my face. He tilted his head and smiled at what he saw. “Knock, knock?” he asked.
“Who’s there?” I responded, the pressure on my neck loosening as his hand relaxed.
“Tell your pet conjurers to back off before I incinerate them. I like you, but them, I could do without.”
Last scoffed. “I’d like to see you try.”
The Merchant turned toward her and cocked his head in an eerie, alien way. Last squirmed, and the wasps fell dead into her palm. Luvic dropped the knife to the table.
The Merchant smiled and let go of my throat. “Where were we?”
I smiled back. “You were about to give me a wonderful deal on your Silencer.”
“Oh,” the Merchant said, his face lighting with surprise. “Oh. Now that’s funny.”
“And why is that?”
“Because,” the Merchant laughed, “I really did sell it right before you arrived.”
What?
Who?
Luvic swore.
And that pretty much summed it up.