Blazing Centaurs, page 13
“Wait, that wasn’t you guys?” asked Iyarra. “You sure?”
“Well, I’d reckon we’d known if we’d done it.” He looked around at the group. “Less’n somebody went out and did it on their own?” This was met with a chorus of denials. “Yeah, we wouldn’t do nothin’ like that.”
“Interesting,” said the high mistress. “I hadn’t given it much thought, but now you do have me wondering.”
“Oh!” Iyarra brightened. “I bet it was—” but Revka jabbed her urgently in the side. “Uh, probably just some kid,” she finished lamely.
“Hm. Well, I think that covers everything for now. Remember your instructions and we will meet again in a few nights. Good luck to us all. Any other business? No? Very well. Let the circle be closed, the way be unbarred, and someone go up and let them know we’re ready for the ham rolls.”
* * * * *
Some time later, Iyarra and Revka walked back through the city streets to the inn. Several of the saloons were still open and doing a brisk trade. The sounds of fighting and singing wafted out into the desert night, though sometimes it was hard to tell which was which.
Neither spoke until they got back to their room, each lost in her thoughts. It wasn’t until they closed the door behind them that Revka shook her head and blew out. “Whew. Man.”
“So that was a secret society, was it?” Iyarra sat down on the bed. “Are they all like that?”
“Search me. Never seen one before.” Revka went over to the water closet and pumped a little water into the sink to splash her face.
“That was…not what I expected,” Iyarra said. “When that goddess lady said she had a secret priesthood working for her, I thought they’d be more…well, mysterious, you know? All spooky and being like, bring forth the sacred such-and-such, but these guys were like, like…” she waved a hand vaguely, trying to find the words.
“Like a club. Yeah, I noticed too. Actually, it was kind of like my dad.”
“Your dad? He was in a secret society?”
“Well, sort of. I mean, they called themselves The Ancient and Mystical Order of Iron, but honestly, anyone who worked in or around the iron mines was in it. And in our town, that was darned near everyone. Dad told me all about it, you know. They have a lot of stuff about sacred, time-honored secrets handed down through the ages, and you swear on the bones of your ancestors not to reveal what goes on at the meetings, and all like that.”
“Gosh.”
“Yeah. It turns out it’s mostly just charity work and parading around in silly hats. Dad mostly joined it to be sociable, but yeah, this feels like the same thing, you know?” She wandered over to Iyarra and sat on her back, futzing with her mane. “It’s like, they’re supposed to be protecting the world and all, but they treat it like a hobby. I mean, that costume? The beast one? Who does that? Sounds like something some old coot would come up with to get people to stay off his land or something.”
Iyarra snorted. “No kidding. And then the first group of kids that were even a little bit curious would figure out what was going on in, like, ten minutes. If that.”
Revka giggled. “Exactly!” She shook her head. “All I know is, I am more than a little bit sure we’re going to have to do most of the heavy lifting with this bunch.”
“I hear you there.” Iyarra sighed. “Still, it kind of makes sense when you think about it.”
“Oh, how do you figure?”
“Well, they’re a secret society, getting their orders from a goddess of chaos, but they don’t know she’s a goddess of chaos. I mean, what else are you going to get?”
“Interesting point.” Revka mused, taking out a brush and brushing Iyarra’s mane out a little. “Come to think of it, maybe that’s not even on purpose. On her part, I mean.”
“Oh?”
“Sure. Can you imagine a chaos goddess creating an efficient, competent group? Doesn’t fit. Probably even if she did set out to create a group who had their heads screwed on straight, she’d wind up with a bunch of…well…”
“Interesting point.” Iyarra leaned back a bit, closing her eyes and lowering her ears. “Well, I guess we’re stuck with them either way. Funny thing, though, to think about it, bringing us in to shape things up. You’d never think we’d be the competent ones.”
Revka laughed. “Now, that is scary!” She sighed and hugged her arms around Iyarra from behind. “Well, I suppose we’d better call it a night. Back to work in the morning and all that. Shall I get the light?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“All right.” Revka slipped off Iyarra’s back and wandered over to the lamp. She turned it down until the room was dark, only the filtered moonlight around the window curtain providing any light at all. She padded back over to Iyarra and tossed a blanket over her back against the cool night air. “Good night, sugar.”
“G’nite.”
Outside the inn, a shadow watched the light go out in their room. It nodded, stepped back into the deeper darkness, and disappeared.
Chapter Fourteen
MORNING, AND ROSY-FINGERED dawn did lightly caress the sleeping town, brushing away the shadows of recalcitrant night and tinting the world with a dance of gold. It washed across the valley, gently coaxed the citizenry from their dreams to meet the new day, and hit Revka square in the eye. She growled and yanked the blankets over her head.
Iyarra gave her a nudge. “Come on, you. We gotta get up and get ready for work, remember?”
“Whfzzl.”
“Now, come on. We’ve got to get along to that construction site and find out what they’re doing.” The centauress grinned, tugging the blanket away. “I know you’re not the biggest morning person, but we’ve got a job to do, right?”
“Grnph.”
“Good.”
* * * * *
They arrived at the site with the rest of the work party a little over an hour later. They were put on the construction crew for the big building, the stone floor having been set sufficiently for the real work to begin.
The girls had never actually worked on a building site before, it being one of the few jobs they somehow hadn’t taken at some point in their wanderings. Frankly, Revka had always just assumed you started at the bottom and built your way up, but apparently, this was not the case. The crew laid out several planks to form the outline of one of the walls, which they nailed together into a kind of frame. They brought over several other planks that were placed inside the frame about half a pace from each other, going vertical from the bottom to the top, and secured these in place as well. The end result rather reminded Revka of a giant, barred window.
Over the course of the day, they managed to do all four walls, each laid out neatly around the foundation where they would be ready to be lifted into place and joined together the next day. As they worked, the crew kept up a steady stream of chat and gossip. A lot of it was to do with locals the girls didn’t know, and was of the who’s-doing-what-to-whom-and-for-how-much variety. There was also some talk about a new entertainer over at the Red Boa Club who, if her coworkers were to be believed, had quite a unique act. Revka liked to think she was a woman of the world, but if the comments of the crew were to be believed, then centaur exotic dancers were really exotic. Almost eye-wateringly so. A couple of times, she glanced at Iyarra to see if they were turning her on, but the centauress merely shrugged.
“So, never built a building this way before. Any of you guys?” Revka hoped to move the conversation to less awkward topics,
Tom fanned himself with his hat. “It is mighty peculiar,” he said. “Though I suppose they know what they’re after.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know they built places this way. I mean, doing the walls flat and all.”
“Oh, that ain’t the odd part.” The centaur pointed. “That’s just how you do timber frame buildings. Nothing unusual about that. Naw, I mean as how they ain’t any windows.”
Revka looked. Sure enough, Tom was right. The front wall had a big gap for the opening doors, but the other walls were all the same, not an opening to be seen.
“Barn,” said Gabby.
Revka turned. “Do what?”
“Barn. That’s how they used to do ’em back home. Put the walls together an’ haul ’em up. Big doors, no windows. Barn.”
Revka looked down at the wooden slats. “Well, now that you mention it,” she said, “I can kind of see that.”
“You think that’s what we’re building out here?”
Maisie shrugged. “Could be. I reckon one storage building is pretty much the same as any other, get right down to it.”
The sun was beginning to work its way down, as the group packed up their tools and started the journey back to town. “So listen,” said Maisie, as they trooped along the road, “some of us we go ’long to Mactingle’s Saloon after work, for a cool-off drink. Y’all can come along if ya wanna.”
Revka looked at Iyarra. “What do you reckon?”
“Well, I don’t mind if you don’t. Frankly, a drink would do me good.”
“A’ight.” Maisie grinned. “It ain’t the snazziest place in town, but it’s cheap, and they don’t short ya.”
“Sounds good.”
* * * * *
Mactingle’s was on the cheap end of the main drag, in the low-rent area where the tourists didn’t go—or at least, didn’t go on purpose. The one-story saloon was low-slung and catered mostly to centaurs, generally blue-collar workers who spent their days in the sun and were looking for something cheap and cold to unwind with at the end of the day. Revka tried to imagine Mr. Fleet and his bunch sitting around one of the rough, unwashed tables. She couldn’t. There was something about the place that would naturally repel any attempt at gentrification. Any drink with a paper umbrella would spontaneously combust before you got it through the door.
“Careful,” said Maisie as they claimed a table near the back. “Place can be a little rough, especially after workin’ hours.”
“You don’t say. Er…” Revka looked around. “Where are the chairs?”
“Ain’t got none.” The cowtauress settled herself down, then grinned at Revka. “We don’t get much in the way of humans around here, and the chairs don’t last long anyway.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Iyarra repositioned herself so that Revka could perch on her back.
“Thanks.” Revka settled down, then tugged a little at the table. It didn’t budge. “Huh.” She craned her head downward, peeking under the table. “Hey, Yarra,” she said. “Table’s bolted to the floor.”
“Yup,” said Tom. “All of ’em are like that. Also, they got iron bands underneath as holds ’em together. Otherwise, they’d get broke up and splintered all to pieces.” He chuckled, using his hands to mime a centaur taking a crash landing onto a table. “Boosh.”
“Uh-huh.” Now that Revka looked around, the place definitely had a different sort of atmosphere to it. The space behind the bar where the bottles were kept was enclosed in a series of wooden cabinets protected with chicken wire. A similar construction surrounded the piano player in the back corner, the result being that he looked like some sort of zoo exhibit. There was an overall stripped-down aspect to the decor, as if someone had taken pains to remove anything breakable and nail down the rest. Revka found herself wishing they’d taken a table nearer the exit.
Iyarra made a face. “Uhm, just what kind of place is this again?”
Maisie laughed. “Aw, it ain’t that bad. Mostly it’s all right. Just you get a lot of folks comin’ in after a long day, looking to cut loose a little. Can get a little bit rowdy, but if I’m honest, it’s not much worse than most places around these parts. Ain’t that right, fellers?”
Tom nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Yup,” said Gabby.
“Anyhow. Let’s go ahead and get the first round in. Braws all around? I believe it’s your turn, Mr. Thomas.”
“Aw, man. Natchally it’d be my turn when we got two new people along.”
“Oh, don’t worry about us,” said Revka hurriedly. “We can cover ourselves. Come to think of it, since it’s our first time, how about we get the first round, what do ya say?”
“Oh well, shoot!” Tommy brightened up. “In that case, I’ll have me a Château Lahoof Wraithchild ’83, or I guess an ’84 would be acceptable too. If it’s from early in the year. Oh, and one of them bendy straws. I like those.”
Maisie clipped Tommy on the back of his head with her palm again. “You gonna take braw like the rest of us and you’ll like it.” She nodded to the girls. “Much obliged.”
“No problem, I’ll run and fetch ’em. Won’t be long.” Revka got up from the table, only to feel Iyrra’s hand on her arm. “I think it might be better if I get the drinks,” she said.
Revka blinked. “Whassat? How come?”
Iyarra nodded her head toward the room. “Look around.”
Revka did so, wondering what she was looking for. The place was beginning to fill up a bit. True to what the others had said, the customers seemed to be working-class types. Most of them gathered in groups at their tables, but there was no shortage of lone drinkers. Seemed like pretty much any bar she’d ever been in. What did Iyarra…?
“Wait, am I the only human in here?”
Iyarra nodded. “Looks like it. I’m not super sure it would be a good idea to call attention to yourself.”
“Well, that ain’t wrong,” said Tom. “I mean, we get humans in here from time to time, but they tend to keep to themselves, you know? Stay out of everyone’s way.”
Maisie nodded. “Probably best if ya don’t call attention to yourself. Iyarra, girl, you go on ahead. Miss Revka can hang out with us.”
“Okay.”
* * * * *
Iyarra got up and wandered over to the bar. The bartender was getting through the line pretty fast. Most of the customers wanted whatever was on tap, anyway, so it wasn’t like he was going to be tied up with any complicated cocktail orders. She and Revka had been to bars where they had special, custom cocktails with names like Liquid Sunset or Toe Curler. She found herself wondering what kind of cocktails a place like this would have. Probably, they’d have names like Concussion, or What Are You Looking At?
Her reverie was broken when the saloon door burst open. A large, heavily muscled figure filled the doorway, blocking any light from outside. All around the bar, conversations trickled to a halt. In his cage in the corner, the piano player stumbled out a couple of bum notes before stopping and glancing back toward the open doorway.
The bulltaur strode into the room and surveyed the crowd. “Just what the hell was that?” he bellowed. “That was sloppier’n hell, is what that was! Now. I’m gonna go out and back in again. Let’s see if we can get it right!” He turned around, and stormed back through the doors, grumbling.
After a few seconds, the conversations around the tables tentatively picked back up where they had left off. The piano player started back up again, and Iyarra, more than a little bemused, turned her attention back to the bartender.
The saloon doors crashed open again. This time, the effect was immediate. Every conversation stopped, every head turned, even the piano player stopped midnote, which is no easy trick. Silence washed over the room as the bulltaur strode in, his thick, heavy hooves thumping against the floor. He looked around the room, then grunted. “All right,” he said. “That’s better. Try an’ have some standards around here.”
He strode over to the bar, pushing through the other patrons as if they weren’t even there. Iyarra backed away quickly, staying out of the newcomer’s way. Something about him struck her as awfully familiar. “Whiskey,” he snarled.
The bartender gulped. “C-certainly sir,” he stammered. “What kind?”
The bull’s eyes narrowed. “Whaddya mean what kind? Whiskey!”
“Well, I mean, s-sure, but there’s different whiskeys. You got your Caledonian, your Tarshish, your oat, your artisan, handcrafted, fennel-and-sugar beet…”
The barkeep trailed off as the bulltaur leaned over him. “I want,” he said, “The cheapest, nastiest, rot-gut whiskey you got. Gimme the stuff you use to clean the sink with. And if you ever use the word artisan in front of me again, I’m gonna—”
“Stumpy!” Revka’s voice rang out from the back. The entire crowd turned to look at the woman, who was grinning in mild disbelief.
The bulltaur’s head whipped around, “WHO SAID THAT!?” he bellowed. Off to the side, Iyarra gulped. Oh dear, he did look familiar.
Revka smirked at the bulltaur and waved. “Hey there,” she called out. “I see yer not wearin’ your horns today.”
Big Jake, for indeed it was him, scowled, his eyes narrowing. “You,” he snarled. “I got kicked out of my own gang cuz of you! I’m gonna cream you!” He began to stride his way across the room toward Revka’s table with murder in his eyes.
“Whoops,” whispered Revka. She stumbled up to her feet, holding her hands out placatingly. “Easy there, man. I didn’t do it on purpose. Things just happen, right? Come on, let me get you something. On me, what do you say?”
“I say you better say yer prayers.” He got to their table and leaned down to the woman, pounding a fist into his hand. “Now,” he growled, “any last words?”
“Yeah,” said a voice. “Why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?”
Iyarra stood behind the bulltaur, her voice almost steady as she issued the challenge. She pawed at the floor, her large hooves digging a rut in the hard-packed earth.
Big Jake looked over his shoulder at her and sneered. “I remember you,” he said. “Well, I reckon I can take ya both on. Two against one ain’t too bad when one of ’em don’t hardly count at all.” he grinned menacingly at Revka.
“Five to one.” Maisie stood up, rolling back her sleeves. Gabby and Tom joined her, the latter raising a hand hesitantly. “Actually,” he said, “I kind of have an appointment later and…” Maisie clapped him on the back of the head again. “Aw, dangit.”
