There was a period of silence following her story that was interrupted by the Wig getting to his feet and introducing himself. There was something oddly familiar about him. The voice I knew, and he had on a Mihvihtian sheet.
"This is my third meeting," he began. "I still don't know what my addiction is. All I know is that these meetings make it easier for me to live with myself." He was silent for a moment as his eyes searched out the eyes of everyone in the circle.
"I was one of the ones who went off with the Kvasiri. I helped convince them to split off from the Razai once Lomon Paxati failed to win the election. What the Razai was doing made no sense to me. I wanted to live in a way that made some kind of sense, and for almost a day we behaved like human beings living responsibly under a legitimate system of laws."
My mouth fell open. By the Spider's kneecaps, I thought, the Wig was Lewis Grahl, cockroach of Mihviht! He was back. As usually happened at CSA meetings, my own woes faded as I got far enough out of my own head to listen to someone else's.
"Maybe my addiction is to my own opinion, a need to always be right. Maybe it's just a need to attract disaster. I don't know. What I do know is what I saw with the Kvasiri. On only our second day away from the Razai, we were buried in thefts, rapes, killings, and cases. There was no way to handle them all. We needed twenty times more cops, judges, and warders than we had, and a hundred times more guards. So we shelved the cases. We were paralyzed. After the RCs executed the Bakong jury, the Kvasiri assassinated our head judge."
So long, Jason Pendril, I thought to myself. It gave me an odd feeling hearing of his death. I hated cockroaches, but my gut was saying that I didn't want Pendril to die. I wanted him to say he was wrong, I wanted him to screw in his bulb and see the light. I didn't want him to take the dark ride. He wanted to be a part of the law so bad maybe someday he could've made it, if he could've ever figured out what planet he was on. I sprang a tear for the cockroach. Like all of us, he'd been doing the best he could with what he had.
The Wig folded his arms as he looked down at the ground for a long time. "There was only one way to break up the jam. I took it." He pulled some papers from beneath his sheet and held them out. "I put the Kvasiri under the law. That's right. The Law of the Razai.
"We had our own cop investigators, and we waded into the mess. Once the executions started, and the sharks realized they were back under the law, the crimes stopped. It took some blood—it took a lot of blood—but we cleared out the entire backlog in a few hours. There was a genuine moment of sanity before the sharks and straightmeats started into each other with guns and knives, fighting for and against the law."
He lowered his hand to his side. "Eventually there was a vote. It was a bloody battle just to get that. A vote. What was left of us voted for the law. That was why most of us came back to the Razai last night. The rest of the Kvasiri is out there in the grass right now eating itself alive." The Wig chuckled bitterly and shook his head.
"I don't get it. I got laughed out of the Razai because I represented traditional justice, and I left the Kvasiri to implement the law. When I was free, I fought the law and was dropped into the crowbars as a revolutionary. Inside the crowbars I did legal aid work and became a law and order nut who spent most of his time getting the stuffings kicked out of him. I seem to be exactly one hundred and eighty degrees out of phase with whatever my current reality happens to be. If that isn't an addiction, I don't know what is." The Wig looked around for a moment. "That's it," he said, then he squatted back down.
Dom lumbered himself up into a standing position and said, "I'm Star Rider. My addictions are exercise and murder."
"Welcome."
He faced the Wig and asked, "You still for the law or you back on juicer justice?"
The Wig remained squatting as he answered. "I support the law."
Star Rider nodded. "You're in luck. So does the Razai. You're in phase now, Wig." He squatted down to a round of laughter.
The circle then did that strange thing that CSA circles do to put things into perspective and to heal. Others stood and told how they never fit, how they set themselves up for disaster, and how they learned to stop doing it.
From Desert Blossom I heard that humility is being able to admit when you're wrong and that it's different than humiliation. Humility is accepting the facts of reality. Humiliation is humility against your will. The Caravaners also talked about getting better through meetings, the strength of other CSAs, and the help of a Higher Power.
Desert Blossom talked about Allah, Man did a testimonial for Jesus, Cuter Neuter talked about the Universal Spirit, and there was a recounting of Higher Powers from Zeus to a thing called a god box. As they talked, in my mind I could see one of the midnight blue and silver flags representing the Eyes of the Spider.
They were saying it didn't matter what your Higher Power was, just so that you had one and used it. There were pieces of me that wanted to put everything to rest. There was that toad, though. That Anna Tane toad in my life, squatting there, polluting the air, blackening the sky, crushing my soul. I sent up a silent little prayer for courage and waited for a lull in the talk.
The lull came. It got longer. I took a deep breath, stood up, and said, "I'm Blue Fist. I'm addicted to rage, sick people, and trouble."
"Welcome."
"Maybe some of you can figure out who I am. I think I've figured out a few of you. Anyway, the anonymity thing still goes. Anonymity's a lot more important than the Law of Silence. If you break Omerta, you die. If you break anonymity, maybe hundreds or thousands of others die because the people who need this kind of help can't trust you to keep your blowholes plugged. So, what's said here stays here."
There wasn't any way to ease into it. All I could do was jump in. "I was raped. The woman I love was raped and tortured to death." I moistened my dry lips. "After that, a man—a very sick man—made a crack about it and laughed at the wrong time." It was there. All I had to do was say it. "I killed him for that."
It was deathly quiet as I talked it out. What happened, the pain, the feelings, the shame. I don't know how long I went on, but when I finished my load was a bit lighter.
"I can't see any way around it. My rage monster took over and it resulted in a death. It made me a murderer, and there's flat no way around it without making a joke out of the law. If I could've helped what I did, I'm maggot meat under the No Help Rule which makes compulsion no defense if you could have gotten some help. If I couldn't've helped what I did, I'm in cement city under the Mad Dog Rule which makes those who can't help killing others something that needs to be killed."
I felt myself smile as I looked into the center of the circle. There was a tiny toy camel standing there. I hadn't noticed it before. "I sound like I'm doing cockroach—arguing a case. There's nothing to argue. I did it, and after we hit the Hand and burger Anna Tane, I'll turn myself into the RCs. That will be the end of Blue Fist." My voice roughened as a thickness grew in my throat. I'd said all I had to say.
With Red Death's help I squatted down, folded my arms across my knees, and rested my forehead on my arms. I felt better. Not good, but better. One of the Junayds stood, introduced himself as Times of Ignorance, and got the welcome. He said, "Blue fist, you seem to have your future planned down to the last deadly detail. Have you thought of turning this over to your Higher Power?"
From where I squatted I said, "There's no way out."
"You know everything in the universe? You know more than Allah?"
"No, but—"
"But, hell. A butt is your ass, Blue Fist. You don't know more than Allah. Give this problem to your Higher Power. Just because you cannot see a way out does not mean that there is no way out. I have no doubt that if you do this your way, you will die. All of us have had experience at that, which is why we are willing to try another way. Bend a little. See what your Higher Power has in store for you. To be victorious you must first surrender."
There was some more talk, then the meeting ended. Keeping wi
th the Caravan Group's peculiar kind of anonymity, we kept our faces covered, left one at a time at twenty second intervals, and no one stayed behind to chat.
When I got back to where I had tied up my critter, I leaned on its back with my elbows and looked at the midnight blue and silver-white flag waving over the guard post. I recognized the blue. The cloth was the dark denim from Lewisburg Max crowbar blues. The silver-white stars were cut from aluminized sunsheets. Higher Powers. And who is the god of Bando Nicos?
They said at the meeting that your Higher Power was whatever you reached for when you were up against it. Rage had filled that slot lots of times; sick relationships and myself, too. I let my gaze wander around and I spotted two more of the Razai banners. I pushed away from the animal and looked for a private place.
Near the base of the bluff was a string of tiny springs that joined together to make a small meandering stream that flowed toward the Sunrise Mountains. I went over there and looked around. The ground near the stream was free of the tall grass and thick with a soft purple and green moss. I stood in the center of one of the meanders and looked around. I couldn't see or hear anyone.
I looked up, clasped my hands together, and closed my eyes. I stood that way for a minute feeling like a fool. Who was Bando Nicos to get favors from the Great Juju? Allah? Jesus? God? Don't you have to be worthy to climb on the cosmic cob? No Supreme Vapor I ever heard of ever declared "Gather ye killers and assholes unto me." However, whole bunches of Supremes had said "Do it all by the numbers—My numbers—or do infinity in the Big Toaster."
There was Father Tomas back down on the block in Philly talking to our chain swinging youth organization about mortal sins. Those were the ones that got you a one way ticket to the Divine Rotisserie. Murder was one of them. Father Tomas's boss was real down on murder, no matter who wound up on the slab.
I'd heard at the meeting, though, that Father Tomas's boss had absolutely nothing to do with what my Higher Power could be. As stupid as it sounded, I could design my own and give it whatever powers I needed it to have. Still, I couldn't get around the feeling that I didn't deserve anything better than a god who hated my guts. Or worse than that, maybe all I deserved was an infinite wad of that cosmic indifference I'd been getting my whole life.
I looked up at the sky and Alsvid was trying to shine through a thin layer of clouds. It looked like a huge hazy white ball. I did want to live. I did want to be a part of the law. I wanted to see more of the Razai's future unfold. There were tears in my eyes as Alna's face came into my mind. She'd wanted me to live. Once when she thought I was injured she covered me with tears and kisses. She must've thought I was worth something. Of course, I hadn't done much of anything to her.
There were too many issues crowding my head. Times of Ignorance was right. I just didn't know. Not a damned thing. Not only that, there wasn't any way in the universe that I could figure out anything before I died, whenever that might be.
I took another look around to make certain I was still alone. Satisfied that no one was looking on, I bent my knees and winced my way down until I knelt on the moss. Once I was there, I couldn't believe I was there. Then I couldn't think of how to pray. I'd never done that before.
"Spider," I whispered. "Universe, whoever the hell's up there. This is Bando Nicos. Maybe you know about me. There's a few things I haven't done wrong. I can't think of any offhand. I don't know much about you. Anyway, I'm going to try to do the right thing the best I can, and the right thing for me is to kill that gut stringin' bitch and then make payback to Prophet. The way they told me at the meeting, I'll leave how this thing comes out up to you."
There was silence for a beat, then the sounds of critters trolloping, voices, shouting, whistling, hand clapping. I gave my perimeter a quick scan to make certain that I wasn't the center of attention. No one was in sight.
I got up off my knees, gimped my way back through the tall grass, and went to where my critter was tied up. The entire camp seemed to be one huge mass of shouting and cheering sharks. Maybe this was the answer to my prayer. I heard a voice from the east end of the camp shouting something. I grabbed a passing shark and yelled at him, "What is it? What'd he say?"
The person I grabbed was a young kid wearing an unfamiliar sheet. He looked up at me and said, "It's the scouts! They're back from the Sunrise! Carlo T. wants to cut a deal!"
"Say what?"
"The Hand!" shouted the kid, his wide grin filled with missing teeth. "They don't want to fight! They want to deal! The Razai is just too bad for Carlo! Our scouts just brought back word! Carlo wants to deal!" He ran off and I sat there with my teeth in my mouth and a big frown on my face.
"Carlo wants to deal?"
There was one answer to a prayer. My bleeding piles, it was. Just as soon as the Forever Sand turned to whipped cream. The thought squirted into my head without the aid of my think muscle. It was my crowbar seasoned guts assessing the news. I trusted my guts.
Cheers were going up all over the camp. The pressure of the coming war with the Hand was off. It was Christmas. The sharks were kissing each other, slapping backs, hugging, just about everything but buggering the critters. It was crazy, but most of the sharks dancing in dizzy joy never had any dealings with the Hand. The only sharks who really knew the score were our original bunch from Earth and the ex-Kegeleros.
I remembered when we'd had our little dance with Carlo's number one son back there in the sand. Pau Avanti had been as slippery as a cockroach with invisible hands. We knew from experience that the Hand always has a little something hidden behind its back for you. Take the Hand at face value and you wind up with that little something stuck between your shoulder blades and that funny look on your face.
I didn't think Nance'd fall for anything from the Hand, but the way the crowds were yelling, I figured it wouldn't hurt to check. The crowbars taught me one thing. A lot of times leaders don't lead. Sometimes all they can do is barely manage to stay a step ahead of a stampede. I didn't want to lose my chance at Anna Tane. If Carlo's offer meant that Anna Tane was beyond the reach of the law, its price would be no payback for Alna. That would mean the end of justice. Peace could change all my plans.
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Let's Make a Deal
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When I arrived at Nance's wagon it was surrounded outside and packed inside. My leg was so stiff I couldn't hardly move it. I got off my critter and gingerly cripped around. A shark high on the news about Carlo's offer slapped my back, almost knocked me off my pins, and said, "Isn't it great?"
"Something, too good to be true," I muttered. The celebrant instantly judged me an attitude case and headed for giddier parts.
The sharks were grabassing and shouting, celebrating and waiting to catch some more news. Marietta, Fodder, and Lauris Nhandi were talking among themselves near the sled's entrance. Slung on Lauris's right shoulder was a converted piece. She turned as I approached. Pinned to the front of her sheet was a silver metal star. An eleven year old little girl cop.
I gimped to a halt and looked at Fodder like he'd blown every fuse on his board. I pointed at the little girl's star. "What's happening, Fodder?"
"You placed me in charge and I had to appoint a few new RCs."
I looked at the little girl. I suddenly felt like I was a thousand years old and hardwood from ear to ear. "Hi, kid. You really want to be an RC?"
"My name is Lauris," she answered, the temperature dropping around twenty degrees. "I am an RC."
I looked at Marietta, at Fodder, at Lauris, and back at Marietta. She rumbled out a laugh. "Your head is smokin', down 'n brown."
"What're you doing here?"
"Waitin' for you. I got three haystacks who're just dyin' to talk to you about Anna Tane. They don't know much, though."
"Whatever they got, I'll lend a lobe."
As I looked back at the little girl, I heard Marietta say, "You know, Fodder, she's awful youn
g, ain't she?"
Fodder shrugged and raised his eyebrows. "There's nothing in the law about age. Besides she's not much younger than Katz. The Chief of the RCs appointed Ratt Katz. A good choice, too."
Marietta rubbed her chin and looked up at the sky. "Hmmm. Maybe what I'm talkin' about is balance. Maybe she ain't mature enough."
"You mean, like us?" All three of them laughed.
"You people're having a lot of fun, aren't you?" I looked at Lauris. Her face was grinning, but her eyes were looking for the official stamp of approval. What the hell. No one on Tartaros was only eleven. Anyway, abused kids're born old. I patted her shoulder and said, "Welcome to the cops, kid. Keep the law, your piece, and yourself clean. Get dirty and you're burger."
Her face broke out into smiles and she took off, after squeezing Fodder's hand. Marietta asked me, "You hear about Carlo and the Hand, Chief?"
"Yeah."
"How d'you read it?"
"Like used bumwad. I think the Hand's got Kong's prang out there in the shadows waiting to stick it to us. How about you two?"
"I would've used other words," said Fodder, "but that pretty well sums up my feelings."
Marietta nodded. "That old Hand job. It do have a familiar whiff." She looked around at the back slapping and smiling faces. There was a burst of laughter, Marietta's glower deepened and her eyes aimed at me. "The rest of the Razai is gettin' ready to bend over, down' 'n brown. Nance might not be enough to straighten 'em up. What do we do?"
"If I had answers like that they'd never've gotten me behind crowbars." I leaned my back against Nance's wagon and tried to ease the weight on my leg. In the crowd were dozens of sharks wearing Hand sheets. I didn't recognize any of them. My stomach fried as I realized the new Hand sheets belonged to Yani Comini, the renegade general who'd joined the Razai out of the goodness of his heart and his love of the law and fair play.
A thought began stenching my hairpiece. I looked back at Marietta and Fodder. "Do we have anybody out there keeping an eye on the Hand?"
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