The Order of Odd-Fish (25 page)

As the insults went on, Jo whispered to Audrey, “Why do knights duel?”

“Usually they have a grudge that can only be settled by fighting,” said Audrey. “But knights like to duel. Sometimes they’ll make up a grudge just so they can fight.”

“Why don’t they just fight by themselves somewhere?” said Jo.

“That’s unheard-of,” said Audrey. “For a knight to disobey the traditions of dueling would lead to complete disgrace. And there are a lot of traditions to obey.”

“Like what?”

Audrey counted off the traditions on her fingers. “First, when you challenge someone to a duel, each side has to get two seconds—those are fellow squires or knights who help you in the duel. Then, before the duel, you have to sleep at your opponent’s house for one night, and your opponent has to sleep at your house for one night. Also, before the duel you both have to write a hundred-line poem insulting your enemy, and read your poems to each other at a tea ceremony in the Grudge Hut in Snerdsmallow.
And
you have to pick what god you’re going to be in the duel, and make the costume, and work out what you’re going to say in the opening round of insults…”

“It sounds like a lot of trouble.”

“Originally that was the idea—that if there were a lot of difficult rituals surrounding the duel, knights wouldn’t bother, and they’d solve their problems peacefully. But everybody enjoys the rituals, and so that kind of backfired.”

“How do you challenge someone to a duel?”

“Oh, that’s easy. You just take off your left shoe, throw it at their nose, and say, ‘Consider yourself challenged!’ Then they take off their right shoe, throw it at your nose, and say, ‘Challenge accepted!’ After that, you are both bound by all the rules and traditions of dueling.”

“And if you break the rules?”

“Great dishonor,” said Audrey. “You wouldn’t be able to show your face in Eldritch City again. The lowliest cockroach would spit on you. Actually, the cockroaches would be the first to spit, they’re sticklers for ceremony…. Oh, look, it’s starting!”

Both duelists had mounted their ostriches. The duelists’ seconds bustled about, buckling on the ostriches’ armor and securing the duelists in their saddles; then the ostriches ran forward, leaping off the platforms and into the arena. The crowd roared. The ostriches hurtled toward each other, clawing and flapping and shrieking as the duelists ignited their double-bladed lances, blossoming on either side with flame. The duel had begun.

“What are they trying to do?” shouted Jo over the noise.

“Whoever gets knocked into the water first loses!” yelled Audrey. “Watch!”

The ostriches scrabbled at each other in midair. The duelists spun and twirled their lances with blazing speed, clashing, sparking, lunging and blocking faster than Jo’s eyes could follow—a blur of smoky arcs of fire. Her heart surged with excitement and her eyes went wide as the ostriches circled, snarled, and snapped at each other’s throats. A gong crashed and the ostriches disentangled from each other, swooping back up to opposite corners of the arena; their armor heaved as they panted, and the duelists slumped slightly, catching their breaths; their seconds squirted water in their mouths and rebuckled or replaced loose and smashed armor. The ostriches stamped and growled, ready for another go. The seconds scattered, the ostriches took off again, and the fight began anew.

“Watch Fumo,” said Audrey. “She looks like a dirty fighter. Ooh—ouch!”

Fumo had whooshed past Zam-Zam but gave her lance a wicked backward thrust, smacking the back of Zam-Zam’s head. He went off into a loopy twirl. The crowd broke into a roar.

“Like I said,” sighed Audrey. “Dirty tricks.”

“The crowd likes her,” said Jo.

“The crowd likes her because she fights nasty. That’s what they came to watch. But for a true aficionado of the sport…” Audrey sniffed. “It’s bad form, you know?”

Fumo circled back and suddenly dropped right on top of Zam-Zam’s head, crushing him with her ostrich. The crowd went wild as Zam-Zam struggled to recover.

“Ugh, now she’s
toying
with him,” said Audrey. “Very,
very
bad form. Let him go out with some dignity.”

Fumo whipped around and headed full speed at Zam-Zam. At the last second, Fumo jerked her ostrich upward, making it crash into Zam-Zam—and Zam-Zam’s lance went flying.

“Disarmed!” said Audrey. “Not bad, I have to admit.”

Jo frowned. “She’s really mistreating her ostrich.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I don’t pretend to be an expert, I’ve only been flying Ethelred for a few weeks—but look at her!” Jo winced. “There! She’s using her ostrich as a
weapon
! She dropped her ostrich on the other guy’s head, and now she’s ramming her ostrich into him—it’s horrible for the bird.”

“Never thought of it that way.”

“I wouldn’t have, either, if I didn’t have Ethelred,” said Jo. “But this Fumo should know better. It’s like she doesn’t even care if she hurts her ostrich.”

Regardless of Jo’s opinion, the crowd loved Fumo’s style. Zam-Zam started to panic and make mistakes; Fumo was ferocious and didn’t give an inch. She kept coming and coming, overwhelming Zam-Zam, driving him from one side of the arena to the other. Finally Fumo swooped down from above, plucking Zam-Zam right off his ostrich.

The crowd howled with delight. Zam-Zam flailed as his ostrich chased behind, nipping at Fumo’s ostrich’s tail, trying to reclaim his dangling master.

“So humiliating,” said Audrey. “There’s no call for that.”

Fumo’s ostrich’s claws released Zam-Zam, who hung in the air for a second, scrabbling at emptiness—then he fell, plunging into the water far below. Zam-Zam’s ostrich hid itself in a corner of the arena, gurgling with embarrassment. Fumo’s ostrich hobbled as Fumo spread her arms wide, basking in the applause.

“Obnoxious,” said Audrey. “No grace at all.”

“I’d like to know who’s Fumo,” said Jo. “I’d like to take her down a notch.”

“Victory!” shouted Fumo as her bloodied ostrich limped miserably under her.

Jo couldn’t watch any more; it made her too angry. “How’s Ian doing?”

“He seems to be on top of things,” said Audrey. “Let’s go over there and get a better look.”

Ian was back at his booth. A small crowd had formed around him, and he was quickly paying out the money for the bets, too absorbed in his task to glance at Jo and Audrey.

Audrey whispered in Jo’s ear, “Look, look—Oona Looch.”

Oona Looch had arrived during the duel, carried on a gaudy throne. She was a mannish, square-jawed woman, about sixty years old, mammoth but not fat, a stout giant of muscle and bone. Her bald skull was gouged with scars, her nose and ears seemed nailed on, and her smile revealed she had no teeth at all. Her voice was a low rumble and her laugh sounded like a dozen old men clearing their throats at once. Four big, bald, tough-looking women carried her throne.

Jo said, “Who are they?”

“Oona Looch’s daughters,” whispered Audrey. “Almost everyone in the mafia is related to the Looch family. She has fifty-two daughters, and they all look exactly like her. She’s always pregnant…. She barely notices when she gives birth. The babies just pop out and beat up the first guy they see.”

“Who’s the father?” said Jo.

“Whoever Oona wants,” said Audrey. “There’s her current husband, Fipnit. Poor sap.” Jo noticed a skinny little man trailing behind the throne, continually wringing his hands and looking about nervously.

“Nothing like a night at the fights!” thundered Oona Looch. “The smell of sweat! The smell of blood! The smell of ostrich poop! It’s all good! Give us a kiss, Fipnit!” She grabbed Fipnit, whipped him around like a rag doll, and covered his face with her huge lips; then she spat him out. “God, you taste terrible! Why am I married to you?”

Fipnit could only answer with a series of soft meeps and whimpers.

“You disgust me, Fipnit!” shouted Oona Looch. “You don’t do anything for me
as a woman.
You don’t know how to treat
a lady
! One of these days, Fipnit, I’m gonna sit on you! And then I’ll forget about you…. Maybe a few weeks later I’ll pick you out of my behind and say, ‘Well! There’s Fipnit! So that’s where he went!’ Then I’ll throw you away. What a tragic end to a beautiful romance!”

“Meep,” said Fipnit.

Meanwhile, there was a disturbance at Ian’s booth. A gangly man in a yellow waistcoat was gripping the table with shaking fists, pleading with Ian, “You’ve
got
to give my money back. It’s all I’ve got,
please.
”

“Then you shouldn’t have bet it,” said Ian.

“Give it back, kid. C’mon—it can be like the bet never happened.”

“Beat it,” said Ian.

“I’m a close personal friend of Oona Looch—she lets it slide from time to time for me—it’s no big deal, you can ask her. Just help me out this once. This is my last chance!”

“Next!”

The man seemed about to walk off—then lunged for the cash box, snatching it away. Ian immediately jumped over the table, tackling the man, and they rolled on the floor, wrestling. The man pinned Ian down, but just as Oona Looch’s daughters were about to jump in, the man pulled out a black tube.

“Nobody move!” shouted the man. He was crying, his hands were shaking, but the tube was aimed straight at Oona Looch. “If that’s the end of my life, it’s the end of yours, Oona Looch!
You ruined my life!
I have
nothing
! NOTHING!”

A screech, a flash like a thousand flashbulbs popping, and the air filled with flying dust; an earth-shaking jolt, as though the entire mountain were about to collapse; nobody could see; Jo felt as though she had been kicked in the stomach—the dust-choked air was filled with stumbling bodies bumping into each other, screams, yelps, shouts of panic: “What’s going on?”—“Get him!”—“Protect the Looch!”

When the dust settled, Ian was on top of the man. He had jerked the gun away and it had gone off harmlessly, tearing a gash in the rock ceiling. The man whimpered as Ian pried his fingers from the gun. It dropped to the floor with a thunk, and four bald, burly Looch daughters immediately pounced on the man.

Oona Looch laughed as though she was having the time of her life. “Get me over there! Take me to that kid!” Her daughters carried her throne over to Ian.

“Look at this kid!” said Oona Looch. “What a kid! We got a hero right here! Who knew!”

Ian stood baffled and blinking.

“This kid saved my life!” said Oona Looch. “Whaddaya know! First night on the job! Kid, I doubt Dugan could’ve done any better! Eh?”

“I couldn’t say,” said Ian, terrified.

“Listen to that! Cool as you please! This kid doesn’t waste words.” Oona Looch nodded with approval. “I like this kid! This kid’s got moxie! C’mere, Barrows, ever been in a headlock? There you go! How’s that feel, kid, you like that?”

His face shoved into Oona Looch’s huge breasts, Ian could only make a muffled reply.

“Get outta here!” said Oona Looch affectionately, shoving Ian away. Then she yanked him back. “Naw, come back, ya big lug! I can see great things for this kid. I owe this kid a favor! You don’t save Oona Looch’s life and not get a favor! Whaddaya say, Barrows, what do you want? The world’s your oyster, you name it!”

Ian trembled. “Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Looch.”

“
Mrs.
Looch!” chortled Oona Looch. “
Mrs.
Looch! What a gentleman! What manners! Some of you bozos should take a page outta this kid’s book! Mrs. Looch, he says! Come on, kid, whatever you want, you say it, it’s yours! One good turn deserves another, eh!”

“Please, I’m fine.”

“I won’t hear of it!” roared Oona Looch. “Everybody wants something! C’mon, kid, you name it, don’t leave me hanging here—I can do great things for a li’l scamp like you!”

Ian said, “Maybe later.”

“
Maybe later!
Maybe later, he says! Why do I like this kid so much? This kid, he cracks me up! This kid, I wouldn’t mind keeping him around! Whaddaya say, Barrows? You and me, we can be pals—I’ll take you hunting on the moors, shoot us some moffle-hoppers!”

Ian stammered, “I don’t—I’d rather not get involved—”

“
Not get involved!
Too late, Barrows, I owe you one now, you’re
involved!
Look at this guy! A noble fella like this, I could use! I can make you a big man in the family, Barrows! Hell, you can be my new husband—
Shut up,
Fipnit! I blow my nose on guys like you! What the hey, I’ll do it right now!” Oona Looch picked up her husband, pressed him up to her face, and blew her nose all over him.

Fipnit wriggled in her hand like an earthworm. “Meep,” he said.

“Well, Barrows?” Oona Looch grinned and flung Fipnit aside. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime proposition! You say the word, this chump gets the boot, and you and I are on our way to married bliss!” She fingered Ian’s chin fondly.

“I’m very honored, Mrs. Looch,” said Ian carefully. “But—”

“I know, I know, you’re not ready for marriage, well, heck, I can understand that! When you’re older, Ian, when you’re older, I’ll make you the happiest man alive. Till then, come on, what can I do you for?”

“Can I…have a while to figure it out?”

“Sure! Yeah! Why am I so pushy? You take your time, kiddo! Come by
chez
Looch when you’re ready, and we can
talk
about rewards. Until then, here’s something to remember me by.”

Oona Looch seized Ian and kissed him. It looked like she was eating him; when she was done, Ian staggered back, gasping, as though she had sucked all the air from his lungs.

“Back to business,” said Oona Looch. “Pleasure before business, I always say. Business can wait, but I gotta kiss my beautiful boys. Now, who tried to kill me? Ah, yes…Snicky!”

Oona Looch’s daughters hauled the man in the yellow waistcoat—“Snicky,” apparently—up to the throne. Oona Looch palmed his head like a basketball and picked him up.

“You’ve disappointed me, Snicky,” said Oona Looch.

“I didn’t mean it,” cried Snicky, his legs kicking and dangling. “I’m just out of money, Oona, it’s all I had, I need to—you see, Oona, don’t you remember the good times, Oona?”