"Lackey, Mercedes - Bedlam's Bard 01 - Knights of Ghosts and Shadows (with Ellen Guon) 1.4" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

Mercedes Lackey and Ellen Guon
Knights of Ghosts and Shadows

Tom 0 Bedlam

"Selfish, inconsiderate, irresponsibleЧ"

Maureen's voice had been rising all through this tirade; by now she was hitting A above high C, and everyone in the Faire could hear her. Eric Banyon winced, and wished she'd get to the point, since it was pretty clear he wasn't going to be able to patch up this fight.

Christ, it would be nice if she'd tell me what it is I'm supposed to have done that was so awful.

She stamped her foot, and got angrierЧif that was possibleЧwhen she made no impression on the hard-baked adobe. "Shit, Eric, I can't take you anymore! You, you, you, that's all you think about! Where you want to go, what you want to do, when you want to screwЧnow thisЧthisЧ"

Now wait just a cotton-pickin minute hereЧ Her accusations bewilderedЧand angeredЧhim. What is this shit? I've never asked her to do anything she didn't want to. I've never gotten her into anything she didn't okay first! So I'm doing the Faires for a whileЧI'm a musician, dammit, and so is she! What's the big deal about my taking a couple of gigs?

Maureen's long red hair was coming loose from its knot; strands of it flew around her face as she gestured at the messy area back of the Elizabethan Faire mainstage. Eric presumed, however, that she was including the whole of the Faire in her gesture.

"Dammit, I have had it with you!" she screamed, coming into full operatic voice. "I have had it with your selfishness and I have had it with this grubby little dump and I have had it with you!"

"ButЧ" he said weakly, unable to compete with a voice that could fill the Greek without even using the push of anger she had behind it now.

"You can just take this stupid gig and all the rest of it, and you can ... can ... keep it!" she shrieked at the top of her range, probably shattering glassware in the taverns and booths out front. "I am leaving".

And with that, she threw down the bodice and skirt he'd talked her into wearing and stormed off in the direction of the parking lot, every visible inch of her pink with rageЧand in the scraps of shorts and halter she was wearing, there was a lot of her visible.

She nearly collided with one of the Gypsies, who was laden with costumes and couldn't see her. He half expected her to turn on the girl, but she was so angry she didn't even notice the wide-eyed dancer/musician; she just stormed on past, leaving the faint scent of scorched earthЧand scorched EricЧin her wake.

He wanted to run after her, but Beth was in the way, and he'd have to bowl her over to get to Maureen in time.

Always assuming Maureen didn't deck him in full view of the "travelers" when he caught up with her.

"What in hell was that all about?" The dark-haired, dusty dancer put her armload of clothing where it belonged in the Costumes storage, and gave him an incredulous look. "Who was that madwoman, Banyon?"

Eric sighed, and picked the skirt and bodice up out of the dust, beating the worst of the dirt off them. "That was a ... personality conflict," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Half of it was my fault, I guess. And the other halt of the conflict was Maureen Taylor."

"That was your girl? The man-eating soprano herself?"

Ex-girl, Eric replied bitterly. "At least at the moment. She made that abundantly clear just now. She doesn't like the faire in particular and my itinerant lifestyle in general "

"ButЧEric, everybody knows what you're like "

Maybe she thought that when she moved in with me I'd change? She never came out and told me that butЧmaybe she thought I'd settle down. Get a job. Join the Moose Lodge." He ducked behind the burlap curtain and set the costume down in a stack of others. He turned around just in time to catch Beth's sardonic expression through the open door flap. "Well, go ahead, you might as well say whatever it is you've got trying to beat its way through your teeth."

"Do the words 'fat effin' chance' translate properly?" she replied. "You've been a footloose street busker for as long as I've known you, Banyon. You're a darlin' man," she continued, slipping into her Faire dialect, "But I'd ne'er be after chasin' ye if were ye the last stallion in all of Eire. Jaysus, O'Banyon, but ye've got the wanderin' foot an' the rovin' eye, ye do, an' I'd ne'er trust ye wi' a puir maid's heart. Not t'mention the uither fairer portions of meself..."

"Give me a break," he said, wincing a little. "I just like my freedom."

"Yeah, and I just like to know where my man is once in a while." But she took a closer look at him, and her expression of irony softened to something a little like pity. Not quiteЧbut it was at least more sympathetic. She patted his hand. "Hey, c'mon, Eric, I'm sorry. You just had a rather spectacular breakup. That was a stupid thing to say. I didn't intend to make fun of you."

"It's okay," he said, only now beginning to feel anything besides confusion and pure embarrassment. The full impact of what had just happened started to hit him. Maureen was gone.