Smell? Did you use the disinfectant?''
'I used disinfectant yes----'
'Don't answer me back!' He screeched, and then the sudden drop
in his voice made my skin crawl. 'Don't you dare answer me
back.' Everyone was staring now. I wanted to retch, to die. 'Now
you get the hell into that tool shed, and you get that disinfectant
and swab out those cages,' he whispered, measuring every word.
One hand suddenly shot out, grasping my shoulder. 'And don't you
ever, ever, speak back to me again.'
I don't know where the words came from, but they were suddenly
there, spilling off my lips. 'I didn't speak back to you, Mr. Indrasil,
and I don't like you saying I did. I-- resent it. Now let me go.'
His face went suddenly red, then white, then almost saffron with
rage. His eyes were blazing doorways to hell.
Right then I thought I was going to die.
He made an inarticulate gagging sound, and the grip on my
shoulder became excruciating. His right hand went up...up...up,
and then descended with unbelievable speed.
If that hand had connected with my face, it would have knocked
me senseless at best. At worst, it would have broken my neck.
It did not connect.
Another hand materialized magically out of space, right in front of
me. The two straining limbs came together with a flat Smacking
sound. It was Mr. Legere.
'Leave the boy alone,' he said emotionlessly.
Mr. Indrasil stared at him for a long second, and I think there was
nothing so unpleasant in the whole business as watching the fear of
Mr. Legere and the mad lust to hurt (or to kill!) mix in those
terrible eyes.
Then he turned and stalked away.
I turned to look at Mr. Legere. 'Thank you,' I said.
'Don't thank me.' And it wasn't a 'don't thank me,' but a 'don't
thank me.'' Not a gesture of modesty but a literal command. In a
sudden flash of intuition empathy if you will I understood
exactly what he meant by that comment. I was a pawn in what
must have been a long combat between the two of them. I had been
captured by Mr. Legere rather than Mr. Indrasil. He had stopped
the lion tamer not because he felt for me, but because it gained him
an advantage, however slight, in their private war.
'What's your name?' I asked, not at all offended by what I had
inferred. He had, after all, been honest with me.
'Legere,' he said briefly. He turned to go.
'Are you with a circus?' I asked, not wanting to let him go so
easily. 'You seemed to know --- him.'
A faint smile touched his thin lips, and warmth kindled in his eyes
for a moment; 'No. You might call me a-policeman.' And before I
could reply, he had disappeared into the surging throng passing by.
The next day we picked up stakes and moved on.
I saw Mr. Legere again in Danville and, two weeks later, in
