Underbelly (38 page)

“
Thanks. I do want to keep performing. I’m missing it already, how mad is that? I’d barely started doing it. I won’t tread on his toes again though, I won’t perform in Canada or any of his haunts.”

“
I would never ask you to stop. It’s your decision – I think you were born for it, but I love you whether you do it or whether you don’t.”

“
You don’t think it might be hard on the kid, having a father some will call a loony or worse?”

She considered his words for a while and said, “Comments against you will hurt our child, because they’ll adore you, you’ll be a really good father. That’s not a reason to stop performing.”

“
Can you imagine going to school having a parent who is a very indiscreet medium? Indiscreet isn’t the right word, public might be better. I wouldn’t have liked it.”

“
They’ll know that you’re for real. They’ll cope. I would have.”

“
How much should we tell a child about my gift? I think it’s a lot for a child to deal with.”

“
I guess you know this. You were only a child yourself. I don’t know, James. Don’t feel that you have to deny who you are,” she said supportively.

“
Don’t worry, I don’t,” he said, appreciating her concern.

Germaine made a new friend, the legendary Rosie, who popped in to see Chester and Lou and was greeted warmly by almost every customer. Rosie was heavily pregnant and Germaine asked her when the baby was due.

“
Six weeks but you’d think it was popping out tomorrow, the size of me,” Rosie said warmly.

“
That’s how far gone I am,” Germaine said, responding to her kind manner, realising her error after it had slipped out. Only Rosie had heard and Germaine said, “Please don’t tell Chester and Lou.”

“
Of course I won’t, honey, that’s your business,” Rosie said, talking to Germaine for longer than she talked to her former bosses. She proved very encouraging, telling Germaine that she often walked away feeling unappreciated and that the key to survival was in not giving anyone the power to get under her skin. Rosie stuck up for her when a customer criticised her, Rosie friendly with the woman who complained and able to persuade her to apologise. The friendship was over quickly, Rosie looking at her like she was crazy when she confided in her about James’ powers and after that she only greeted Germaine to say hello. She’d enjoyed talking with Rosie, who was very funny, yet she found she wasn’t bothered by the dissolution of their fledgling friendship – if that was her attitude she didn’t want anything to do with her, and she found herself adopting a cool veneer with her when she took her order. She didn’t want to be nasty and say anything but certain words popped up in her head, which she would have said were she the type to say spiteful things. ‘You can have your pathetic job back once you have your child, I’m only slumming it here for a little while. I own my own farm and have acres of land and a husband who’s going places, while if you’re lucky you might get to be Lou in 20 years time.’ She would feel guilty if she ever said such things, but just thinking it felt a little too good. Other thoughts did not have the same appeal, thoughts of her child being a demon, but she was working hard to rid herself of that fanciful notion.

Grey made a new friend too. Not at the factory, where he was told that he wouldn’t even be considered for the baseball team (which annoyed him greatly as they didn’t even let him try out), his new friend was another useful spirit visitor connected with Octavius, Logar. One of the first things Logar told him was that he was a student of Dagulen and an enemy of Octavius, enough to make Grey instantly warm to him, viewing him as one of the good guys and telling him this, which Logar disputed.

You don’t know my past, James. Would you like to know or would you rather hear solely of my encounters with Octavius?
Logar asked, not the kind liable to take offence if he did just ask him about Octavius.

I’m interested in all of your past. Your experiences with Dagulen hold as much interest to me as your dealings with Octavius. If you don’t mind I’d rather have the whole story of your life.

That’s why I’m here, but first a warning. Octavius is dead – make sure that he stays dead. I used to be an archivist of occult matters and I knew to take the utmost care when I researched dangerous beings. If you’re playing games and want to show off your powers by contacting someone important then contact Attila or Caesar, not Octavius.

I’m not playing games – I wouldn’t where spirits are concerned, I take this very seriously.

Good. I was born in the year 178 Anno Domini in Northern Japan. My family was poor and I had many younger siblings and there was never enough food to go around. I was forced to leave home at 11, my parents telling me to return when I’d become a man of means, which I knew meant that I’d never return. I survived on my wits, as a criminal. I became a bandit at 15, belonging to a small group who preyed on the rich and poor alike with great success, anyone who dared cross our path. This life suited me and I would have remained a bandit until my eventual execution if it had not been for Tole. We saw him riding alone, a suicidal act when travelling, and we ambushed him, surrounding him and ordering him to hand over his money. He didn’t look wealthy, but we demanded money from all, and he dismounted and drew his blade. We all laughed -–we were young men, I was 22, and none of my five friends were over 30 while this small Westerner looked to be 60, and his blade was so short, as stunted as he was. He looked at me as he gave us the choice of surrendering. We went at him and five minutes later all of my friends had lost their right hands. Three of them fled and the other two kept fighting, using their left hand to brandish their weapon and losing that too. One fled while the other asked Tole to kill him, unable to survive without either hand, and Tole obliged, his death swift. He had incapacitated me early in the fight without dismembering me, knocking me out with the butt of his sword, striking me down like I was an amateur. When I came fully round I grabbed my weapon and went for him again, Tole holding me off and telling me that it didn’t have to be that way. In my mind it did, he had disgraced me and injured my friends and his life was forfeit. He outclassed me again and knocked me to the floor and held his blade to my throat and gave me a choice. He said that I could have a second chance if I wanted it, to live a life more honourable than that of a bandit; I could run and join my friends and come to an unfortunate end soon enough, or he could kill me there and then, if that was my choice. I told him I wanted to join my friends and he let go of me and told me I was free to go. I was surprised, sure that he would cut off one of my hands at least as punishment for being a thief, but he told me to go and that he would remain in the area for a little while in case I changed my mind.

I caught up with my friends who wanted to know how I’d escaped with both hands. They decided that our group would be known as the One Hand Marauders, and they told me that I had to cut off my right hand to stay in the group.

What about the man who had both hands cut off?

He wasn’t with the others when I found them. I did consider it because they had become my family, but I declined and they went for me, intending to take away my choice. Tole had beaten me easily and I found that I was capable of beating them with the same ease and I soon realised that if I kept fending them off I’d end up killing them, which I didn’t want so I fled. I soon came across Tole again and he was the last person I wanted to see. He followed me and made the offer of giving me an honest life. He came across as mad, telling me that I was special and he sought me out especially. Eventually I started to ask questions about what this new life entailed, and when he mentioned power I became interested. He talked about using the power inherent in me responsibly but I ignored that part and thought about the power, power that I could use to send him to his grave.

When I accepted his offer and we travelled across Asia he tried to befriend me, telling me that any misdeed from my past was behind me as I was reborn, which I viewed as prattle. We encountered a lot of bandits along the way and I fought alongside him out of necessity, the two of us making a surprisingly efficient fighting force. He always tried to talk his way out of trouble while I welcomed the fight. My mind was already prejudiced against everything when we arrived at the large building in Germania, full of bearded Goths, grinning fools who sat huddled on the floor listening to a man who looked identical to the rest of them giving a sermon. That was Dagulen, who brought his speech to a premature end to welcome me in my language. He walked over to me and embraced me and it took tremendous self-control on my part not to strike him down. He asked me my name and I said Logar, a name I made up at that moment and which I kept from that point on. He introduced me to the dozen men who followed him, and I was starting to realise then that it was some form of cult. He showed me around the premises, their base very large but humble, and he said it would please him greatly if I would make it my home too. He could see I was unimpressed and gave me time to come to my decision. I observed them over the next few days and saw that they were a benevolent group who invited the town’s poor inside for an evening meal and shelter, one of the order staying awake and watching over them, keeping them safe as they slept, from each other. As a Japanese man I was viewed strangely in the town and I tried to find out what the townspeople thought of Dagulen and his herd, but the language barrier prevented me from finding out anything and I settled for going to see some prostitutes.

I made no promises about staying, but I wasn’t going to leave in a hurry. I had a bed, a roof over my head and I was fed – not quality food, but they all ate humbly, and I didn’t have to work for any of it. Sharing a dormitory with four of Dagulen’s students was the worst of it, all very tactile men, which I viewed, wrongly, as homosexuality. Tole was the only homosexual at that time, and Dagulen permitted it – when I first found out I called him every name under the sun. It took me a long time to mature
, he said regretfully.

People are still against it even now so don’t criticise yourself for going along with the attitudes of the time. At least you realised it was harmless.

I did, but you can’t take words away that you said, those words and deeds are there forever. Things picked up when Dagulen let me join the others in combat training, which he stressed was only for protection of oneself and others, not for aggressiveness. I told him what he wanted to hear and circled my prey gleefully, only sorry that it was unarmed combat. I pulled at his beard, aiming to humiliate him a little before beating him to a pulp. I think you can guess how it turned out.

Did you lose?

Within 30 seconds. It went the same with all of the others I fought. They just grounded me and got me in holds I couldn’t escape from. They didn’t hurt me like I would have hurt them if I’d been tough enough. Dagulen wouldn’t let me practice training with weapons, which didn’t bother me too much as they only used wooden weapons. I made no effort to speak their language and within a month they’d all learned Japanese just so they could speak to me and make me feel welcome. The affection they lavished upon me embarrassed me, and in my embarrassment I would sometimes strike them, and they never fought back if it wasn’t training, docilely letting me whack them. They would all sing together, and chant, led by Dagulen who taught them strange lessons, sometimes in the day, sometimes in the dead of night. After six weeks Dagulen talked to me privately and told me that he thought the lessons would benefit me and he explained what he was. I’d never seen anything supernatural in my life and his claim that he was a mystic should have seemed implausible but I trusted him. I didn’t particularly like him, but I knew he was an honest man. He told me that all of the men in his school had powers too, all diverse and varied, and he gave the example of Tole. Tole’s gift was to sense potential in others and Dagulen told me that that was how he found me and why he brought me back. I stayed calm as I thought about it and I did start regularly attending the classes, but that was all I did, I made no attempt to integrate into the community, I did none of the work that the others did.

After a year my personality remained as flawed, but I was a very willing student. I wanted power and was prepared to sit through his classes and join in some benign rites if it helped me gain it. Dagulen performed a rite to make me immortal around this time, and that excited me. Poor Tole had waited until he was 58 for the rite while I was lucky enough to have it performed at 23, meaning that my body would never age. I felt an immediate difference afterwards, but I still didn’t know my power. My combat abilities were improving, but that was largely down to training by skilled tutors and controlling my aggression. They let me handle weapons, starting with the wooden weapons before Dagulen offered to take me on with metal swords, which made me blissfully happy. Dagulen’s students looked anxious as they watched us fight, Dagulen impressing me with his speed and ingenuity, defeating me without cutting me. It drove me mad, but I managed to resist driving my sword through him after our bout, calming myself by imagining how I would beat him in a future fight. That took another century, and by then I was less proud and didn’t mind losing. After a few years I learnt how to win without harming my enemy, which requires far more skill than assaulting someone mercilessly. I was involved in training the new students, and I found I was gentle with them – I could have ripped them in two but I didn’t want to. One was very timid and didn’t want to learn how to fight, no one forced to do anything they didn’t want to, and I managed to persuade him to give it a try and he grew in confidence. He was never proficient but he was competent and he was skilled in other areas. He was a medium like you, as I recall.