A Lesson for the Cyclops

A Lesson for the Cyclops by Jeffrey Getzin Page A

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Authors: Jeffrey Getzin
Tags: Fantasy
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ye’ll put down the—”
    He found himself looking down at the point of the man’s blade, inches from his throat. He froze.
    “Alfredo,” Conchinara hissed. “Help him!”
    Alfredo’s rapier whisked from its sheath, and he eased into his fighting stance as if he were born to it. He advanced two steps. Suddenly, the injured man leapt at Alfredo. There was a blur of motion too fast for the Cyclops to make out. Then Alfredo’s sword flew across the clearing.
    The man laughed, and his eyes burned even brighter. Alfredo had barely registered the loss of his weapon before the man darted forward again, and made two lightning-fast cuts with his sword. Alfredo’s breeches dropped around his ankles.
    Another of the haulmen advanced, brandishing a piece of lumber held two-handedly. The injured man patted Marco’s face gently with the flat of his blade, and then he turned on the haulmen.
    In a show of solidarity, the rest of the haulmen present—an even half-dozen—stooped to pick up one kind of makeshift weapon or another. The injured man laughed, an expression of delight on his face, as the point of his orange blade bobbed like the head of a serpent about to strike.
    The Cyclops hesitated a moment and then stepped forward.
    “Please,” she said softly.
    The injured man spun to face her. His face registered astonishment, like everyone did when they saw her. He laughed, too, as they all did, but there was something different about his laugh; it seemed almost as though he were laughing with her and not at her, as though sharing a private joke.
    “Get out of the way, you fool,” Conchinara said.
    Fear pounded in the Cyclops’s chest, but she held her ground.
    “Please, mister,” she said. “We’re only trying to help you.”
    “Stay away from him,” Marco said to her. “He’s crazed with fever. He’s likely to hurt ye badly without even meaning to.”
    The injured man’s gaze darted to Marco and then back to her. He stared at her quizzically. Likely, her appearance made him doubt what was real and what was feverish hallucination.
    “Please,” she said again. “I’ll hold your things for you.” She extended her hands and advanced another step. “I won’t let anybody steal them. I promise.”
    “Are ye insane?” Marco said. “Get away from him before he kills ye!”
    The injured man swayed uncertainly for a few moments. Then, surprising everyone, he flipped his sword in his hand. He offered it to her, pommel first, as if it were the greatest of all royal treasures. She accepted the sword from him gravely.
    Before she could do anything else, two of the haulmen rushed at him. She swung the injured man’s sword at them. They retreated, scowling darkly.
    “Get back!” she cried. “He’s not going to hurt anybody.”
    The injured man laughed in delight.
    “Careful with that thing,” he said to the Cyclops. “You’ll take out an eye.”
    Then he fell to the ground at her feet and did not move.

Chapter 2
    “Quick,” Marco said, gesturing to a pair of haulmen, “carry him into my tent. Take care ye dint bump the arrow shaft.”
    Marco wasn’t a proper healer, but he was the closest thing the Venucha Players had. Traveling players were held in low esteem in the various realms through which they passed. They knew there was no help to be found among the local authorities. In fact, the authorities may have been the ones who caused this man’s injuries; if so, returning him to them would be no help to him.
    Alfredo sidled up to the Cyclops. Since she had joined seven years ago, he hadn’t spoken to her more than five times.
    “Well done,” he said. “You can give me the rapier now.”
    The Cyclops nearly swooned at the unexpected praise, then blinked. Confused, she asked, “Give you—?”
    “Yes,” he said, as if to a child. “The rapier. You did well. Now hand it over.”
    “But I promised him…”
    Alfredo’s brows furrowed in annoyance. “You promised him you wouldn’t let anybody steal

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