Part 43 (1/2)
”None of you old women feel like exercising?”
Shalu laughed. His amused look made Conar livid with rage.
With heavy, purposeful strides, Conar hovered over the seated man. He tossed his sword to his left hand and dipped the blade to the floor. ”I'll even fight you with my left hand if you fear the right so much!”
Shalu merely grinned wider. He winked at Roget. ”I hadn't noticed how dark his eyes had become, du Mer. Could it be he has enough fertilizer in his head that it's turned them dark?” He looked back at Conar. ”Could that be it, s.h.i.+t-for-brains?”
Conar's mouth twisted. ”Is that why you're the color you are because you're full of s.h.i.+t?”
Shalu sighed as though being much put upon. He really didn't want to fight but the insolent child was asking for it. Never let it be said that Shalu Taborn, Necromanian King, was not accommodating. Slowly he uncoiled his ma.s.sive frame and stood towering over Conar, stared into blue eyes now less belligerent and perhaps a tad wary.
”Baby birds shouldn't insult the eagles with whom they attempt to fly,” another instructor commented from the weight bench. ”They just might get their feathers plucked before they have time to molt. Is that what you want, baby bird?”
Conar was intensely sorry he'd started this. He could see everyone regarding him with wry humor. Unfortunately, his pride would not allow him to back down. He raised his chin. ”Aye, that's what I want.”
The moment he said it, he realized his stupidity. The laughter only served to increase his anger. Without any caution, he lunged at Shalu. Before he knew what had happened, he was flat on his belly, both arms behind him, Shalu's hard knee in the small of his back.
”Tweet-tweet, baby bird!” Shalu said. ”Who'll be the first to pluck his feathers?” ”No!”Conar shouted. By the time they were finished with him, he'd been stripped, slathered in oil, then, adding insult to injury, covered with talc.u.m powder. If they could have found tar and feathers, no doubt he would have been covered in that. Leaving him with no clothes, robe, towel or loincloth, they laughed their way out of the room.
Conar sat huddled in the corner, fuming with humiliation.
”Come out, baby bird!” Chase taunted him from outside.
”We got some nice fat worms for you!” Rylan chimed in.
”We promise not to stare at your manly attributes!” Pearl giggled and the others howled.
Conar threw a hateful look at the open doorway. Just how the h.e.l.l was he going to get out of there? He seethed with icy fury as he tried to drown out their mocking laughter and insulting catcalls. He grabbed a handful of hair on both sides of his head and screeched in frustration.
”A warrior must learn humility as well as ability,” a gruff voice spoke.
He glowered at Ching-Ching, standing in the doorway, and felt like strangling him. The Chrystallusian seemed impervious to the hard look. ”I don't need your G.o.dd.a.m.ned philosophy!”
”Perhaps, perhaps not. I think you learned a valuable lesson today, don't you, baby bird?”
”Stop calling me that!”Conar shouted.
”You prefer s.h.i.+tbird, instead?” Ching-Ching laughed and ignored Conar's vulgar response. ”I have the right to call you whatever I wish. You call me the monkey man, do you not? Do you wish to fight me, as well?”
”No, thank you,” Conar ground out from between tightly clenched teeth.
”I thought not.” Ching-Ching sat on the floor beside Conar. ”Whom do you wish to fight next? Du Mer? Saur? Brell?
Each of them would be accommodating, I am sure.”
”How come you're not speaking in broken Serenian like you always have before?”
Ching-Ching grinned. ”Because I have no desire to do so. My speech pattern served its purpose with you. You thought me uneducated, unlearned, a country boy, eh? It was the way I thought best until I was ready for you to know otherwise. Now, when I speak to you, maybe you will listen. You have seen my harder side; now, view the gentler. I speak to you as I would my son, had I been blessed with one.”
A derisive laugh came from Conar's lips. ”I made a fool of myself, didn't I?”
”You do not fight your allies, fledgling. Save your anger for your enemies. You will have enough of them. You are restless. That is to be expected. Your men know this. They are restless, too. When Occultus decides you are ready, you will begin to take back all that has been stolen from you. Until that time comes...go slowly. There is time. And there is still much to learn.”
”Like humility.”
”And self-denial. You are descended from a long line of powerful men. Generations of WindWarriors course through your veins. You have inherited their natural abilities, but we have begun to enhance those abilities to the point where no mortal man will be your equal. It is up to you to do what must be done to satisfy your ancestors vengeance against the Domination.
”Learn to control your rage, fledgling. Learn to control it, or it will control you. Learn patience. Humility. These are things I am afraid you have never been taught. In the flick of an eye, a man can die from lack of direction. That man might not be you, but a comrade who depends on your ability to function with a clear head and calm nerves in a crisis.”
”I thought I did fairly well in the Labyrinth at controlling my rage.”
”The Labyrinth would have crushed a lesser man, Conar. The tortures that were practiced on you have only strengthened you, made you less vulnerable to physical and mental pain. Even your stay in that horrible place taught you a well-learned lesson. You can survive anything! Even the good-natured taunts and pranks your friends played on you today.” Ching-Ching's monkey face split into wrinkled lines of humor. ”It also taught you that you are not yet as invincible as you thought.”
”It also taught me something else.”
Ching-Ching inclined his head.
”When to know I am in a losing battle.” Conar smiled, a smile touched with sadness. ”I owe them an apology.”
The wrinkled smile grew wider and the thin lips twitched. ”A wise decision, baby bird!”
Apologizing to the men was as hard as Conar had antic.i.p.ated. They joked and made stinging remarks about his anatomy as he made his way to the gym where they had stashed his clothing. He kept his temper under control, knowing they were doing everything they could to antagonize him, but realizing they were s.h.i.+elding him with their bodies from curious eyes as his ungracious, naked walk took him through their ranks.
He took their barbs with a tight smile and strode as calmly as he could into the gym, retrieved his clothing. His ears and face burned from the remarks as he stepped into his clothing and soiled it with the oil and talc.
In his room later, Conar flung off the clothing and plopped into the bath Se Huan had made ready for him. He had viewed her hastily concealed smile, heard the stifled giggle and knew everyone in the palace was privy to what had happened. He lowered himself into the tub and sulked, refusing to answer even her most innocuous questions, for he could see the wry humor in her face.
”He's like a sore-tailed cat, Se Huan.” Jah-Ma-El came into the room carrying a tumbler of elixir Occultus demanded Conar drink each night.
The stuff was particularly vile, green and mossy, a potion to make him sleep soundly yet not develop any long-term desire for it. He had resisted drinking it at first. But after having his nostrils pinched shut by Jah-Ma-El, his body pinned to the bed by the others while Tyne poured the mess down his throat, he had learned to drink it of his own accord.
”He is not in the best of tempers, Lord Jah-Ma-El. I shall let him pout. Perhaps after he drinks his bedtime bottle he will be a good baby bird.” Se Huan giggled, covering her mouth with her hand as a wet sponge hit her in the backside.
”Get out of here! Both of you! And take that s.h.i.+tty elixir with you!”
A wicked gleam entered Jah-Ma-El's eyes. ”Se Huan, would you be so kind as to get Shalu and Roget and Sentian-”
”I'll drink it,” Conar snarled.
”I thought you would.” His brother handed him the tumbler, watching with uncontrolled mirth as Conar gagged on the liquid.