“I guess that’s better than being a wimp,” Eric remarked lightly, “but if you really want to do something, you shouldn’t let that hold you back. Accidents happen.”
Ryan frowned. “Yeah, but we don’t have to invite them. I should just forget it and accept I’m never gonna do it.”
“How’s that going to make you feel better?”
“It’s not, but it’s better than the alternative.”
“Which is?”
“Let’s go.”
Ryan led the horse into a stall and latched the door. As they exited the stables for the faire grounds, he realized that Eric would never understand, not when he did martial arts every day as an instructor. Ryan didn’t know how he could stand it, but Eric proudly admitted getting beat up all the time as a kid until learning karate. Ryan had little experience with violence, but all of it was bad. He’d never been struck by anyone except the one time he stupidly wondered aloud what a real punch felt like only to have Eric show him. He smirked at the memory.
As they strolled along, Eric deftly picked the pocket of a father of two, then returned the wallet to the surprised man as people chuckled nervously. Ryan watched with mixed feelings. His friend had never given him a reason to distrust him, but Eric had spent years on the streets after his parents abandoned him. Eric’s last foster parents had turned him around, but it was a hard life for a rich kid like Ryan to imagine, sneaking into places, stealing things, and spending time in jail.
They stopped at the knife throwing contest, where Eric mocked a teenage boy’s inaccuracy until the booth worker took his cue and reacted.
“Think you can do better, Fool?” the man asked, handing Eric the knives. Ryan stood back, having seen the pair reenact this every weekend for a month. He knew what was coming and tried to play his role, feigning surprise by the skill the jester was about to demonstrate.
Eric said, “I have more experience dodging these than throwing them!” He casually tossed one at the tree stump target and hit the bull’s eye. Acting startled, he did it again, then switched hands with the same result as people applauded. Again and again he struck the target, even tossing knives over one shoulder, under a raised leg, and blindfolded, though his accuracy dropped.
Finally, Eric turned on the booth worker amidst the cheering. “Is this some kind of trick? They all hit the target. I want my money back.”
“You never paid.”
“Oh. Right. Well then, I, uh, guess I had better be going.” He turned.
“Hey! Get back here!” The booth worker called as Eric ran away. Turning to Ryan, he demanded, “Sir knight! Do something!”
Unsheathing his sword with a grand gesture, Ryan turned and called after Eric, pretending to give chase. He pushed his way through the crowd, watching Eric disappear but knowing where he was probably going.
Eric heard Ryan’s voice fading and stopped running. The big guy would find him soon enough. He walked by the Market Stage, the Boar’s Head Tavern, and the strong man pole where Ryan sometimes slammed the mallet down so hard that the bell at the top not only rang but practically flew off. He ignored the shops selling trinkets, his eyes fixed on a fortune teller to one side. She had long blonde hair and hazel eyes in a face that turned heads, and his pulse raced on making eye contact and seeing Anna Lynn Sumner grin at him. He stood in line for his turn with her, and when the last kid was gone, Eric flopped down across the scarf covered table from her, bells jingling.
“You know I have to read your palm while you’re here,” she said in greeting.
“Of course,” he said, handing it over. “So, what can you see?”
“A bunch of bruises,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You need to take better care of them.”
“It’s kind of hard in my line of work,” he replied, “but that’s not what I mean. Tell me my future, oh Mistress of the Heavens.”
Chuckling, she said, “You know I don’t believe in that sort of thing.”
“Then why are you giving palm readings all day?”
“Because the kids believe it and it’s fun to see them dream.”
Feigning exaggerated sadness, he asked, “Don’t you dream anymore, poor Anna?”
“Of the supernatural that doesn’t exist? Hardly. I outgrew that sort of thing.”
“Don’t let Ryan hear you say that, or he’ll call you a ‘godless one’ again.”
She laughed. “Yes, I know. He’s funny with that. Religious people and their desire to save the world. How can we stand to live among them?”
He smiled, for they’d talked about their mutual atheism before and tried not to bring it up before Ryan too much. The big guy was reasonable unless someone questioned the existence of God, but at least he didn’t go around quoting Scriptures. Few people could stomach that, least of all Anna. They knew she saw plenty of fallout from religious beliefs at the hospital where she worked as a medical resident. She sometimes complained that some people avoided real care in favor of some superstitious belief or other nonsense. Either that or they took matters into their own hands with some harmful treatment and made it worse. That reminded him of something.
“Are you ready for tonight?” Eric asked, turning a little more serious.
She pursed her lips. “I guess. If convincing him doesn’t work, then we’ll all just go without him.”
Between her gaze going over his shoulder and the clinking of plate armor getting louder, he knew that the man they spoke of was approaching. “Still meeting at your place about it?”
“Yeah. Remind Matt. He’s the key to it.”
Eric grinned. “Don’t sell yourself short. You could convince me to do anything.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “You’re an impossible flirt.”
Deciding to quit
