The final third of chapter two.
In the previous part, Ren decided to take Kutho to the Munera center so they could search for Kutho's captured friends as well as break Kutho's contract with her. Then Ren shared a moment with her brothers.
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On Kutho, Rau’s clothes were much too small. While the tunic reached the middle of Rau’s thighs, on Kutho it strained to touch his waist, and the sleeves that should have been loose and elbow-length were tight around his biceps. Rau’s breeches didn’t fare much better. It was a miracle that they fit around Kutho’s waist, but then again, they were baggy on Rau and skintight on Kutho. Ren kept a nervous eye on the macor, fearing that the clothes would tear.
Ren, her brothers, and Kutho were waiting in the lobby of the Garment District Munera Center. The Center was one of the nicest places in the district, and the lobby reflected it. With cushy purple armchairs arranged in circles upon the gleaming floors and prints of Munera battles decorating the walls, it resembled a palace from a dream. A still image given life, not real. Sitting in one of the armchairs, Ren felt out of place, a stain on the Center’s perfection.
She’d rather not be here, but the receptionist at the desk had told her to wait until someone became available to see her. Which made Ren rather sour, because she’d come early so she could get serviced sooner. Most people on weekend mornings were either passed out in the streets or sleeping late, which meant that Ren avoided bumping into anyone who recognized her on the way to the Center. But it seemed that some people had made it there earlier than her.
Ren tried to sit upright, though she longed to sink into the squishy chair. Like her brothers: Rau sprawled like a drunk, his arms and legs spread every which way, while Lepo stroked the soft material like he couldn’t believe it was real. Kutho had not taken a chair. He paced in front of the wall, sometimes pausing to inspect a print by leaning in so close his nose almost touched the frame’s glass. Ren watched him nervously, afraid that he might break something.
He’d somehow finished his bowl of bean soup without anyone noticing. It must have been while some of the siblings had been bathing in the communal hall washroom, and the others dressing. When Ren had returned to the kitchen after putting on her best tunic and skirt, she’d found the bowl polished clean, and more ominously, upended on the floor. Well, at least she didn’t have to watch that bowl as thoroughly as the other three.
Kutho suddenly stopped pacing. Rau snapped upright and swiveled in Kutho’s direction. Ren watched the macor too, but less out of interest than nervousness.
“You humans are disgusting,” Kutho said, tracing the edge of a print with his thumb. “Look at this. So this is what you call Munera. Making us fight like animals…despicable.”
“Well, you won’t ever have to participate in it,” Ren said, “so there’s no point in complaining.”
Kutho’s glare could silence the god of death himself. Ren shrunk back, feeling half her already meager height.
“Sazuk,” Kutho said, “is participating in it. So yes, it does matter to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Ren said.
Kutho snorted. Rau murmured something that sounded a lot like, “Rude.”
The Center door opened with a whoosh of air. With it came a racket of steps and brash voices.
Ren’s muscles froze. She recognized those voices. They were the boys who tormented her every night when she walked home. Rau and Lepo seemed to have recognized them too, because they tensed and turned towards the source. Ren wanted to tell them to stop looking, they’d attract attention, but her mouth wouldn’t move.
One voice rose above the rest, reedy and arrogant. “—and so the idiot tried to get up but c’mon, he’d already lost, so I told Strear, ‘do it,’ ya know, wham-wham, and he got up and kicked the dert in the face. Damn thing right about went limp. Shoulda heard his master, started bawling like the sissy he is—”
Delk.
Ren hunched forward, hoping the seat back would hide her. Great. Delk was the last person she wanted to run into with a macor in tow.
“Yeah, kick ‘im good, sissy dert—”
“Why’s he even playing? Plain as mud he’s no good at Munera—”
“I know, right? Total loser, don’t know when he’s beat. Good thing I was there to teach ‘im a lesson he won’t forget. Hey, is that Ren?”
A jolt ran down Ren’s spine.
There was no point in hiding now. Reluctantly, she unfolded herself from the chair and stood up so that she was facing Delk and his cronies. Delk stood at their forefront, a tall, stringy figure dressed in the style that disapproving adults labeled “gutter finery”: black-and-white striped tunic with square shoulders; a strip of red breeches above thigh-high snakeskin boots; and a huge, puffy silk scarf tucked into the tunic’s open collar. Ren’s eyes began to water as she stared at him.
Standing to Delk’s right was his macor, the hulking monster Strear. Though Delk was tall, Strear outstripped him by at least two heads. His gray skin and bulging muscles made him resemble a pile of stacked rocks. He wore nothing but a ragged red loincloth. Contract marks were burned, bold and jagged, around his thick neck and wrists, and his registration symbol was a black seven-pointed star on his collarbone.
Behind them stood a collection of boys and their macor. All dressed in the same eye-bleeding fashion, but the fit and fabric of their clothes were clearly less expensive than Delk’s. Delk had made enough from his success at Low Munera to buy a mansion in the Garment District.
“Renren, what you doin’ here?” said Delk, grinning. His teeth flashed against his dark face. “Hey—that a macor?”
Kutho had noticed Delk as well. He faced Ren’s cousin, his expression unreadable. Rau and Lepo stood up and moved between Ren and Kutho.
“Ya actually got a macor!” Delk said. “And pretty damn high level, too! You must’ve been treating the overseer real nice, huh?”
Rage struck inside Ren like a snake. She struggled to force it down. Ignore him, he’s trying to get a rise out of you…
“You shut up!” Rau shouted. “Don’t say those things about my sister!”
“Aww, is the macor yours?” Delk said. “What a great big sis you are, Renren.”
“Kutho’s not mine, he’s Ren’s!” Rau said.
Ren almost groaned. She should have told Rau to shut up because he was digging her into a deeper hole, but her mouth refused to move.
Delk’s eyes widened, and the boys behind him shared an exaggerated gasp. But soon the surprise was replaced by a savage smirk. “Ah, I see how it’s like, Renren. You were lonely, so you got yourself a pretty boy macor.”
“What’re you saying?” Kutho growled. Wonderful. Only he could make things worse than Rau.
“Kutho—don’t, please don’t,” Ren said, but Kutho ignored her weak pleading and stepped forward, glaring Delk in the eye.
“Look who wears the breeches,” snickered one of the boys.
“Seriously, musta caught an arm and leg,” Delk said. He examined Kutho, worrying his tiny soul patch beneath his fingers. “I’d sure like to go up against ‘im in battle.”
“I’m not entering Munera,” Ren said. “It’s complicated, but I’m not using Kutho to fight.”
“Oh?” Delk raised an eyebrow. “What, ya too scared he might lose? I’d say you’re right to worry. I mean, lookit that pretty boy, he couldn’t kick anyone’s ass! Not even Sadra’s!”
“Hey,” Sadra complained.
Kutho didn’t move, but he stiffened and his eyes narrowed. When he looked back at Delk his expression was blazing with hate.
“Care to say that again, human?” he said.
“Oh, look, Renren’s such a wimp her macor’s gotta trash talk for her,” said Delk. “Go ahead! Trash away, macor!”
“No,” Kutho said. “I don’t think I will. I have nothing to say to you, human. If you were really a man, you’d challenge me on the battlefield.”
No, no, NO! Why did it have to turn out like this? Ren leapt between Kutho and Delk, holding her arms out. “No, he doesn’t mean it, he just—”
“Ooh.” Delk’s lip curled. “You better control that macor better, Renren. He got bad ideas in that head. Challenging a human, for shame.”
“It is not my master you will have to fight,” rumbled Strear, moving in front of Delk just like Ren was in front of Kutho. “It is me.”
“You?” Kutho’s face convulsed. “Your master? Are you listening to yourself, makhorre! To say those things about a human!”
“You are threatening him,” Strear said. “I will fight. To uphold his honor.”
“His honor! What about yours?” Ren had never seen Kutho so angry before.
“Kutho, don’t…”
“Well, why don’t we have a battle, defiant little macor?” said Delk, smirking. “Since you seem t’be spoiling for one anyway.”
“No! I won’t fight!” Ren shouted.
“Sure,” Kutho said. “I’ll pound this block of rocks in no time. I’ve fought havelzyn Icim like you before. ‘Course, that was when I was first starting out as a makhorre and I needed to train.”
Strear said nothing. Judging by the confusion on the boys’ faces, they hadn’t understood Kutho’s words either, so clearly “havelzyn” was not a Munera term. Not that it mattered to Ren. She had to stop a fight before it started.
“No, we’re not going to fight, Kutho,” Ren said, placing her hand on his elbow. “We’re not fighting. Remember what we came here for? To help you locate your friend? Sazzick, was it?”
Kutho whipped around and the breath stopped in Ren’s throat. With his eyes slitted and his teeth bared in a snarl, he looked less like a person than an animal. Nothing Ren did, nothing she said, could dissuade the macor. Unless she wanted to get hurt.
“Yeah, Ren! Fight him!” Rau cried. “You can’t let ‘im get away with saying those things!”
“But I—this is insane—I—I don’t know how—” Ren sputtered. A few of the boys tittered.
“Who cares if you do,” Kutho said brusquely. “I can fight and that’s all that matters.”
“You do not understand the way Munera works, then,” Strear said.
“I don’t need to,” Kutho said, balling his hands into fists. “Come on, human. Let’s fight!”
Ren shuddered. At this point, now that Kutho had accepted Delk’s challenge, backing down would earn her more derision than following through. Even if it meant she would lose horribly… She knew that when the macor was hit, the master suffered pain as well. Why had Delk shown up now? Why couldn’t Kutho control himself better?
Oh well, there was no point in crying over spilled oil. Ren swallowed hard and a shudder ran down her spine, but she began walking backwards, towards Kutho. With every step, her stomach bounced; it was all she could do to keep herself from vomiting. If she did that, the boys would have enough material to taunt her for a year. Lepo whimpered and she longed to run to him and pull him into a hug, because gods knew Rau wouldn’t do anything, but now that she’d started moving she couldn’t stop.
She fell level with Kutho, and turned her gaze, however unwillingly, towards Delk’s smirking face.
“All right, Delk,” Ren said. “I guess…if you want a fight, you’ll get one.”
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And that is the end of chapter two.
Please review, you'll make my day.
Well, I don't have anything more. I have "Gosh darn it, Bickazer, don't insult your work by implying that the prose is sh*tty on your wall". Is the prose readable? Yes. Do I notice a flaw with it? Not anymore, no. When there's a plot as strong as this, when there are characters as strong as these, I don't really care about how the text is presented to me. I just want to read to find out what happens next. "Your only job as a writer is to make the reader turn the page," says How Not To Write A Novel (in the only section of the book that is not sarcastic). You've succeeded at that. Sure, you can make your language flowery, but it will be a waste. I will spend time deciphering your labyrinthine prose, valuable time that I could be using to propel myself in the story. Or maybe I'm a savvy enough reader that labyrinthine prose isn't labyrinthine to me at all, and I glide through it as easily as I would through a plainly written novel. But then that's a waste both because a) you spend time writing it rather than working on the plot, and b) I don't notice it anyway because I'm so absorbed in the story.
