At that, the men in the tavern cheered together. At first hearing, they seemed united in spirit, but in truth, some were cheering and others swearing. Yet either side behaved the same. They hurled wine cups, overturned dishes, smashed plates, and jumped onto tables. If they collided with anyone while doing so, rather than apologize, they picked up a chair and swung it. Those who lost money could not contain their resentment and lashed out indiscriminately, and those who won, overcome with joy, lashed out just as indiscriminately. At first, there seemed to be two groups, those pleased by Ironhook Marius’s victory and those who were not, but soon they began defeating Marius only to encounter and deal with the fellow who had just hit the back of their head, the fellow who broke their cup, or the fellow who had stolen their purse amid the confusion. Some simply kicked people in the backside to take out their frustrations, so the uproar continued to grow.
The place where Rosa stood was among the worst of the turmoil. The gamblers had staked large sums, so their joy was great, their anger great, and their urge to strike an opponent great too. Ignoring everyone else, they charged at one another alone. Tables split in two, and chairs flew in every direction.
Strangely, in such circumstances, only Gene and Tahyang’s seats were untouched. Whenever anyone neared their table, they slipped away as if dancing. Sometimes, debris from a fight flew toward them. Just before a cup struck his nose, Gene lifted his hand as though calling a waiter and flicked it aside. Things were quiet a little longer, but another chair came flying, about to fall into the cup into which Gene was pouring his remaining wine. Tahyang reached out and caught one of its legs. The chair stopped in midair, and the cup filled. Gene finished pouring without spilling a drop and spoke.
“It looks as though we’ll have chair legs with our wine.”
“On the plains, we hunt anything with four legs.”
“Then will you have some more?”
“If a waiter can get near us.”
Rosa was not doing so well as they were. The drinkers rampaging nearby overturned her table, and her chair fell with it, making her lose her chance to seize Nana’s hand. Nana quickly crawled beneath a table that was still intact. With all manner of men’s limbs flying above Nana’s head, it was the best measure she could have taken.
Rosa sprang up, only to have to crouch again at once. A club swung by a drinker, no, a broken chair leg, swept above her head. Shattered bottles scattered, and as an oil lamp overturned on top of them, flames sprang up. Someone kept their wits and stripped off a cloak and flung it down, and three or four men jumped on it. Since only the small number nearby knew there had been a fire, people slipped on the spilled oil and began a ridiculous dance.
“Nana!”
Crouching, Rosa tried to reach Nana. But the table under which Nana had hidden had already overturned, and she could no longer see her. Just as Rosa reached the table, two grappling gamblers toppled with a heavy thud, blocking her way. Still on the floor, the gamblers struck one another with their fists. Unable to get past, Rosa seized a rolling cup and struck the man on top in the head. The one pinned beneath chuckled and raised a thumb at her.
“Marius to hell!”
“What do I care about that!”
Rosa stepped over him. The man underneath tried to rise, but the unconscious man Rosa had struck was too heavy. As he groaned and struggled, he caught his foot on a leg of Gene’s chair. Before the chair could topple, Gene sprang up. Then he looked around.
Movement nearby stopped. On the whole, the place remained in uproar, but within three paces of Gene, the boiling water seemed suddenly to have frozen. Men stood still, grasping collars, just after being hit, or with wine cups raised. The man who had caught the chair leg lay on the ground, his face rigid.
There was one exception. Taking advantage of the opening, Rosa ran to the table where Nana had hidden. But behind the overturned table, there was no one.
“Nana?”
Gene looked displeased. He did not particularly enjoy people becoming conscious of him. Of course, Gene and Tahyang, drinking without moving until just a moment earlier, had stood out clearly enough. But that was no reason for them to roll about the floorboards with the fools, nor had he ever given a signal to send anyone’s head flying because someone had accidentally caught his chair.
Yet Gene’s unwelcome gaze froze the people still more. Gene gave a bitter smile, but from his expression, people guessed all manner of absurd things. Irritation, anger, whose head should he cut off, a moving fellow would do, and that means you.
Having paused in an awkward posture, a man who had quietly caught the corner of a table and fallen over stood watching Gene in a cold sweat. Gene looked back at him. The man lying down judged this an excellent opportunity, sprang up, and prostrated himself.
“I was wrong. Spare me! Only spare my life!”
The man who had fallen beside him prostrated himself at once too.
“Me too! Please spare me!”
Trying to hide his dismay, Gene sucked in his lower lip. Deciding he was licking his lips at his prey, the people all withdrew in a rush. Tilting his head over his shoulder, Gene looked at Tahyang.
“When will these misunderstandings end?”
“It is your fate. Accept it.”
Tahyang was right. Gene’s life was filled with misunderstandings. The people in Gene’s homeland would surely still believe that Gene was studying hard at Delphinad’s library and receiving special treatment, though they could not imagine what he ought to study. They would never have imagined that at any small, shabby tavern table in Delphinad’s back alleys, Gene had become a man whose name could be heard. More precisely, a dreadful name shouted to invoke good fortune in a game of dice.
Gene slowly opened his hands. Then he held them out toward the frightened people. Without a word, he merely showed them his empty palms. Had he moved quickly, they would have run or fallen flat before they could make out what he intended. Exchanging glances, the people withdrew almost together. Those lying down backed away still in the same position. To be precise, they crawled backward. Just when it seemed order would return, a young man hesitated instead of withdrawing at once. When Gene looked at him, he took something from his clothes and held it out.
“S-since it is fate that we’ve met like this… a b-blessing, perhaps…”
A dice cup lay upon his palm. For an instant, Gene laughed in disbelief.
But Tahyang, behind him, burst out laughing first. His laughter was like a thunderclap. The atmosphere, which had seemed to be easing, stiffened instead. Tahyang rose, plucked a handful of fur from his shoulder, and placed it on the man’s palm.
“Yellow fur means unexpected good fortune. Farewell.”
Receiving the sudden gift, the young man bowed his head repeatedly. Only Gene could have recognized the smile escaping from the corners of Tahyang’s seemingly solemn mouth.
At that moment, Rosa had her fists clenched. Her gaze passed over the many men clutching collars and fixed upon the tavern’s wide-open entrance. Her anger was so great that even her pale cheeks were flushed.
It could not have been a deliberate plan. No, perhaps it had been. Unlike Rosa, the man would have known that the match of the gladiator Marius was ending. He was a person of Delphinad. He would also have known a great disturbance would break out whether Marius won or lost. He might not have been able to predict how Rosa would act, but at least he knew what would happen for a few dozen minutes after the tavern door opened and the cry rang out, “Ironhook Marius has won.” And what opportunity would come to him.
And he did not miss it.
The table at which Rosa had first sat stood before her. The chairs were already rolling about. The goateed man who had been there was gone. The purse she had thrust beneath his chin had vanished too. He should not have been able to run. But the chair had probably overturned amid the disturbance, freeing him from his paralysis. He took the purse, crawled over the floor, and somehow took her sister, hidden behind the table, with him. What Rosa had seen was the hem of a blue dress disappearing outside the door.
Knowing it was useless, Rosa pushed through the men and ran to the entrance. In the process, the edge of her hood tore, and a fist driven with force grazed her shoulder. At the very end, someone shoved her, nearly throwing her outside. Barely catching the half-open door, she found it swing outward and thrust her upper body into the street.
Outside was a road wide enough for five wagons abreast. Hundreds, no, perhaps thousands of people in every kind of dress streamed past with horses, donkeys, oxen, wagons, and palanquins in a bewildering jumble. She had certainly entered the tavern through this road, but seeing it anew, she could not adapt to its immensity. Shaking her head to gather herself, Rosa looked ahead. A single girl in blue who had vanished among all those people was no different from one grain of sapphire fallen into a beach.
Rosa stood rigidly, then spat toward the street.
“Bastard, you’ll die by my hand.”
Then she thought for a moment. How should he die?
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