Cappadocia: The Laughing Man
A week and a half passes, during which time the dead are brought back to life and the Sun Rose Company prepares for its next trip, to respond to the Laughing Man's invitation to Cappadocia. At last the airship is repaired and restocked, and the company sets forth to see if the Jack of Tears does, indeed, possess the third of the Four Swords.
The airship moves smoothly over the Eavon Ocean, past Saldon and into the warmer waters of the Cappadocian Isles.
As it draws within sight of the islands, Caprice shudders. In mere years the islands have become overgrown, as if nature has swiftly reclaimed all that people had once held as their own. The islands are covered with verdant plant life and the borders of the islands themselves have changed, as if earthquakes had reshaped the bays and swamps. Strange, misshapen ships made of bone and coated with algae, but with bright pennants and flags, sail patrol around the islands, macabrely merry. Scrutiny through spyglasses reveals that the creatures that man the ships are, for the most part, twisted and inhuman - hierodules, perhaps, or maybe something grimmer.
The airship doesn't need to swoop low, but etiquette dictates the company not simply descend on the island without going through the proper protocols. The Bay of Tears, and beyond it the Blood Bayou, is clearly the capital of the islands now - it appears like a huge, rickety seaside carnival, with bright flags and pennants flying over ramshackle buildings. The airship flies in low and hovers beside one of the long, not-too-stable-looking piers.
A misshapen woman dressed in gold-and-scarlet rags and a jester's cap jingles as she lurches down the pier. Bandages wrap her hands and boils cover her dark-skinned face, but her eyes and bright and merry, and she holds a golden chalice in her hands.
"Welcome to the Carnival of Shadows," she says, throwing out her arms in greeting as the Company peers out from the ship. She lifts the golden chalice in a toast and drains it. "Who comes to visit the Laughing Man in a foreign craft?"
The Sun Rose Company introduces itself and shows the ivory wand, its invitation from the heron ambassadors. The woman beams when she sees the wand; a sore cracks and pale yellow pus runs down the side of her mouth.
"You are expected, Slaves of the Sun! Come, I will show you to your rooms so you can refresh yourself before your audience with the King of Tears."
Walking into the Carnival of Shadows is a surreal experience, especially for Caprice, who knew the town before it was overcome by the Laughing Man's madness. The town is filled with men and women in a permanent state of celebration, drinking and laughing, making music and dancing, reveling as though life were nothing but a festival. They are dressed in bright carnival colors, often in bizarrely ornate masks or face-paint.
But the bright colors only serve to accentuate the plagued, the lepers, the hierodules, the deformed, the mad and the lost who comprise the citywide celebration. Dwarfish, gibbering figures dressed like jesters but with shadowed faces dance and caper through the crowds, making mischief and laughing wildlly. Tall, gaunt figures in dark motley and red foolscaps, faces painted as laughing or crying clowns, move purposefully through the crowd, carrying colored wands topped with laughing jesters' heads. As they smoothly stalk through the crowd, their white-gloved right hands reach out and touch the members of the Sun Rose Company, who immediately feel their spirits lift. The tall clowns' left hands are gloved in red, and none of those tap a Company member's shoulder or arm. As well, there are more jeweled-robed heronfolk, and four-foot-tall, slimy-looking crustaceans garbed in striped sailors' shirts, and once the Company catches sight of a tall alligator-man wearing spider-silk robes and bone jewelry, leading an alligator on a leash.
Your guide, who reveals no name but says she belongs to the Krewe of Plagues under Lord Quick, brings you to a seaside hotel and leads you to your rooms. The windows have been opened for a long time, crusted with sea-salt, so that the iron furnishings are rusted and tendrils of trees and vines peek through the windows. There she insists you make yourselves comfortable until you are fetched by a dark harlequin to pay court to the king. Then she is off, and you soon see her in the streets, laughing as she gets her golden chalice refilled.
Soon a knock on the door announces that your guide has arrived.
"I am the dark harlequin!" announces one of the gaunt, red-and-white-gloved jesters. His face is painted as a laughing crown, and his voice is bright and sunny. He gestures with his jester-headed wand and holds out a white-gloved hand. "Your invitation, if you please."
He slides the ivory rod into his bright waistcoat.
"Everything appears to be in order! The Momus awaits you!"
You weave your way through the carnival, reminded of the Midnight Circus. But where the Midnight Circus was dark, the Carnival of Shadows is, perversely, bright. Where the Midnight Circus was well-kept, the Carnival of Shadows looks like it was erected quickly and from the scraps of the towns that once existed in Cappadocia. And while the Midnight Circus felt professionally run, the Carnival of Shadows feels more like a madhouse, and you are on your way to meet either the asylum keeper or the chief madman: You aren't certain which.
He sits on a silk-covered pavilion hung with flags and banners and glittering with cheap beads and expensive jewels. His brightly painted throne has been cunningly crafted from children's toys, and he is dressed in royal motley, face hidden behind a smiling, cherubic mask of white skin, pink lips, rosy cheeks and golden detailwork. The mask is on a stick, and he holds it over his face with one long-fingered hand. Resting in his lap, his other hand draped over it, is a thick wand, one end white, the other end black.
A tortoiseshell cat sits at the base of his throne, tail wrapped around its front paws. It gives Minimin a dirty look as the party approaches. It is the same cat he attacked in the Midnight Circus.
Valere and Elianora discreetly check, and receive blinding headaches. The king of Blood Bayou is very, very evil.
The dark harlequin escorts you up the stairs to the pavilion and leads you before the clever throne.
"Your merry majesty, prince of perversity, king of krewes, allow me to present the Sun Rose Company! Valere the Vain, Elianora the Exploiter, Halkem the Hopeless, Pip the Paltry, Minimin the Mountebank, and Caprice the Censorius, here to satisfy their curiosity and use you to their advantage."
Pip looks at his friends and then replies to the man behind the mask. "We are certain of nothing, your Majesty. Ready or not, we will oppose the Metal Gods. In the meantime, we seek to prepare as best we can for what lies ahead."
Valere speaks. "I do not believe that our task is to bring about their destruction through physical force. I believe that our quest is to bring about their banishment from this sphere." Valere looks the Laughing Man directly. "We will be successful because we have to be - else all be lost."
The Laughing Man's expression is impossible to read behind his cherubic mask, but he slowly shakes his head at those in the party who haven't spoken. "You have not impressed me. A group of silent, meek adventurers -- and you think to command the Four and defeat the Avatarchs! Begone from my isle, you pathetic cretins; your invitation is rescinded. I will await real heroes." He waves his hand and the tall clowns who are his servants move forward, between the company and the throne. All have sad faces painted on their visages, and gesture with their red-gloved hands, as if to hurry the Company away.
Caprice ignores these servants, taking a step forward.
"If you choose to wait, m'seur, for your 'real' heroes you will be
waiting until the end of the world. We are the Heroes that have been
offered. Are we meek? Perhaps - but only because we have been
taught to treat persons such as yourself with deference and a respect
that frequently ties our tongues."
She lapses into Cappadocian for just a moment
"What makes a hero in your eyes? Rudeness? Bluntness? We know so
little of you that it is impossible to know how to even approach such
a test of who we are. Were you of the Loa I should know how to speak
to you, what to ask of you, what to offer you. Were you Bel I should
know the same. But I know precious little of your wants and desires;
I don't even know that you want the Avatarchs defeated!"
She shakes herself, and resumes in Empyrian.
"We already command two of the four. For the first we defeated one
driven to pieces by it, and won a gamble with the Master of the
Midnight Circus. For the second, we defeated the elder evil of the
Sacrament Sanguis. If you indeed have the third, what would it take
for us to earn it from you?"
The cumulation of the stress of their quest and the still-fresh
memories of the recent slaughter swirl together in Valere's mind then
mix violently with the Laughing Man's happy mask, mocking words and
evil demeanor, sending the Paladin over the brink of rage in a split
second.
Valere roars and draws Fire which ignites the very second it is free
of the scabbard, fire, blade and walking stick flashing around him as
a warning to any evil clown to back off.
"YOU" Valere growls, sounding every bit like the Lion of Bel that he
is becoming, "You invite us here, insult our character, then dismiss
us because we show you RESPECT? RESPECT that you certainly don't
DESERVE?"
Valere's golden eyes flash as he speaks, his golden skin reflecting
the light of the Fire in a red and orange glow. "We are here because
we had a vision. We believe YOU have one of the four. And we will have
it and save this world if I personally have to gut each and every
person here to find it. Including YOU."
Caprice sets a less than gentle hand on Valere's swordarm, applying
pressure suggesting he should lower the sword if not sheathe it.
"We are certain, m'seur, because without certainty we fall into
despair. By falling into despair we make their victory certain.
"The Sun Rose Company have the blessings of the Young Gods, and have been selected as their agents. This gives us certainty that we are the right ones to do battle with the children of the darkflux - and ultimately to destroy them.
"We do stand within your power, m'seur, for we are most assuredly at
a crossroads. The Four will aid us in what we must do; they will
increase our surety of success. For that, we plead with you.
"Nous sommes les enfants, M'seur. But our confidence is not the
braggadocio of those who do not truly believe they can do what must
be done. We have stood against great odds in the past and succeeded -
these others far more than I - and will continue to believe in our
ability to succeed."
Elianora steps forward, waving at Valere to put away his sword. "Monsieur -- of course we have no certainty! We have come to play the game, that is all. We came from nothing, in the dark streets of Cislunar, not knowing the game that we were entering. And see, we were nothing, and the dice fell, and we overturned a world and opened a gate! Now we know we are players, and now we know the powers that would overturn *us* -- what choice do we have but to roll the dice again? I, for one, do not intend to forfeit meekly. I, for one, look forward to challenging them for the fate
of the earth. Equal to the dark ones? Perhaps not; probably not. But we have learned through our experiences, both bitter and thrilling, that sometimes the small ones draw the aces.
"You may not be for them, my lord, but I can think of nothing more
BORING than allowing them the victory. Decay leading to death, moaning and groaning leading to ultimate silence. "
She holds his eye with a challenging gaze and a half smile. "Wouldn't it be more fun to watch the fight?"
"Or join the fight," adds Pip. "Send an army of mad misfits to the battle at the end of the world. Perhaps then you can add 'fly in the Avatarch's ointment' to your list of titles."
"We will win, your Majesty, because we have not given up hope. We are not afraid of the Metal Gods and we are not afraid of you. We have stood in both darkness and in light. Experienced pain and revelry, despair and triumph. We have laughed in the face of death and died in the midst of laughter. We have played the cards that were dealt to us and rolled the dice when fate left us no other options. We have passed through the doorway, the gate, the crossroads, the womb and even the grave. And now here we are. If you have demands, make them. If you have dice, roll them. We have a world to save and time grows short."
The cat seems to calm down and twists its head, looking up at the masked clown. The mask inclines slightly, as though The Laughing Man returned the cat's glance.
"Better," the Jack of Tears says thoughtfully. "Your ignorance of the true situation is obvious, but like children stumbling through a room, heedlessly breaking their toys while toying with the adults' artefacts, you have a certain naïve charm.
"You stand here before two gods, but you do not see them. You stand with your backs to three who have the potential to grow into gods, and you treat them as though they were still children. Why are they not here, The Destined King, The Faithful Companion, and The Disloyal Retainer? Or have you forgotten the one whom you serve?"
A rustle in the crowd behind the Sun Rose Company: four of the richly bejeweled heron-men stalk forward, slowly and elegantly. Malachi, Olivar, and Gaetano are between them, looking rigidly nervous but trying to hide it. One heron bears a long object wrapped in black-and-white silk; clearly the Sword. All seven join the Sun Rose Company. The herons usher Malachi in front of the company. The Company finds itself unable to speak or move as the negotiations between the children and the Prince of Perversity begin.
Malachi's eyes are wide as he takes in the throne of toys, the sinister harlequin seated atop it, the tortoiseshell cat, and the sad-faced clowns who stand as guards. Still, Elianora feels a surge of pride as the boy lifts his chin and bows, just as he was taught.
"Your majesty," Malachi says politely. The Sun Rose Company remembers the long conversations between Malachi and King Domenico, in which Domenico tried so hard to teach Malachi everything he'd need to know to become king.
"Your majesty," Jack of Tears replies, amused, inclining head and mask. The cat sits up straighter, ears alert, tail coiled formally around its front paws.
"My mother told me you have one of the swords," Malachi says, after a pause. "May I have it, please?"
The Laughing Man lives up to his name, laughing aloud at the unsubtle directness of the question.
"What will you give me?" he asks, just as simply. Malachi furrows his brow as he thinks.
"What do you want?"
"Tsk." The Jack of Tears shakes his head warningly. Malachi glances back at his brothers for help. Olivar, always the better student, mouths two words.
"Oh!" Malachi turns back. "A dip - diplomatic alliance. You can have an ambassador in my court and we can trade, no, mmm -- work out trade agreements -- and all that."
"I would like that," The Laughing Man agrees. "And what if I gave you an army to help in the big war? What would you give me for that?"
"How much army?"
"My Krewe of Bones lusts for battle, and my Krewe of Waves can bear it swiftly across the ocean to whatever battlefield is chosen for the final confrontation. Ten thousand warriors, all very -- durable."
Malachi stops to think again, pondering.
"Well ... do you have a daughter?" he asks. The Jack of Tears laughs again, the hand holding his mask trembling slightly with mirth.
"Tempting, but I don't think you're ready to marry into my family," he says at last. "But somebody has tutored you well, young King-to-Be."
Malachi looks relieved, despite himself. His mother knows that he's still deeply suspicious of girls; he hasn't quite outgrown the "yuck" stage.
"Land then. Olivar," Malachi turns, "Gaetano ... which one's got the big fortress close by?"
"Iron Scream," Olivar answers immediately. "But it's not that close; it just looks that way on a map. We think it's down in the plains."
"You can have Iron Scream's fortress and land," Malachi says, turning back. "But you can't have the jungle. That belongs to the kobkode, and I've already made an alliance with them."
"And sovereignty over the ocean for ten miles in each direction around these islands and any captured coastline that once belonged to Iron Scream," The Laughing Man counters. Malachi glances at Olivar, who shrugs.
"OK," Malachi says doubtfully.
"Done!" The Jack of Tears lifts a hand, and the heron bearing the sword steps forward, letting the silk fabric slide from the blade. It is Pavonine, blade glistening with a rainbow of colors. Malachi takes it with awe - the sword is too big for him. "Now, Destined King, listen carefully."
The boy looks up attentively.
"The Four Swords are yours to hand out to those who will protect you. When they fell, they fell into darkness, and yours is the hand that must lift them back into the light. The two paladins behind you may not have them; their swords are linked to them, and cannot be replaced. As for the others, you decide whether they are worthy. You have been lax in letting the swords be claimed so lightly, without consulation. Demand the swords back before you are crowned, and after the crown has been set on your head, hand them out as you see fit. You must behave like a king if you are to be a king."
"Yes, sir," Malachi says dutifully, as he would to any other tutor.
"Your advisers will tell you not to trust me, and they are correct. But you had no choice; neither you nor those behind you could have defeated me in a direct confrontation. Sometimes kings must do what is necessary, rather than what they desire. Remember that, too."
"Yes, sir."
A gesture, and another heron-man steps forward, handing Malachi another slender ivory wand.
"Break this when you need my army, and it will be sent."
"Thank you, your Majesty," Malachi says, bowing awkwardly with the sword in his hands.
"And thank you, your Majesty."
The cat stands and stalks forward, turning to look up at The Jack of Tears.
"And I will keep my part of the bargain, as well, Elder Brother. Thank you," the cat says.
"I expect we will have some fun in the centuries to come, Younger Brother," Jack of Tears replies, sounding cheerful. "Now take these so-called heroes and leave, for they are far too grim and suspicious for my kingdom."
The cat turns, tail twitching.
"You know where you must go next, for the last sword. I will meet you there." It steps forward and turns into a smear of blurring colors, then vanishes.
The clowns step forward, mutely ushering the Company away from the throne. Dwarven jesters take the Company's place in a slapstick that looks suspiciously like it's mocking the adults of the Company....
Pip looks at his friends. "Lets get away from this madness. It is time to go visit Banter."
