One for Sorrow

Chapter Twenty-seven

Excited shouts greeted Cornelia as she and Europa walked into the courtyard of the Inn of the Centaurs. Unlike at the Hippodrome, the shouts were not directed at Europa. The crowd was clustered around a circle inscribed in the dirt.

“My money’s on my plump friend!” cried a rotund man Cornelia guessed was the innkeeper Kaloethes from descriptions she’d been given by members of the troupe. He clutched a quail.

The man the innkeeper addressed resembled a quail himself. He was short and soft looking and wore a dalmatic covered with feathers.

Cornelia halted. “Let’s see what this game is about. It might be useful to the troupe.”

“That bird’s better fit for the table than winning you gold,” jeered a young man dressed as a charioteer. He was as short as the feathered man but more muscular.

“We’ll let the Master Quail Filliper decide that,” Kaloethes replied. He bent over with a grunt and placed his bird on a board in the center of the ring. It stood there blinking stupidly.

The filliper made a show of shaking his hands as if to limber them, sending a few pinfeathers flying off his peculiar garment. He bent forward with an expression of keen concentration and snapped a finger sharply against the quail’s head.

The quail instantly fluttered out of the circle and wobbled over toward the women. Europa giggled and scooped the disoriented creature up. “What a silly game!”

“Lost again, Kaloethes,” said the charioteer. “Tomorrow I’ll bring my bird. It’s so well-trained it sits on the board as if it was nailed there!”

“Hand over the bet,” the filliper ordered.

The innkeeper glared as coins changed hands. “One more wager! I have another quail and I’ll wager both birds it won’t stir if you kick it in the beak.”

“You’re a man who never learns from experience. I’ll double your wager.”

“Done!” Kaloethes went to the door of the inn and Cornelia and Europa followed. Europa handed him the still groggy bird. “Here’s your quail back. Better luck next time.”

“He’s lucky I don’t feel like plucking him or he’d go into the stew pot within the hour,” Kaloethes growled.

“We’ve come to talk to the bull-leaping troupe staying here,” Cornelia said.

“Oh, that bunch? They’re somewhere about the city.” He vanished inside and emerged with a new quail, noticeably less plump then the first. He frowned at Cornelia. “Still here? I haven’t seen those rascals. What’s your business with them?”

“That’s for their ears.”

“Ah, that kind of business is it? They have the first room on the second floor.”

Without waiting for a response Kaloethes strode back to the ring in the dirt, brandishing his new avian champion. “He can’t wait to pluck your coins,” he told the filliper, as he sat the quail on the board. He grinned. “Try to beat that, my friend.”

The filliper went through his routine of waggling his hands and shedding feathers. He bent, snapped his finger against the quail’s head.

The quail fell over on its side.

“Still in the circle,” crowed Kaloethes. “I win!”

The filliper reddened with rage. “It’s dead!”

“Nothing in the rules about the bird having to be alive.” Kaloethes extended his hand for his winnings.

The filliper leapt forward and grasped him by the throat.

The charioteer took a step toward the fighters as if ready to break them apart, but he was saved the effort.

Cornelia, standing near the inn door, was almost knocked over by the cursing Fury that burst forth.

“You fool! You’ve been losing wagers again!” screamed the innkeeper’s wife. “You ought to be a magician! You can make coins disappear faster than anyone I know!”

She belabored both men with her fists. They retreated into the circle with the dead quail.

“Excuse me. If it’s magick you want, I can show you an excellent example.” The voice was quiet yet somehow, like magick, it cut through the hubbub. The speaker, a wizened ancient, got up from the bench beside the fountain.

Hadn’t Cornelia noticed the bench when she and Europa arrived? Why hadn’t she seen the old man sitting there?

Mistress Kaloethes turned her attention from the cowed men. “No! We’ll have no more trouble today, Ahasuerus. Off with the lot of you!”

She made shushing motions and the crowd began to disperse, grumbling.

“Come on,” Cornelia told Europa. They went into the inn and up to the second floor. There was no one in the troupe’s room. She rifled through satchels. “Not here!”

“What are you searching for?” It was Kaloethes, suspicious and out of breath, after running upstairs.

“Our costumes. We thought our colleagues had inadvertently packed them with their clothes,” Cornelia said.

When she and Europa went downstairs they found Mistress Kaloethes seated at the table with the man she had called Ahasuerus.

“Where did you get that egg?” Mistress Kaloethes was demanding of him.

“From the kitchen this morning,” Ahasuerus replied.

“What? If my husband doesn’t wager this place away you’ll steal it!”

Ahasuerus placed the egg in her hand and commanded her to question it about her future.

Europa stifled a laugh as the woman swallowed her anger and addressed the egg as requested. Ahasuerus put the egg on the table and, waving his hands in mystical gestures, mumbled what sounded very much like nonsense over it. Finally he said “Move that plate nearer. I am going to break this egg open. If the contents are red it means a happy future. If they’re black…well….”

As he spoke he tapped the egg on the edge of the plate.

Red-tinted contents oozed forth.

Mistress Kaloethes clapped her hands. “Ah, happiness is in store!” she cooed, by all appearances instantly mollified. “Perhaps I was too hard on my poor husband. I should let him know the good news.” She got up and climbed the stairs to find Kaloethes.

Cornelia smiled at Ahasuerus and complimented him on his showmanship. “That was well-done. I saw you exchange the eggs, but then I knew what to look for.”

“You have sharp eyes, lady,” he returned. “And so do I. Few have the skill to see the future.”

“It takes a fair amount of skill to extract the innards of an egg, color them with wine, and get them back in the shell without breaking it.”

“You need a steady hand,” Ahasuerus acknowledged. “The worst part is repairing the small hole in the egg afterwards, especially if you’ve been sampling the wine beforehand. I usually carry a couple of prepared eggs with me when I go out and about in case I meet a possible client. In her case I thought it better not to give her the egg filled with soot. It always means trouble ahead, or so I tell my clients. But how did you know how the trick’s accomplished?”

“There’s a magician in our troupe. He showed me once. Unfortunately he does not always accomplish the effect he intends,” Cornelia replied. “One of his most spectacular failures was when he set fire to a house with his flying Hecate trick. We left in great haste.”

Ahasuerus smiled. “One of the tricks to being a magician is knowing when to leave in great haste.”

Europa laid her hand on Cornelia’s arm. “But do you think he could tell us our futures, mother?” she whispered.

Europa knew very well that the troupe’s own magician was nothing but a clever charlatan, Cornelia thought. Strange how people were more willing to respect the skills of strangers than of those they knew. “I doubt it.” Cornelia smiled at Ahasuerus to soften her words.

“Oh, but you are wrong, my dear. The future is all around us. It’s in the shape of the clouds we see through that door. In the wine stains on this table. In the sound of the wind in the fig tree by the fountain. The future can be foretold by anyone who has the knowledge to interpret the signs and the wit to use their eyes and ears.”

An orator as well as a charlatan, Cornelia thought as she escorted Europa away beyond the reach of the ancient’s persuasive tongue.

Halfway across the courtyard they were approached by one of the men who had been watching the quail filliping. “Pardon me, ladies. My name is Gregorius. I heard you inquire about the troupe staying here. Can I be of assistance?”

Cornelia noticed Gregorius glancing at Europa. It wasn’t uncommon. She was an attractive young woman, but perhaps too inclined to encourage such attentions. “We don’t need any help, thank you. We’ll come back later.”

“My apologies. I meant no offense. You’re not the first to be interested in Kaloethes’ guests. Why, the Lord Chamberlain himself questioned me about them.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. I shall not soon forget it. It isn’t every day one is interrogated by John the Eunuch.”

The statement hit Cornelia like a hammer blow. Surely she must have misheard. “What did you call him?” Her words emerged faintly.

“John the Eunuch. It’s what everyone calls him.”

She felt Europa’s hand clasp her arm. “People will have their coarse jests about high officials.”

Gregorius looked confused. “It isn’t a joke. It’s just what he is. His kind are underfoot all over the palace. Lord Chamberlains are always eunuchs. Since they can’t have any heirs, they aren’t as likely to have designs on the empire.”

“I see.”

Cornelia allowed Europa to tug her in the direction of the street. The courtyard, the archway they passed under, seemed to have no substance. She was dreaming. She had been dreaming since the instant she had opened the door of the ship’s cabin and seen John.

Yet it had seemed real.

Perhaps that had been real, and this was a dream. A nightmare. Cornelia willed herself to wake up, tried to push sleep away, but the dream continued to press down on her with all the infinite, crushing weight of reality.