Baradur.
Balkis yowled as she flew and tried to turn in midair, but Baradur caught her by the tail. All her weight plunged against his hold, and the pain shot up her backbone. She caterwauled, spitting, front paws spread wide, claws out to catch. Baradur cried, “Ah, the clean-up boy has chosen a spitfire! Beware her claws, my lad!” Then he swung Balkis around his head. “Catch, Moti!”
Anthony barreled into him, knocking Baradur against the wall, and Balkis flew from his grip. She sprinted for the rathole, then dodged and twisted as feet slammed down in her way, hard hands grabbed for her, and hoarse voices shouted. But she made it through the rathole without worse scathe. A hand shot through to catch her tail, but she turned and bit, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh between thumb and forefinger. The hand disappeared like lightning and its owner shouted with pain. “The little bitch! See how she has bitten!”
He had mistaken both Balkis' nature and her species, but she didn't feel obligated to enlighten him, especially since none of the others seemed to think his hurt worth noticing. They were too busy with something else; she heard a great deal of shouting and the sound of blows. She dared a quick peek and saw a pile of fists driving down toward the center. As she watched, one of the brothers went sprawling away, to show her Anthony, face swollen with fury. He spun to lash three quick punches at Philip, who staggered back and fell, then lashed out at Kemal. But Baradur caught Anthony's arms from behind and, shouting triumph, bent him backward and off balance as Kemal began to pelt Anthony with short, vicious jabs.
The two younger brothers lay on the floor, clutching their heads, their moaning testimony to how well Anthony could fight when he was angry and feared for someone other than himself. Balkis looked about, unbelieving, wondering why the father did not stop the beating but only stood by and nodded with grim satisfaction. “You shall remember your place, Anthony,” he said, “and never lift a hand against any of your brothers again!” Then he turned to the two on the floor. “On your feet lads—you can't let mere pain keep you idle. Take your turns and your revenge, and teach your younger brother his place.”
Teach him again
, Balkis thought wildly,
and again and
again and again.
She wondered how often Anthony had endured this lesson, and marveled that he still had spirit.
The middle brothers staggered to their feet, faces angry and cruel, and stumbled forward for their revenge as Kemal ceased pummeling Anthony and backed away. But hard though they struck, as Baradur continued to hold them in aim, Anthony only grunted, not crying out with pain or pleas for mercy. That only seemed to anger the brothers further, for they struck and struck again in fury.
Balkis retired from the rathole shaking with fright and anger. No one would hear her speak—they were far too intent on their beating. She had better sense than to turn into a nubile young woman in the company of such brutes, but surely her magic could save her friend!
“Let their blows upon them turn,
Each receiving what he earns
By striking at his younger sib.
Let him…”
She ran dry. The rhyme wouldn't come. She searched frantically—she knew what she wanted to say, but she couldn't find the right combination of words, the imperative, the meter and the rhyme! And, of course, the harder she strove, the more her mind blocked. In despair, she searched among the verses she knew…
Too late. The beating was done, and the father held the door open while the brothers rushed Anthony through it and pitched him headlong into the snow. Then the father stepped full into the doorway, standing silhouetted against the light, and thundered, “Get you gone and sleep with wild beasts, where so rude a child belongs! Any boy who forgets his place so far as you have done does not deserve to sleep with his family!” He stepped back to slam the
Balkis yowled as she flew and tried to turn in midair, but Baradur caught her by the tail. All her weight plunged against his hold, and the pain shot up her backbone. She caterwauled, spitting, front paws spread wide, claws out to catch. Baradur cried, “Ah, the clean-up boy has chosen a spitfire! Beware her claws, my lad!” Then he swung Balkis around his head. “Catch, Moti!”
Anthony barreled into him, knocking Baradur against the wall, and Balkis flew from his grip. She sprinted for the rathole, then dodged and twisted as feet slammed down in her way, hard hands grabbed for her, and hoarse voices shouted. But she made it through the rathole without worse scathe. A hand shot through to catch her tail, but she turned and bit, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh between thumb and forefinger. The hand disappeared like lightning and its owner shouted with pain. “The little bitch! See how she has bitten!”
He had mistaken both Balkis' nature and her species, but she didn't feel obligated to enlighten him, especially since none of the others seemed to think his hurt worth noticing. They were too busy with something else; she heard a great deal of shouting and the sound of blows. She dared a quick peek and saw a pile of fists driving down toward the center. As she watched, one of the brothers went sprawling away, to show her Anthony, face swollen with fury. He spun to lash three quick punches at Philip, who staggered back and fell, then lashed out at Kemal. But Baradur caught Anthony's arms from behind and, shouting triumph, bent him backward and off balance as Kemal began to pelt Anthony with short, vicious jabs.
The two younger brothers lay on the floor, clutching their heads, their moaning testimony to how well Anthony could fight when he was angry and feared for someone other than himself. Balkis looked about, unbelieving, wondering why the father did not stop the beating but only stood by and nodded with grim satisfaction. “You shall remember your place, Anthony,” he said, “and never lift a hand against any of your brothers again!” Then he turned to the two on the floor. “On your feet lads—you can't let mere pain keep you idle. Take your turns and your revenge, and teach your younger brother his place.”
Teach him again
, Balkis thought wildly,
and again and
again and again.
She wondered how often Anthony had endured this lesson, and marveled that he still had spirit.
The middle brothers staggered to their feet, faces angry and cruel, and stumbled forward for their revenge as Kemal ceased pummeling Anthony and backed away. But hard though they struck, as Baradur continued to hold them in aim, Anthony only grunted, not crying out with pain or pleas for mercy. That only seemed to anger the brothers further, for they struck and struck again in fury.
Balkis retired from the rathole shaking with fright and anger. No one would hear her speak—they were far too intent on their beating. She had better sense than to turn into a nubile young woman in the company of such brutes, but surely her magic could save her friend!
“Let their blows upon them turn,
Each receiving what he earns
By striking at his younger sib.
Let him…”
She ran dry. The rhyme wouldn't come. She searched frantically—she knew what she wanted to say, but she couldn't find the right combination of words, the imperative, the meter and the rhyme! And, of course, the harder she strove, the more her mind blocked. In despair, she searched among the verses she knew…
Too late. The beating was done, and the father held the door open while the brothers rushed Anthony through it and pitched him headlong into the snow. Then the father stepped full into the doorway, standing silhouetted against the light, and thundered, “Get you gone and sleep with wild beasts, where so rude a child belongs! Any boy who forgets his place so far as you have done does not deserve to sleep with his family!” He stepped back to slam the
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