Messenger of Fear
Page 33

“Yeah, well, I have a choice for you, loser: take a walk or get your butt kicked. How about that choice?”
Messenger said nothing. He just waited.
Derek was nerving himself up for a fight. He threw out his chest and made a “Come on” gesture with his hands. Messenger did not respond in any way, not by look or gesture.
Derek stepped closer, hesitated, glanced around as if expecting someone to stop him, and then leaped at Messenger. He passed through or past Messenger and landed on hands and knees a few feet beyond.
Angry and frightened now, Derek rushed at Messenger’s back and again space warped so that no contact was made, and Derek found himself yet more angry and frightened. Now Derek swung a fist at Messenger, which would surely have passed harmlessly by except that Messenger had apparently lost patience and, with a simple raising of his palm, caused Derek’s legs to weaken and drop him to his knees.
“I offer you a game,” Messenger repeated. “If you refuse to choose, then I will make the choice for you.”
“Game? What game?”
“Do you choose to play? Answer yes or no.”
“Ah ah ah!” a female voice called out. “Don’t be too quick to answer.”
Oriax, halfway up in the bleachers, stood and sauntered down, legs a mile long, dressed in her third exotic outfit. I wondered if Derek could see her, but from the way his eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and his face flushed, I assumed the answer was yes.
“You don’t need to play Messenger’s little game,” Oriax said. “You’re a big, strong boy, aren’t you? You’re not a pansy, are you? Not like Manolo, right?”
Throughout this, Oriax never even looked at Derek but winked at me and grinned saucily at Messenger.
Messenger ignored her, spoke past her to Derek. “You might lose the game. But you might win.”
“Might win,” Oriax mocked. “How many win, Messenger? One in ten? And only if the Game Master is in a gentle mood. It’s all rigged, Derek, don’t listen to him.” She leaned close to Derek and put her cheek within a whisper of his. Derek’s eyes fluttered and for a moment I thought he might faint.
“Let him be, Oriax.”
“You’re not going to be pushed around by some pretty boy in a ridiculous coat, are you, Derek? Not a big, strong, manly guy like you.”
Derek shook his head. “No.”
“I mean, look at him. You’re tougher than he is, aren’t you?”
Derek wasn’t so sure about that, but he nodded gamely while glancing warily at Messenger. “This is all some kind of trick.”
“Exactly,” Oriax purred. “A cheap magic trick from a boy who serves powers he doesn’t even understand. Isn’t that right, Messenger? You quote the phrases, you summon in the name of Isthil, but you don’t know what that really means, do you? Child. You are still very young. And now you bully and seduce this poor, blind girl here into taking over your burden.”
I did not want to listen to her—I felt a need to be loyal to Messenger, though I could never have explained it logically. What loyalty did I owe he who was not to be touched?
“Be silent, Oriax.”
Oriax moved away from Derek and closer to Messenger. She waved one long, black-nailed finger slowly, back and forth, and in a singsong voice said, “No, no, no, Messenger, you don’t have that kind of power. You don’t dismiss me. I was old in the knowledge before you were spawned.” Her sex-kitten voice had grown hard and edged with anger. “I am Oriax. You know what I am, and who I serve, and what powers I command, and you should remember your place, Messenger.”
Messenger did not show fear, but neither did he rebuke her. He listened, swallowed a rising anger, kept his arms by his side, and made no reply.
Oriax turned back to Derek. She snapped her fingers in his face as if waking him from a trance and said, “Tell him no. Tell him no, you won’t play his game.”
Derek then looked to me, confused, a silent question in his eyes: Who should I believe? What should I do? And all I could do was shake my head slightly in a weak acknowledgment that I did not know the answer.
Derek threw his shoulders back again, glanced at Oriax, his eyes lingering on her, then in a voice lower than his normal register said, “No. I won’t play your game.”
Messenger glared daggers at Oriax, who clapped her hands and laughed in delight. She grinned at Messenger and said, “He’ll break like a dry twig, the brittle little boy. And the Shoals will have a new inmate.”
THE MIST NOW OBSCURED EVERYTHING IN THE gym and everyone but Derek, Messenger, and Oriax. It was particularly strange about Oriax, for the mist treated her as physical objects so often treated Messenger: it avoided her. She ranged through the frozen spectators, looking at them curiously, sometimes tilting their insensate heads back to better see their faces. I could see only the individuals directly beside her.
Oriax was playful, taking a sip of one person’s beverage, looking in another’s pocket, reading the book of the girl off to one side. She was killing time, waiting, bored. But refusing to simply disappear. Clearly she expected something more entertaining soon.
Messenger looked at me as if sizing me up, weighing my abilities in the balance. He did not seem encouraged.
“Oh, come on, Messenger,” Oriax called from across the gym. “She has to surrender her virginity eventually.”
That particular phrase got my attention, to say the least, but I assumed she was being metaphorical. Though with Oriax, how could I be certain?