“What’s your problem, bub? Are you on drugs?”
“Move it, you son of a bitch!”
So much bitterness from the faces, Markos marveled. Could it be the metal dragons had eaten them all and they were trying to escape? Perhaps he should try and free them.
Many more of the humans were gathering in a circle about him. They were all quite animated, talking to each other.
“What kind of freak is he?” asked a young human male carrying a square case with a handle. “He looks like he escaped from a circus.”
“He’s a pervert, that’s what he is,” said a female, her hair wound tight, carrying a bag over her shoulder.
Markos noted her strange clothing. The impractical points on the bottom of the woman’s shoes. The quite unnecessary coverings over her lovely breasts and legs. The men weren’t much better, with the colored knots on their neck and the tight gold and silver bands on their wrists. Were they slaves?
“Somebody call a cop,” suggested a large man with no hair on his head. Markos was amazed at his round shape. He looked as though he might explode any minute.
“Never mind that,” said another man. “We can deal with him.”
“Watch out, he could be a terrorist.”
“Or an illegal alien!”
A crowd was gathering by now. Markos was trying to figure out what was wrong with his appearance. His groin and buttocks were covered by the loincloth. According to Argos, the crab magician who had sent him here, these were the taboo areas. What more did they want? What was the point in covering themselves when it was so hot out?
Didn’t they have enough to worry about with the prowling metal dragons eating them? Markos heard a high-pitched wail.
“The police,” someone pointed at him. “Now you’ll get yours, you alien pervert.”
Markos remembered this word. Argos and the others had warned him to avoid the police at all cost. Time to see if these legs really worked, he thought.
With that he pushed his way through the crowd, jumping straight onto one of the dragons. It did not breathe fire, it did not try to eat him.
“Hold it right there,” he heard a voice behind him.
Men in blue uniforms waving long sticks were coming at him from all sides. He hopped from one dragon to another, avoiding them. The dragons were lined up all along a stone, gray pathway. Eventually he found one with a long row of windows and many humans inside.
They were cheering him. They opened the window and let him in.
“Damn, my brother,” one of them laughed. “Where did you learn moves like that?”
Markos rubbed his temples. The words were getting clearer. Argos had said the language spell would take a little while. Gradually he would be able to hear and speak in human and even read.
“Pol-ees,” he managed to stutter. “Run a-away.”
“Word up,” one of the men approved. “That’s what you gotta do, run like hell.”
“Sit here,” said another. “Don’t let the driver see you. This is a city bus, he’ll turn you in.”
Markos sat in the hard seat. They surrounded him, asking questions. He wasn’t up for answering. He closed his eyes and focused on learning. Eventually he said, “Need clothes.”
“You got bread for that?” asked one of them, his neck circled with more gold chains and medallions than Queen Aquaria herself had worn at her coronation.
Markos shook his head. “No food…to trade.”
They laughed.
“Yo, my brother,” the man said. “Not food. Cash. Straight up Benjamins, you know what I’m saying?”
“Cash,” he repeated. “You mean…money?”
They all nodded.
Markos pulled the bag from his shoulder. The very one Kalos the Goat had given him just before his teleportation to the Earth.
“There are coins and precious stones in it,” the insanely practical Kalos had said, having counted and recounted them over a hundred times in typical Capricorn fashion. “Use them sparingly. There’s a log you can fill in for expenses and projected daily budget.”
“By the Sun and Moon,” had grumbled Dalion, his long-time ram friend, whose own personality naturally tended toward spontaneity and impetuousness. “How in the world can you predict all that? Just let him go already, he’ll work it all out.”
“I have these,” Markos said now as he pulled out a glimmering gem for his human companions.
“Snap,” whistled one of the men, clearly impressed by the diamond, two carats at least. “Is that real?”
Markos nodded.
“A piece of advice, my half-naked homey.” The man patted his shoulder. “Don’t go flashing that around, got it?”
Markos nodded and put it away, though he had no intention of flashing or digging. “Need clothes,” he said, feeling a little more confident in his vocabulary. “Find lawyer.”
“I hear you.” The man nodded deeply. “I been there, too.”
“We’ll show you what stop to get off,” said another man, whose pants were so loose and hanging so low Markos had no idea why he bothered to wear them.
“Thank you.” Markos smiled.
Markos found it interesting to observe that the dragon was stopping at regular intervals. Humans were climbing into it and exiting. Apparently it wasn’t eating them at all. Perhaps it was some kind of host and the humans were parasites.
Before Markos left, the men had him put his hand in their air so they could each slap it. Exiting the dragon through a door in the side, Markos got his bearings. There was a ribbon of brownish stone under his feet. Behind this was a row of doors, glass windows displaying various objects. Words above the windows told him these were stores.
Ignoring the staring eyes, keeping as low a profile as possible, he walked a bit and found what he needed. A statue of a human, faceless, wearing clothes like the ones he had seen on some of the men.
“Can I help you?” a man immediately came up to him as he entered.
Markos looked at him. The way he said the words didn’t make it sound as if he wanted to help in the least. “Do you have clothing here for male humans?” he asked.
The man raised an eyebrow. “That is the general idea.”
Another man came up. He had a jacket and matching pants like the first and a collar around his neck. He seemed to think quite highly of himself, thought Markos, for a slave. “What seems to be the problem?”
“I need clothing for a male human,” Markos told him.
The man wrinkled his lips, narrowing his eyes. “Call the police,” he ordered the other man.
“Yes, Mr. Wilson.”
Markos pulled one of the diamonds from his bag. “I have this bread to pay for them.”
The eyes of the one called Mr. Wilson widened like full moons. “Jones,” he called out. “Not yet.”
“May I?” he asked Markos for the stone.
Markos gave it to him and watched him take it to the window. He scratched the window with it, making a small incision. He returned to Markos, his smile smooth and slithery as a snake. “Please forgive the misunderstanding. I do believe we can do business after all.”
With that he ordered Jones to help Markos.
“Give him anything he wants. You hear me? Anything.”
A short time later Markos emerged from the place, fitted with an outfit of human clothing, the name of which he had learned was called a suit. He was covered neck to feet. Jones had wanted him to cover these, too, with shoes and socks, but that was going too far.
Markos would imprison the rest of his body for sake of his mission to save himself and the rest of Constellia but he would never, ever lose his physical contact with the sacred ground beneath him.
He raised his arm, the way Jones had told him to. A yellow dragon stopped for him.
“You getting in or not?” the man inside wanted to know.
“Yes,” Markos said to him through the open window reciting as best he could remember the words. “But only if you can promise this beast
will take me to a lawyer.”
The man frowned. “What are you, a comedian?”
“I’m a centaur, actually,” Markos clarified. “Formerly Captain of the Royal Guard of Constellia, though lately I am an accused man, soon to be on trial for a murder I did not commit.”
The man snorted. “Sure you are and I’m the Queen of Sheba. Tell you what, why don’t you wait for a magic carpet and fly to a lawyer?”
“Where would I find such a carpet?” asked Markos, taking out a coin. “And do you know if they will take this kind of bread for payment?”
The man’s mouth dropped open. “Is that…gold?”
“Yes.”
He leaned across, opening the front door. “Get in,” he said hurriedly, his entire manner changed. “We’ll find you a lawyer.”
They had driven for some time through the maze of steel towers and stone pathways when Markos saw a totally different kind of building. It was marble, with columns and could almost pass for a building back home.
“What is that?” Markos asked.
“City courthouse,” said the man.
Markos gasped as he saw the statue out front. It was a woman, tall and regal, barefoot and blindfolded, her regal body wrapped in the folds of a toga. In her hands she held the scales.
The scales of justice.
“Libra,” he whispered. Turning to the man he exclaimed excitedly, “That is where I need to go.”
“Sure, Mac.” The man held out his hand for the gold. “Um, you don’t want change, I hope?”
“Change of what?” asked Markos.
The man grinned. “Never mind. Have a nice day, sir.”
Markos deduced how to open the door of the dragon using the handle. The next thing he knew he was running up the steps, eager and free…straight into a pair of men in white shirts with gold stars on their chests.
“That’s far enough,” growled one of them.
The men had sticks in their hands. They seemed quite unhappy. “You’re the police,” he said, heart sinking. “Aren’t you?”
“No, wise guy,” snapped one of them, a pale-skinned man with a large stomach. “We’re the Good Humor men.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Markos. “May I go inside now?”
“Not without shoes you don’t,” said the pale man.
Markos failed to see the connection. “I must go inside and find Libra,” he said.
The men looked at each other knowingly.
“You mean Libby Daniels?” asked the second, who was thinner and dark-skinned.
Markos was confused. “I am here for Libra. For justice. For a lawyer.”
“It’s Libby, all right.” The darker one nodded.
“Figures,” grumbled the pale one.
“How do you know Libby?” the darker man asked Markos.
“Everyone knows Libra,” he replied in disbelief. “She is justice and balance.”
The pale man muttered under his breath. “The wackos know her, that’s for sure.”
“Easy, Bill,” said the darker-skinned one. “Are you Libby’s client?” he asked Markos now.
“I seek her as my lawyer,” Markos replied truthfully. “That is all I can say.”
“Good for you,” said the pale man. “You can call her from jail.”
With that he produced a pair of bracelets, silver, linked by chains.
Markos felt his heart well with rage mixed with profound sadness. He could not allow this to happen. He could not allow his freedom to be taken away.
Not again…
The darker-skinned man saved the day. “Bill, we don’t have to do that. He didn’t really do anything.”
Bill shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right. Who wants all that paperwork anyway?”
“Tell you what, pal,” said the dark-skinned one to Markos. “If you agree to wait at the bottom of the stairs I’ll have someone give Libby a message and then if she wants she’ll come talk to you.”
“I will wait,” Markos agreed.
“Fine. What message shall I give her?”
Markos considered. “Tell her an injustice has been done upon an officer of her Majesty, Queen Aquaria the Wondrous. She is forthwith summoned to come to his assistance, appearing in the High Court of Constellia, before the witness of all living creatures.”
The pale man cleared his throat.
The dark one ran his hand over his face. “Tell you what, sport, I’ll just tell her there’s someone to see her and you can explain yourself.”
“That will be fine.” Markos walked down the stairs. Following the motions of their lips, he was able to understand their words.
“Why the hell did you tell him you would get Libby?” the pale man wanted to know. “He’s a nut job if ever there was.”
“I know. She still needs to know this guy’s here, though. Maybe she’ll want a restraining order or something,” said the dark-skinned man. “I’ll go tell her, you call for backup. I don’t know about you but I’m not dealing with this alone.”
Markos was unable to interpret the meaning. He didn’t really care, though. What mattered was, finally the humans were starting to believe him. They were even helping him find his Libra. It was only a matter of time until he cleared his name, once and for all.
Nothing would deter his optimism now, not even the high-pitched whistling sound, approaching very fast, from more than one direction. Even more amazing was the sound he heard to his left.
The gallop of hooves! He squinted as he looked across the vast marble courtyard. Was it his imagination or were those fellow centaurs approaching rapidly? Were they here to help him?
It certainly looked that way. The only strange thing was the shirts they were wearing. They were blue. Just like the policemen.
Never mind. A centaur was a centaur. Thus did he decide to run straight for them.
Chapter Two
“Libby, you got a minute?”
Libby looked up from her beat-up, metal desk, standard PD office issue. Talk about loaded questions. With her credenza piled higher than Mt. Everest with backlogged cases and a court calendar that would have felled Perry Mason and Matlock put together, the last thing she had was free time.
“Not exactly,” she told Kevin, one of the court security officers. “Unless the building’s on fire, I’m pretty tied down here, no offense.”
An understatement if ever there was. An appointment this morning had already set her back and then there had been docket sounding before lunch. As a final straw, Frank Abrams, her supervisor, had been in a half hour ago with yet another of his “special” assignments no one else could handle. In this case a man had refused to pay his rent because he believed the world was going to end on the fifth. Now he was claiming religious persecution because the police had thrown him out. The fact that he had smashed out the window of a patrol car wasn’t helping his case much as a self-styled “Priest of the Apocalypse”.
“Frank, other people can take a stab at The Twilight Zone stuff every once in a while,” she had said. “Really, I wouldn’t be offended.”
“Libby, sweetheart,” Frank had charmed, rasping from his chain-smoking throat—stogies only, no cigarettes. “Nobody does it like you. You’re my ace in the hole. You have the magic touch. Do I have to beg?”
“The only thing I have is a masochistic streak the size of the DA’s ego. Anybody else around here would quit if you dumped this much crap on them and you know it.”
“It’s because you love the law, Libby. You love justice. Like no one else.”
“Well, it’s sure not the pay. I would make more at the drive-thru of Burger World.”
“Not as much fun.” He had winked from behind his thick plastic glasses, twenty years old like his tie and white shirt.
Libby had snatched the folder. “I ought to have my head examined.”
“I love you, kiddo. Any time you want to have my babies.”
Libby had pushed her wire-rim spectacles up to the bridge of her nose. “You’re too old.” She
had glared with amber eyes. “Too married and besides, I don’t like kids. Now go on, get out of here. I don’t have time to be chewing the fat if I’m going to get all this done.”
He had held up his hands. “I’m gone. You never even saw me.”
“I wish,” she had muttered, though really Frank was like the father she never had. He had given her the confidence to practice law and helped her to hold onto her heart in the process. Friends asked her when, going on the ripe old age of thirty, she was going to grow up and go into private practice, but she liked it where she was. She could sleep nights with what she did.
When she wasn’t fantasizing about magical creatures with mammoth endowments.
Kevin winced a little. “Actually, this is kind of important. There’s um, a slightly crazy man out front wanting to talk to you. Seems harmless, says he’s some kind of a royal guy, who needs a lawyer to defend him against an evil scorpion in some place called Constellia.”
Libby was somewhere between laughter and tears. “Of course there is,” she mused. “Because that’s just the story of my life, isn’t it? Now I got people wanting me to represent them on other planets, as if I don’t have enough to do here.”
“The cops are on the way. You want us to just get him out of here?”
Every fiber of her being screamed out yes, don’t take on another crusade. As usual her mouth betrayed her. “No,” she sighed deeply, rising to her feet with infinite resignation. “I’ll go.”
The situation out front was sheer chaos. Far from the quiet little situation Kevin had described.
“Holy Toledo,” he said in the doorway. “That sure got out of hand fast.”
Libby could see the man in the plaza, right in the shadow of Lady Justice, surrounded by police. Two were on horseback. Not a one of them was moving or saying a word. They were just standing there, like they had no idea what to do.
The man, meanwhile was perfectly calm, wearing of all things a dark silk suit, double-breasted pinstripe, expensive-looking with a pale blue tie, barefoot with hair reaching the middle of his back, uncombed and wild but not in a disorderly fashion. Rather it was as if his tawny locks followed some rules all their own of how to be, damn civilization.
A Centaur for Libby Page 2