Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong)

by Shaun O. McCoy

  “Surely not the size of Harpsborough.”

  “No. Klein says the village he heard of only had about thirty people or so. But they killed everyone in it.”

  “Brutal.”

  “Mike, Klein said there were only three of the Infidel Friend who did it.”

  The First Citizen looked up into Mancini’s dark eyes. “Only three? Killed thirty?”

  “That’s what he said, and he didn’t give me the impression that this was one of his exaggerations. Only a couple of the villagers lived. They were apparently with the old village, the ones that stayed behind when Charlie brought us to Harpsborough.”

  “Well, maybe the Infidel Friend won’t be so angry if we just exile him.”

  “Maybe, but then you’ll have the villagers to explain your mercy to. Besides, maybe the Citizens won’t even vote him guilty.”

  “You must be joking.”

  Mancini smiled. “I was.”

  “How’s our food holding out, do you know?”

  “You should ask Klein, but when I spoke with him last we were right on schedule. Better take this Infidel Friend to trial soon. He can talk already. Aaron says he can move, sort of.”

  “I will not have a man who can hardly stand face judgment.”

  “Well, don’t wait too long. He’s sleeping in our house, and I don’t want to be caught up in a lynching.”

  Arturus thought it would be wrong to use the fruit he hadn’t paid for, so he worked on making the King’s mold until Galen and Rick came home.

  “Turi,” Rick said, “there’s gravel all over the place.”

  Rick passed where he was working and went to the storage closet.

  “Ellen,” Arturus replied, whittling away.

  “What got into her?”

  “She told me I had to kiss her for a knowledge fruit. I told her no, so she threw it at me and ran.”

  Rick popped his head out of the closet.

  “Did you run after her?”

  “No.”

  “Well, why not?”

  “Why would I? It’s obvious that she wanted to be away from me. Why would I chase her down?”

  Galen covered his mouth as he sat down at the table, attempting to stifle a laugh.

  Arturus felt vaguely insulted, but when Rick gave the man a stern look, he realized that the joke wasn’t on him after all.

  “Turi,” Rick said, “when Ellen runs, she expects you to chase after her.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Arturus said, “if she wanted to keep speaking with me, why wouldn’t she stay and try to come to an understanding?”

  “Yeah, Rick,” Galen chimed in, “why?”

  Rick ignored Galen. “Turi, it’s a different communication style than you’re used to. Ellen’s upset, so her running expresses that efficiently. By chasing after her you show her that you care.”

  Galen snorted.

  Rick gave him a sharp glance. “We agreed that I would be the one to teach him about these things.”

  Galen stood up from his stool and examined the work of the model King. “You carved the base to the right dimension. Looks great. As long as you form the mold right I think your Kings will be perfect.”

  “So what should I do?” Arturus asked Rick.

  “Go after her,” Rick answered.

  “Chase her down,” Galen agreed. “By all means, indulge her churlish behavior.”

  Arturus shrugged and grabbed the knowledge fruit. Rick was right about the gravel, he noticed as he was leaving. She had managed to kick it into nearly every room.

  She must do that deliberately.

  He trotted along the river, and soon he spied the red marker stone that was by her home.

  “Ellen,” he called in through her hallway, “It’s Turi. You home?”

  “Fuck off,” her voice replied.

  He entered.

  She was sitting Indian style on the floor, dicing a knowledge fruit into very small pieces.

  “What do you want?” she asked coldly.

  He held up the fruit she had tossed at him earlier. “I felt guilty taking this without paying.”

  She didn’t say anything, so he bent down and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Oh,” she said.

  She stood up like a fresh corpse, and hugged him. She hugged him for a long time.

  “You still want to go to town today?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

  Alice looked particularly beautiful today.

  Aaron’s eyes followed the single braided lock of her hair as it draped down her shoulder. She leaned forward to eat some of her devilwheat. He could see a bit down her white v-neck t-shirt. She was wearing the purple bra, he noticed. The right shoulder of her shirt had been repaired with black thread. Chelsea would never have made such an off-colored repair, but Alice, even though she did a lot of the village’s sewing, wasn’t always able to collect the correct thread.

  Molly maintained that you could tell the difference between the two seamstresses work, never mind the color, by just looking at the quality of the stitching.

  I hate that useless bitch.

  Some of Copperfield’s incense burned on the table next to them, filling the air with a soft scent that did a passable job of disguising the spider gut and sweat smell that Harpsborough had begun to reek of.

  The blonde braid fell over her shoulder as she turned her head to look out at the village. The end of it caught on the lip of her v-neck. She had bound the braid with a black rubber band, just like Chelsea did. Her profile struck him as beautiful. He imagined kissing her chin.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he told her.

  “I know,” she said, turning back to her meal. “My mirror tells me that every day.”

  She was eating slowly, like a Citizen.

  Maybe she’s had more practice.

  He watched her eat a spoonful of devilwheat porridge with disinterest.

  Maybe it’s just that she’s had enough to eat, for once.

  He wondered then about how odd it was that the villagers and hunters were usually starving.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “Eyes up here, bucko.”

  Aaron smiled. “I was lost in thought.”

  “Funny, it looked like you were lost somewhere else.”

  Well, I suppose this is as good a time as any other.

  “Will you be my girl?” he asked.

  “Will you make me a Citizen?” she shot back.

  What?

  Aaron looked down at his food dismally. “I wish I could, but I can’t. You know I’ve already spoken about this with Michael, right?”

  “You have?” She leaned forward.

  “I thought there had to be some way, some thing, I could do. But we can’t even add villagers now, Alice. Surely you’ve noticed that the Fore’s grown too big.”

  “But when the devils come again—”

  “Then we’ll add you, I promise.”

  Alice’s smile turned into a sneer. “You won’t like me by then. You’ll be tired of me. Then you’ll take some other girl, and leave me out in the village like you left Molly.”

  Her anger spent, her sneer faded into a frown.

  “What happened to Molly is Molly’s fault,” Aaron said. “Even Father Klein said so. There’s no one else I could imagine myself being with. Surely there’s nobody else here for you?”

  Alice turned again to look out over Harpsborough, towards the entryway and the wilds.

  “There’s no reason for us to just stay here and be lonely,” he said.

  She wouldn’t look at him.

  “Alice. Alice?”

  “It wasn’t her fault!” she said suddenly, with enough emotion to send Aaron back in his chair. “You all made her what she is. She wasn’t a slut until you used her up. Then you threw her into the lion’s den with that fucking Infidel Friend. What did you expect? For her to just fucking get all his information and report? She’s hurting now.”

>   “Is this why you won’t be my girl?” Aaron came to his feet. He knew that the Citizens in the parlor room would be able to hear him, but he didn’t care. “Because Molly flipped her shit and won’t talk to you?”

  Alice also stood and pointed a finger towards his chest. “No. I won’t be your girl because I won’t let you use me like you used her.”

  “I never used her.”

  She turned away from him. “Bullshit.”

  Aaron wiped his hands on his camouflaged pants and looked around. Some villagers had stopped below and were looking up at him.

  Great.

  “Well, I don’t know,” Aaron said after a while. “That’s just how I feel.”

  “Molly feels differently.”

  “This isn’t about Molly, this is about you and me. And don’t pretend it’s about the Citizenship thing either. I know you like me for more than just that.”

  “You’re wrong.” Her eyes were stubborn. “You’re dead wrong. I’m not going to let you just toss me aside—”

  “Toss you aside? Don’t lie to me, Alice. I’ve seen you when I kiss you. I know you like me. You’d like me if I was just a villager. You’d like me if I was a fucking dyitzu.”

  “I fucking hate you.”

  “Shut up.” Aaron waved his hand while he spoke, knocking over one of the glasses. It rolled over and shattered on the stone floor of the balcony. “You want to lie to me, fine. Some couple we’d make, huh? How are we supposed to make it if you won’t even tell me the truth? Well fuck you. You can go sleep with Turi for all I care.”

  “And you can go sleep with Chelsea.” She shot back.

  Aaron froze.

  Oh shit.

  Alice was furious, her face was red and her nostrils were flaring. “You think I don’t know? Everybody knows, Aaron. Everybody. There’s no secrets in Harpsborough.”

  A voice came over Aaron’s shoulder.

  “Aaron.” It was Avery.

  Avery? The hell? Right, the Infidel Friend.

  Alice walked past him.

  “Alice,” he said. “Alice, wait.”

  She left without speaking, barging by Avery.

  “God damn it,” Aaron muttered.

  Avery leaned back against the Fore wall and watched Alice leave. “Don’t let Father Klein hear you say that, sir. Taking the Almighty’s name in vain is against a commandment.”

  “That’s not what it means anyway.”

  “Sir?”

  “Taking the Lord’s name in vain. . . never mind. Is it the Infidel Friend?”

  “You’re the one who had to feed the bastard. Now he’s asking for a bucket, and Staunten won’t hear of him shitting in his room.” Avery crossed his arms and looked out across the village. “Seems different from up here, sir.”

  Did this have to be an issue now?

  Aaron massaged the bridge of his nose. “What, Staunten wants us to take him to the river?”

  Avery shook his head. “He wants him out of his room.

  But other than that, the river, yeah.”

  “Can the infidel even make it that far?”

  “If we’re lucky, he’ll bleed to death on the way.”

  “Like the other infidels will believe that,” Aaron said. “Get some men together, good shots. We’ll make him do his business in the center of the river room. We don’t want him trying to escape.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with that man.”

  “Fine, I’ll get the men. Will you go tell Alice I’m sorry?”

  Avery grunted noncommittally and left the balcony.

  Fuck.

  Aaron followed Avery through the parlor room and passed him on his way down the stairs. Duncan was still on duty outside of Staunten’s door.

  “Go get the soldiers who helped bring this bastard here,” Aaron ordered. “We’re going for a walk.”

  “Can’t we just take it up with Michael?” Duncan asked. “Get him a chamber pot or something?”

  “Trust me, we’ll end up doing the same thing. I’ll take over here.”

  Duncan rushed out of the Fore. Aaron leaned back against the door which guarded the infidel’s prison.

  “We should never have brought him here,” he muttered to himself.

  “Damn right,” he heard the Infidel Friend say from the other side of the door.

  Martin felt like a new man. Bored, certainly, perhaps more bored than he had imagined possible, but bored and full. It was being bored and hungry that irked him. He hummed to himself as he sat down outside of his hovel and set his beach-sunset pot down between his legs. Julian was still dutifully delivering shares of devilwheat to him, and since Martin didn’t mind living on spider guts and eggs, he was able to save every last grain.

  The sinfruit, on the other hand, he ended up eating right away. He had meant to save it, he really had, but some temptations were just too much. Martin was okay with that, though, since he’d never been as rich as he was now.

  Not in Hell at least.

  Harpsborough was having another busy day. Some people had returned to the wilds, even though Father Klein assured them there were plenty of rations left. Martin understood their feelings of restlessness, and it was true, he supposed, that the devils were so few and far between that the villagers weren’t very likely to die out there. Still, he couldn’t imagine himself being that restless.

  Some of the hunters were also out, but Aaron had them running on shorter routes. Martin wouldn’t mind a short route so much, like the ones he used to do when Michael Baker was still Lead Hunter. He flexed the stub fingers on his regrowing hand. The stub thumb almost had a full nail growing out of it.

  My fingers look like a baby’s toes.

  Moving those fingers hurt, but in a way that felt good to him. It reminded him of working out, sort of, or like the pain his gums had felt on Earth after flossing.

  “Whatch’ya waitin’ fer, hunter?” a girl said.

  Martin would recognize Kylie’s voice anywhere. “Julian, he’s bringing me some wheat.”

  She smelled like the smoke from her kiln. Martin watched her shadow approach.

  “Yeah, I was supposed to meet him yesterday for some pot supplies,” she said. “Missed him, though. Say, that’s a mighty fine looking pot you got there.”

  Martin grinned up at her from where he sat. “What?” He lifted the pot. “This old thing?”

  He held it up between his hands. The grainy touch of the pottery felt abrasive on his new hand.

  No calluses. I’ll have to rebuild those.

  “How’s that baby arm coming along?” Kylie asked, as if reading his mind.

  He placed the pot down between his legs. He didn’t mind it when Kylie teased him about his hand for some reason. “I can give a thumbs up, if I felt like it. Or if you were Molly, I could flick you off.”

  Kylie’s full smile split her face. That smile always sent a thrill down Martin’s spine.

  “Now why would you. . .” Kylie broke off mid-sentence, her head jerking towards the Fore.

  The Infidel Friend walked through the door curtain.

  Jesus.

  Martin scrambled to get to his feet, bumping the pot as he did so. He grabbed at his pistol, forgetting in his fear that his fingers hadn’t finished growing. Pain lanced up his arm and he sucked air in through his teeth. He fumbled for his gun with his left hand.

  Duncan and Fitch walked out after the infidel, their rifles raised.

  The infidel looked around Harpsborough. His nostrils flared, as if he was catching the scent of the village for the first time. Martin could see the disdain on his face.

  So it stinks. So what? It’s not always this bad in here.

  The man had paused in front of the Fore. Duncan and Fitch came up behind him.

  “Don’t get too close,” he heard Aaron say. “Stay back and keep your rifles trained on his head.”

  Martin didn’t like the look of the man. He seemed too arrogant, and the way he regarded his guards was troubling. Martin couldn’t q
uite put his finger on why, though. It wasn’t like the infidel viewed them as his own personal escort. It certainly wasn’t that he acted like they weren’t there. The man seemed to be paying careful attention to them when he wasn’t checking out the village.

  “Aaron,” the Infidel Friend was saying.

  The Lead Hunter exited the Fore. “What is it?”

  “The one on my right, his safety is off, if it bothers you.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “Then the one on my left’s safety is on. I assume there must be some protocol here.”

  “Shut the hell up.” Aaron was visibly frustrated. “Duncan, safety your fucking weapon.”

  Martin realized what it was that bothered him about the infidel’s manner.

  He thinks he deserves the guards.

  Martin nodded. That’s what it was, to be sure. It was ridiculous to have two armed men watching over one prisoner so wounded that he could barely walk, but the Infidel Friend thought this was necessary. As if he, even while unarmed and after having nearly died such a short time ago, was that dangerous.

  So much pride.

  The despicable man started forward, and the people of Harpsborough, sprawled about the village as they were, scrambled to get out of his way.

  Not me, he’s going to have to walk around me.

  He noticed Kylie was now behind his right shoulder. He took a deep breath, and made sure to keep himself interposed between her and the Infidel Friend.

  He has no right to see a Citizen.

  The infidel moved with a limp but managed to make it look almost like a strut.

  He’s staring at me.

  Martin flinched away from his gaze and glanced down.

  I don’t need to be afraid of you.

  He looked back up, trying to lock eyes with the infidel, but the man was already looking past him.

  “Faster, infidel,” Duncan said.

  “Cris,” the man responded.

  “What?”

  “My name is Cris.”

  Martin felt the blood tingling in his bad hand. His blood was up.

  I won’t let him think I’m some kind of pussy. I ain’t moving out of his way.

  “He doesn’t care what your name is,” Martin spoke up, “unless it’s Speedy Fucking Gonzales. The man said faster.”

  The Infidel Friend turned towards him. The tingling in his right hand gave way to a burning sensation. His left hand inched across his belly towards his pistol, which he had never managed to draw. He felt keenly the empty place between his shoulder blades where he strapped his rifle during hunts. He wished he had put it on before he left his hovel this morning.