Michael Swanwick - Dancing with Bears

“It will rip,” Russalka said, judiciously rubbing the fabric between thumb and forefinger, “but not in a sufficiently fetching way.”

Euphrosyne lifted her skirt. “Do you think I should apply makeup down there?”

“On your wedding night? It would make you seem worldly.”

“But not in a nice way.”

“Anyway, if he gets close enough to see and isn’t already blind with lust, you haven’t done your job properly.”

“I saw you applying eau de cologne to your own garden of delight.”

“That’s not the same thing and you know it. No makeup.”

Nymphodora abruptly yelped and dropped a brooch. Holding up a finger, she wailed, “I pricked myself!”

The Neanderthals had retreated to the very back of the room, where they stood with their backs pressed against the wall, trying to look unobtrusive. One of them rumbled sotto voce, “Are you guys enjoying this?”

“To tell ya the truth, I got mixed feelings about the whole thing.” “I got blue balls.”

“You and me, brother. You and me.”

They fell silent for a space. Then, with a mournful edge in his voice, Kull said, “This ain’t gonna end well for us, is it?”

“Not for us and not for nobody,” Enkidu said. “I’d bet money on it. If I had any money. And if anybody was stupid enough to take the bet.”

The others nodded glumly. But then Aetheria, whose outfit appeared to mortal eyes beyond improvement, made an exasperated noise and, suddenly deciding to start over from scratch, stripped off every scrap of clothing she had on. So they all, briefly, brightened.

Being male, they could hardly do otherwise.

Darger’s new plan was simplicity itself. He and Kyril would jam the hospital room’s door using linoleum tiles pried off the floor and not come out until all the Pale Folk were gone. They would wait until the corridor outside was perfectly silent. Then they would make their way outward and upward to the City Above, taking particular care to avoid the area around the docks, where the army of Pale Folk was assembling. After which, they would go in search of an all-night eatery, where Darger would teach Kyril how to convince the proprietor to pay them for eating there.

“Wait. We get a free meal and then we get paid for eating it? That ain’t possible,” Kyril said.

“Oh, it’s the unfailingest trick in the world.” Darger said, giggling and rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Only you must take care not to use it in the same restaurant twice, or you’ll end up behind bars.”

First, however, they had to wait. So they had doused the candle and were sitting quietly atop the gurney, ignoring the occasional rattle of the doorknob. The only light came from fugitive patches of lichen on the ceiling and walls. Their erstwhile surgeon sat slumped against a cabinet, staring at nothing in particular. “Heh,” she said softly. Then, after a long silence, “Heh,” again. Kyril suspected she was trying to laugh.

Exit the room. Turn left. Follow the others to the Pushkinskaya docks.

Out of nowhere, Darger snickered. “Have I told you the one about the Phoenician wine merchant, the freedman, and-? ”

Kyril punched him in the shoulder. “Shut the fuck up! We’re supposed to be hiding,” he said. Then, to spare his mentor’s feelings, he added, “If you please.”

The hubbub in the hall outside slowly waned and lessened. The laughter faded to nothing. Then the small voice in the metal marbles that both Darger and Kyril still wore said, Exit the room. Make sure nobody is left behind. Turn left. Follow the others to the Pushkinskaya docks. If you are among the last ten to leave, set fire to the room behind you.

“Hey,” Kyril said. “Did you hear that?”

Set fire to the room behind you.

Darger doubled over with laughter. “Thus does the mighty Armada of all our plans go up in smoke and panic!” he cried. “Set ablaze and cast into disorder and disarray by the fire-ships of circumstance!”

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. Make sense, why don’t you?”

“You accuse me of not making sense? Young sir, I assure you that the proof of my shrewdness can readily be found in the pudding of my discourse.”

Set fire to the room behind you.

Kyril punched him again. “Never mind that! The question is, what do we do now? No, don’t answer that, your plans all suck. I’ll take care of this myself.” He pushed Darger flat on the gurney and held him down with one hand on his chest, using the other to flip the leather straps over his body. “See, this way they’ll think I’m taking you someplace else to operate on.”

“Dear, dear me, this is all just too amusing,” Darger said, convulsing with laughter. “And alarmingly badly thought out, as well. I mean, immobilizing me… Surely you can see it would be better to…? Oh, dear lord, that tickles!”

Set fire to the room behind you.

“I’m only doing this so you won’t wander off.” Grimly, Kyril finished tightening the straps. “Don’t make me gag you as well.”

Darger whooped. “No, no, no, my dear fellow, allow me to do the honors: So the eunuch said…The eunuch said, ‘You think you’re disappointed? I had-’”

“Please don’t.” Kyril ran to the door and kicked away the tiles jamming it.

“You astound me. I’ve never met anyone your age with so underdeveloped a sense of humor.” Then, as Kyril seized the gurney, “Wait! Aren’t you going to bring along our former surgeon?”

Set fire to the room behind you.

Kyril glanced quickly at the mindless thing slumped listlessly against the cabinet. “What, her? She ain’t nothing. I ain’t bringin’ her nowhere.”

“She is a human being,” Darger protested laughingly as Kyril slammed the gurney into the door, knocking it open. “Or was.”

Set fire to the room behind you.

“Fuck that. We gotta get outta here,” Kyril said, thrusting Darger out into the corridor.

Behind them, the surgeon said, “Heh.”

But when they burst into the corridor, it was not filled with smoke. Nor were any of the rooms ablaze.

Instead, there were eight or nine bear-men standing calmly about, each a good two feet taller than a tall man, in the imposing white uniforms with gold trim of the Duke of Muscovy’s own Royal Guard. Several of them were efficiently arranging a coffle of happy idiots, tying each one by a single wrist to a long rope.

Kyril froze in astonishment.

“Well, lo and behold!” said one of the bear-guards. “Captain Inuka, we’ve got a last couple of stragglers.”

“Well done, Sergeant Wojtek,” said the bear-man with officer’s insignia. He took the stub of a cigar out of his mouth and flicked it away, not looking to see where it went. “You know what to do with them.”

Another guard went into the room Kyril had just left and yanked out the surgeon. “Make that three.” Set fire to the room behind you.

For the briefest instant, Kyril stood with his mouth open. Then he plucked the marble from his ear and threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

Sergeant Wojtek grinned, revealing more teeth than Kyril would have thought could possibly fit in a single mouth. “Yes. We tricked you. Quel dommage, hein, mon petit canaille?” He nodded at a scattering of leather masks by the feet of the other captives. “I imagine that, like everybody else, you thought you were the only one clever enough to come up with that particular ruse. Didn’t you?” He stretched out a paw. “Now, let’s get that thing off you.”

“Wait!” Darger shouted. “I have something important to say.” All present turned to him. There was an expectant silence. He cleared his throat and began, “A Phoenician wine merchant, a freedman, and an aristocrat all went to a brothel-”