The Gray House

“Did you see that? Did you see that feathered bastard disrespect my advanced age? Everyone see that? I’m going to see the color of his guts!”

He was saying all of this between coughing fits, but it sounded deadly serious.

Noble took the butter knife off Tabaqui and remarked that my guts being spread out on the floor of the canteen would put everybody off their food.

“He thinks that he’s received enlightenment!” Tabaqui continued through bouts of coughing, even turning slightly blue. “That he understands it now! Is there life after death, is there life on Mars, and is the Earth round! Look at him, sitting here all bloated!”

“He’s been kind of puffy ever since your speech,” Humpback said. “I guess he’s just not used to it all.”

“I’m not bloated!” I protested. “I’m not bloated, I’m not puffy, and I’d appreciate it if you all left me alone!”

“Hear, hear,” Black said from the other side of the table. “Tabaqui, why are you at his throat all of a sudden? Can’t a guy just think whatever it is he thinks in peace?”

“Peace!” Tabaqui shrieked. “Is that what you call peace now? When one of your packmates fills up with self-importance, turns into a complete bastard, and on top of that squints at you contentedly? And I’m supposed to just shut up about this? To live alongside this disgusting mug? Not likely! If he thinks he can walk around with that kind of face, he should get himself a veil. I personally am not going to let it slide!”

“Look, he’s just pissed off now,” Sphinx said. “See for yourself. And calm down, will you.”

But it took quite a while for Jackal to calm down. He would chew his food looking away and then suddenly turn around, throw me a wicked stare, and turn back. It was not at all funny, even though it seemed so to Noble.

I tried to look stone-faced while wheeling out of the canteen. I wasn’t mad at Tabaqui. Not even a bit angry. If anything, I was admiring his sharpness. Who would be happy if someone were to debunk their favorite game? Tabaqui’s reaction confirmed that I really was on to something. I just had to learn to keep it to myself.

Black patted me on the shoulder as he passed.

“Don’t let it get to you,” he said. “They’re all nuts, some more than others.”

“They’re not nuts,” I blurted out. “They’re players.”

Black gave me a surprised look.

I couldn’t understand what was more surprising to him: my words, which he didn’t understand, or my insightfulness.

They lived in filthy cages, and they ate raw eggs by sucking them out through cracked shells. Their ears were sharp and rough to the touch and their claws were like curved swords. No disease could ever befall them, except colds and scabies, from which they died . . .

. . . it shined its purple eye on me and I understood that it was her, the Great Hairy, the one who lives under the beds in the places where the dust collects, the one who turns the floorboards over in search of mold. I asked her to tell me my future, but she never did that. “There is nothing more horrible than knowing what awaits us tomorrow,” she said and gave me one of her fangs in consolation . . .

And within that castle dwelt a knight renowned throughout the land for his prowess. They called him Dragonslayer, for he had killed the last dragon, and that was no mean feat since it was very hard to find. Those who would speak ill of him maintained, however, that it wasn’t a dragon at all, just a large lizard from the Southern Realm . . .

It looks like a small black cylinder. It cannot be seen by sunlight, and it definitely cannot be seen in the dark. One can only bump into it by accident. Every night it hums softly as it steals time . . .